SENSATIONAL TEACHING: EXAMINING THE PRESENCE AND POTENTIAL OF AES-

THETICS IN SECONDARY HUMANITIES CLASSROOMS 

By 

Justin D. Detmers 

A DISSERTATION 

Submitted to  

Michigan State University 

in partial fulfillment of the requirements  

for the the degree of


Curriculum, Instruction, and Teacher Education—Doctor of Philosophy 

2020 

ABSTRACT 

SENSATIONAL TEACHING: EXAMINING THE PRESENCE AND POTENTIAL OF AES-

THETICS IN SECONDARY HUMANITIES CLASSROOMS 

By 

Justin D. Detmers 

 

Situated in a public urban high school in a Midwestern city, this study followed four sec-

ondary humanities teachers for a semester to examine how each employed sensation and aesthet-

ic texts in their practice, conceived of the relationship between sensing and learning, feeling and 

thinking, and made sense of and justified their practice(s) therein. Semi-structured interviews 

were guided by formal questions and explicit concepts but active interviewing techniques grant-

ed the freedom to venture into whatever directions participants’ responses dictated. Geertz’ thick 

description (1973) was taken up to move beneath the surface and to better capture the observed 

interactions, relationships, and social meanings. Critical realism was the theoretical lens through 

which phenomena in this study was viewed. That is, sensational teaching posited the ontological 

reality of various forms of truth —be they social or natural— while simultaneously acknowledg-

ing the limitations and socially situated nature of the epistemology people use to access and un-

derstand the world. 

 

Sensational teaching was formed and informed significantly by considerations of affect, 

aesthetics, experience, and an array of closely related concepts touching upon everything from 

art to neuroscience. As such, this study attended to the multifaceted ways inner experiences and 

the senses are necessary for deep learning. Not to be construed as a positive adjective, ‘sensa 

tional’ is concerned with instructional methods that act upon the body, produce shared experi-

ences, and evoke feelings and address the affective domain. Furthermore, this dissertation is as-

pirational. Drawn towards non-traditional methods and materials, this work puts forth a robust 

conception of teaching and learning that insists —instead of denying the full spectrum of human 

nature— schooling ought to anticipate, embrace, and seize upon what happens bodily, emotional-

ly/viscerally, and socially. This sort of teaching lends itself to personal and civic relevance and 

paves the way toward higher-order thinking and attending to the many issues of racial and class 

oriented justice that plague our time. 

 

Finally, the very text of this work is designed to be somewhat sensational. There are foot-

notes that offer further information and even (my attempts at) humor. Clicking on hyperlinks will 

take a reader directly to songs and videos. Stories are told with vivid language and pictures are 

shown because visuals can take the brain to places language cannot go. And finally —just like I 

do when I actually teach— I probably swear a little too much. Go figure. 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

This dissertation owes so much to people who have graciously shared their craft and giv-
en their time, attention, and critique. I am indebted to my participants: Theresa; Edward; Jimi; & 
Vince. These busy people —who care about students and take their work seriously— opened 
their doors, skipped their lunches, and corresponded over emails to allow me access to their 
lessons, students, and thoughts about education. It is a vulnerable thing to not only have your 
professional duties closely examined but also expose your opinions to a strange person who 
keeps recording your every move on his laptop. 

Profound thanks are owed to my advisor and committee chair, Avner Segall. Many flatter-
ing things could be said about him and his work, but what stands out most is his sharp and criti-
cal mind. Avner is a skillful and dialogic educator who seems to interrogate everything. His ap-
proach to reading texts, people, and the world itself is imbued with a bold curiosity that leaves no 
stone unturned. As the critical and creative way he looks at education and society has a way of 
rubbing off, he has forever altered how I communicate and see the world; this is indeed for the 
better. Besides his wit, knowledge of the field, and patience with my many idiosyncrasies , I 
would especially like to thank him for helping me find my voice in a way that situated and vali-
dated my commitments within the world of higher education.

1

I would also like to thank the members of my dissertation committee for carefully reading 
my work, asking astute questions, recommending readings, and suggesting how I might flesh out 
my interests in tangible ways. I wish I had invested more time to talk Anne-Lise Halvorsen and 
Doug Hartman about the intersection between their expertise and my work. While their thought-

1

 

 I’m probably the poster child for the adage that insists good teachers make for bad students.

iv

ful work —whether around ‘powerful social studies’, the achievement gap, literacy, or educa-
tional technology— has inspired me intellectually, their warmth and courtesy always made me 
feel welcome in Erickson Hall. I am grateful to Kyle Greenwalt, who in our talks over drinks at 
establishments like the The Peanut Barrel, always struck a balance between pushing and encour-
aging my thinking. Taking his classes, coupled with working together on course development 
and in field instruction—where he showed me how to design thoughtful curricula and how to 
have difficult but kind conversations with our undergrads— wonderfully modeled for me a well-
rounded educator and person. Proximity to a sincere and original thinker who also values conti-
nuity between scholarship and practice was enriching.

I have also gleaned from others throughout the College of Education and Michigan State 

University. David Stroupe’s class on teacher education made theories of learning and debates 
over learning how to teach accessible and our actives were, dare I say, sometimes fun. Though 
there was a delay in taking it to heart, Mary Juzwik helped me realize that ‘shitty first drafts’ are 
foundational for the writing process. I admire the confidence and passion Dorinda Carter An-
drews brings with her as she promotes racial justice in education. She not only helped me and my 
peers listen and read with more precision, but her encyclopedic knowledge of literature helped 
me infuse my teaching and work with greater attention to diversity and equity. In classes with 
Matt Ferkany, Matt showed himself to be a brilliant who demonstrated a temperament that chari-
tably made room for diverse perspectives to engage in productive dialog. How badly do class-
rooms, neighborhoods, and the political theater need this posture this cultural moment.

Dating all the way back to high school, I must also acknowledge the role of my A.P. 

teacher (and track and cross country coach), the late Jerry Gillett. Mr. Gillett exposed me to the 
interdisciplinary nature of social studies and—along with Mr. Gerald Woolston—introduced el-

 

v

ements of historical thinking to my teenage brain. Moving forward to my time as a pre-service 
teacher, I am also grateful for instructors like Jim Garrett and Matt Missias—whose input, 
provocative readings, and non-stop questioning—challenged my thinking and pushed me to be a 
critical educator. Further, I owe much to Lothar Konietzko, my esteemed mentor teacher from 
long ago, who taught me the ropes of the classroom and how to prioritize students while navigat-
ing the pressures and interests of many different stakeholders. Lothar is a fantastic citizen and 
teacher, but an even better person.

Friends and colleagues along the way were instrumental. It was both formative and a 
pleasure to talk —and argue— with Scott Durham, Andrew Masarik, Adam Schmitt, Lance 
Wheatley, Erin Bronstein, Peter Nelson, Scott Jarvie, Hannah Grisham, and Molly Barrett. Time 
invested with fantastic people like them made classes, articles, and conferences more interesting. 
Their critique, shared work, and collective sarcasm was invaluable. It was an honor to begin my 
journey in higher education with Dr. Gerardo Aponte-Safe; I will forever treasure our many con-
versations about any and every imaginable topic. In this vein, Dr.’s Mike and Kati Macaluso, are 
simply incredible; at writing, teaching, and doing the ‘prof family thing’. How they ooze such 
excellence and spread an unmistakable brand of infectious joy and energy is beyond me. Also, 
Mike has always had “nice pants” .2

I am indebted to my board of elders and dear friends at Riverview Church where I was 

employed in some capacity or other throughout most of my time in my PhD program. While still 
being trusted and empowered to lead, I was simultaneously given freedom, flexibility, and en-
couragement in the pursuit of this hefty degree. Their commitment to a liberating view of the 
Gospel and irenic posture towards people and culture has spurred me on in countless ways.

 Awkward inside joke.

2

 

vi

I am so grateful for my young children Violet, Leo, and Cora who somehow seemed to be 

understanding of the fact that their often exhausted dad would regularly have late nights and 
spend so much time working. Their affection and mischief refreshed me time and again. In many 
ways, this work is for them. I hope they will see not only provision but that hard work invested 
over time can be rewarding. I can’t wait to support them and help them pursue their passions as 
they have with mine.

Lastly, and most importantly, I would like to thank my wife, Devon Detmers. Throughout 

my time in the program, she sacrificed to support my pursuit of this PhD. She took on extra du-
ties like driving during every car trip so that I could put on headphones and type as she navigated 
and attempted to referee quarrels over what Pixar movie our children would watch next. As an 
accomplished teacher with a Master’s degree in her own right, Devon was a consistent sounding 
board. She learned with me, urged me to take brain breaks via Netflix and red wine, and eventu-
ally began to routinely ask me ‘what would Avner say about that?’. 

If nothing else, this study evidences how we cannot learn and grow in a vacuum; only 

with and through the contributions of others are such endeavors made possible. From the bottom 
of my heart, thank you all.


 

vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS 

LIST OF FIGURES .………………………..………………………..…………………………. ix 

INTRODUCTION ………………………..………………………..……………………………..1 

CHAPTER 1: FRAMING SENSATIONAL TEACHING ….……………………………………7 

CHAPTER 2: FRAMING THE STUDY …………….………………………………………….29 

CHAPTER 3: PASSIVE CONSUMPTION .………….………..……………………………….46 

CHAPTER 4: THE ART OF SENSATIONAL TEACHING……………………….....................82 

CHAPTER 5: THE SCIENCE OF SENSATIONAL TEACHNG….……………… …………..141 

CHAPTER 6: SITUATING & ENVISIONING SENSATIONAL TEACHING .…………….. 187 

APPENDICES …………………………………………………………………………………225 
     APPENDIX A: Consent Form …………………………………………………………….. 226 
     APPENDIX B: Interview Protocols.………………………………………………………. 228 
     APPENDIX C: Sensational Teaching's Habits of Mind ..…………………………………. 231 

REFERENCES …………………….………………….……………………………………….232 

 

viii

LIST OF FIGURES 

Figure 1. Painting: This figure is an artist’s interpretation of a scene from book VIII of The 
Odyssey in which Odysseus (right) covers his face as he weeps while listening to the blind bard 
Demodocus (second from the left) sing tales of the Trojan War. Seeing Odysseus weep, King Al-
cinous (on the throne second from the right) is also moved to tears. Image downloaded from the 
web …………………………………………………………………………………………….   20 

Figure 2: Picture: A teacher’s seating arrangement for discussion in Honors English 11. See 
chapter four for a discussion about whole class reading days. Photographed by the author in 
2019. .……….………………………………………………………………………..…………  34 

Figure 3. Picture: This figure is a picture of the school’s varying weekly bell schedule. Pho-
tographed by the author in 2019…………………………………………………………………36 

Figure 4. Screenshot: this figure is a screenshot of Vince’s shared google calendar for his sec-
tions of U.S. History. Image captured by the author in March of 2019.
…………………………………..…………………….………………………………………….38 

Figure 5. Picture: This figure is a picture of the Jimi’s late winter schedule for Honors English 
11. Photographed by the author in February 2019.………………………………………………38  

Figure 6. Picture: This is a chart stapled to a bulletin board in Vince’s room highlighting various 
thinking skills and habits of mind useful in social studies. Photographed by the author in January 
2019. …………………………………………………………………………………………… 57 

Figure 7. Worksheet: The first page of the 12 Years a Slave viewing guide, asking students ques-
tions of recall..……………………………………………………………….………………….. 67 

Figure 8. Worksheet: The second page of the 12 Years a Slave viewing guide, asking students 
questions of recall.……………………………………………………………………………… 67 

Figure 9. Worksheet: The front side of a lyrical analysis worksheet that accompanied the Testify 
music video by Rage Against the Machine...…….………………………..……………………. 93 

Figure 10. The back of a worksheet connecting Rage Against the Machine lyrics back to Nine-
teen Eighty Four. …….………………………..……………………………………………….  93 

Figure 11. Screenshot: An image from the Run the Jewels music video by Close Your Eyes (And 
Count to F**K). Screenshot captured from the web in August of 2019.……………………….  94 

 

ix

Figure 12. Picture: An instructional support on writing paragraphs posted in Jimi’s room to give 
pointers and make thinking (in this case, a color-coded paragraph guide) visible for 
students…………………………………………………………………………………………. 95 

Figure 13. Slide: A screenshot of Jimi’s slideshow depicting World War One propaganda and the 
original King Kong movie …………………………………………………………………….. 101 

Figure 14. Slide: A screenshot of the slideshow depicting racialized imagery in the controversial 
2008 Vogue magazine cover featuring Lebron James and Gisele Bundchen…………………. 102 

Figure 15. Worksheet: Jimi’s “Othello + Pop Culture” assignment that found students connecting 
familiar music to the themes found in their literature curriculum…………………………….. 104 

Figure 16. Worksheet: This color coded paragraph was Jimi’s own example of connecting song 
lyrics, from Run for Your Life by The Beatles, to Shakespearean themes…………………….. 104 

Figure 17. Screenshot: A screenshot of the Honor English 11 shared google doc. For the Othello 
Song Bank portion of the assignment, Mr. Hendrix and his students compiled a collection of 
songs connected to themes like jealousy, envy, domestic abuse, and racial strife…………….. 105 

Figure 19. Picture: This image is a picture of Mr. Hendrix’s worksheet linking the manufactured 
anger of a Trump rally to the “Two Minutes Hate” in Nineteen Eighty Four…………………. 110   

Figure 19: Worksheet: This figure is a picture of a participant’s worksheet from his unit on Or-
well’s Nineteen Eighty Four .…………………………………………………………………. 112 

Figure 20. Slide: A screenshot of a slide stating learning targets for a reading day during the 
Romeo & Juliet unit.……………………………………..……………………………………. 114 

Figure 21. Worksheet: A reading sign-up list for multiple reading days during the Othello unit. 
…………………………………………………………………………..……………………..  115 

Figure 22. Photograph: A family photograph of a Japanese grandmother and African American 
grandfather that Jimi shared with his students. Used with permission ……………………….. 119 

Figure 23. Picture: A picture from outside of Mr. Hendrix’s door of an edited image he made, en-
titled “MC Grammer”. This image was a play on words that came from combining MC Hammer 
(the musical artist), and Kelsey Grammar (the actor)…………………………………………. 122 

Figure 24. Picture: Positioned outside of Jimi’s door, this is a picture of a captioned image of 
Napoleon Dynamite, the movie’s awkward protagonist. Images like this added humor to learning 
community.…………………………………………………………………………………….  123 

 

x

Figure 25. Picture: This picture is Jimi’s edited cover of a Rolling Stone magazine featuring hip-
hop artist Rick Ross; posted outside of his door with a caption promoting his English classes.124 

Figure 26. Picture: A photoshopped picture of George Washington wearing a “Make America” 
hat (spoofing Trump’s campaign slogan); Jimi displayed this image on his wall…………….. 124 

Figure 27. Meme: A meme spoofing a well-known Dos Equis commercial Jimi created for a 
Nineteen Eighty Four slideshow.……………………………………………………………… 125 

Figure 28. Slide: From a slide show about Shakespeare, this is an example of on-topic humor to 
teach relevant terminology. Here, Jimi rewrote a contemporary ‘pick-up line’, with modern 
slang, in Old English.………………………………………………………………………….. 126 

Figure 29. Slide: A slide used to teach about Shakespeare’s reputation for coining words that be-
came common parts of vernacular. Complete with a meme, Jimi included contemporary exam-
ples of widely used phrases that were introduced by rappers like Lil Wayne and Snoop Dogg.127 

Figure 30. Picture: Jimi and several of his students posted  Nineteen Eighty Four themed propa-
ganda posters (with his likeness as “big brother”) all over the school………………………..  129 

Figure 31. Slide: The opening slide of a powerpoint presentation connecting Orwell to U.S. For-
eign Policy.…………………………………………………………………………………….. 131 

Figure 32. Slide: A statement on the strategy and narrative surrounding war in Nineteen Eighty 
Four and a portion of a timeline of events leading up to the U.S. Invasion of Iraq 
…………………………………………………………………………………………………. 132 

Figure 33. Slide: A slide applying themes of Nineteen Eighty Four to a quote by former Secretary 
of State Donald Rumsfeld justifying the Invasion of Iraq.……………………………………. 132 

Figure 34. Slide: A politically relevant slide connecting the changing narratives of the past in 
both Nineteen Eighty Four and in United States foreign policy………………………………..132 

Figure 35. Slide: A slide giving context about past support of Saddam Hussein; complete with a 
picture of Rumsfeld shaking hands with Hussein, this slide highlights narrative contradictions in 
U.S. foreign policy ………………………………………………………………………….… 134 

Figure 36. Picture: A picture of student work responding to the “Who are we fighting” slideshow 
prompts. This student’s comments revealed his perceived hypocrisy and contradiction within the 
U.S. government, similar to that in Nineteen Eighty Four……………………………………. 135 

 

xi

Figure 37. Worksheet: This is the front page of a two-sided guided-notes sheet for students enti-
tled, “Foreign Policy During the Cold War”. The document corresponded precisely to a 
slideshow and cited the lesson’s standards at the top of the page .……………………………. 141 

Figure 38. Slide: The introductory lecture slide for Vince’s Vietnam War Unit. As was often the 
case, the introductory slide included a statement of standards (“8.1.2” atop the slide) and the 
learning target (pictured at the bottom of the slide)…………………………………………… 142 

Figure 39. Vince’s slide about U.S. entry into the Vietnam war, complete with an embedded 
video (on the upper right) from the March of 1965. Like all slides, this one’s content correspond-
ed directly to the guided notes worksheet………………………………………………………144 

Figure 40. Slide: A slide explaining the complicated and frustrating nature of war in the Vietnam. 
Note there was an embedded video in the top right corner played the era specific song (+ 
footage) Run Through the Jungle by Creedence Clearwater Revival…………………………. 145 

Figure 41. Slide: A slide examining how the horrors of war prevented the Vietnamese from sup-
porting American action. Note the highlighted vocabulary and embedded video about the use of 
Napalm………………………………………………………………………………………… 147 

Figure 42. Procedural List: This figure represents Vince’s procedure for daily lesson planning 
………………………………………………………………………………………………155-56 

Figure 43. Procedural List: This figure represents Vince’s procedure for weekly lesson planning 
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..156 

Figure 44. Procedural List: This figure represents Vince’s general approach approach to planning 
across a semester………………………………………….…………………………………… 156 

Figure 45. Document: This figure is a screenshot of page 3 of Vince’s “US History Super 
Doc”…….……………………………………………….…………………………………….. 158 

Figure 46: List: This figure describes an organized list of components involved in Vince’s daily 
instruction …………………………………….………………………………………………..160 

Figure 47: List: This figure describes an organized list of components involved in the scope and 
sequence of Vince’s semester of teaching ………………………………………………… 160-61 

Figure 48. Slide: Vince’s slide explicating the role race played in who fought in Vietnam. In the 
midst of lecture. Featured on this slide was news footage of Muhammad Ali speaking out on the 
war and Marvin Gayes’ song What’s Going On……………………………………………….. 167 

 

xii

Figure 49. Slide: A slide about the social division during the Vietnam war. Embedded in the slide 
was a clip from The 60’s miniseries featuring a heated argument about the war.………………169 

Figure 50. Image: A screenshot of Donald Trump’s draft card, taken from Vince’s slideshow.. 174 

Figure 51. Slide: This slide contained VICE News documentary footage of NFL players taking a 
knee in protest of police brutality. The documentary linked free speech protest back to Vietnam 
…………………………………………………………………………………………………. 175 

Figure 52. Slide: Vince’s slide discussing the sinking morale among US soldiers as it was ex-
pressed in phenomena like fragging and drug use. This slide also showed two pictures of Vince’s 
father (blacked out face on top left and right); Vince additionally added commentary from his 
father’s perspective……………………………………………………………………………. 176 

Figure 53. Picture: A picture of Vince’s projector screen when he simulated drafting the class into 
the war via the Selective Service System using an interactive website……………………….. 177 

Figure 54. Picture: The cover of a student’s booklet for the year-end Civil Rights project.
…………….…………………………………………………….………………………………184 

Figure 55. The first two pages of a student’s project on “Native Rights”; like the previous figure, 
these two (of five) pages in the pamphlet record various historical wrongdoings, accomplish-
ments, inspirations and major events.…………………………………………………………. 186 

Figure 56. Picture: The first two pages of a student’s project on “African American” rights; these 
two (of five) pages in the pamphlet record various historical wrongdoings, accomplishments, in-
spirations and major events.…………………………………………………………………… 186 

Figure 57. List: The 19 High-Leverage Practices put forth by TeachingWorks……………… 195 

Figure 58: List: This figure is a list of Sensational Teaching’s 15 habits of mind ……………  199 

Figure 59. Graph: This graph illustrates Mihály Csíkszentmihályi’s Flow Theory and the rela-
tionship between challenge and skill required to generate the state of flow. Used with permission. 
…………………………………………………………………………………………………. 207 

 

xiii

INTRODUCTION 

“We become what we love. Our destiny is in our desires, yet what we seek to  

possess soon comes to possess us in thought, feeling, and actuation.” 
- Jim Garrison, Dewey and Eros: Wisdom and Desire in the Art of Teaching, 2010, p. xiii. 

