Last spring, I took my Critical Writing for Dance students to see Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater perform at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta. They were tasked with writing a critical analysis of at least one of the works on the triple bill and all arrived with their notepads and pens in hand. After the first work, they sat in a row (dressed to the nines!) and scribbled out thoughts and first impressions as I had suggested. A nearby audience member, curious to see ten Spelman women furiously writing at the same time, asked what they were doing. One of my students answered, and the audience member responded: “Why? It’s not that deep.”

As the sole faculty member representing the arts in the 2023-24 Deliberative Pedagogy (DeeP) Collaborative cohort, I can attest: it is that deep. But both those who study dance and those who teach it in higher education often feel we must prove ourselves, and that burden can be exhausting. Identifying “wicked problems” and controversial topics to deliberate in a Peace and Conflict Studies or a Philosophy class seems like par for the course. Dance is trickier because it tends to be characterized in popular culture as either individual expression / catharsis or pure entertainment, neither of which – on the surface at least – affords much need for deliberation or critical analysis. And people can get defensive when scholarship, texts, research, and writing are introduced into sacred, emotionally charged movement spaces. Let’s not overthink it, I hear, dance is just about releasing and having fun.

Like all art forms, dance can serve as cultural communication, social commentary, public protest, and historical archive, all of which must be viewed through a critical lens. One of my main learning objectives in Critical Writing for Dance has been to simply get students to see dance as something worthy of analysis, to learn to construct a viable, thought-provoking argument and prove it using evidence from the work rather than writing a book report-style account of the event.

When I joined the DeeP cohort last summer, I looked forward to the spring, imagining my Critical Writing for Dance students engaging in rich dialogue about what a dance meant, posing questions addressing its cultural and social impact, and discussing biases and blind spots held by a majority white pool of professional dance and art critics. As I reworked my syllabus to include deliberative components, I incorporated difficult questions like:

• Are BIPOC and/or LGBTQIA+ identifying choreographers obligated to represent and/or address their identity in their work?
• What is Black dance? Is there such a thing? Is that term helpful or harmful?
• Is there anything a writer should, by default, not review? Is bias in criticism inevitable? Is claiming bias useful?

They were good questions, I thought, but in practice some were either too messy or not messy enough. I was challenged by how difficult it was to get students to take different sides on many of the issues and questions I presented. I considered forcing them to take one side or another but that felt too much like a debate, a different form of discourse. One outgoing person would speak up, most others would agree, and the deliberation would start to deflate. But as time went on and I started incorporating small group deliberations moderated by students, the group deliberations became more robust.

For the first deliberation, I had students read the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater mission statement on the company website, attend the show, then deliberate on whether the work exemplified or contradicted their mission statement. My intention was to get the students to think critically about a company that [outside of New York City where the critics have seen it all and speak their minds] is often put on a pedestal. I wanted them to see that arts criticism builds dialogue, enhances integrity, and archives what happened and therefore what we should remember. I asked the students to build arguments around what a company intends versus what it produces. In the end, all agreed that the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater work exemplified the mission statement perfectly. No notes. The deliberation fell flat.

Things progressed a bit with our second deliberation, “What is good writing?” for which the students read a critical analysis of Beyoncé’s “Lemonade” by bell hooks. I was worried I tried to do too much with this deliberation because we were focusing on the idea of “good writing” as a measurable absolute (based on standards and rules created by white men) using a legendary Black feminist writer’s controversial opinion about (arguably) the most beloved pop singer in the world. hooks posited that Beyoncé’s “Lemonade” is “capitalist money-making at its best” and delved into her argument while maintaining the utmost respect for Queen Bey. Even though the students all agreed that the article exemplified “good writing,” they had to confront its controversial content. I think what came out of this deliberation was the understanding that work produced by “untouchable” icons like Alvin Ailey, bell hooks, and Beyoncé is even more interesting when viewed through a critical lens. Critical thinking is good for everyone, viewer and artist alike, and is not the same thing as trashing or trolling. A win!

