Drouin, Renee Ann Diversity Statement
In my first semester of teaching, I leaned heavily on the sample readings of my own undergraduate courses, liberally borrowing from my mentors’ syllabi. Attempting to teach the rhetorical situation, I selected a well-tested speech from President Obama about overseas wars. One of my students was an Iranian refugee, who requested an alternate reading, disquieted and concerned about the content and potential discussion. Her request was met with enthusiastic consent and my apology for putting her in this position. It was early enough in the semester that I changed the reading for all, leading to one of the first lessons I developed independently. Using my students’ unfamiliarity with Ted Kennedy’s Chappaquiddick speech, I challenged them to analyze how convincing they viewed him as a rhetor and why. While it is easy to remember this event fondly, this was a major challenge to how I viewed myself in the classroom and what diversity came to mean within the spaces I create.
I was fortunate my student saw me as approachable, but I then questioned how can ensure students, especially those of differing experiences, always feel protected and respected in the classroom. This was, and remains so, my primary goal every time I teach. As instructors, we can never truly fathom what occurs outside our classrooms and the traumas students carry with them. Instead, we must find ways of encouraging academic and personal growth without sacrificing empathy and understanding.
My first step was placing, in every syllabus, a reminder that student mental health is a priority, and that no student will be penalized about needing alternate arrangements for assignments. These requests for assistance were not cases of students refusing to challenge their world views, nor would I ever accuse them of such. Instead, for my Iranian student or, in another case, a student who had panic attacks over the occult references in a queer reading, alternatives ensured they prioritized themselves without triggers, without compromising their scholarship. This promise on my syllabus became a constant refrain in my classrooms. However, while it solved the immediate crisis, I would soon realize it was just a small instance of how I can foster diverse experiences for my students without compromising their inclusion.
As a young graduate student, I naively thought diversity in the writers included in my syllabus was the primary means of inclusion. My composition syllabi hosted Alexandria Lockett, Mike Rose, and Sherman Alexie, my digital courses games of queer romance, a boy unable to speak. I still believe emphasizing diverse perspectives (socio-economical, disabled, queer, Native American, African American, female, etc.) is vital to fostering inclusion, but it’s hardly the end all I once considered it to be. Instead, inclusion is fostered, and diversity protected, through the everyday moments of collaboration: discussion and class activities.
Rather than have a passive (or semi-passive) audience listening to me speak, I hold weekly activities that ensure all can participate, even if they do not want to speak up. I’ve developed scavenger hunts through digital archives, used quick polls to crowdsource what moves we make next in games, and challenged students to use not just textual communication but, when applicable, emojis, gifs, or memes, if it helps indicate their comfort level in the learning we’re currently processing.
All students have an equal right to learning, without fear of inadequate teaching due to disability. Yet, while I recognize the need for Disability Resource Centers, I undertake a more proactive approach, recognizing that, even if students who don’t need specialized materials aren’t in my classroom, materials and learning strategies should be universally accessible from the start. If possible, I use searchable PDFs in lieu of traditionally scanned books. While I pride myself on visually appealing documents created for my courses, I design them with headers, alt text in images, and easily read fonts, all of which allow screen readers and other devices to clearly understand and report the content. When uploading videos for my courses, I prepare transcripts, if I am the creator, or look for videos, such as TedTalks, with transcripts and captions already available. Even lectures, when applicable, are hosted via Google Slides, which allows for captioning as I speak. Accessibility also equates to economic considerations. I am determined that material cost will never act as gatekeeper against my students. When teaching composition, I only pull resources from open access websites or upload PDFs of documents they might need. For upper level courses, especially those requiring the navigation of digital spaces, I apply the same level of concern when it comes to resources. These are just a few examples of how I integrate accessibility in my everyday pedagogy, though I also recognize I have much more to learn, especially from my most valuable teachers, the students.
Finally, I believe the ultimate tenet in encouraging student success and diversity within the classroom is by recognizing how fallible I am as the instructor and the limitations I bring forth. I am a heterosexual, cis white woman. My perspective has its own privileges, many of which students may lack. I strive to improve myself as a teacher through professional development and facilitating connections within my local contexts. Through professional development, i.e. book clubs, monthly meetings, seminars, and workshops, I have earned multiple certifications on creating equitable classroom, regarding gender, sexuality, race, and accessibility. Further, I endeavor to communicate and access all resources in the community, in hopes of finding assistance for my students through them. These resources range from my personal experiences connecting a student, a rape victim, with counseling services and women’s groups to inviting speakers and resources from tutoring centers, LGBT+ groups, or multicultural centers into my classroom spaces. I will always advocate for my students through protecting their rights to enter the classroom, the contexts shaping their identities, and their languages.
Renee Ann Drouin 