- Neuropsychologist Donald Hebb via The Organization of Behavior: A neuropsychological theory, 1949. 

“Neurons that fire together, wire together.” 

 

Since I was a young boy and continuing into adulthood, others have frequently remarked 

about my imagination and curiosity. Understanding new concepts and information has typically 

come easy and seemed natural. However, at many points of my schooling, from early elementary 

to graduate study and professional development, I have found myself bored with and disengaged 

from formal education. Though I now consider myself to be an avid learner and eager teacher, 

the chronic disinterest and lack of motivation I have experienced in formal learning spaces for-

merly led me to the conclusion that I was not an ideal student. And in this regard, I do not think 

I’m unique. Many curious and otherwise hard-working people struggle mightily to be invested 

and engaged in school. 

 

Though my deep love of history emerged while I was an elementary student, it actually 

had nothing to do with being in school. I can still recall the moment I fell in love with the sub-

ject. It was during a holiday break from school while visiting extended family in Indiana, when I 

was given permission to watch my first R-Rated movie, The Last of Mohicans. While it is diffi-

cult to remember history content prior to high school, I vividly recall being 11 years old, staring 

at a glowing screen in my uncle Dean’s dimly-lit living room. Micheal Mann’s dramatic histori-

 

1

cal film was enthralling; my eyes saw slow-motion frames of Daniel Day-Lewis  sprinting 

3

through an untamed frontier, chivalrously defending distressed damsels, courageously standing 

his ground in battle against fierce antagonists wielding tomahawks. My ears heard triumphal 

strings, piercing horns, and aggressively building militaristic drums —music set against images 

of blood and gun smoke— that seemed to offer their own commentary on the emotional tempera-

ture of the story. Fight scenes spiked my adrenaline. I still blush a bit as I recall how I felt roman-

tic sentiments for Madeline Stowe , her grace on the screen was somehow intensified by the soft 

4

and gentle stringed orchestral score. Meanwhile, my uncle —a historyphile who had before and 

since participated in multiple reenactments— narrated information about the French & Indian 

War, life in the colonial era of the United States, and the experiences and treatment of Native 

Americans. I was locked in. 

 

Fully engaged with my senses heightened, then and there I began to appreciate not just a 

film or film in general, but history itself. Even though the film portrayed a work fiction , it 

5

dawned on me that the passion and drama of the human experience were unmistakably present in 

history and literature. Perhaps this was because I had previously been educated in a purely cogni-

tive or left-brained way, but the thought of learning intersecting with my imagination and desires 

never before crossed my mind or affected my being. I wanted to learn about English settlers, In-

digenous tribes, French trappers, and the alliances and conflicts that defined the era. I wondered 

 Playing the character of Hawkeye or Nathaniel Poe.

 Playing the strong heroine character of Cora Munro.

 Based on James Fenimore Cooper's popular novel.

3

4

5

 

2

how people lived, loved, and what they were willing to die for. History felt present and pregnant 

with drama, not distant and cold. 

 

Later that same year, my meager encounter with Indigenous history —albeit via a roman-

ticized and concocted Hollywood fiction— served as inspiration do a school project on the 

Ojibwa/Chippewa tribe that found my father and I building a miniature canoe and wigwam using 

birch bark. Though the project was obviously just an activity emphasizing a cosmetic aspect of a 

cultural history (omitting many salient considerations, such as those of genocide and contempo-

rary justice), I happened to learn a bit about broken treaties and the establishment of reservations. 

Although there was no explicit instructional prompting and I had no grammar for it, I wondered 

who the hell gave white people the right to settle, colonize, and remove people from their homes. 

The interests and curiosities that started outside of school when I was 11 followed me through 

school to being a history teacher and a teacher educator. What began with simple and reduction-

istic school projects slowly evolved into being more attentive in social studies classes as I aged. 

In high school, I paid attention in history, government, & economics classes; I actually enjoyed 

my Advanced Placement Comparative Government and Politics course. Along the way, I 

watched Saturday Night Live with a religious devotion and cherished the political satire more 

than anyone else my age. As a teen, I loved how Dana Carvey’s and Darryl Hammond’s presi-

dential caricatures provided some reference to news headlines and how, in the Weekend Update 

segment, Norm MacDonald and Colin Quinn provided irreverent connective tissue to current 

events. 

 

To ‘play chicken’ with my worldview I became a philosophy major in college. I wanted 

to think about big thoughts. Courses in logic, ethics, and Continental philosophy fascinated me 

 

3

and helped bring to light the often taken for granted presuppositions that sneak their way into 

conversations about politics, religion, and culture. On one hand, I began to see more clearly the 

dynamic power of rhetoric, and on the other —as the United States invaded Iraq— how people 

often choose groupthink or mere scoffing instead of productive conversations that rely upon facts 

and critical thinking. I flirted with cynicism and dove into history, quickly returning to college 

for my teaching certificate. I suppose I was hoping for an avenue to invite others into thinking 

big thoughts with me. During teacher preparation, I was heartened to discover how social studies 

could do more than produce a better knowledge base for those who might someday find them-

selves on an episode of Jeopardy. I was fortune to have a provocative instructor  who was un
-

6

afraid to stir the pot. Social studies, I learned, could be clever and mischievous. Avner Segall’s 

Maps as Stories About the World (2003) made me grin as I saw how a few critical observations 

from the world of geography —such an unassuming discipline on the surface of things— could 

help students notice and question the underlying purposes, assumptions, and values of those who 

produce media and simultaneously consider the persuasive mechanisms used to transmit infor-

mation. While many of my peers just wanted an instructional toolkit and balked at our institu-

tion’s insistence on becoming familiar with scholarship, my inner geek appreciated the opportu-

nity to read: Sam Wineburg positing historical thinking as an unnatural act (1999); Peter Seixas’ 

discussion of students’ grasping historical significance (1994); and Deborah Britzman discussing 

why acquiring certain types of knowledge can be so difficult (2003). All this helped me became a 

teacher who pushed buttons. Incorporating Indigenous histories and critical perspectives à la 

Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States (1980; 2003) and History Lessons: How Textbooks 

6

 

 H. James Garrett, then a PhD candidate, who is now faculty at the University of Georgia.

4

Around the World Portray American History (Lindaman & Ward, 2004), I sought to ask students 

to consider how power, privilege, and perspectives about the past shaped the stories we tell about 

it and how we operate in society today.  

 

Along the way, I noticed something. Students, as a sometimes forgotten subset of all peo-

ple, struggled mightily to engage in complex and difficult considerations, at least without the 

right sort of prompting. As they sat in rows and endured mundane teaching, they couldn’t care 

less. Yet, if they were exposed to a film clip depicting a historical drama or a comedian making a 

poignant political joke, meaningful engagements and critical discussion had a fighting chance; 

how could students not care if they were adequately exposed to information in exciting ways? In 

my history and economics classes, I began to regularly show clips from The Daily Show with Jon 

Stewart  to introduce topics and give students access to current events. They started talking 

7

more. An assortment of clips from films and strange activities (that sometimes flopped) made 

class more lively and learning more intrinsic. 

 

Though not initially apparent when I was a teacher, I have since realized that it’s com-

monplace for schooling to unwittingly disconnect ‘the head from the heart’ and in an educational 

paradigm saturated with corporate textbooks and standards that incentivize content coverage 

over depth, this problem draws our attention away from considering justice and the passions that 

drive us in substantial ways. However, I have also learned that this disconnection can be —if 

handled rightly— merely correlational, that is, not inherent or causally related to formal educa-

tion. There are opportunities for schooling and the teachers within to pique interest, direct atten-

tion to deeply held values, and sincerely engage the whole of the person. When teaching authen-

7

 

 With all due respect to Trevor Noah’s brilliant and morally astute social commentary, Mr. Stewart did it best.

5

tically engages the human experience through evocative modalities, such depth and relevance 

often finds attentive and curious learners who are intrinsically motivated. As such, sensational 

teaching aspires to examine the importance of teaching in ways that can awaken and utilize stu-

dents’ senses to cultivate robust, more embodied and complex ways of knowing that both form 

them as citizens and captivate their humanity. 

 

6

CHAPTER 1: FRAMING SENSATIONAL TEACHING 

“Strumming my pain with his fingers 

Singing my life, with his words 
Killing me softly, with his song 

Telling my whole life, with his words 
Killing me softly, with his song…”  

- Lyrics from the song Killing Me Softly, covered  by the Fugees, 1996. 

8

“And if you swear that there’s no truth and who cares 

How come you say it like you're right?” 

- Lyrics from the song We Are Nowhere and It’s Now, by (Conor Oberst of) the band Bright Eyes, 2005. 

 

Though aesthetics (such a film, music, art, and various forms of digital media) are widely 

I.  STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM(S) 

used in secondary humanities classrooms, their incorporation into classroom instruction is not 

known for being academically productive. Accordingly, teachers often treat printed texts as the 

main —if not sole— legitimate sources of content knowledge and discursive practices that pro-

duce learning, thus establishing parameters for acceptable ways of educating. Though aesthetic 

texts are likewise imbued with content knowledge, discursive elements, and are therefore rich 

with learning potential, they are often taken less seriously than their print counterparts. In short, 

it is often assumed that print is where teaching and learning occurs, aesthetics are for superfluous 

entertainment or taking a break from teaching and learning. 

 Originally written and recorded in the early 1970’s, as Killing Me Softly With His Song, by Charles Fox and Nor
8
man Gimbel, in 1996 the hip hop group The Fugees covered and remade the song, winning a Grammy Award be-
cause Lauren Hill’s divine voice unequivocally improved the original song.

-

 

7

 

From John Dewey to Maxine Greene, to more recent scholarship, thoughtful literature 

acknowledges the humanity of teachers and students alike but simultaneously laments how edu-

cation often myopically focuses only on a narrow view of cognition. This awareness and desire 

to access natural dispositions, funds of knowledge and learning styles, and proclivities towards 

meaning, beauty, justice, and other affective interactions casts a vision for a notion that I’m call-

ing sensational teaching (described in detail later); utilizing aesthetics to employ affect for learn-

ing. I am interested in extending this longstanding conversation, understanding that the promo-

tion of critical thinking and concrete learning outcomes are made more possible when humanities 

teachers’ instruction affects students via aesthetics. 

II. LITERATURE REVIEW 

 

Studies comparing and contrasting aesthetic and non-aesthetic approaches are sparely 

represented in scholarship. While literature generally accounts of teaching with various forms 

aesthetics, attending to practical best and worst practices for incorporating (Hobbs, 2006; Stod-

dard, 2012), considering relevance of incorporating music and pop-culture to generate student 

interest (Lewis & Tierney, 2013), and even theorizes the use aesthetics in education research 

(Garrett & Kerr, 2016), there is scant information about how teachers think about how the incor-

poration of aesthetics and affect might be tied to the promotion of critical thinking and other rel-

evant learning outcomes. Further, how teachers think about the relationship between content 

knowledge, learning styles, aesthetic texts, and accomplishing curricular aims can yield helpful 

insights for teacher preparation and professional development. 

 

Though human emotions represent much of the complex dynamics of lived experiences 

and are inseparable from thinking, many theories and studies of education reduce or misunder-

 

8

stand the importance that emotion plays upon learning (Boler, 1998; 1999; 2004). Supposing the 

affective domain to be separate from the cognitive domain has resulted in many practices, con-

ceptions of learning, and educational experiences that likewise separate thinking from feeling in 

a rational/irrational binary (Lewis & Tierney, 2013; Helmsing, 2017). Apart from this dilemma of 

proverbially detaching the head from the heart, curricular standards —especially in the social 

studies and humanities— seem to call for learning outcomes that can only be produced when 

feeling and thinking are both present and working in concert.  

 
Though there is an established lineage of practitioners and theorists who believe schools 
should be student-centered arenas for children to explore subject matter according to their own 

interests, modern education has been made in the image of a product-oriented system that limits 

opportunities for students to make meaningful connections and internalize crucial processes of 

learning (Jones & Risku, 2015). In addition to living in an era of potentially worrisome notions 

of accountability, standardized tests, and other demands that stress a high volume of content cov-

erage, educators are tasked with moving their students beyond learning content and disciplinary 

thinking skills. That is, standards and stakeholders alike put forth noble goals such as the promo-

tion of critical thinking and the formation of informed and active citizenry as the ultimate aims of 

education (Michigan Department of Education, 2007; Na#onal Counsel for the Social Studies, 

2012; Blair, 2012; Na#onal Counsel for the Social Studies’ C3 Framework, 2013). Yet, noble pur-

poses like citizenship formation and fostering critical thinking do not happen casually since they 

deal with the transformation of the whole of the student, rather than focusing on the mere trans-

mission of information. As such, achieving the highest aims of education depends heavily upon 

whether learning can tap into the deepest parts of students’ humanity. Yet, as the aforementioned 

 

9

dilemma —feeling being detached from thinking— is mapped onto a complex landscape of lofty 

curricular aims and other pressures, modern education is set up for an inherent frustration in that 

the orientation of education underachieves in making allowance for productive modes of teach-

ing and learning.  

 

Accomplishing not only the teaching and learning of content and skills, but the lofty 

goals of fostering an informed and active citizenry —the very goals that undergird the deeper 

purposes of education— is largely contingent on the approaches and modes of instruction and the 

sort of preparation that supports it. While standards, policy, and accountability undoubtedly fac-

tor into the equation, in the end, education comes down to being enacted in tangible experiences, 

to human interactions seeking to transmit and transform. Rather than supposing that raising stan-

dards, ushering in sweeping policy reform, surveilling teachers more fiercely, or imagining new 

and utopian paradigms can resolve curricular dilemmas and accomplish robust aims, I contend 

that progress in accomplishing curriculum hinges largely on producing and executing the sort of 

instruction that reunites the head and the heart namely through incorporating aesthetics to access 

the affective domain. 

 

Schooling has been long been found lacking in its ability to awaken and utilize the 

breadth of our humanity (Greene, 1977; Robinson, 2006; Azzam, 2009; Greenwalt 2016). As 

such, the incorporation of aesthetics is widely regarded as valuable to education for their ability 

to holistically engage and teach learners (Barone & Eisner, 2011), connecting them to deep hu-

man yearnings for meaning and relationship (Greenwalt 2016). Aesthetics (Lewis, & Tierney, 

2013; Helmsing, 2014; Garrett & Kerr, 2016) and the affective domain (Clough & Halley, 2007) 

have been theorized as lenses through which to do research. However, what remains in linking 

 

10

the head and heart in education is to situate affect and aesthetics as means to curricular ends and 

to call for their formal inclusion in preparation and practice. 

 

In the wake of the seeming divorce that exists in education between the head and heart 

(Greene, 1977), I argue for an educative remarriage of sorts to reunite affect and cognition to the 

end of greater enjoyment of schooling and academic success. Since learning happens best when 

it is accompanied by emotion, this dissertation will explore teacher thinking and practice about 

the incorporation of aesthetics into humanities instruction. 

III. LENSES & FRAMES 

Affect & Aesthetics 
 

Since affect and aesthetics are being proposed as a way forward through some important 

educational dilemmas, framing terminology is essential. Pointing to something that impacts a 

psychological disposition, the Oxford dictionary defines affect as an emotion or desire that influ-

ences behavior (2018). Affect thusly refers to the sensations and feelings (Helmsing, 2014) expe-

rienced by people as they encounter a wide-ranging emotional spectrum such as fear, wonder, 

joy, and moral outrage. To be more precise, emotion and affect should thusly be differentiated. 

Emotion as it affects behavior is affect. In this vein, it should be noted that affect is sometimes 

problematically pitted against thinking, the cognitive elements and processes reasoning, acquir-

ing knowledge, making abstractions, and related forms of mental analysis (Lewis, & Tierney, 

2013; Helmsing, 2014). Though it is important to acknowledge contrasts between affect and 

thinking, my conception of each is not mutually exclusive to the other; though distinct, affect 

ought not and cannot be separated from thinking. 

 

Generally speaking, aesthetics refers to the study, philosophy, and appreciation of art, 

beauty, and culture. This typical conception positions aesthetics as created entities and artifacts 

 

11

such as music, works of arts, poetry, film, and other media that are evocative, stimulative, and 

imbued with meanings that awaken those who experience them to existing and new realities 

(Greene 2001; Hanich et. al, 2014; Garrett & Kerr, 2016). The classroom use of entities such as 

music/lyrical analysis, film/television, graphic novels, and performance arts often engage stu-

dents and provide connective tissue between feeling and thinking, augmenting learning episodes 

by simultaneously utilizing cognition and emotion. Yet, it is important to move beyond a concep-

tion of aesthetics as merely physical artifacts such as sculptures and paintings, to consider what 

these entities do and provoke within the people who experience them.  

 

To this end of how people experience art, deliberate attention and acknowledgment is 

owed to the renowned pragmatist philosopher John Dewey, whose contributions to both educa-

tion and notions of art and aesthetics cannot be understated. In Art as Experience, Dewey took up 

both art generally and aesthetics  specifically with a sophistication keenly aware of the interplay 

9

between consumers —that is, their perceiving, appreciating, enjoying, and interacting with art— 

and the physical objects they experience (1934). Though a precise definition of aesthetics may 

seem illusive in Dewey’s work, because he refused to separate art from experience, he indicates 

aesthetic experiences make for a heightened awareness and fully engaged life as aesthetics nec-

essarily involve, “a drama in which action, feeling, and meaning are one” (Leddy, 2006). 

 Dewey actually referred to aesthetics as “esthetics”.

9

 

12

 

Dewey was mindful of the history of aesthetics —often referencing poets , philoso

10

-

phers , and visual artists — and addressed how the field relates to humanity generally and edu

12

11

-

cation specifically. Further, the philosopher held that the authentic reality and outworking of art 

involves what objects do within ordinary experience. Appreciating the Parthenon and its signifi-

cance, for instance, therefore cannot happen without a rich understanding of the cultural context 

of citizenship and civic religion in ancient Athens (1934). That said, it is important to additional-

ly understand that Dewey was not only interested the formal, fine, or ‘high art’ found in muse-

ums and revered since antiquity. Rather, Dewey saw aesthetic value in seemingly more ordinary 

places, recognizing the gravity of popular art

13

 and its dynamism to enhance and enliven the 

everyday lives of common people. Accordingly, this present project is informed in large part by 

this far-reaching and pervasive notion of art and aesthetics as a deeply impactful and experiential 

phenomenon. 

 

A robust notion of aesthetics is firstly mindful of this salient interaction that occurs be-

tween a person and the aesthetic object they are beholding. In this vein, as Garret & Kerr explain, 

aesthetic experiences provoke the senses to a sort of “creation through interaction”,  which yields 

meanings, interpretations, and cognizance about a subject’s place in the world (2016, p. 512). It 

is wise to caveat how I’m linking aesthetic experience with this project. While a  Deweyan view 

sees art as an important part of the human experience, an aesthetic experience —a soul-thrilling 

10

 e.g. Coleridge, Keats, Poe, and Shakespeare.