Oftentimes, the deliberations took left turns, especially when I had the students come up with their own topic and vote on which one they would deliberate. The chosen topic was, Have the comments sections on social media replaced the need for and relevance of traditional long-form arts criticism? I did not expect my class to engage in a deliberation on the validity of my entire course. This was tough for me, but we had a GREAT deliberation on the state of arts criticism in social media and on this issue, students were solidly divided. The reflections were extremely positive, and it had me rethinking assignments for the next time I teach this course, which is always something I welcome.

Another big win came near the end of the semester when I posed the question, “What is Black dance?” During the small group deliberations, I overheard a student say, “I hate this question” then proceed to say all dance is Black dance, a viable argument given the history of dance forms and cultural appropriation in America and on social media. I love it when that which was seen as foundational is called into question, be it my question or… gulp… my entire course. That’s how change comes about. It tells me students are engaging with one another, moving towards productive and respectful discourse, forming arguments that differ from others, and recognizing that opposing opinions on art and the state of arts criticism is how we move forward as a culture.

Even though we spent less time discussing the mechanics of writing, we spent more time constructing, deconstructing, editing, and reworking good arguments. Looking back – and with the looming realization that AI has already replaced the need to teach and learn basic writing skills – developing skills of critical analysis through the deliberative process was the most rewarding and impactful outcome from my time as a member of the DeeP cohort.

During the COVID years, class participation became more and more of a struggle in the classroom while student engagement with political issues increased. Students clearly see politics as relevant to their lives though they are less and less likely to engage with it in meaningful ways in the classroom. This observation, along with the realization that the problem lies in the way I was structuring engagement in my courses, led me to join the Deliberative Pedagogy (DeeP) Collaborative. I wanted to restructure my American Political Thought class as a series of exercises in democratic deliberation, combined with reflections and discussions about the necessary components of meaningful engagement.

Our first engagement activity was a roleplay of the Constitutional Convention. In preparation we read John Locke, Thomas Paine, John and Samuel Adams among others to lay some of the groundwork. Across a period of 4 weeks, students took on the roles of James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, Elbridge Gerry, etc. They debated the merits of direct election by the people, representation, and the length of presidential terms of office. They dug into a character, prepared and delivered speeches, questioned each other’s reasoning, and ultimately reconfigured their speeches into the form of essays.

They got to know each other, first, in character, as colleagues, to some extent opponents and supporters, but also as complex characters, working hard to ensure a sustainable system of governance. In other words, they developed bonds through the process of taking on positions and arguing points they didn’t necessarily accept or believe in. Moreover, they developed the ability to pose questions in the nomenclature of “my right, honorable colleague from, [insert state].”

The second engagement activity was a deliberation about originalism. With the experience of debating the Constitutional Convention fresh in their minds, they knew that the delegates to the convention had agreed to a text, though not necessarily to its meaning. They also knew that some of the delegates refused to sign the document in the end. Finally, they knew that interpretation was not something the delegates had ever debated.

In preparation to engage substantively the issue of originalism, they read several articles by Scalia, Meese, and others on originalism, living constitutionalism, and their varieties. In preparing to deliberate with peers as themselves, they read Monica Guzman on cultivating curiosity, Jean-Luc Nancy on listening, and Adriana Caverero’s The Stork. They practiced the roles of weaving and devil’s advocacy. They posed questions to each other about their experiences.

In the end, several students offered that regardless of which deliberative technique came most naturally, the most difficult part of the deliberation was to approach the conversation with humility. Almost all the students indicated at one point or another that while they were vaguely familiar with the term originalism, they were not aware either of the intent or public meaning varieties, nor could they identify any varieties of living constitutionalism, though most placed themselves in that camp. The class concluded with a robust conversation about the purpose of and guidelines for the campus protests that occupied so much of our national attention throughout April 2024 and the early part of May 2024.

In this iteration, students took on an ideologically charged topic. They had a good and productive conversation in which most of them acknowledged at least one weakness associated with their own position, as well as a strength associated with the opposing perspective. Virtually everyone said that they learned something about originalism and a few students actually changed their minds about how the Supreme Court should make decisions.

Moving forward, I will attempt to improve upon three things. First, there was a lot of variety in what the students understood devil’s advocacy to be. I need to do a better job of recognizing that while nearly all students are familiar with the phrase, they do not share a conceptual understanding of what it means.

