In terms of pedagogy, I follow Socrates in weird ways. If you've heard of the chap, you know Socrates is known for asking questions. We always think of Socrates and his method as being question-based.
While that isn't necessarily wrong, it's important to note how Socrates uses questions. Think of the beginning of Book IV of Plato's The Republic. There, we see Socrates being asked a question by Adeimantus, but most of the first major section of text is Socrates' answer (after having asked a clarifying question of his interlocutor). He doesn't necessarily spend a lot of time asking questions and listening to others.* In fact, he often posits his own ideas at great length, occasionally asking for input from the others.
It's important to note that he sets up his arguments with large, important questions. Book I of The Republic starts off with this question: "Is life harder toward the end, or what report do you give of it?" (11). That launches them into a complicated, meandering conversation that is filled with lengthy digressions where ideas float back and forth. In other words, he uses a question to begin thinking about a topic, then shifts his attention to interrogating what he doesn't understand. He will express his thoughts in one way, and through his thoughts he can get to a question ("Do you see how your original argument is now invalid?", or, essentially, this meme, minus its absurdity) at the end. It's like he leads them into a logical trap, baiting them with posits and questions until--snap!--he pulls the logic down like a shutter.
Sometimes his questions directly challenge an assumption; other times, they're set up for his own ideas. If you think of the most famous part, "The Allegory of the Cave", you'll see that, when questions are used, they're closed-ended (requiring a yes/no answer), and often the question comes in the form of, "Wouldn't you agree that...?" His interlocutors always seem to see things his way, and if they make a counterpoint, he usually manages to allow that without sacrificing too much of his own point of view.
The broad point is, the Socratic method is not simply questions-based: It's an entire methodology created around someone knowing more than another and demonstrating that by letting the other fellow walk into his or her own mistakes.
Because I teach "Socratic Seminar" (a mixture of English and history that, in my case, runs from the 1300s to modern day), I have the opportunity to use dialogues with students to try to come to a better understanding of things. But I don't teach like Socrates: I don't ask yes or no questions and then let the inevitable avalanche of logic bury them. (Okay, I sometimes do, but I try to avoid that.) I try to use questions to dig deeper into whatever we're studying, yes, but I approach it (when possible) from the position of "humble seeker of knowledge", rather than as a sage trying to bait my students. The result is that often I stumble into the second bit of Socrates that I mentioned before: Lengthy digressions that are Socrates laying down the foundation of what he wishes to assert. The problem with this style of teaching is that it can easily turn into didactic lectures that, well, lecture. Questions engage; platitudes about Platotudes** don't.
Anyway, I'm struggling this year (read: Every year) to get myself more into a genuinely questioning mindset, exploring ideas and pushing back on students' points of view by choosing the correct question at the right time. It's too easy for me to fall into that didactic habit that leaves my throat dry and my sense of what I've done as valueless.
This, of course, has to be balanced with communicating information; I can't question a student when the fall of the Bastille was if they don't know anything about French history. But questions of revolution, how to address grievances with authority, and the power of propaganda are all broader issues that I can talk about with regard to the Bastille. What to do, then, to get them to the point they can answer the broader questions?
That's the purpose of the class, that's what I'm trying to balance and strike right, every period. In other words, I need to pay closer attention to what I say.
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* There are counterexamples that abound in his works. My point is that the idea of a strictly "Socratic" methodology embracing questions only is what doesn't stand up to the text.
** Credit to my main man Truman G. Madsen for that phrase.
While that isn't necessarily wrong, it's important to note how Socrates uses questions. Think of the beginning of Book IV of Plato's The Republic. There, we see Socrates being asked a question by Adeimantus, but most of the first major section of text is Socrates' answer (after having asked a clarifying question of his interlocutor). He doesn't necessarily spend a lot of time asking questions and listening to others.* In fact, he often posits his own ideas at great length, occasionally asking for input from the others.
It's important to note that he sets up his arguments with large, important questions. Book I of The Republic starts off with this question: "Is life harder toward the end, or what report do you give of it?" (11). That launches them into a complicated, meandering conversation that is filled with lengthy digressions where ideas float back and forth. In other words, he uses a question to begin thinking about a topic, then shifts his attention to interrogating what he doesn't understand. He will express his thoughts in one way, and through his thoughts he can get to a question ("Do you see how your original argument is now invalid?", or, essentially, this meme, minus its absurdity) at the end. It's like he leads them into a logical trap, baiting them with posits and questions until--snap!--he pulls the logic down like a shutter.
Sometimes his questions directly challenge an assumption; other times, they're set up for his own ideas. If you think of the most famous part, "The Allegory of the Cave", you'll see that, when questions are used, they're closed-ended (requiring a yes/no answer), and often the question comes in the form of, "Wouldn't you agree that...?" His interlocutors always seem to see things his way, and if they make a counterpoint, he usually manages to allow that without sacrificing too much of his own point of view.
The broad point is, the Socratic method is not simply questions-based: It's an entire methodology created around someone knowing more than another and demonstrating that by letting the other fellow walk into his or her own mistakes.
Because I teach "Socratic Seminar" (a mixture of English and history that, in my case, runs from the 1300s to modern day), I have the opportunity to use dialogues with students to try to come to a better understanding of things. But I don't teach like Socrates: I don't ask yes or no questions and then let the inevitable avalanche of logic bury them. (Okay, I sometimes do, but I try to avoid that.) I try to use questions to dig deeper into whatever we're studying, yes, but I approach it (when possible) from the position of "humble seeker of knowledge", rather than as a sage trying to bait my students. The result is that often I stumble into the second bit of Socrates that I mentioned before: Lengthy digressions that are Socrates laying down the foundation of what he wishes to assert. The problem with this style of teaching is that it can easily turn into didactic lectures that, well, lecture. Questions engage; platitudes about Platotudes** don't.
Anyway, I'm struggling this year (read: Every year) to get myself more into a genuinely questioning mindset, exploring ideas and pushing back on students' points of view by choosing the correct question at the right time. It's too easy for me to fall into that didactic habit that leaves my throat dry and my sense of what I've done as valueless.
This, of course, has to be balanced with communicating information; I can't question a student when the fall of the Bastille was if they don't know anything about French history. But questions of revolution, how to address grievances with authority, and the power of propaganda are all broader issues that I can talk about with regard to the Bastille. What to do, then, to get them to the point they can answer the broader questions?
That's the purpose of the class, that's what I'm trying to balance and strike right, every period. In other words, I need to pay closer attention to what I say.
----
* There are counterexamples that abound in his works. My point is that the idea of a strictly "Socratic" methodology embracing questions only is what doesn't stand up to the text.
** Credit to my main man Truman G. Madsen for that phrase.