 Dewey writing considered the groundwork laid by Plato and Aristotle while being conversant Kant and Schopen

11
hauer and contemporaries such as Leo Tolstoy. 

-

12

  e.g. Cezanne, Constable, Delacroix, Matisse, and Van Gogh.

 To Dewey, movies, comic books, popular music (e.g. such as jazz), and the drama contained in newspaper stories 

13
also contained aesthetic value.

 

13

encounters that signify a heightened life via an especially profound engagement with world— 

isn’t something that can be planned for or just conjured up (Leddy, 2016). Sensational teaching 

might hope to set the stage for such emotional and intellectual encounters but it would be naive 

to insist that true aesthetic experiences could be manufactured on command. As such, sensational 

teaching is aspirational in how it gleans from the provocative and profoundly transformational 

sorts of interactions that could be described as true aesthetic experiences. 

 

To be more concrete about the attainable components of sensational teaching that can 

more easily be sought after I turn to Kostoulas et. al. The authors clarify this project further in 

making a distinction between an emotional highlight, something that fosters emotional arousal 

within a person, and an aesthetic highlight, a creative technique embedded within the production 

of the media itself. Teaching that seeks to be ‘sensational’ as I have described can reasonably and 

consistently leverage aesthetic highlights to produce varying degrees of emotional highlights. 

Speaking strictly to the use of film, but no doubt applicable to other media, Kostoulas et. al de-

scribe emotional highlights as given impassioned moments subjectively occurring within a per-

son encountering media that result in, “in high or low arousal and high or low valence at a given 

time” (2017, p. 2). Aesthetic highlights on the other hand, speak more to the concrete and dis-

cernible purposes and intents of authorship; the explicit content and form being used to establish 

connections and experiences (2017). Aesthetic experiences then, not only create spaces for open-

ended thinking but also involve, “the demand to articulate, create, intuit, and feel” (Garrett & 

Kerr, 2016, p. 514).  

 

As these aesthetic experiences disrupt the typical, they can provoke conflict through a 

gamut of emotions such as discomfort, uncertainty, angst, and vulnerability (Garrett & Kerr, 

 

14

2016). This sort of experience, known as aesthetic conflict, occurs as the consequence of the 

messy interior life being confronted in an aesthetic experience (Garrett & Kerr, 2016). Britz-

man’s attention to psychoanalysis illuminates the essence and origin of this conflict; she posi-

tions “learning as a psychic event” that not only extends and complicates knowledge, but also 

stirs the affective domain as the whole of the person is faced with repressed fears and other 

buried emotions (p.19, 1999). Aesthetic conflict causes a subject to face “difficult knowledge” 

that he or she cannot stand to know or want to be confronted with (p.131). Since aesthetic enti-

ties demands attention —inviting, attracting, and engaging us unlike any other mode of learn-

ing— subjects may feel conflicted as deeply held commitments, personal investments, and sa-

cred beliefs are surfaced and tried during these evocative encounters (Garrett & Kerr, 2016). 

 

Another aspect of aesthetic education to be explored is relational aesthetics, which in-

volves the interpersonal relations prompted in the midst of the social contexts of participatory 

encounters (Bourriaud, 2002; Garrett & Kerr, 2016). Relational aesthetics speak to lived perfor-

mances and experiences, states of encountering the arts, and the actual enactment of lesson plans 

where spaces are intentionally curated to cause new subject positions through shared listening/

viewing, feeling, and analysis as new possibilities for gaining understandings of the self, the oth-

er, and the world are afforded (Garrett & Kerr, 2016). 

 

Finally, another related concept concisely explicates the salience of aesthetic education 

and how it interacts with difficult knowledge is feeling power. Put forth in her book Feeling 

Power: Emotions and Education, Megan Boler (1998; 1999; 2004) offers a two-fold conception: 

feeling power can firstly refer to how intricate and deeply held and felt identities map onto a 

complex emotional terrain replete with hierarchies of social power. Cognizant of such power re-

 

15

lations, the author attends to how social dynamics and inequalities often produce senses of be-

longing, alienation, and shame, as people interact in schooling. The second sense of feeling pow-

er, which is of greater use to this inquiry, attends more straightforwardly to the innate power and 

impact that emotion has upon learning. Working against the modern western tendency to limit, 

control, or perhaps even fear emotion in situations of learning, feeling power demands that edu-

cators both acknowledge and tap into affect and the corresponding states of mind/being (Boler, 

1998;1999;2004). To clarify the utility of feeling power for the purposes of this paper, I take the 

second conception, associated with appreciating and utilizing feelings for learning, rather than 

the first (which is more focused on power dynamics and corresponding activism), to be most rel-

evant to an exploration of emotions and learning. 

An Inclusive Pedagogy 
 

The most beneficial interventions, ideas, and reforms for learning are those that will em-

power all students, regardless of their standing in society, to engage with schooling and learn au-

thentically (Windschitl et al., 2012). Though sensational teaching might be primarily understood 

as a creative and holistic approach to pedagogy, it is also concerned with issues of ethics and so-

cial justice and thusly seeks to challenge uncritical curricular narratives that sanitize the ugliness 

of the past and present in curriculum and society itself. Beyond its general implications for indi-

viduals learning, sensational teaching is inclined towards improving educational experiences and 

outcomes for students from populations on the underside of power and privilege. As such, this 

work is augmented by Django Paris’ (2012) concept of culturally sustaining pedagogy that 

“seeks to perpetuate and foster—to sustain—linguistic, literate, and cultural pluralism as part of 

the democratic project of schooling” (p. 93). Rather than orienting the humanities in such a 

 

16

white/‘one-size-fits-all’ way, I resist monocultural expressions of schooling that further marginal-

ize. Instead, this project seeks to establish ways of learning that help a diverse and pluralistic so-

ciety flourish through student centered approaches, the incorporation of multiple perspectives, 

and affirming minorities’ art, culture, and ways of being. 

 

Sensational teaching is also explicitly inclined towards working class students. Though 

‘working class’ (and even ‘class’, for that matter) can be a mercurial term but there is agreement 

that the experience of being working class typically  involves scarcities in wealth, cultural capi

14

-

tal, and various forms of power that cause —among other things— inequitable educational out-

comes. Theorists and educators agree that working class students fall behind their counterparts 

primarily because education is tailored for the middle and upperclass. As a result, working class 

students tend to be afforded less autonomy; as education ‘happens to them’ they are less likely to 

be active participants in accessible curriculum, especially when compared to their more affluent 

counterparts (Carter & Thelin, 2017). Being student-centered, aimed towards relevance, sustain-

ment, and being eager to access the funds of knowledge that students bring with them to school, 

sensational teaching seeks to contextualize formal curriculum through physically somatic and 

culturally intuitive/sustaining means as to make space for students to participate and come to 

learning ‘as they are’. Instead of relying on extrinsic motivation and restrictive behavioral codes, 

this project seeks to empower traditionally disenfranchised students by taking their desires, 

hopes, and potential seriously. Multiple aspects of sensational teaching (e.g. striving for engage-

14
 Working class students are said to be those who come from homes that: earn less than the medium income; work 
hourly in non-professional sectors of the economy; experience authoritarian and external decision making (e.g. work 
decisions are made by management and life decisions are made by parents); not being college-educated; and so on 
(Carter & Thelin, 2017).

 

17

ment and personally relevant connections that attend to justice) explicitly lend themselves to the 

cultivation of class consciousness. 

 

Like many school subjects, the theoretically and textually dense nature of the humanities 

can be an obstacle for Emergent Bilinguals or English Language Learners . Despite this reality, 

15

several aspects sensational teaching directly lend themselves to students who do not speak Eng-

lish as their primary language. Drawing on Kolb’s (1984) experiential learning theory  (ELT), 

16

Bohon et al. suggested attention to feeling, reflection, thinking, and action —items involved in 

having an experience while learning— improves instruction for teachers of English Language 

Learners (2017). Writing about strategies that benefit students of varying linguistic backgrounds 

and capabilities, Baecher (2011) spoke to considerations that work hand in glove with the de-

scriptions and prescriptions engendered by sensational teaching. The instructional insights in-

clude: natural whole class adaptations (e.g. teachers using increased eye-contact to foster interac-

tion and employing gestures and intonation to better convey meaning and significance); scaffolds 

(e.g. providing pictures, modeling and demonstrations, decomposed and interactive talking struc-

tures); and being culturally responsive (e.g. allowing for student variations, using different mate-

rials that avoid stereotypical misrepresentations, and selecting content that provides greater cul-

tural proximity).  

15
 I acknowledge that many scholars now prefer the term Emergent Bilinguals to English Language learners because 
the former more carefully situates students in terms of their assets and de-centers English as the only valid option for 
schooling in the United States.

 Experiential Learning Theory was built partially off of Dewey’s theory of experience that places experience at the 

16
center of learning.

 

18

 

In their 2012 piece, Visualizing social studies literacy: Teaching content and skills to 

English language learners, Bárbara Cruz and Stephen Thornton indicate how visuals (and corre-

sponding teaching strategies) can assist students at all levels of language proficiency. They argue:  

Visuals can greatly reduce cognitive load in learning while simultaneously exposing stu-
dents to conceptually rich subject matter. Thus, ELLs, struggling readers, exceptional 
education students and other student populations can grapple with the substantive ideas 
social studies is designed to impart (p.108). 

The use of items like historical photographs, paintings and illustrations, maps, propaganda 

posters, and graphic organizers, allow for greater participation among those who might be other-

wise left out of traditional learning that is typically dependent on proficiency with English 

(2012). In addition to helping students grasp an author’s perspective or intent (e.g. the role of 

color or strong images in propaganda posters) or exercise higher-order reasoning (e.g. the use of 

timelines to understand chronology or diagrams), these materials and strategies also help English 

speakers whom prefer to learn visually and further utilize physical senses that are shared by stu-

dents across linguistic lines. Since this project is inclined to utilize entities and strategies that are 

visually (and otherwise) evocative and that employ higher-order thinking in ways that are not 

dependent on extraneous text, sensational teaching is well situated to accommodate Emergent 

Bilinguals and students who would benefit from a visually engaging practice. 

Sensational Teaching  
 

Summing, synthesizing, and extending the aforementioned terminology, I here introduce 

the notion of sensational teaching which involves using aesthetics to employ both emotion and 

affect (the behavior involved with emotion) in episodes of learning. To be clear, pedagogy that is 

said to be ‘sensational’ is not to be understood as synonymous with being exceptional or positive 

per se. Rather, sensational teaching is conceptualized as an approach that leverages evocative 

 

19

entities to produce various affective or physical sensations in learners towards educative ends 

such as critical thinking, empathy, and considerations of justice. Concretely, this means teaching 

with non-traditional materials and methods to engage students bodily, emotionally/viscerally, and 

socially to affirm their humanity and help them learn more deeply. In this vein, there’s a moment 

in the Odyssey that illustrates the heart of sensational teaching. When Odysseus, in disguise, was 

staying on the island of Scheria, homesick and weary from his travels, he heard a bard’s song 

about himself from the Trojan War (see figure 1 below). As the singing retraced a great quarrel 

Figure 1. Painting: An artist’s interpretation of a scene from book VIII of The Odyssey in which 
Odysseus (right) covers his face as he weeps while listening to the blind bard Demodocus (sec-
ond from the left) sing tales of the Trojan War. Seeing Odysseus weep, King Alcinous (on the 

throne second from the right) is also moved to tears. Image downloaded from the web.

he had with Achilles, the pain and suffering from that moment causes Odysseus to weep uncon-

trollably. Meanwhile, Alcinous (king of Phaiacia), watches Odysseus weep and is likewise 

moved to tears. This is scene from Homer’s epic provides a vivid example of the power of the 

arts and affective experiences. 

 

As will be clarified and unpacked throughout this work , sensational teaching is an un

17

-

veiled challenge to the modes of education that tranquilize and anesthetize students through 

bland ‘neck-up’ strategies that don’t engage the ‘heart’ or the rest of the body. Even though stu-

 To more precisely understand sensational teaching, examine the full list of its 15 habits of mind via figure 63 on 

17
p.199 or Appendix C on p.250.

 

20

dents may be frequently exposed to glowing screens in schools, these scenarios often find them 

assuming postures that are only fit for passive consumption (Diaz & McKenna, 2004; Hobbs, 

2006; Berk, 2009). Greater pedagogical attention and care (e.g. in terms of planning and in scaf-

folding learning experiences) should not be only reserved for teaching in traditional ways with 

printed materials. Our world is a highly stimulated one where people are constantly exposed to 

the enticements of social and digital media, yet schools are often sites of boredom and disen-

gagement (Greenwalt 2016). But, since humans seek lives that are both pleasurable and mean-

ingful —and are almost universally curious— learning can be one of the most intriguing, plea-

surable, and meaningful activities we encounter. Though much ink has already been spilled over 

such considerations, striving to make learning more enjoyable and intuitive is not a pipe dream, 

nor is it pretentious to seek to maximize education’s potential to improve society. 

 

Sensational teaching seeks to deliberately engage students’ attention and humanity 

through creative, relevant, and intuitive teaching in order to help students enjoy themselves in 

school and bring about learning outcomes that foster a more discerning, alert, critical, and just 

citizenry. Drawing heavily from Greene’s notions of awakened learning (1977) and the consider-

ations of subjective emotional highlights and the techniques of aesthetic highlights (Kostoulas, 

2017), sensational teaching involves intentionally curating learning episodes to access subjects’ 

affective domains to help them learn more effectively, naturally, and enjoyably. Harkening back 

to Dewey’s acknowledgement of the transformative potential of the arts, sensational teaching 

understands that the use aesthetics can intensify and make meaningful experiences in learning 

(1934). While what students know and learn is a worthwhile pursuit and closely tied to the heart 

 

21

of this project, sensational teaching is firstly concerned with the practices of teachers as that is a 

salient piece of formal education. 

Mapping the Philosophical & Educational Terrain 
 

The philosophical underpinnings of affect suggest that not only does the mind’s power to 

think correspond directly to its receptivity to external ideas, but likewise the body’s power to act 

and function in the world also corresponds to its receptivity to external stimuli. The roots of an 

educative turn toward affect can be traced back to the 17th century Dutch philosopher Baruch 

Spinoza who is credited with first advancing the theory of the affects. Spinoza asserted the exis-

tence of a profound correspondence, that the mind’s power to think, and its developments, is 

deeply connected to the body’s power to act. Spinoza posited humans as material beings, end-

lessly caught up in processes of cause and effect. An affection (L’affection) then, is a state of en-

counter between the human body and an external affecting body, where the encounter aids or di-

minishes a body’s capacity to act (Shouse, 2005). Many years later, in A Thousand Plateaus, 

Gilles Deleuze & Felix Guattari compliment Spinoza’s notion of affect by positioning it as some-

thing more beyond a mere human feeling, but rather a pervasive predisposition that can be 

tapped into and acted upon by entities external to the person (1988). An example of this could be 

of a person merely imagining a delicious cake —something not immediately present— finding 

her mouth salivating and consequently shopping at a local bakery. Nearly synonymous with emo-

tions, affections can thusly have a profound impact on a person’s power to be and act in the 

world, something Spinoza referred to as ‘potentia’ (Gregg & Seigworth, 2010). Put in an educa-

tional context, potentia means that entities such as the light and images on a television screen, the 

sound of a fire alarm, sitting among antagonistic or friendly peers, or the amount of caffeine con-

 

22

sumed in this morning’s coffee, can impact one’s learning capacity. Thus, affect straddles the re-

lationship between the mind’s power to think and the body’s power to act and feel (Clough & 

Halley, 2007). 

 

Following Spinoza, other thinkers such as Deleuze further developed and influenced the 

study and trajectory of affect (Clough & Halley, 2007). Considering and responding to other 

modern philosophers and artists, Deleuze wrote from the 1960’s to the 1990’s extensively on 

metaphysics, epistemology, literature, film, and fine arts. Building upon philosophers like Henri 

Bergson who also took up the interplay of experience and intuition, Deleuze was broadly inter-

ested the in qualitative differences between and interrelation among subjects and objects of art. 

His film theory maintained that since film extends out of and into human thinking capacities, 

viewers get drawn in, seduced, and ultimately transformed by the medium (Deleuze, & Stivale, 

1984). Deleuze supposed that when minds engage with film they become unified with it both in 

physical terms (by fusing with its light and sound) and also on a metaphysical level where partic-

ipants receive and share the thoughts and emotions being put forth by the medium (1984). This 

so called ‘movement’ in a film, moving fluidly from the object to the subject, transforms people 

in potentially significant ways (1984). In What Is Philosophy?, Deleuze and Felix Guattari 

broadly addressed art as, “a bloc of sensations, that is to say, a compound of percepts and af-

fects” (1994, p. 163). The philosophers positioned art as radically creative and powerful, suggest-

ing that when the artist produces entities that will be encountered by consumers, the artist can 

invent new affects within people that will spawn new forces or desires for action in the world 

(1994). Given this ideological lineage and associated concepts, further attention must be paid to 

how and why the context of schooling has not seized upon the potential of affect and aesthetics. 

 

23

 

Since the late 1970’s, educators (e.g., Greene, 1977) have noted how a wider societal ten-

dency to condition and control citizens has seeped into schooling, proverbially ‘putting students 

to sleep’ through disengaging modes of learning (Robinson, 2006). Given that contemporary 

schooling is not only mandatory, but has been heavily shaped by industrialization and the ambi-

tions and fears of the Cold War, natural human desires and motivations have often checked at 

education’s door (Robinson 2009; Greenwalt, 2016). In Toward’s Wide Awakeness, Maxine 

Greene described a certain malaise, passivity, and slumber facing both society and education; in 

light of this lethargy, Greene argued for the broad use of aesthetics in education to, “move people 

to critical awareness, to a sense of moral agency, and to a conscious engagement with the 

world” (p. 163, 1977). Accordingly, aesthetics can be utilized to awaken, providing an education 

more closely tied to natural human desires (Greenwalt, 2016) that also pursues wider civic aims 

for education. 

 

In a compilation of essays called The Affective Turn: Theorizing the Social, Patricia 

Clough and others identify evidence of an “affective turn” in the academy. Like others turns (e.g. 

linguistic, cultural), the collection of essays curates, highlights, and extends emerging research 

trends in interdisciplinary discourses from fields such as sociology, women’s studies, and cultural 

studies (Clough & Halley, 2007). The anthology considers the role of body and emotions in 

learning and explores how affect and passion work together in concert with the reasoning mind, 

noticing broader themes and imagining possibilities for learning to be augmented by affect. The 

essays holistically invite and envision an infusion of affect into many facets of eduction. But 

while this multifaceted project may be refreshing, there remains a gap in this and other literature 

relating to the intersection of aesthetics, affect, and education.  

 

24

 

Though many have pointed out the value and potential of emotional learning, even 

putting forth imaginative exemplars, few have argued for formal inclusion into instruction, cur-

riculum, or teacher education. Perhaps this comes from a justified leeriness about any sort of top-

down imperative derived from a powerful few dictating what the masses ought to be learning. 

Being sensitive to this concern, I must clarify the posture of my argument for formally position-

ing sensational teaching into instruction, curriculum, and teacher education. I acknowledge that 

standards are an undeniable reality of our contemporary educational landscape and that policy-

makers, politicians, and practitioners alike contend for competing forms of curricula. My urging 

to include aesthetics and affect in formal curricular standards is simply to enter into the existing 

fray to promote holistic learning and greater human expression in education. That is, I do not in-

tend to prescribe what the inclusion of sensational teaching ought to look like in curriculum, in-

stead, I argue more generally for why aesthetics and affect should no longer be absent in teacher 

education. 