Second, internalizing fallibility is a high hurdle, which we probably do not model well in academia. Two out of thirteen students signaled that their comments were provisional during the deliberation. I need to think through the ways that I model humility, as well as exercises for practicing provisional thinking. In keeping with this goal, one of my summer reading goals is Kathryn Schulz’s Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error.

Finally, in terms of assessment, the only thing that I had time to do during the deliberation was to check boxes. The rubric for the actual deliberation needs to be both simple and it needs to reveal my observations about the roles that students are actually playing.

Early in my teaching career, as a graduate student teaching intro courses, I spent a lot of time sifting through material to bring into my classes. From such content, thoughtful questions arose, which I meticulously worked my way through during my lesson planning. Once in the classroom, I often expected students to be just as prepared as I was to answer the questions. Many times, since I had time to think through such questions, I found myself anticipating a certain response.

But when I posed such inquiries, I was met with a silence so strong you could hear a pin drop. Conversation wouldn’t always fall flat. Sometimes it was robust and lively, but rarely was it consistent. It was only after several freezing moments that I finally realized maybe I was asking the wrong questions, jumping too far into the conclusions, or simply not taking the time to allow students to just ponder the possibilities.

Looking back, I think it may have been a combination of the three. I have since leaped at any and every opportunity to refine my teaching and avoid feeling like the deer in the headlights. This is how I found myself in the Deliberative Pedagogy Collaborative striving to intentionally and consistently bring to my classes engagement and thoughtful conversation that asked students to wrestle with a range of outlooks in challenging ways.

I jumped into implementing deliberation in my ENV189: Environmental Crisis in its Cultural Context class by inviting students to read two chapters from Preventing Polarization: “Consume Information Mindfully” (Ch 4) and “Embrace Complexity” (Ch 6) (Blanchet & Deters 2023). Similar to my own feelings about deliberation, I felt like my students got it. Of course, we will engage with a range of topics! Of course, we will consider different viewpoints! Of course, we will wrestle with the material! All of this is easier said than done.

A few weeks later after emphasizing the importance of information literacy and complexity, I led my students through the deliberative activity of a Mock Town Hall in which they were asked to decide how to deal with water contamination from lead cables in their imaginary town. Prior to the activity, students listened to The Journal’s America is Wrapped in Toxic Lead Cables (The Wall Street Journal’s podcast, July 13, 2023), which spotlighted the real situation that the Mock Town Hall was modeled after. The episode brought in a range of voices, which allowed for a range of different perspectives.

Some students played the role of decision makers, while others took on the roles of industry executives, company workers, parents, and scientists. Students didn’t struggle with the task before them, but there was an exciting sense of challenge as I could see the wheels inside their minds turning. Many of them took on their roles with gusto. Unlike conversations of the past, which tended to simplify environmental issues, students were faced with the task of considering a range of different viewpoints and deciding what actions the town could take to solve this issue. This process went extremely well.

Later in the semester, students (in groups of 3-4) were asked to create their own deliberative activities pertaining to a range of other environmental issues in class, including greenwashing, consumption, climate migration, and climate gentrification. I was very impressed with what they came up with. Activities included debates and role playing (similar to the Mock Town Hall). Like for all new activities, some were unsure (myself included!) and some of the activities missed their mark; however, the groups that excelled cultivated strong deliberative questions that pushed the class conversation into a deeper dialogue. These groups embraced the process of conversation, critical thinking, and problem-solving.

Going forward, I will continue to use Mock Town Halls as introductions to deliberation in action. I hope to pair the readings about deliberation with the deliberative learning activity, so that all students can better grasp the reason for such activities. Pairing these back-to-back may better emphasize the importance of information literacy and complexity and how the two can work in conjunction in everyday conversations, whether engaging in collective decision making event at a town hall or encountering differing viewpoints at a family dinner. Practices like these, and more broadly speaking the DeeP Collaborative, reinvigorate my teaching and challenge me to further cultivate intentional spaces of deliberation in my classroom. Long gone are the days of feeling like a deer in the headlights. I am looking forward to continuing these practices and refining my skills next semester.