 

For better or worse, standardization sets parameters and influences possibilities for edu-

cation, establishing various sideboards and freedoms for targeted groups, appropriate learning 

objectives, prospective bodies of content knowledge, and even preferred modes of learning (Choi 

& de Vries, 2011). As an illustration, let us consider secondary social studies standards for the 

state of Michigan. The goal of this curriculum is to develop responsible citizens who can, among 

other items, think critically, act ethically, and possess a, “social understanding includes knowl-

edge of the human condition” (p. 8, Michigan Department of Education, 2007). While the con-

tent standards such as these are suggestive of ways to achieve goals like active democratic citi-

zenship, critical thinking, and digital age proficiencies, there is silence regarding the role aesthet-

 

25

ics might play during instruction and the value of affect in social learning, social understanding, 

and in life itself more broadly. 

Critical Realism 
 

 

How we know, what we know, what we claim to know, and what we insist others are un-

able to know can’t be taken for granted. As such, I have chosen to frame this inquiry with critical 

realism. Critical realism originated with British philosopher Roy Bhaskar whose work —general-

ly directed towards human emancipation— has had meaningful impact on scientific, moral, and 

political philosophy. Originally referred to as transcendental realism (in his 1975 work, A Realist 

Theory of Science), Bhaskar countered challenges stemming from approaches associated with 

both modernity and postmodernity, providing a path to, “overcome the atomistic and narrowly 

human-centered approaches which ha[d] dominated European thought for four centuries” (Col-

lier, 1994, p. 84). Moving away from the naiveté of positivism and the cynicism and internal 

contradictions that plague poststructural approaches to knowledge and meaning, Bhaskar pointed 

out that every philosophy wittingly or unwittingly puts forth a conception of reality that neces-

sarily informs how we ought to think about and live in the world. Ontologically speaking then, 

critical realism does utilize realism in the sense that it asserts that ‘the truth is out there’. While 

maintaining that knowledge exists and acts independently of belief, critical realism rejects a 

clean ‘one to one’ correspondence between belief and reality (Benton, 2004), presenting itself as 

an, “alternative both to the spurious scientificity of positivism and to idealist and relativist reac-

tions to positivism” (Sayer, 2004, p.6). In making this careful distinction between ontology and 

epistemology that conceives of philosophy and science as socially situated yet not purely socially 

 

26

determined, critical realism uses rationality to make careful and compelling descriptive claims 

about the nature of reality and normative claims about human interaction within it. 

 

Those who subscribe to critical realism “are concerned with mapping the ontological 

character of social reality” (Archer, et al. 2016, para. 8). Generally speaking then, the sort of ‘re-

alism’ on which critical realism is built uses to access social (and other forms of reality) carries 

with it four distinctives about the nature of knowledge. The first distinction is objectivity which 

asserts that what is or could be known is or would be real regardless of whether it is known and 

affirmed as such. Secondly, fallibility situates claims as open to refutation, modification, or cor-

rection. Thirdly, the notion of transphenomenality asserts that while knowledge can be derived 

from the ‘appearance of things’, it may not capture the essence of underlying structures. Finally, 

realism also entails counter-phenomenality, a concept holding that knowledge of deep structures 

of reality may also contradict appearances as well (Collier, 1994).  

 

Margaret Archer et al. explain that critical realism seeks to develop a “normative agenda” 

for natural and social science that carries four philosophical commitments; ontological realism, 

epistemic relativism, judgmental rationality, and cautious ethical naturalism (Archer, et al. 2016, 

para. 3). Ontological realism situates critical realism as a meta-theoretical position, “concerned 

with providing a philosophically informed account of science and social science which can in 

turn inform our empirical investigations” (2016, para. 2). This means that critical realism can 

perceive, examine, and explain natural and social phenomena, yet must do so in a reflexive way 

that perpetually calls for an examination of the relationship between claims about reality and the 

evidence being used to support those claims, prioritizing what offers the greatest explanatory 

power. Judgmental rationality speaks to using reason for sound deliberation and making justified 

 

27

conclusions. Finally, ethical naturalism is sort of moral realism stemming from a meta-

ethical doctrine asserting the existence of moral properties of which we have empirical knowl-

edge. 

 

Although critical realism affirms an ontological social reality, it brings with it a sense of 

epistemic humility by acknowledging that knowledge of reality is necessarily situated; cloaked in 

limitations that come from historical, social, and cultural confinements (Archer, et al. 2016). 

However, this chastened epistemology does not make for the sort of strong epistemic relativism 

often associated with social constructivism and post-positivism which ultimately undercuts the 

ability to know reality and make normative claims. Instead, critical realism still puts forth 

knowledge as something that can be discovered and apprehended, even if so imperfectly. Thus, 

instead of positing reality as merely constructed and indeterminate, where one can never claim to 

know authentically due to limitations inherent to relativistic presuppositions, critical realism al-

lows for a sturdy account of phenomena and productive inquiry and consequently engenders op-

timism for understanding, deliberating about, and operating in the world. Though critical realism 

may not be immediately in the forefront of this dissertation, its assumptions about the nature of 

reality and knowledge will be undergirding the entirety of the study in order to provide a way 

forward through the epistemological Bermuda Triangle that scholarship often contends with. 

 

28

CHAPTER 2: FRAMING THE STUDY 

“Lifting up an empty cup I ask silently 

That all my destinations will accept the one that’s me, so I can breathe 

Circles they grow and they swallow people whole 

Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know 

Got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul” 

— Lyrics from Guaranteed, by Eddie Vedder (solo project), 2007.

“I’m the war of head versus heart 

And it’s always this way 

My head is weak, my heart always speaks 

Before I know what it will say”


-  Lyrics from the song Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie


This inquiry sought to trouble the notion that aesthetics are just for entertainment or tak-

I. RESEARCH QUESTIONS 

 

ing a break from ‘real’ education. By extension, I wondered how classroom engagements with 

aesthetic texts are already content rich and ripe for holistic learning. The goal of this dissertation 

was not necessarily to make claims about the correct way to teach with or without aesthetics or 

even explore a precise relationship between evocative learning experiences and the concrete 

learning outcomes they might engender. Rather, this inquiry was interested in examining teach-

ers’ understanding, rationale, and ability to conceptualize and employ practices that stimulate 

their students’ sensations to educative ends. Exploring this relationship afforded a consideration 

of the degree to which teachers suppose encounters with aesthetics may de-compartmentalize 

student learning as their sensations, capacities, and proclivities intersect with content knowledge. 

 

29

 

In conducting this study, I focused on my research on two teachers, Jimi

18

 and Vince  as 

19

the most positive examples of what sensational teaching can be. However, this study interviewed 

and observed the teaching of four secondary humanities teachers, two of which demonstrated 

non-optimal ways to teach with aesthetics and affective modalities like digital media; looking at 

these cases are also helpful. I wanted to explore how each teacher employed sensation and aes-

thetic texts in their practice, conceived of the relationship between sensing and learning, feeling 

and thinking, and how they made sense of and justified their practice(s). During the early to mid-

dle stages of data collection though, I began to observe a marked absence of sophistication and 

what Hobbs refers to as non-optimal practices in the teaching of some of the participants (2006). 

While I will explain and examine this shift in greater detail later, it is worth noting that my re-

search evolved into a two participant, multiple case study approach advanced by Yin (2003). 

Creswell (2014) explains cases to be a bounded system(s) over time where an investigator col-

lects in-depth data from multiple sources. Multiple sources of data afforded me not only the flex-

ibility to contextualize my inquiry across four different classrooms in the same building and pro-

vided a more holistic view from which inferences and generalization could be drawn (Noor, 

2008). Jimi and Vince, the two individuals that I ended up positioning as positive examples, af-

forded a more robust account of teaching with aesthetics and sensational practices. The two par-

ticipants, whom I will profile later, provided data ripe with implications for engaging the whole 

of a person, insights about teaching humanities more humanly, and considerations for teacher 

18

 Pseudonym 

19

 Pseudonym

 

30

preparation and professional development. Given this context and scope of study, I was guided 

by the following research questions: 

1) How is affect, emotion, and bodily sensation present and absent from instruction in hu-

manities classrooms? 

2) What roles do aesthetic texts play in humanities classrooms; how much value and em-
phasis is placed on them relative to the incorporation of print texts and comparatively 
traditional approaches? 

3) How do teachers think about the relationship between acquiring content knowledge, 

learning styles, and students’ desires, emotions, and ability to be affected? To what de-
gree do these understandings impact teachers’ curricular decision-making? 

4) What factors, such as memories from schooling, experiences with entertainment, and 
teaching preparation and practice, play a role in shaping how teachers think about and 
incorporate aesthetics and sensations into their curriculum? 

5) And, finally, the driving question that undergirds this study: what are the implications of 

the above for (especially social studies and English) teacher preparation? 

II. STUDY SPECIFICS & METHODS


Overview & Participants 
 

As mentioned previously, I began by interviewing and observing two English teachers 

and two social studies teachers (one of which had an intern who also participated in this study), 

all of whom working in the same school. Four of the teachers had been teaching between 9 and 

20 years respectively. On of my participants, Theresa, had a 5th-year pre-service intern who 

shared teaching responsibilities in her mentor’s classroom. All of the participants in this study 

were originally from the Midwest and had been certified from teacher education institutions 

therein. The four initial teachers in this study were invited to participate in part due to previous 

research interactions where I was permitted to observe their classrooms but also —and mostly— 

because they had reputations for regularly teaching with aesthetic texts like music and film. It is 

 

31

worth stating that prior to conducting this study, I knew two of four participants; one previously 

allowed me to do a research project in his classrooms, another was a peer and classmate in my 

teacher preparation cohort when I was certified to teach over twelve long years ago. The intern in 

the study was a student in the master’s level course that I was teaching in the Fall and Spring of 

the 2018-2019 school year. 

 

Since this study was informed by considerations of affect, aesthetics, and critical realism, 

its methods corresponded to this theoretical methodology. Interviews were semi-structured. 

While guided by specific prompts to direct attention and engage thinking around explicit con-

cepts, this approach simultaneously granted me the freedom to venture into various directions 

depending upon the participants’ responses. In addition to being semi-structured, I used active 

interviewing techniques to engage both parties in the interviews so that both parties could partic-

ipate in the act of meaning-making (Holstein and Gubrium, 1995). Since I acknowledge that 

most all aspects of knowledge and inquiry are socially generated and that body language, tone, 

and emotion play salient roles in relational endeavor, these approaches made room for cog-

nizance about the ever important context of human interaction as well. 

The Site and Procedures 
 

The location for this study was a public urban high school in the capital city of a large 

Midwestern state. The school had a little over 1,000 students in grades 9-12, with a student-to-

teacher ratio of 20:1. The Niche educational database  indicated the school’s racial and econom

20

-

ic diversity placed it in the top 1% when compared to the rest of the schools in the state; other 

20

 Retrieved from Niche: K-12 School Ratings and Statistics: https://www.niche.com/k12

 

32

sources  indicated that over two thirds of the school population was minority, with the school 

21

majority being Black /African American . The school was in the top quartile of performance on 

23

22

the state’s standardized test scores . While the school had a graduation rate of nearly 90%, data 

24

from standardized testing indicates that just under half of the student population was proficient in 

math and less than a quarter of students were considered proficient in reading. The school was 

reported to have a “low/very low” amount of enrollment in advanced placement courses . The 

25

median income of the district is just under the national average, with almost 50% of the student 

population being on free or reduced lunch . 26

 

This study essentially unfolded in three overlapping stages. The first phase consisted of 

semi-structured interviews  with each teacher involved in the study. Initial interviews lasted 

27

about 45-60 minutes in length and focused on how each teacher employed aesthetic texts and 

sensational practices into their classroom, conceived of the relationship between sensing and 

learning, feeling and thinking, and how they generally made sense of, operationalized, and justi-

fied their practice(s) regarding the incorporation of the aforementioned approaches. Initial inter-

views addressed relevant background information about each teacher (e.g. important elements of 

21

 Retrieved from U.S. News & World Report Education: https://www.usnews.com/education

 Though many use the terms Black and African American interchangeably, I acknowledge these terms are not nec

22
essarily equivocal. Further, to signify respect and affirmation, I intentionally capitalize the “B” of Black.

-

23

 Retrieved from the Public School Review: https://www.publicschoolreview.com

 Some specific criteria, such as the explicit test(s) or scores on the test(s) was not clarified on the Niche: K-12 

24
website.

25

 Qualitative data retrieved from Niche: K-12 School Ratings and Statistics: https://www.niche.com/k12

26

 ibid.

27

 See appendix B for the interview protocol on pp.242-44.

 

33

their identity, reasons for teaching, and what factors motivated them to teach their given content) 

as well as how each teacher theoretically engaged their craft (e.g. rationale for teaching their dis-

ciplines and what goals they have for student learning) and what they perceived as the opportuni-

ties and limitations that impact their ability to teach in sensational ways. This first interview in-

cluded questions intending to prompt and engage the teachers’ thinking about their own interests, 

motivations, conceptions of curriculum, purposes of education, and the degree to which they see 

a connection between sensational practices and learning in their practice.    

 

The second phase of this project consisted of multiple observations in classrooms (like 

those pictured in figure 2 below) across units of instruction that including witnessing teaching 

Figure 2. Picture: A teacher’s seating arrangement for discussion in Honors English 11. See chapter 

four for a discussion about whole class reading days. Photographed by the author in 2019.

episodes that used different mediums, specifically considering how the use of aesthetic texts, af-

fect, and otherwise sensational instruction entered into the curriculum and varied from teaching 

from more traditional approaches. Observations, and corresponding conversations with the 

teachers, considered how each teacher planned and enacted instruction and assessed student 

learning. For each unit, each teacher —with varying levels of formality— identified multiple 

 

34

lessons (including multi-day lessons) they wanted me to attend and observe. I also showed up 

unannounced on other days to get a more well-rounded sense of teaching and learning within 

their classrooms. On occasion, the teachers would suggest me not coming in because they had 

test review or some other circumstance that they felt made it unnecessary or irrelevant for to me 

to observe. Though, I would have preferred no limitations on what days I observed, I resolved to 

honor the preference and suggestions of the teachers in every instance. 

 

During the lessons that I did observe, I recorded notes, being especially attentive to how 

the teacher incorporated aesthetics or other sensational practices (or not), also being mindful of 

ways that planning, enactment, and assessment varied according to the modality of teaching be-

ing taken up. Data collection for the second phase included field observation notes, researcher 

memos, teacher reflections, documents and material from instruction, descriptive accounts of 

aesthetic entities or entities that involve sensation, emails from the teachers, and lesson/unit 

plans. I took hundreds of pictures when visiting the teachers’ classrooms; posters, student work 

samples, seating arrangement, and other artifacts within the school were taking into account to 

help consider the pedagogical implications of the spaces where teaching and learning was taking 

place. After three to four individual lessons and after each unit of observation, there was an in-

terview with the teacher to account for the teacher’s perception of the teaching and learning 

episodes. The purpose of these engagements helped me to glean insight into what the participants 

deemed as both practically educative and otherwise important and to better understand the fac-

tors contributing to their determination (e.g. meeting curricular standards, student engagement, 

interest in the content or strategies being employed) as well.  

 

35

 

More specifically, from February to May 2019, I became deeply familiar with the teach-

ers who participated in my study, their students, and even the school itself. For my interviews 

and observations, I estimate I visited the building at least 25 separate times. This extended prox-

imity eventually took me back to the ‘vibe’ of being in a high school, both as teacher and as a 

student. But especially in the initial visits, when I did not yet have a good mental map of the 

building, I felt out of step with the routines and etiquette of the place. I also felt my generational 

distance and my otherness as an adult who had not taught —or significantly interacted with— 

teens for several years. When students used unfamiliar slang terms in class discussion or in writ-

ten responses, I had to use urbandictionary.com on numerous occasions.  

 

Before too long though, I became familiar with many aspects of the school such as its 

website, variant daily bell schedule (figure 3 below), and social climate of school through expe-

Figure 3. Picture: This figure is a picture of the school’s varying weekly bell schedule. Pho-

tographed by the author in 2019.

riences and conversations. As I sat in on lessons and walked the halls with students, I became a 

known commodity within the classrooms I observed. After being introduced, most students soon 

 

36

resorted to calling me the “researcher guy” or “the guy who’s always typing on his MacBook”. 

Though my presence was no doubt always affecting the space in some way, I soon felt as though 

I was blending into the backdrop, just another part of the educational scenery students would 

learn and socialize around. I also became a familiar face to school’s stoic secretary and the 

friendly librarian, Judy , who gave me her blessing to type in the quiet of her well-maintained 

28

library space. Along with procedures for proper cellphone use and sitting in assigned seats, the 

smells of cafeteria food and industrial cleaner, sounds of ringing bells, slamming lockers, and the 

school fight song playing and replaying over the PA system painted the landscape with imper-

sonal routine and conformity. Thus, as I observed instruction, I sought to take in what was unique 

and out of the ordinary. More on this later. 

 

Beyond the walls of the school, I often previewed clips from YouTube or sometimes took 

home one of the teacher’s DVDs (e.g. Othello  or The Promise ) to watch it en lieu of viewing 

30

29

it with the class or to view it in advance as to better pay attention to pedagogical moves and stu-

dent interactions. The teachers were kind enough to share their calendars with me; Vince even 

gave me access to his Google Calendar (see figure 4 on the next page) that gave me a day by day 

account of his plan for US History; Jimi shared unit schedules he created for his students (see 

figure 5 on the next page). All teachers shared physical copies of their materials. Jimi and Vince 

each gave me full access to their Google Drive folders for all of their teaching content. These 

digital repositories were treasure troves complete with old and new assignments, readings, 

28

 Pseudonym 

29

 The 1995 film based on Shakespeare’s play starring Lawerence Fishburne, Irène Jacob, and Kenneth Branagh.

 A 2016 historical drama starring Oscar Issac, Christian Bale, and Charlotte Le Bon telling a love story set within 

30
the Armenian genocide in the final years of the Ottoman Empire.

 

37

Figure 4. Screenshot: this figure is a screenshot of Vince’s shared google calendar for his sec-

tions of U.S. History. Image captured by the author in March of 2019.

Figure 5. Picture: This figure is a picture of the Jimi’s late winter schedule for Honors English 

11. Photographed by the author in February 2019.

rubrics, slideshows, current events, assessments, and digital copies of student work. A bird’s eye 

view of the scope and sequence of their broad curriculum and access to more granular assign-

ments and activities, helped me to budget my time and strategically consider which teaching 

episodes would be most germane to this study. 

 

38

 

Field notes on the enactment of teaching strategies, curricula, and the utilization of vari-

ous materials played a vital role particularly in this second phase of study. My field notes and 

reflective analysis on the whole of this data provided not just a portrait of observed behavior, but 

allowed me to make inferences about the thinking associated with said behavior, being mindful 

of the nuanced cultural and situational circumstance I observed (Ponterotto, 2006). Seeking to 

produce and reflect upon vivid accounts that were “thick” (Ryle, 1971), I purposed to demon-

strate an understanding of the context of behavior as to ascribe intentionality and meaning behind 

it. These efforts to situate observations with nuance, context, and intent stem from one of the 

most important concepts in qualitative research, Geertz’ notion of “thick description”. Concerned 

with moving beyond surface level accounts of behavior, Geertz held that the data found within 

observations amounted to a researcher’s, “construction of other people’s constructions of what 

they and their compatriots are up to” (1973, p. 9). Denzin elaborated: 

A thick description ... does more than record what a person is doing. It goes be-
yond mere fact and surface appearances. It presents detail, context, emotion, and 
the webs of social relationships that join persons to one another. Thick description 
evokes emotionality and self-feelings. It inserts history into experience. It estab-
lishes the significance of an experience, or the sequence of events, for the person 
or persons in question. In thick description, the voices, feelings, actions, and 
meanings of interacting individuals are heard (Denzin, 1989, p. 83).  

 

These sorts of descriptions, acutely mindful of the affective domain —what is evoked and 

provoked by aesthetic objects and human interaction— and the inter and intra personal meanings 

being made, were vital to the scope of my project. Therefore, my task was to move beyond the 

mere reporting of what I observed to portray data vividly, with detailed descriptions and thought-

ful interpretations (Denzin, 1989). 

 

39

 

The third and final interviews of this phase took place at the end of my observations and 

was similar in nature to the second interview, but focused more broadly on the participants’ ideas 

about learning, teaching philosophy, and the degree to which their instruction and students’ learn-

ing intersects with aesthetics and practices that were sensational in nature. I found these inter-

views wandered a bit and found Jimi and Vince telling stories that were brought to mind by the 

prompts and my observations and follow-up questions. 

 

The final phase of this project founding me combing through my physical and digital 

notes, pictures, to read, re-read and analyze the data. I edited and reformatted my notes to get 

organized and look for themes. I googled and went to wikipedia and other sources better grasp 

concepts from literature and history. Alas, as I read, wrote, interpreted, and made meaning from 

the data, the lens of critical realism helped to bolster a cognizance about my the role of my own 

perception. Though I assert that I had sincere access to real phenomena, and would be able make 

meaningful assertions about it, the prospect of my own fallibility, limitations in knowledge, and 

the situated nature of social experience loomed (Archer, et al. 2016). Accordingly, I became more 

aware of how I and my participants were making meaning and justifying claims about teaching, 

education, and broader cultural phenomena. Especially as I grant that I have been necessarily 

shaped and informed by a number of non-neutral discourses about education, along with my ex-

periences in and expectations for education, attention to my own subjectivity and situatedness 

helped me to avoid a naive analysis about the data and my analysis of it.  

 

Validity is a complex and contested concept in qualitative research and though a precise 

III. ROLE AS RESEARCHER 

consensus on the term seems illusive, qualitative researchers like myself are nonetheless called to 

 

40

produce work that is deemed credible. Creswell and Miller understand validity in such a way that 

involves representing, “participants’ realities of the social phenomena” in ways that would be 

deemed accurate by the participants themselves (2000, p. 124). Thus, in addition to utilizing 

practices such as triangulating across data (interviews, artifacts, and observations) and using 

thick description, another way I have attempted mitigate against concerns of misrepresenting or 

being uncharitable to the views and actions of my participants was through member checking 

after interviews and observations. Beyond even extending the social courtesy of listening active-

ly for understanding, member checking can bring about an understanding and interpretation that 

is mutually created fostering both trustworthiness (establishing data that can externally be 

deemed as credible, transferable, and confirmable) and fairness (by incorporating of other cor-

roborating understandings) (Creswell & Miller, 2000). Practically, this typically meant asking 

lots of follow-up questions to corroborate and making my impressions and assumptions visible to 

the teachers and asked them for feedback. 

 

While simultaneously addressing considerations of validity via the aforementioned prac-

tices (often associated with modern epistemologies), my commitments also stem from a critical 

paradigm aware of the persistent “crisis in representation” that must be navigated in all forms of 

inquiry (Denzin & Lincoln, 1994, p. 9). As such, I see value in naming, uncovering, and attend-

ing to often hidden assumptions about the construction and interpretation of the accounts I put 

forth because these perspectives are governed by a, “situatedness based on social, political, cul-

tural, economic, ethnic, and gender antecedents” (Creswell & Miller, 2000 p. 126). As the very 

notion of validity has been called into question, I drew upon commitments from critical realism’s 

 

41

allowance for fallibility and insistence on continually being reflexive to identify and challenge 

my own assumptions and positionality as I generated data and meaning (Archer et al., 2016). 

 

I must therefore acknowledge my own positionality and that my predispositions and de-

sires in and for education influence and shape this study. My status as a researcher is one of a 

white, middle class, heterosexual, able-bodied male. Especially in light of the systemic racism 

that permeates through society in everything from policing and to advertising, I am cognizant of 

the fact that white supremacy necessarily casts its ominous shadow over education. My white-

ness (among the other unearned affordances) is present on each page of my writing as it was 

when I conducted I research in a racially and ethnically diverse setting. All this is to say that I 

acknowledge my privilege will always find a way to manifest itself, even when I am silent about 

it. In a related vein, my worldview is influenced both by my protestant Christian faith and regular 

participation in a pluralistic, consumer-driven capitalist society in the late modern West. While I 

have typically engaged and thought about politics from a point of view that is more or less cen-

ter-left, I presently identify as an independent

31

 but still maintain clear and deliberate views on 

the social and educative purposes of education (e.g. stances that promote anti-racism and prob-

lematize standardized curricula) that impact my perception and goals. This means, in terms of 

David Labaree’s ternary framing, I view education as a public (not private) good intended to fos-

ter critical thought and democratic citizenship over and against visions for education purposed 

toward social efficiency and social mobility (Labaree, 1997). Moreover, and specific to the disci-

plines involved in this study, I prefer critical, historically progressive, and student-centered ap-

proaches to learning over traditional conceptions which typically emphasize ‘just-the-facts’, 

31

 And a grouchy one at that.

 

42

standardization, and content coverage (Garrett, 2011). Accordingly, self-disclosure and self-re-

flective procedures are essential components to this study; I acknowledge that my intersectionali-

ty —coupled with these aforementioned values, beliefs, assumptions, and biases— has shaped 

this inquiry (Richardson, 1994). 

 

Building upon the introduction’s discussion of my affinity of film and history that started 

at a young age, it is worth explicating that I am a person who has always been deeply interested 

in and moved by forms of what is sometimes referred to as “low art”  (Fisher, 2007). Perhaps it 

32

was how various films stirred my imagination or how select teachers told —to borrow the lan-

guage of the History on Fire Podcast— “stories of valor, tragedy, and the most emotionally 

charged moments in the human experience”, but something in me has always been drawn to and 

biased toward a particularly sensational sort of learning that simultaneously draws upon affect 

and cognition (Bolelli, 2017). Since adolescence, I have invested time and money into attending 

music concerts and standup comedy shows, watching countless documentaries and movies, and 

listening to podcasts, with many of the later centering on topics and content found relating to the 

humanities. Thus, my interest in the role of aesthetics and affect is best understood as a sincere 

passion, rather than a compartmentalized pocket of dispassionate or professional interest tucked 

away from my personal desires. Though I did not initially have a grammar for the intersection of 

aesthetics and affect in education, I have always ‘come alive’ when learning has been evoked my 

32
 The terminology of “high” and “low” art is often used as adjectives that speak to contrasting quality, with “high 
art” referencing canonical works in various forms associated with a sense of “fine art”; complexity, high-brow so-
phistication, or elitism. “Low art”, by contrast, is typically reserved for entertainment in popular cultural which more 
easily accessed and perhaps lacking some of the complexity and coherence associated with the a more refined ver-
sion of art. Nonetheless, like many others, I would argue that terminologies that present qualitative hierarchies in art 
actually reflect social power relations rather than true differences of artistic value (Fisher, 2007). So, for the sake of 
clarity, I do not define “low art” as bad or inferior, but rather as the sort of art that is often linked to popular enter-
tainment; further I assert that notions about an art typology exist on a spectrum instead of than an either/or binary.

 

43

sensations. Accordingly, I am likewise interested in how others might ‘come alive’ in episodes of 

learning. 

 

Flowing out of my experiences, interests, and proclivities is the conviction that to not ed-

ucate with our desires and through our senses is at least a mild form of miseducation. I am con-

sequently looking to re-humanize the teaching enterprise in a way that acknowledges the human-

ity of teachers and students as persons who enter educational spaces holistically, with rationality 

un-divorced from emotion. To the end of intuitive and enjoyable learning, I envision a version of 

education based less on the traditional dependence on rote learning, mental discipline, and be-

havioral control, but instead on accessing the funds of knowledge, dispositions, and proclivities 

that relational beings have towards meaning, beauty, justice, and other affective interactions. One 

valid pathway to accomplishing these ends is incorporating affect and aesthetics into instruction. 

 

Focusing more narrowly on my subjects’ classroom procedures and views on teaching 

and learning, my own conceptions of what constitutes ‘good teaching’ cannot be ignored either. I 

therefore name my suspicion of versions of education that forsake emotion and/or fail to incorpo-

rate the senses. I further draw attention to the fact that I often take issue with instruction that in-

corporates aesthetics texts (like films) but does so in uncritical ways or merely uses them to take 

a break from ‘real teaching’. This practically means that while I held high standards and a critical 

lens, I did not want to be uncharitable to or dishonor my participants who generously (and vul-

nerably) allowed me access and proximity to their teaching practices. Nonetheless, I understand 

that productive critical work holds in tension a desire to be charitable while attending to what 

might be implicit and null, prepared to name and speak to silences and even advocating for con-

ceptions of the good as necessary. Thus, to strike a balance between being true to my convictions 

 

44

and being respectful of the teachers in this study, my positionality and commitments were made 

known to my participants initially and were reiterated throughout the process of interviewing and 

making meaning from my observations. 

 

45

CHAPTER 3: PASSIVE CONSUMPTION 

“I met a gypsy and she hipped me to some life game 

To stimulate then activate the left and right brain 
Said baby boy you only funky as your last cut 
You focus on the past your ass’ll be a has what 

That’s one to live by or either … to die to 

I try to just throw it at you, determine your own adventure.” 

- Lyrics from the song Rosa Parks, by (André Benjamin & Antwan Patton of) OutKast, 1998. 

“Where is the present in the way that you present yourself?” 

-  Lyrics from the song Do Better by (Max Bemis of) the band Say Anything, 2009. 

0. PASSIVE CONSUMPTION 

 

When seeking to understand a concept or phenomena, it is often the case that drawing 

contrasts is helpful. In geography, we better understand North by contrasting it with South; in 

ethics; justice by considering injustice; in psychiatry; and mental health by looking at mental ill-

ness. In terms of pedagogy, understanding the essence of sensational practices is no different. 

Positive, negative, and typical examples of using aesthetics have their value in understanding 

ideal ways of engaging affect in the process of learning. As such, and before proceeding to my 

discussion and analysis of the two participants on which the majority of the positive findings of 

this study rests, it is worth considering the two participants  that I found to utilize aesthetics in 

33

common or non-optimal ways. These considerations and eventual omissions from what I can 

consider to be exemplary teaching with aesthetics offer value in clarifying the general criteria 

33
 Technically three participants were involved, if the preservice teacher were to be factored in. However, since her 
pedagogy and teaching philosophy was still in its infancy and largely reflective of her mentor, she is only considered 
as an addendum to her mentor.

 

46

and specific observations and responses involved my decision making process about what data 

were most helpful to this project.  

 

Indeed, it would be odd, counterproductive, and perhaps even a bit morbid to have a 

chapter that highlights negative examples for the sake of spotlighting error. Negativity in a vacu-

um is not helpful. So rather than understanding this chapter as highlighting the coalescence of 

teachers’ deficiencies, I seek here to represent instances of broader phenomenon of teachers not 

using media as effectively and affectively as possible. Navigating this contrast then, of what is 

normal or common (not necessarily ‘bad’) with what could be said to be exceptional, has great 

promise for teacher preparation and professional development. After all, for technology and/or 

aesthetics use to become maximally useful in education, it must often pass through a number of 

stages of development before it can find its optimal expression in teaching and learning (Bax, 

2011). This means that quality teaching demands more than individual effort and regularly dif-

ferentiated instruction. Teaching that truly leverages the senses in ways that get the most out of 

the mind and learning opportunities therefore requires a considerable amount of theoretical and 

pedagogical insight, awareness of theories of learning, trial and error, and openness to reflection 

(Bates & Poole, 2003). This chapter purposes to portray common pedagogical impulses 

from teachers who, despite good intentions and many other instructional strengths, miss out on 

using media effectively and affectively in episodes of learning. As such, rough sketches of the 

teachers’ personalities and pedagogies are now considered to better foreground their peers whom 

I found to be comparatively exceptional.  

 

47

Theresa 
 

One of these teachers was Theresa, a white, 20-year veteran of the field who had spent 

I. TWO PARTICIPANTS 

her entire professional career teaching in her current high school. I sought her out to participate 

in this study because I heard, through her intern who was my student, that Theresa often showed 

film in her (one section of) U.S. History and (three sections of) World History classes, but mostly 

because of the elective she taught, History Through Film [Emphasis mine]. History Through 

Film seemed especially promising to the scope of my study because it promised to utilize various 

forms of digital media almost every day of the semester. The elective course was a one semester 

class (consisting of 10th-12th graders who had already taken 9th grade U.S. History) set up to 

consider U.S. History roughly from the pre-colonial era to the beginnings of the Cold War, per-

haps Vietnam, if time permitted. Theresa, and her intern Gabby (who was co-teaching the 

course), regularly provided viewing guides that included some historical context, and asked 

questions of the plot and setting in which the film took place in. 

 

Theresa told me she was drawn to teaching high school because of her interest getting to 

know and “make a difference” in the lives of young people and to share her passion for journal-

ism with them. Though Theresa had presently been teaching World & U.S. history for about sev-

en years, she previously taught elective classes like yearbook, desktop publishing, photography, 

and a course in mass media in the 13 years prior. While recalling these former elective classes, 

Theresa’s face lit up with excitement, she smiled and gesticulated as she eagerly retold instances 

guiding students through various projects and activities. Theresa beamed as she described watch-

ing students create and learn to use various technological tools and express themselves with mul-

timedia. Those, seemed to be the good ‘ole days.  

 

48

 

By contrast, there was an unstated but unmistakable air of grief and discouragement when 

she spoke of “losing” the privilege of teaching yearbook and “having to teach history” instead. 

Through our conversations in formal and follow up interviews, I began to wonder if —and even-

tually concluded— Theresa used to be in her wheelhouse. She used to feel intrinsically motivated 

by the content and courses she taught earlier in her career. Theresa now lamented that budget 

cuts and waning interest (mostly from the administration) were to blame for why her elective 

classes “dried up”. She eventually admitted, “I was forced to use my [history] degree for the first 

time since college because the choice was to either look for work teaching elsewhere or stay here 

and do something new.” Theresa was making the best of teaching history. Undoubtedly still 

thankful to have a job in the district she hoped to someday retire from, she explained that be-

cause of her love for the school and wider community —where her children were also enrolled— 

and that since she had been offered support

34

 from various persons in the social studies depart

-

ment, she decided to not even look for work elsewhere.   

 

Theresa’s love for her school and student body was evident, not only in the fond way she 

spoke of the school’s diversity —as breath of fresh air from the small white town she grew up in

— but also evidenced by her participation and leadership in extracurricular activities such as 

chaperoning school dances and the 13 years she spent as the yearbook editor, until the yearbook 

program officially ended. It was obvious that she was genuinely invested in students’ lives and 

that they trusted her because of it. From time to time, students from past semesters would wander 

back into her room to tell Theresa about what colleges they were applying to or give her updates 

on their parent’s health. There was familiar banter, inside jokes, and a shorthanded way of com-

 Theresa explained her colleagues helped her when she took over teaching history by sharing curriculum via elec

34
tronic folders full of resources like slideshows, tests, activities, and various assignments.

-

 

49

municating between her and the students that signaled to me warmth and relational capital. I 

could see why these teens liked being her student; they were known and cared for by a strong 

and positive maternal presence. 

Edward 
 

Another teacher that I chose to preclude from this case study’s account of teaching with 

truly sensational practices was Edward, a white, 10-year veteran of the field who had worked in 

multiple urban settings (both public schools and charter academies) teaching secondary students. 

He held a dual certification, both in social studies, his college major, and in English, his minor. 

Edward’s father was a lawyer and his mother was a teacher, but he said that he was not personal-

ly drawn to education until he had a positive experience with a school counselor in high school 

who “believed in” him and identified a combination of social and academic skills that she assert-

ed would be well suited for teaching. Since his late teens, Edward had been interested in geogra-

phy and history, but his passion for current events surrounding politics and policy was particular-

ly pronounced even from a young age. Social studies seemed to be a natural fit for a “news 

junkie” interested in citizenship. 

 

Though Edward was not a new teacher per se, he was in his second year in the building 

and teaching English for the first time in his career. Though Edward felt generally comfortable 

with the content of his World History classes, he was becoming re-familiarized with teaching it 

to high school students. His previous post at a charter academy in the greater area found him 

teaching different eras of World History —and different history related competencies— to junior 

high students. Edward was also heartened by the fact that his wife was a high school history 

teaching in a suburban district across town. Thus, when it came to history, the learning curve was 

 

50

small and involved minor adjustments to preparation and lesson planning; he felt that though his 

planning was a bit inconsistent, he was “beginning to find [his] groove.” 

 

In sharp contrast, Edward expressed trepidation about teaching his two sections of 9th 

grade English for the first time. Not only did he comment on perceived management challenges 

he faced by teaching the youngest learners in the high school, who had “not yet learned how to 

take school as seriously” as the upperclassmen did, Edward also felt unfamiliar and unconfident 

with the scope and sequence of the curriculum’s presentation of literature in thematic units. Be-

yond his students’s age and academic immaturity, Edward noted they struggled to identify, un-

derstand, and practice the necessarily skills required for reading and writing in literary genres 

such as novels, short stories, poetry, plays, and essays. Further, he commented that grading and 

developing meaningful assignments was both time consuming and difficult. This new burden of 

having to teach in a discipline that was outside of his comfort zone redirected Edward’s attention 

and energy away from his three sections of World History. 

 

In my initial interview with Edward, I sensed that he was self-conscious about being ob-

served in his English courses, even though he gave me full reign as to when and how to observe 

his teaching. He told me that it probably would not be worth my time to observe in English 9 be-

cause he was “just getting [his] bearings” and using the book more than he would normally pre-

fer. “You won’t really see me do anything dynamic in [English 9]… I feel like I have to use the 

book as a crutch because I’m learning the curriculum on the fly.” He confessed, “I hate using 

textbooks, so it bothers me that I am currently so reliant on the book.” He was eager to get an-

other year or two under his belt so that he could feel confident and be more creative. In contrast, 

he felt that his history knowledge afforded him the opportunity try different modes of teaching 

 

51

and be more adventuresome with assignments and activities. Thus, I decided to let my partici-

pant’s leading direct me toward only observing him in World History. 

 

The consequence, Edward explained, was that his World History was “currently a better 

product”. As opposed to the English 9 course, Edward was much more likely to incorporate 

things he deemed “outside the box” like using digital media , emphasizing higher order skills , 
36

35

and assigning projects where students would incorporate their own experiences and cultures. For 

instance, in the previous Fall, the World History class had an assignment that he was especially 

proud of when encountering a unit on the Columbian exchange. After learning about what both 

Native Americans and Europeans ‘exchanged’ in an era of exploration and trade, students were 

tasked to represent and quiet literally exchange various familial and cultural entities like recipes 

and other artifacts in a culminating class period where they would bring in and present on vari-

ous foods and other items from their home lives. Edward’s demeanor was energized as he ex-

plained how a creative project helped increase student participation and ownership of the class:  

I literally have them bring in food. It’s awesome, they get so into it. They track ingredi-
ents down, talk with family members to get recipes and basically represent and connect 
to their home life… [For instance,] This past Fall, I had a kid who barely participated 
until we got to the Columbian Exchange project. Then he brought in these Haitian BBQ 
wings, made his own sauce… Ugh (smacking his lips and fondly shaking his head) the 
wings were amazing! [Emphasis mine] After that project, that student was so much more 
engaged in class. 

 

Outside of his teaching responsibilities, Edward was ambitiously in the process of taking 

over the school’s unique legislative intern program. The program was already established, but 

35

 e.g. Edward specifically discussed utilizing various movie and Youtube clips.

 e.g. For instance, activities that were more analytical which found students looking for point of view or 

36
bias in various forms of text. 

 

52

Edward was becoming increasingly integrated as he was being groomed to be the sole leader of 

the program in the following school year. As such, he was already overseeing approximately 30 

students (made up primarily of honors and AP social studies students) who worked with and ob-

served state senators when they were in session and spending time around the capital area. In ad-

dition to recruiting and directing new students, Edward was now beginning to take over commu-

nication with the state lawmakers, parents, and other teachers about students who would poten-

tially participate. Edward’s key contribution to the program was his success in involving the dis-

trict’s school board and securing their approval to the local career center to facilitate and accred-

it
37

 the program for the students’ transcripts. The auspices of the program were not lost on Ed

-

ward; he was excited that “kids would get real-world experience with the legislative process” and 

simultaneously do project-based school work . However excited he was with leading this 

38

project though, he spoke with a measure of sobriety as he considered the amount of effort and 

time it required and would eventually require of him. While Edward was honored to be taking 

the legislative intern program, he had doubts about his bandwidth, especially given the newness 

and unfamiliarity of his two sections of English 9. He worried that his teaching was already suf-

fering and that he could not fill the “big shoes” of his predecessor who initially started the leg-

islative intern program several years before. 

 

At first pass, Theresa and Edward seemed to be ideal participants for the best of what this 

II. NON-OPTIMAL PRACTICES 

study hoped to unearth. They often showed films and television clips, utilized slideshows, and 

 The program was now going to be officially accredited by the Commission of the Council on Occupational Edu

37
cation. For more information on the accreditation of career and technical education: https://council.org/

-

38

 

 For instance, students would be required to design a bill and imagine it from inception to being sworn into law.

53

even played relevant music on occasion. They made contributions to the school and wider com-

munity and expressed excitement about students and teaching with them with various technolo-

gies. The classrooms were reasonably organized and well managed. The teachers seemed com-

fortable in their posts, they knew their students’ names, group dynamics, and quirky personali-

ties. Transitions from from lecture or group work to viewing media or listening to music were 

typically smooth; class time was not wasted as the room’s lighting was darkened —overhead flu-

orescents were shut off, with a lamp and Christmas lights to provide a gentle ambient light that 

deliberately allowed enough sight to take notes while viewing a glowing screen. Though the 

format and staging of viewing and listening to media was not haphazard, observations and inter-

views soon revealed a climate ripe for a passive consumption of the aesthetic objects. I noted 

non-optimal norms and practices that lacked many of the sensational attributes that I sought out 

to explore, theorize, and somehow mine out resources for teacher preparation and professional 

development. These teaching practices —especially those that utilized film— were comparative-

ly uncritical, inactive, lacking clear learning outcomes, and less integrated with the lives of stu-

dents. To be generous, both Theresa and Edward attested to being busy and out of their curricular 

comfort zones due to teaching content that was either somewhat new or comparatively less per-

sonally interesting than what they would normally desired to teach if they were given more au-

tonomy. Further, both teachers possessed many admirable qualities, such as care for their stu-

dents’ learning and a willingness to improve. It is therefore likely they would be amenable to re-

vising and rethinking their approaches to utilizing digital media if they were given the opportuni-

ty via further education, professional development, and modeling. While being mindful of these 

 

54

contextual and mitigating factors, a critical treatment of their practices is still merited and useful 

to the wider project of envisioning sensational practices.  

‘This IS What It Was Like’ — A Lack of Criticality 
 

Walt Werner has thoughtfully articulated various ways that texts and content can be read. 

Unlike the two teachers I will consider later, in Theresa’s and (sometimes in) Edward’s classes I 

often observed students as mere passive recipients of what they read and viewed , taking in 

39

messages and information wholesale with little to no attention to the implicit attitudes, assump-

tions, and power dynamics that occupy texts and content (2000). Though information was typi-

cally presented in an affectively stimulating fashion, the videos I observed rarely, on their own, 

presented any documentation or any external references to sourcing in how they arrived at their 

claims (Harris, 2010). Though interviews revealed Edward’s distrust of the “Eurocentric mes-

sages” embedded in texts books, and though he occasionally seized opportunities to highlight for 

his students how his history textbook might omit morally charged considerations and non-Eu-

ropean perspectives, he by and large did not speak to such perspectives with film and music. Yet, 

since such aesthetic objects can represent and portray the past, effectively leaving educators with 

what Seixas (1994) had called traces and accounts, they are undoubtedly entities that can and 

should be analyzed and interpreted when utilized during instruction. Instead of analysis and in-

terpretation, like I observed when Cold War propaganda posters were interrogated as primary 

source documents, these films and songs were mostly used as mere springboards into content 

(Jones & Cuthrell, 2011; Stoddard, 2012). For instance, as Edward discussed his use of Billy 

Joel’s music videos/songs like Leningrad and We Didn’t Start the Fire to introduce students to 

 For all practical purposes, I view traditional printed materials and digital resources —equally— both 

39
are texts. Though their format might vary, their function and purpose remain strikingly similar.

 

55

events or “what the Cold War was like”, I wondered if there was disconnect between his purport-

ed teaching philosophy and enacted classroom practices. Perhaps my presence and pointed ques-

tions incentivized answers that were more critical. Perhaps, to be more charitable, the demands 

of content coverage caused him, as it does many teachers, to ‘speed up’ his curriculum and thusly 

bypass opportunities for various forms of cognitive rigor and attention to considerations of pow-

er, privilege, and perspective.  

 

Writ large, the teachers’ posture toward the media was not critical in many senses of the 

term, particularly in how media was mostly and simply consumed, instead of rigorously consid-

ered or critiqued according to issues associated with critical media literacy such as attending to 

authorship, power, or political ideology (Buckingham, 2003). Instead of taking a critical ap-

proach that would directly promote student discernment and agency, Theresa’s pedagogy and 

disposition in particular seemed to emphasize a ‘media arts education’ approach that valued and 

affirmed self-expression  and occasional apolitical observations about facets of media construc

40

-

tion (Kellner & Share, 2007; Westbrook, 2011) such as how ominous music in Dances with 

Wolves would foreshadow U.S. soldiers as “bad guys”. While there was attention to how the 

format of some of the media worked, I did not observe rigorous application of historical thinking 

skills (like those framed in figure 6 on the next page) or engagements with the ideology embed-

ded with media. 

 

Specifically applying Critical Race Theory to the teaching of American history in his 

piece, The Savage and the Slave: Critical Race Theory, Racial Stereotyping, and the Teaching of 

American History, Linter insists teachers must be aware of societal and their conceptions of race 

 The teachers employed some assignments or projects where students would be exposed to the process of creating 

40
media.

 

56

Figure 6. Picture: This is a chart stapled to a bulletin board in Vince’s room highlighting various 
thinking skills and habits of mind useful in social studies. Photographed by the author in January 

2019.

and racism, and how these perceptions have pedagogical gravitas in the form of bias and racial 

stereotyping (2004). Accordingly, Linter goes on to argue that teachers play a dominant role in 

highlighting or ignoring how Native Americans and other minorities are textually represented in 

unflattering and inaccurate ways (2004). Despite this and other calls for criticality when teaching 

history, the discipline is often presented in jejune tellings. In Theresa’s History Though Film 

class, while watching the America: The Story of Us  documentary-drama series, the show’s ex

41

-

planation and notions of national progress were taken at face value and seemingly in a vacuum. 

Before viewing the “Heartland” episode, which took place during the era associated with West-

ward Expansion, the students were both implicitly and directly taught a singular and straightfor-

ward narrative about one of the most contested and morally perplexing chapters of U.S. History. 

Although not without pointing out ethical dilemmas and moral failings of settlers and the U.S. 

government, the show’s white narrators and producers were telling the story of ‘how the West 

was won’. The account was not a multifaceted one of how the West may have been taken, con-

 A 12-part 9 hour series History Channel miniseries, with episodes spanning from the English settlement of 

41
Jamestown in 1607 to 9/11 and the turn of 21st century.

 

57

tested, or how perspectives and unique curations of evidence can shape understandings of expan-

sion, race relations, notions of progress, and even the construction of history itself. 

 

Instead of being positioned as one of many sources, or even as a constructed piece of me-

dia with its own perspective, the teacher’s preamble for the heartland episode was naive: “today 

you guys will get to see what it is was like [emphasis mine] when the Transcontinental Railroad 

was built and how the West was won.” Coupled with the teacher affirming the film, the film 

gained additional authoritative legitimacy in the eyes of students. But instead of positioning me-

dia as something to consume or merely learn from, Marcus asserts that teachers bear the respon-

sibility to ensure that their “students possess the historical film literacy skills to learn from, inter-

pret, and evaluate” (2005, p.66) what they are being exposed to. That is, though teachers can and 

should use aesthetic objects to help students explore history, they should not be presented stand-

ing alone as inscrutable (Marcus, 2005). Rather, teachers should make known that these objects 

contain interesting information about historical events and seek to utilize them as sources to ac-

commodate student learning of content and the process of making history and history curriculum. 

 

Reflecting further on my observation of the non-optimal cases of using aesthetic objects, 

often the media’s ideology and authorship was not named, let alone interrogated. Though con-

tent, in the case of America: The Story of US, presented and dramatically reenacted some of the 

darker realities of westward expansion such as decline of native populations and the near eradi-

cation of the buffalo, students were not made aware of or given exposure to conflicting view-

points, such as those from native historians who would cast the era’s event in an entirely different 

light. Daniel Solorzano, in Images and Words that Wound: Critical Race Theory, Racial Stereo-

typing, and Teacher Education, points out that left undisclosed and unchallenged, the dominant 

 

58

ideology embedded in popular culture and curriculum will continue to put forth damaging no-

tions such as race-neutrality and color-blindness via simple and exaggerated categorizations of 

various minority groups; unchecked, these problematic notions reify and justify institutional 

racism and wider societal perspectives about peoples without historic power (1997). Likewise, 

the ideology embedded within the documentary’s commentary on the rise of capitalism in the 

Guided Age during the “Cities” episode was not addressed by the teachers either. That students 

passively consumed these racial and economic narratives without opportunities for agency or 

meta-awareness embedded the perspectives (Werner, 2000), suggests their worldview and, by 

extension, formative ways of being in the world were being molded to produce uncritical citizen-

ry and passive learning. 

 

Perhaps it could be said that my analysis here is uncharitable or even harsh on teachers 

that were contracted to teach historical information, not necessarily teach rigorously about the 

construction and ideology of media. I counter this impulse by pointing out that the substance of 

history, involves both acquiring new information and essential historical reasoning skills that ne-

cessitate attention to items like the role interpretation, causation, argumentation, and the nature 

of evidence used in making claims and inferences (Wineburg, 2010). Since humanities disci-

plines like history access information through literature and research, giving critical attention to 

sourcing is a quite normative prescription (Wineburg, Martin, & Monte-Santo; 2011). As such, it 

is not uncommon for lessons and formal curriculum to highlight the difference between primary 

and secondary sources, genre distinctions between fiction and research, and so on. Another rea-

son critique may be justified here is because minor adjustments could be made to framing the 

 

59

media; the use of an accessible viewing framework, like that of the Center for Media Literacy , 42

or even a few strategic questions could go a long way in fostering criticality and higher order 

thinking (Jolls & Wilson, 2014).  

 

In this vein, when Theresa once told the class about her own deliberation on whether or 

not to show Roger & Me because it “was so political”. I interjected, “well, isn’t everything polit-

ical to some effect?” Theresa didn’t seem to agree. She took a few moments to probe what her 

students already knew about the filmmaker Michael Moore and his political leanings. After get-

ting a scant response and before showing the film, Theresa invested time to highlight Moore’s 

left-leaning political urges, as a perspective, discussing how various political inclinations affirm 

or reject some of the claims and stances he has made in the media he has created. This instructive 

pause to attend to presence of a perspective, and some of the debate that it engendered, did not 

take long nor did it take away from the flow of the lesson. To the contrary, it was done seamless-

ly and naturally helped students engage more thoughtfully with the text, adding intellectual rigor 

and perhaps even offered an implicit opportunity to be discerning about the film. However, aside 

from this lone instance of highlighting authorial point of view, I did not observe another time 

where Theresa broached considerations of the politics, perspectives, or biases inherent in the 

digital or print texts she incorporated into instruction. 

 

I noticed a similar trend of missing opportunities for criticality in Edward’s case as well. 

When speaking of current events that had gained recent national news attention, like the Trump 

administration’s contentious handling of immigration on the U.S.-Mexican border, he was not 

 The Center for Media Literacy (CML) is one of many organizations that has created easy to use guides 

42
and other educative tools teachers can use with an array of content. For instance, the CML has made 1-
page informational sheets that include the 5 key questions of media literacy (e.g. Who authored this me-
dia?) and 5 core concepts of media literacy (e.g. All Media is created) (Jolls & Wilson, 2014).

 

60

reticent to offer critical thoughts about the political narratives being cast via outlets such as Fox 

News. Edward once wondered aloud, “What kind of person, ethnically or politically, might like 

this kind [a perspective that cast Mexican immigration in an inherently negative light] of report-

ing?”. With some coaxing and leading questions, Edward helped students to overcome their 

timidity to identify white conservatives as being potentially, though not necessarily, more ami-

able towards Fox. Especially in my interviews with him, Edward spoke about how he personally 

was interested in the power dynamics as current events touched on issues of race, gender, and 

class. However, this was not clearly manifested in the instruction I observed as my observations 

typically uncovered what I took to be mostly a commitment to content coverage and therefore, an 

inconsistency between his stated ideology and the practical enactment of lessons. 

 

No doubt, there is a formative traditional paradigm and external pressure brought by the 

requirements of being observed by administrators who want to see extensive content coverage, 

that make the allure of traditional methods of instruction (i.e. lecturing and non-analytic acquisi-

tion of content knowledge) appealing. For many teachers, the demands of critical and active citi-

zenship may not seem to easily transpose themselves on to the practical ‘day to day’ when stan-

dardized tests and such observations incentivize the status quo. Perhaps this is why when books 

were open or digital media was playing, I did not often observe Theresa and Edward engaging or 

directing student attention toward printed or glowing texts in ways that fostered independent stu-

dent agency such that they would be more apt to question, resist, or even recognize prevailing 

ideologies, narratives, and arrangements of societal power (Buckingham, 2003). 

 

61

Inactive Pedagogy 
 

All of my participants in this study, even the stronger cases I will consider later, ex-

pressed a view that students pay attention more effortlessly and subconsciously engage with digi-

tal media better than they do with print media. While this categorization seems to be an obvious 

and uncontroversial one, the two-part question that remains has to do with whether or not such 

attention and engagement actually translates into learning (especially without any additional 

support, attention, or scaffolding) and what teachers can or should be doing in the midst of using 

potentially captivating methods and resources during class time. In the first two non-optimal cas-

es I am considering here, instruction followed a predictable format that required little teacher in-

volvement; typically the teacher or media gave information and the students wrote down or lis-

tened to factual information with little to no interaction with, deliberation over, or application of 

the content. As mentioned previously, analytical and interpretive work was either undeveloped or 

altogether missing. Though lectures provided some room for the teachers to riff or for students to 

spontaneously ask questions, most observed lessons in Theresa’s and Edward’s classes had a one 

directional flow of information where students were to absorb key points of a monologue. Like-

wise, when the teachers hit play, the lesson functioned in a similar way; though technology was 

now involved, the glowing screen seemed to do most if not all of the ‘talking’ and also left little 

to no opportunities for students to talk back or even talk about what they were viewing. In most 

instances I observed with film, students were spectators, not participants. 

 

The format of lessons roughly followed a predictable pattern. In Theresa’s class, for in-

stance, many class periods started by watching CNN 10 . After responding to a few questions of 

43

 A concise news show offering a 10-minute synopsis of U.S. and global news headlines for classrooms 

43
and others an on-demand audiences

 

62

recall, students were exposed to content via direct instruction with a concurrent slideshow (some-

times accompanied by a guided notes sheet) and they were to take notes. Next, students watched 

a video/clip that would not be paused or interacted with (apart from rarely being accompanied by 

notes, if it was a longer clip than 15-20 minutes). Finally, classes ended with a time of class-wide 

call and response to lower-order questions to their complete worksheets or to check for retention 

of important factual information. Often times, students —particularly those who were texting, 

putting their heads down, or quietly talking with peers— would not write down answers during 

the showing of digital media; rather, they would wait until the end of the hour to catch up with 

those who participated all along. I believe it was this shallow engagement with information that 

explains why often, when the class was asked about factual information from the day prior, a ma-

jority of students struggled to recall what they encountered and learned by rote the day before. 

 

While clips were played and projected on the large screen in the front of the room, There-

sa and Edward were less likely to stop the media to direct attention, ask questions, or offer a ra-

tionale/insight that tied back to other parts of the curriculum. While the teachers would some-

times talk over a quiet moment or add connective thoughts after watching media, their role was 

largely inactive once the content began to play. Instead of seizing opportunities to unpack sophis-

ticated vocabulary, make connections to curriculum, or ask text-to-self questions, the teachers 

would often use the time afforded by the screen to take attendance, grade, pass out graded work, 

or in the case of Theresa (and her intern who followed suit), utilize the time to make copies (pro-

vided the other teacher was in the room). After the clip, a few questions of recall might be asked, 

but even in those cases, the students would usually, with reluctance and little energy, imprecisely 

regurgitate information. While it should be noted that I do not necessarily fault the teachers for 

 

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leveraging some  of the screen time for valid multitasking that must occur during a busy day, it 

44

seems problematic that this was the case most of the time. 

 

Inactivity in class was observed in a literal sense as well. When Theresa lectured, she re-

mained at the front of the room behind her old wooden podium for the duration of the direct in-

struction, the rest of the time, she tended to stay seated at her desk. Edward would actively circu-

late to check in on students during group work, but often sat at his desk or perched on his stool in 

the front of the room the rest of the time. Unsurprisingly and intuitively, I noticed that students 

who sat farther away from their teachers were typically those that struggled to stay on task. For 

instance, in Edward’s 7th period, there was an energetic group of four boys who sat in the back 

corner, and likely in part due to Edward’s lack of proximity, typically joked and socialized in-

stead of doing work. On the occasions these boys became loud enough for the rest of the students 

to notice and be distracted, Edward consequently scolded them for interrupting and for causing 

him to have to repeat himself.  

 

While remaining in one location, the teachers typically read off slideshows, emphasizing 

the information students needed to fill in the blanks on the guided and open-ended notes. Though 

Theresa and Edward frequently anticipated vocabulary words (e.g. preemptively spotlighting a 

term salient to the lesson like “restitution”), that needed definition or further clarification, and 

maintained a pace of instruction that appropriately accommodated the age and skill of their 

learners, the learning often seemed rote and one-dimensional, disconnected from the students’ 

interests and lives beyond the walls of their history classes. Occasionally, teacher talk was inter-

 As a former classroom teacher, I grant the necessity of using scarce class time wisely. Therefore, utilizing mo

44
ments of ‘down time’, video viewing, or student-directed group work, can be appropriate. However, if teachers are 
routinely idle —when there is instructive work to be done— students are short-changed and teachers are not maxi-
mizing their educative potential.

-

 

64

rupted by asking quick close-ended questions of students, sometimes cold-calling students who 

were apparently not paying attention. When she noticed students were off task, Theresa typically 

shared her observation and asked the class about what she had just said, “I can see that Reggie 

doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Can someone tell him what year Reconstruction started?”. 

These questions seemed to be more of a means of management than instructing towards learning 

outcomes. Alas, mostly absent were the higher-order inquiries that would have invited students to 

make inferences, analyze, or truly engage in class. 

 

Though the non-optimal classrooms were never poorly managed by becoming excessive-

ly loud and/or unruly, the use of video and songs did not take full advantage of educative possi-

bilities. Renee Hobbs (2006) has identified seven common patterns of non-optimal media use 

that diminish or weaken learning potential, some of which were regularly observed in the prac-

tices of both Theresa and Edward; that is, the use of media functioned as a means of controlling 

or rewarding student behavior, lacked clear learning outcomes tied to curricular or educative 

ends, and operated as break from teaching. Edward once jokingly admitted, “You know, some-

times I just need to change things up because they’re sick of hearing me talk, and so am I; some-

times, we just need a break.” There were times like this where I found myself caught between 

empathy and judgement. I know what it is like to grind out lesson after lesson, especially with 

multiple preps and unfamiliar content, and I also know ‘taking a break from teaching’ isn’t what 

was best for students who were already disadvantaged. 

 

The passive role that the teacher(s) took on when utilizing extended clips and whole 

movies could be felt. A transition to film made for a drop in the room’s energy. Students seemed 

to follow suit with the inactivity. When the overhead classroom lights went out and the screen 

 

65

came on, some immediately put their heads down to rest, others pulled out work from other 

classes or occasionally texted on their phones. As bodies slouched and monotone answers were 

given to monotone questions, a pronounced sense lethargy took over the room’s collective body 

language and the motivation to engage came across as extrinsic. Although class sessions may 

still have been oriented aesthetically because of the regular use of screens and music, it seemed 

the media was not actually being used to enliven instruction and the students themselves; rather, 

the media was functionally being used to sedate them (Robinson, 2006). If I’m being completely 

honest, sometimes I was frustrated because I felt my time (and the students’) was being wasted . 45

Predictable repetition is one thing, but it’s another to have to drive to a school to watch distracted 

students sleep and a play on their phones while before a glowing screen. 

An Absence of Clear Learning Outcomes 
 

In addition to an absence of criticality and a presence of passivity, learning outcomes 

were typically less clear or sometimes not specified, particularly when it came to the use of film 

or television clips. In U.S. & World History, where classes would typically start with a clip like 

those from CNN 10, students were instructed to “write down three interesting facts” with the un-

derstanding that their teacher(s) would later be asking for volunteers and/or cold-calling on stu-

dents to provide their answers. That these times were open-ended may seem understandable for 

taking in ever-changing current events, however, devoid of connection to content or any broader 

content-related skills or information, opportunities for thematic or historical thinking were rou-

tinely missed (Marcus, 2005; Wineburg, 2010) and the news clips began to feel like an adden-

 To be fair, perhaps this comment is more of a reflection of me projecting my own impatience, commitments, or 

45
lack of consideration.

 

66

dum or afterthought. All the while, the bigger problems seemed to arise when watching full 

length films. 

 

Viewing guides (e.g figure 7 and 8 below) were a mainstay in Theresa’s class and she of-

Figure 7. Worksheet: The first page of the 12 Years a Slave viewing guide, asking students ques-

tions of recall.

Figure 8. Worksheet: The second page of the 12 Years a Slave viewing guide, asking students 

questions of recall.

ten referenced them in instruction, but as I’ve previously noted, they tended to consist of factual 

recall and information about the names of characters or other aspects of rote learning. No doubt, 

 

67

awareness of the plot and characters is important and crucial for viewers to engage meaningfully. 

But rather than being a conduit to deeper engagements with history or citizenship, I sensed these 

worksheets served mostly as a means of accountability for students who were tempted to sleep, 

do other work, or otherwise socialize. These viewing guides, sometimes downloaded from the 

internet, seemed to correspond directly to the media itself without harkening back to curriculum 

or connecting to broader themes of the course or the disciplines therein. Moreover, rarely if ever 

did these worksheets include places for students to make predictions, inferences, or take (critical) 

positions on the films, books, and lectures they were encountering. 

 

When I noted and inquired about the perceived absence of clear learning outcomes and 

the teachers’ low activity level, Edward suggested to me that clear directives were not as neces-

sary as they would be with print texts because of the aesthetic highlights (Kostoulas, 2017); “the 

film sort of does the teaching for me” [Emphasis mine]. He was pointing out how the combina-

tion of audio and visual effects were “engaging enough” on their own and required no further 

scaffolding or educative effort on the teacher’s behalf. There is indeed something to be said 

about how dynamic mediums necessarily engage and don’t require further attention to state the 

obvious. However, though digital media unmistakably engages the senses and often requires lit-

tle if anything from a teacher to do so, young people in particular also need a meta-awareness of 

how their bodies are being affected and of the information that is broaching their minds (Marcus, 

2005; Garrett & Kerr, 2016). After all, students may only be engaged in entertainment, not learn-

ing. It is possible —and too often the case— in colloquial parlance, to “check out” or “veg” with 

glowing screens. When this happens the media sedates and desensitizes the mind in ways that 

temporarily suspend logic and explicit learning is consequently put on hold. In critique of this 

 

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sort of media use, sensational teaching is antagonistic to providing a technological opiate to 

anesthetize students or otherwise disengage them from meaningful learning outcomes. Rather, 

the lofty hope of sensational teaching is to stimulate and heighten the role of the body and its 

senses in order to access the mind and enliven episodes of learning. 

 

It is therefore not a stretch to imagine video clips functioning as substitute teachers, or 

more precisely, guest entertainers or, to be candid, even babysitters. When functioning as a sub-

stitute for the instructor to temporarily fill the time, entertain, and potentially put forth authorita-

tive information it is no wonder teachers and students typically associate viewing movies with 

taking a break (Hobbs, 2006). Both experience and literature testify that invoking emotions and 

presenting information through varied formats can and does shape learning (Lewis & Tierney, 

2013). But the other edge of this same blade is that these stimulations can also take away from 

learning just as easily as they can add to it. Speaking to the potential and pitfalls of using digital 

technology, Jones and Cuthrell (2011) insist that teachers who use video must alter typical activi-

ties or create new ones to fit the learning needs of their students and make sure they work in con-

junction with clear content objectives (2011). Surely the strong images on glowing screens and 

mood enhancing music touches the affective domain and captures attention, but quiet  students 

with seemingly engaged body language does not necessarily equate to concrete learning. At 

many times in observation it was unclear to me how the affective and cognitive elements of digi-

tal media were resulting in the students’ uptake of information that would help them understand 

content and think more critically about the world they inhabit. Thus, while I observed the stu-

dents paying attention, I wondered about the quality and type of attention that was being paid. 

Both my visceral read of the room and observed student struggles in recalling specific informa-

 

69

tion in casual questioning and formal assessments suggested to me that though they were often 

engrossed, they often were so in ways that imprecise and incomplete was learning taking place. 

 

Since anecdotal theory grants that insights from one’s own experience can shed light into 

broader debates and phenomena (Gallop, 2002), it is worth noting that I have seen a similar ped-

agogical reality in my own practice that testifies to these instances of engagement without learn-

ing. Years ago, I had a conversation with a struggling student —from a high school world history 

class I taught— who was excited to share with me that over the previous weekend he had 

watched multiple episodes of the History Channel’s World War II In HD Colour  documentary. 

46

After affirming him for being ‘a history geek after my own heart’, the teacher in me could not 

resist asking him questions about what he learned. Sadly, my student struggled mightily to pro-

vide information beyond the fact that ‘there was a lot of fighting and explosions out at sea’. 

Since I too was familiar with the documentary, I then asked a few pointed questions about 

Kamikazes, the U.S.’s island hopping campaign , and other content related to our class. To my 

47

surprise, even when I prompted him, my student could not give concrete answers and even 

struggled to place the vocabulary presented in the film. Perhaps the struggles to understand and 

retain content could be explained by his youth, academic immaturity, or the fact that the implicit 

and learned curriculum of the screen is bent towards consuming entertainment unless otherwise 

disrupted. Perhaps he needed to be (re)taught how to watch for the purpose of learning. After all, 

when a person takes in a movie or watches television for entertainment purposes, they are never 

asked questions of recall or presented with a clear summary of learning outcomes. Rather, they 

 A 13-episode television documentary series recounting the major events of World War II narrated by Robert Pow
46
ell.
 Also known as “leapfrogging”.

47

-

 

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are simply exposed to stimulating content, then they move on with their life; perhaps by osmosis 

they might have soaked up the aesthetic text’s messages and moods. 

 

All of this suggests that without scaffolding or other forms of cognitive guidance to assist 

in the recognition, retention, and comprehension of information, students are ill-equipped to no-

tice, understand, remember, problematize, and communicate the information presented by the 

media that so stimulates their attention. As is the case with students needing to learn how to read 

various genres —complete with their own norms and literary devices— like narratives, poetry, 

primary source documents, and so on, productive teaching with entities that easily tap into the 

senses, attracting and holding attention, often require a deliberate and active pedagogy that di-

rects learners to clear ends. Compared to the rest of their more traditionally-oriented instruction, 

Edward and Theresa in particular had less scaffolding for student thinking and almost no interac-

tion with students when showing film or a YouTube clip. However, concurrent in these same 

classrooms, my observations frequently revealed what appeared to be ample and age appropriate 

scaffolding for non-digital instruction. When the teachers incorporated printed text or lectured 

off of a slideshow, I repeatedly saw intentional instructional pauses to check for the understand-

ing of concepts, important vocabulary words, and content recall. 

An Absence of Relevant Connections 
 

Similarly to observing concrete learning outcomes only in traditional methods of instruc-

tion, the use of multimedia seemed to be lacking teacher prompted connections to students’ lives 

as well. This was not because Theresa and Edward never made connections to their students’ 

lives, however. On the contrary, both teachers were adept at tapping into their knowledge of their 

students during instruction and it was also apparent, from noticing how they utilized passing time 

 

71

to socialize before and after class periods, that Theresa and Edward knew about students’ ex-

tracurricular actives and personal lives.  

 

Once, when lecturing with a slide slide about young men being conscripted to fight in the 

Vietnam War, Theresa suspended her direct instruction to ask the boys in her 7th period class if 

they knew they would soon become eligible for military service and that they could have been 

drafted —regardless of how they felt about the justification for going to war— if they lived in a 

previous era. She asked in a way that was sincere and resonated with their own self-interest. Af-

ter a few boys scoffed at the notion of being draft, I noted several students, boys and girls alike, 

sat up in their seats and became interested in talking about conscription. They put their pencils 

down and chimed in without being prompted, offering their opinions and asking questions. One 

boy, sitting on the east wall of the room (who I had never seen participate before and typically 

put his head down throughout the period), who did not initially appear to be listening before, set 

his phone down on his desk. He scoffed with confident indignation at the draft, “That’s a bunch 

of bullshit!”. He was provoked and clearly thinking. After a brief pause, he added, “what if I re-

fused to go?”. Theresa thanked him for the relevance of his question and talked about the 

prospect of prison, citing examples of conscientious objectors. Upon hearing about Muhammad 

Ali’s refusal to fight in Vietnam, the boy nodded affirmatively and remarked, “Yo, that’s what’s 

what’s up!”. Comments like this demonstrated the ability to connections with curriculum, but 

most typically, these connections were only made in conjunction with traditional methods of in-

struction. 

 

With an eyebrow incredulously raised, a normally quiet girl in the back of the room then 

put up her hand to inquire about why women were not drafted. Theresa offered a few quick 

 

72

thoughts regarding presumptions about gender roles and how society had —“and still does”— 

delegated responsibilities. This teachable moment was only made possible because Theresa read 

the room and decided to take a deliberate pause in instruction for her students to explore text-to-

self connections, imagining how their own lives and interests would have been fleshed out in the 

Vietnam War era. Here, Theresa was using content as a springboard to deeper connections, ac-

tively inviting and tapping into the students’ lives (Jones & Cuthrell, 2011; Stoddard, 2012). 

Theresa knew her students well, how they valued several facets of their lives like leisure time, 

relationships with friends, varied hobbies, and their autonomy. Taking a moment to wonder aloud 

about potentially “giving up the best years” of their lives to combat the spread of communism, in 

a country that had not sought U.S. intervention, resonated. Like Edward, Theresa had a keen 

sense of her students’ internal lives and deeply human desires (Greenwalt, 2016) but what en-

abled her to tap into these deeply human facets of the classroom, was pedagogical choices to at-

tend to students’ spontaneous engagement in the medium of their learning. Unlike in most mo-

ments of using the screen, Theresa was actively assimilating content knowledge with social reali-

ties of the era in meaningful and relevant ways. 

 

In their checklist of The Three P’s of Pedagogy 2.0, McLoughlin and Lee (2008) suggest 

that pedagogy must always include some form of participation, personalization, and productivity. 

Transposed on to instruction with video or aesthetics then, students must directly engage and in-

teract with the media, make authentic connections to themselves, and take part in a tangible ac-

tivity such as an assignment that requires a response, discussion, presentation, or reflection 

(Sherer & Shea, 2011). Yet, outside of recitation or quick impromptu conversations in traditional 

formats, time and again, I saw much less connective tissue between what was personally relevant 

 

73

to students and the aesthetic modes of instruction typically employed. This change in focus back 

to the students, where they shifted from passive audience members to active participants in their 

experiences, rarely happened when Theresa and Edward used films. Unfortunately, the teachable 

moments, elucidations of relevance, and fostering additional connections to students’ lives were 

much more unlikely when using multimedia as opposed to traditional methods. Since it was rare 

to see the teachers attempt to access the students’ inner lives when they were employed, I con-

cluded that aesthetic modalities were assumed to be automatically relevant. This presumption of 

relevance is worth highlighting and interrogating. In their study on undergraduate learning with 

video, Mitra et al. (2010) are curt: 

If a lecturer passively uses a video as a replacement for an entire lecture, then it is likely 
that students will passively view the video, unless specific tasks are highlighted before 
… The relevance of the video being shown also needs to be highlighted to students, even 
if the relevance seems obvious to lecturers. Students need to be taught how to engage 
critically with video material and to question the content, especially where academics are 
talking about their subject area (p.413).  

Just as exposure to glowing screens does not equate to learning, it also does not equate to lasting 

relevance or meaningful personal and civic connections either. Research on medical students has 

affirmed that the retention of content knowledge is largely dependent upon whether or not stu-

dents find the information relevant and has accordingly called for educators to be explicit and 

intentional in highlighting the relevance of their content throughout curriculum (Malau-Aduli et 

al., 2013). Student interest and the importance of teachers’ care in ensuring curricular relevance 

is grasped —despite the format of instruction or medium or information— cannot be understated. 

The Importance of Morale 
 

Another salient consideration, and mitigating factor in critiquing the pedagogies of the 

teachers who demonstrate common usages of digital media and affective content like Theresa 

 

74

and Edward, is the role of vocational morale. With great consistency, researchers have identified 

systemic challenges such as high-stakes testing, punitive accountability, narrowed curriculum, 

and toxic school climates as items that persistently demoralize teachers (Walker, 2018). Apart 

from focusing on skill, experience, disposition, and professional commitments, a teachers’ lack 

of critical engagement with media and affective modalities could therefore be attributed in large 

part to their being unsatisfied in their positions or the courses assigned to them. In addition to 

these explicit concerns, Theresa and Edward also reported feeling stretched thin by extracurricu-

lar commitments and expressed concerns about their own passion and proficiency in their con-

tent: Edward was far removed from English content and new to teaching it; Theresa never set out 

to teach history in the first place. 

 

Job satisfaction, generally speaking, comes from feeling a sense of assurance, control, 

and motivation (Govindarajan, 2012). Specifically in the field of education, morale depends 

upon teachers’ professional needs being met, whether they possess a sense of satisfaction in their 

position and its associated responsibilities, and in feeling effective at meeting external and per-

sonal goals (Willis & Varner, 2010). In interviews, and sometimes spontaneously in follow up 

conversation, I asked each of the teachers various questions about their morale. Without excep-

tion, all four inservice teachers, at one point or another, expressed negative views of their admin-

istration and school board. An important contextual backdrop in this study was a lingering sense 

of bitterness that many staff members (my respondents included) felt towards administrators and 

school board members. Not too long before my study began, the teaching faculty wrapped up 

contract negotiations after a contentious season where the district regularly made local headlines 

with stories of teacher complaints, heated board meetings, and reports of other divisive relations 

 

75

between various stakeholders in the district and wider community. Threats to strike were in print 

and posted on social media. Negotiations and chamber sessions involved shouting matches and 

name-calling. 

 

When I directly asked the teachers about the previous season of contract negotiations, 

anger, frustration, and fatigue was palpable in their responses. They shook their heads, they 

sighed. Trying to put a humorous spin on the previous season, Theresa scoffed, “Oh God, don’t 

get me started. I’m so glad that is finally over”. Vince (the history teacher who will be considered 

throughly in chapter 5) indicated that though “things were finally getting better and the fog was 

starting to clear, there was still a lot of resentment”. Both he and Jimi (the English teacher who 

will be considered throughly in chapter 4) —who referred to the contract negotiations as “a giant 

shit show”— told me they had actively searched for other jobs because of the severity of their 

discouragement. Jimi told me that a few teachers in the building did in fact take jobs elsewhere 

or retired early because of their frustration over their contracts and because of the response from 

the board and administration. Theresa felt that her hands were tied, she had no choice but to stay 

because of having children in the district that she did not want to relocate. Coming from a charter 

academy serving low SES students that he described as “soul crushing” and existing “only for 

the sake of standardized test prep”, Edward felt thankful to be in what he described as a relative-

ly less toxic environment where teachers had “some, albeit little, voice”. And though he was only 

in the school for the tail end of what Vince deemed as “the school’s rough patch”, Edward felt 

like his new setting had not yet wore him down as it had others. In addition to the recent time 

consuming and bitter contract negotiations, the teachers also indicated the relationship between 

 

76

the staff and administrators was historically marked by poor interpersonal relations, an annoy-

ance with leadership style, and even an incredulity about the administrators’ competency.  

 

Huysman (2008), joining a chorus of other voices who have came before and since, indi-

cates teacher morale is often low because of a negative school culture wrought with inequities 

stemming from a poor distribution of power and toxic interpersonal relations. Accordingly, the 

school’s social climate, job dissatisfaction, and feelings of inadequacy with content, ought to mit-

igate a severe critique of Theresa and Edward’s pedagogy. These contextual factors suggest that 

for teachers to flourish in the project of sensational practices —and in many other educational 

and professional endeavors— a healthy work environment, autonomy with the courses they 

teach, and feelings of professional competency appear to be extremely important, if not even 

requisite. Regarding the role of morale, Jimi and Vince seemed to be more resistant to the afore-

mentioned challenges because of their self-reported comfort with and affinity for their disci-

plines/courses, because they felt that they could leave the district if they had too, and perhaps 

also because they seemed to have especially sterling reputations when compared to other staff 

members. By contrast, Theresa and Edward felt stuck and many aspects of their job descriptions 

were less intrinsically motivating to them. Alas, these teachers’ lack of critical engagement with 

media and aesthetic objects ought to be, at least in part, attributed to their lower morale. Perhaps 

any teacher in their situation, even the most competent and critically inclined, would be less in-

clined or less empowered to provide the sort of dynamic and holistic teaching that I would hope 

for. 

 

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Conclusions 
 

It was clear that Theresa and Edward valued the incorporation of digital media in their 

classroom. They taught with it confidently and seamlessly, competently utilizing new technolo-

gies to engage their learners. They were prepared in advance, ready to set the room’s lighting and 

sound levels to be conducive to viewing and listening. Rarely were there snags such as cumber-

some transitions or user errors stemming from not knowing how to use technology. Often, espe-

cially in Theresa’s classes, the students had study guides to help keep them on task and account-

able to finding relevant information. However, I did not observe these teachers teaching about 

the media; highlighting how it taught, what its embedded ideology was, nor provide meaningful 

opportunities to talk back to it. This passivity evidenced by minimal introduction, infrequent 

pausing or stopping, and the absence of robust interaction with clips after viewing them, seemed 

to present screen content vacuously and deprived students of the opportunities to participate and 

think critically. 


	

Perhaps observing the engagement of senses without explicit learning outcomes and an 

absence of relevance to student’s lives is at least partly explained by assumptions about what 

constitutes ‘real learning’ and about the educative versus entertainment value of digital media. 

Nonetheless, these two teachers who were indeed capable of achieving learning goals and in-

struction that was relevant to their students, consistently leveraged affective and aesthetic entities 

differently than they did with printed texts and traditional approaches. Theresa and Edward had 

thoughtful insights about the role of integrating the imagination and fostering historical empathy 

in their practices (Stoddard, 2012), but had comparatively less pedagogical sophistication and 

intentionality when they utilized media that engaged the senses. 

 

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In an interview, Theresa explained that she hoped that the documentaries shown her elec-

tive class would teach students “the content knowledge and what actually happened” while the 

full-length feature films would pique curiosity and help students imagine. I asked her about the 

premise of a History Channel

48

 series being put forth as something that captures the history nar

-

rative and how it could be reasonably construed as problematic for reasons of credibility and per-

spective. Theresa paused, seeing that she had overstated her point. Softening her certitude, she 

clarified about the impact of documentary to simply assert that the genre was generally more his-

torically accurate than almost all movies because documentaries typically seek to prioritize in-

formation over entertainment when compared to full-length films. I granted this clarification, but 

conjectured that documentaries were also to some effect imaginative works too, not simply ac-

counts of “what happened”. Theresa politely nodded, but her facial expression made me wonder 

if she was actually skeptical of the point I was trying to make. She explained how the documen-

taries she showed like America: The Story of Us often did provide sound content knowledge that 

more closely coincided with textbooks and provided valuable knowledge in ways that supported 

different styles of learning. I agreed. “All the while”, she continued, “while documentaries give 

information, the movies could give students a chance to use their imaginations and enjoy histo-

ry”. Edward also made similar comments about the integration of information and imagination, 

telling me about how his students would often make unprompted connections back and forth 

from print to digital texts and express greater interest in content because of his varied choice of 

using materials and instructional methods that complimented each other.  

 Especially given that the History Channel has produced copious amounts of content that has been either been 

48
deemed historically incredulous (e.g. Hunting Hitler) or programming that is nothing more than reality TV (e.g. Ice 
Road Truckers), it might be wise to give pause when the line between entertainment and credible education has been 
blurred and even sometimes spurned by many educators and academics alike.

 

79

 

Since scholars have found that teaching with digital media in social studies often pro-

vides rich opportunities to promote students’ conceptual knowledge, historical empathy, and the 

ability to deliberate around controversial issues (Stoddard, 2012; Linebarger, 2011; Marcus, 

2005), I do not entirely write off the affordances of showing films and clips, even if they are em-

ployed in ways that I feel could have been more critical, active, or tied to concrete leaning out-

comes. Rather, I assert that using media in such ways fails to achieve their educative potential 

and risks reifying the implicit curriculum of passively consuming digital content.


 

At end, Theresa and Edward were cognizant of the existence of emotional highlights, 

subjective arousals brought about by aesthetic objects (Kostoulas, 2017), and how they can play 

a productive role in gaining and keeping attention, and interest. I believe this was part of the rea-

son why students enjoyed their classes. Edward in particular, especially as he became more fa-

miliar with English curriculum and got a better handle on the legislative intern program, seemed 

primed to make instruction leaps with aesthetics and affective modalities. However, though they 

commonly increased the stimulus in their students’ affective domain with glowing screens and 

music, cognitive rigor was typically diminished when such media was employed. Stimulation is 

a good starting point, but in spaces of learning it is an inadequate destination unto itself. Multi-

media can do more than pique imaginations and utilize senses typically omitted from traditional 

instruction. Aesthetic objects then, such as film and music, can —and I argue, ought to— be uti-

lized to promote concrete learning outcomes, critical thinking and media literacy, and personal 

relevance beyond immediately learning factual content. When these lofty outcomes are present, 

it increases the possibility of transformation through aesthetic experiences (Dewey, 1934;1989) 

and students may even be able to adopt new subject positions as they are given opportunities to 

 

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holistically (re)consider their place in the world (Garrett & Kerr, 2016). Since students occupy a 

landscape where digital technology dominates and mediates the vast majority of their experi-

ences and information acquisition, it is incumbent upon teachers to work against the grain of pas-

sive consumption in order to foster in their students alert and proactive dispositions towards the 

content and format of the media they are so regularly exposed to.  

 

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CHAPTER 4: THE ART OF SENSATIONAL TEACHING 

“I had cast off all feeling, subdued all anguish, to riot in the excess of my despair.  
Evil thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no choice but to adapt  

my nature to an element which I had willingly chosen.”  
- Frankenstein’s monster from Frankenstein , 1818, ch. 24, p. 13. 

49

“Pull it out, turn it up, what’s your favorite song? 
That’s mine, I’ve been crying to it since I was young
I know there’s someone out there feeling just like I feel

I know they’re waiting up, I know they’re waiting to heal… 
There’s nothing like another soul that's been cut up the same.” 

Let it out, let me in, take a hold of my hand

- Lyrics from Handwritten, by (Brian Fallon of) the band The Gaslight Anthem, 2012. 

I. INTRODUCTION 

 

I wasn’t sure if Charlie  was going to cry, but it was clear his comments were raising the 

50

emotional temperature in the room. Jimi had just asked how, if at all, the students personally 

identified with characters they were exposed to. There was a reverent silence as Charlie conclud-

ed his thoughts about feeling like a misfit: 

Charlie: As you guys know, I’m gay. So I resonated with the monster. It [the Franken-
stein novel] was very descriptive. When the monster was rejected and was found with 
tears burning in his eyes, it was very emotional for me to read that. I’ve felt like that in 
my own room, many times. 

As he laid his heart bear, a few peers looked at directly at Charlie with gentle and empathetic ex-

pressions, but most others just gulped and looked at their feet, taking atypically deep breaths. 

 In chapter 24 of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the creature gives a speech while standing over Victor’s (his cre
-
49
ator) murdered body. Lamenting his unfulfilling violence, the creature shares his deep internal conflicts stemming 
from morality, personhood, isolation, & meaning.

50

 Like all the names used to represent students, “Charlie” was a pseudonym.

 

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Though the vulnerability stirred up deep emotions, I sensed the class still felt unified and warm 

toward each other. In a way that suggested to everyone that ‘it’s okay to be nervous’, Jimi nod-

ded affirmatively to acknowledge his student’s moral courage (Borba, 2018) and tenderly 

thanked him for his contribution: 

Mr. Hendrix: I appreciate you sharing that. [Nodding with a gentle expression] That’s 
so deep. Thanks for sharing Charlie. 

Students: Nod affirmatively. 

Cassie: I think that’s why the theme of alienation has made Frankenstein such a classic, 
everybody can relate.  

Students: Nod affirmatively, quickly saying things like “uh huh” and “yeah”. 

 

Several students gestured to show they concurred, that they felt it was common to feel 

alone when they feel different. Charlie looked down at his desk and sighed. I took this to mean 

that he had spoken his piece and did not want the class to dwell on what he said; he preferred to 

see the discussion to move on. There was silence. None of the other students seemed to want to 

share, so after a patient pause in dialog Jimi redirected the class back to the original prompt and 

asked for their thoughts about responsibility regarding technological progress as it related to 

people. Later, as class was released, Jimi caught Charlie before he exited the room. Because of 

the intimate nature of this interaction stemming from a spontaneous and raw student comment 

(from I did not have consent to interview), I decided not to inquire about the specifics of the 

conversation. However, my read of body language from across the room led me to infer it was 

affirming. Charlie nodded and eventually cracked a small smile. This exchange was no doubt 

framed in by a wider relational context that I was not privy to, but it isn’t a stretch to think the 

 

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tender moment was undergirded by interpersonal capital and safe/trusting social atmosphere that 

went well beyond lesson plans and teaching strategies. 

 

At this point, it may be helpful to remind the reader that sensational teaching is not to be 

construed as synonymous to positive or exemplary. Rather the term speaks to instruction that 

both activates bodily senses (seeing, hearing, & etc.) and engages the ‘heart’ through affective 

elements such as empathy, emotion, and desire. As such, this chapter will depict pedagogy that 

simultaneously involved affect and cognition to address students’ holistic personhood to thusly 

promote engagement, generate higher order thinking, and pave the way for learning. It is my in-

tention to demonstrate that students went beyond merely cognitive encounters, to portray how 

their senses were activated and how their hearts were stirred. Anyway, back to the lesson. 

 

Throughout the Frankenstein unit, the class had multiple discussions about moral respon-

sibility being tied to scientific progress. Jimi moved them from text to self and then back again. 

Issues of respecting others’ autonomy or “playing God” with technology and the corresponding 

unintended consequences surfaced again and again, especially when broaching dialogs in Mary 

Shelley’s text centering around the creature’s resentment of his creator (Victor) and when dis-

cussing the plot lines of A.I. Artificial Intelligence , a film Jimi showed to augment the curricu

51

-

lum. Towards the end of the Frankenstein unit, Jimi triangulated these themes  with a selection 

52

of articles and various texts to pave the way for a logical discussion about their contemporary 

relevance. To further equip the class for a pointed group discussion, Jimi made printouts from 

two chapters of The Way We Will Be 50 Years from Today: 60 Of The World's Greatest Minds 

51

 I will discuss pedagogical aspects of Jimi’s use of the film A.I. Artificial Intelligence later.

 For weeks, the Frankenstein unit found students pondering themes like ambition, creation, alienation, and the 

52
limits and responsibilities associated with technology and altering nature. 

 

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Share Their Visions of the Next Half-Century. The composition’s esteemed contributors  collec

53

-

tively provided a thought-provoking look into the spirit of the contemporary age and critical is-

sues underlying the hopes, fears, and possibilities for life in the 21st century (Nelson, 2009). 

Previewing the two short readings, found stapled together and totaling 12 pages, Jimi explained 

the chapters would describe exponential technological progress and forecast future advancements 

in pharmaceuticals, artificial intelligence (AI) and human-machine interfaces  (HMIs), and ge
-

54

netic engineering. Jimi drew the class toward ethical considerations by explaining such tech-

nologies might pave the way for designer babies, “where parents could pick out eye color”. Sift-

ing through their packets, a few students began to raise their brows; something I took to mean 

they were intrigued but uncertain about the complex possibilities of new technology. Jimi then 

presented a dilemma:  

Mr. Hendrix: “So on one hand, genetic alterations may provides cures for diseases like 
sickle-cell anemia, but at the same time, the chapters you’re about to read raise [bio]ethi-
cal questions about whether certain conditions should be [using a gesture for air quotes] 
‘fixed’”.  

The students were given 15-20 to read quietly and take notes in their journals. 

 

After reading the chapters  entitled “Process Accelerates Exponentially” and “What 

55

Does it Mean to be Human?”, the class was instructed to move their desks to circle up and face 

each other. Since face-to-face interactions are crucial in creating classrooms that nurture mean-

 Including former presidents, scientists, noted writers and artists, and other leaders. The volume featured great 

53
minds like Vint Cerf (former Vice President of Google, known as a “Father of the Internet”) and Francis S. Collins, 
M.D., Ph.D. (the geneticist who led the Human Genome Project).

54

  HMIs are essentially instances of robotics and computers being incorporated within natural bodies.

 By Ray Kurzweil (an inventor whose developments include the first print-to-speech reading machine 

55
for the blind and the first text-to-speech synthesizer) and Richard Clarke (a renown advisor on intelli-
gence and counterterrorism in multiple presidential administrations), respectively. 

 

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ingful interaction and engagement (Borba, 2018), this recurring change of the seating arrange-

ment platformed eye-contact and empathetic talk. Once situated, Jimi then asked the class to 

ponder a poignant and hard question: 

Mr. Hendrix: First, consider the themes we’ve explored in Frankenstein and saw played 
out in A.I.; what does it mean to be human, generally speaking?; to what effect was the 
creature and the robot human, or not?; and to what effect were their creators, Victor and 
Henry, morally responsibility for the their struggles? What right do we have to create, 
and to create the way we see fit?  

The scope of the inquired broadened as the class began to talk about how the various texts made 

them think and feel personally. With chastened optimism about progress, they soberly acknowl-

edged what they saw as tragic impulses woven through literature and humanity itself. Jamal 

talked about how impossible it is to predict the future. 

Jamal: Good intentions aren’t always enough.  
Mr. Hendrix: I hear that. Tell me more. 
Amber: Technology can fix things, but can also be used for bad. And, because of human 
nature, nothing is ever good enough. [In a reverent tone, she was hesitant] I wonder if we 
could even know what we really want and if we could ever achieve it if we did know.  
Mr. Hendrix: Yeah. Anyone got an example? Have you personally shared some of the 
worries raised by the texts? 
Stacy: My uncle lost his job on an assembly line because of machines and it becomes 
bad for everyone. It seems like nothing can be done to stop it.  

Jimi affirmed the her comments’ relevance, but redirected them to respond with more specificity:  

Mr. Hendrix: I was itching to hear your thoughts on designer babies, no one’s men-
tioned that — let’s talk about it.  

 

Jimi told the class that their counterparts in first hour had some profound things to say. 

Again, Charlie, provoked by what he read, seized on the opportunity to move beyond the person-

al to more generalized considerations of social responsibility: 

 

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Charlie: I’m split, honestly. Where’s the line? I mean, I’m all for curing diseases, but 
what about getting rid of certain types of people, just because you don’t like them? Kind 
of going back to what I said earlier, I just don’t know. People with Down’s [sic] Syn-
drome, or gay people? What if scientists find out there is a gay gene, and then parents 
don’t want to have gay kids? People will get erased from the future. That freaks me the 
hell out. 

Emoting excitement at the breadth and thoughtfulness of the comment, Jimi could not resist 
jumping in: 

Mr Hendrix: Yeah! Oh man, where is the line? Great question.  
[Holding up is hands in front of his shoulders, Jimi gesticulated like he was weighing 
two items in a balance; holding out his left hand]  
Cancer; yep, I’m down with stomping out that. [holding out his right hand] 
But picking out eye-color or something else; hold up. Hold up. That feels like eugenics, 
ugh [making a deep guttural noise]  
—you know, what the Nazi’s were all about— real fast. 
Blake: [Gasping] Woah, I get it now, dude that’s so heavy! 
Students: Nod affirmatively, quickly saying things “uh huh” and “yeah”. 

It was an ‘aha moment’. Just then, several students who had been half-listening and lethargic in 

contributing, seemed to have a minor epiphany about what their teacher and the articles were get-

ting at. In the productive silence that followed, the class was nodding in agreement, thinking to-

gether, that the aforementioned technologies had opened a proverbial pandora’s box. Though I 

obviously cannot speak definitively for others, the series of discussions that unfolded from 

Frankenstein’s themes —to Charlie’s vulnerability to the ethical dilemmas rising out scientific 

progress— left us with a consummatory sensation. It was a fullness of feeling, integration, and 

harmony. I was as if we were sharing one of Dewey’s elusive aesthetic experiences (1934) that 

enabled all who were present, even the researcher, to think and feel together. 

 

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II. THE PARTICIPANT 

Jimi 
 

As far back as he could remember, Jimi loved literature and music, excelled at writing, 

and had always been identified as highly intelligent, though when he was in school, his grades —

because of “chronic inadequate effort”— never reflected his acumen. For Jimi, teaching was 

means to a greater end, he was interested most in the “moral rewards” of such a human profes-

sion (Walker, 2018). He got into his craft in order to help young people navigate the complexities 

of life through “talking about books and the issues they raise”. Observations and interviews 

would later reveal that ‘helping’ meant guiding students in the process of developing practical 

and academic higher order thinking skills, raising their awareness about social and political is-

sues facing their lives, and consequently fostering a critical consciousness about those issues. 

Jimi intrinsically enjoyed his students, especially when he could make them think and join the in 

the process of making meaning. He wanted his students to notice and appreciate the overt and 

subtle aspects of art, discover and cultivate their own values, and learn how to clearly articulate 

them. Jimi also liked to laugh, and make others laugh. More on this later. 

 

Jimi was the only teacher in my study certified out of state, and the only one certified at a 

small liberal arts college. Initially, Jimi thought that he would have liked teaching suburban high-

achievers. Because of having a similar background, Jimi thought he could relate and envisioned 

rich discussions and preparing auspicious minds for the intellectual rigors of college. However, 

experiences late in his undergraduate studies found Jimi mentoring at-risk teens through a school 

partnership with the church he was attending. His perspective began to shift as he caught a vision 

for leveraging his abilities towards those who were “disadvantaged”. In fact, in an interview he 

explained, some who “just want to achieve” might not invest in their own curiosity they way 

 

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others would because they viewed school as a commodity or stepping stone to something bigger. 

Jimi was excited by the thought of fanning into flame the potential of a student population that, 

when compared with typically higher performing, more affluent, and homogenous suburban 

schools, was more diverse and of a lower socioeconomic standing. Contrasted with the highest 

achieving district in the area, Jimi was unimpressed by comparatively privileged settings:  

Mr Hendrix: I’d get bored teaching at [he named the highest performing/most affluent 
suburban school in the area]. Helicopter parents would try to tell me how to do my job. 
And, those kids are going to succeed anyway because of all of all that’s going to be 
handed to them. I’d rather teach at district like this one where my contributions might be 
appreciated. 

Jimi’s experience continuously reaffirmed that populations, like the ones he served throughout 

his career, were limited largely by wider societal inequalities and the stereotypes that brokers of 

power held about them, not by some fault or inadequacy of their own. Though attended to in an 

earlier chapter, readers might justifiably wonder about the impact of power and positionality on 

instruction; how factors like whiteness and class bear upon the participant, context, and data. So 

even as the focus of this study shifts explicitly towards pedagogy, I acknowledge considerations 

like these are always present, salient, and cannot be disregarded since they situate and animate 

every aspect of social life. In this regard, diverse students with an array of identity markers learn-

ing in Jimi’s classes did not seem to feel alienated. By and large, the students’ body language and 

interactions signaled mutual trust and respect such that students did not seem impeded by being 

silenced, spotlighted, or othered. Rather, in class I noticed a marked sense of warmth  towards 

56

all parties such that a feeling comfort was evidenced time and again.  

 The class evidenced “warmth” by showing courtesy and deference in discussion, asking about each other’s lives 

56
and opinions, laughing, actively telling and listening to stories, hearing and affirming minority perspectives, and 
otherwise interacting in socially positive ways.

 

89

 

Jimi also did not appear to hold deficit views of students. He was convinced anyone 

could learn and have deep conversations and was convinced that a setting like his own suited for 

such depth and sincerity. Provided his observations were positive and classes were well-managed 

(and they were), Jimi said the school’s unique climate and challenges meant the administration 

had “bigger fish to fry” than surveilling teachers who, like him, performed well in reviews and 

observations. Like Vince (discussed in the next chapter), this positive standing allowed Jimi to 

‘fly under the radar’. He could close his door and essentially do what he wanted. This autonomy 

and absence of scrutiny on his practice afforded Jimi freedom to operate outside the box in ways 

that utilized his students senses and “push various ideological buttons” as he saw fit. 

 

Though Jimi had been teaching English for 12 years, it was his sixth year in this particu-

lar school district. His teaching load found him teaching four sections of English 9 and two sec-

tions of Honors English 11. After initial observations and discussing his plans for the rest of the 

semester, I decided to focus my efforts towards his honors sections where I saw comparatively 

more student engagement, pedagogical creativity, and greater intellectual rigor. 

What’s In A Name? 
 

I decided to pseudonymously refer to my participant Jimi or Mr. Hendrix, as “Jimi” —not 

as “Jimmy”— for a few related reasons. Along with a large yellow and pink psychedelic poster 

of The Beatles, the south wall of his room proudly flaunted a sepia image of Jimi Hendrix play-

ing live, sweaty and grimacing. The spirited photograph displayed Hendrix (the performer) off of 

his feet, perhaps falling backwards, simultaneously curling his body around his infamous left-

handed Stratocaster. The still image somehow captured his emotional and movement. At heart, 

Hendrix was an artist, known for uncanny skill, stage presence, and originality. The Rock & Roll 

 

90

Hall of Fame (n.d.), lauds him because he “expanded the range and vocabulary” of rock music 

with “boundless drive, technical ability and creative application of such effects… [and] forever 

transformed the sound of rock and roll.” Jimi the teacher, while not famous, paradigm altering, or 

officially trumpeted as a standard of excellence in his field, was nonetheless highly skilled in his 

craft, able to improvise, charismatic, and also quite unique. Jimi’s personal aesthetic also also 

looked the part. Compared to his peers, he was always underdressed. Cowboy boots, ripped 

jeans, and flannels complimented his artistic think-rimmed glasses. 

 

Since I will utilize Jimi as a case representing the art of sensational teaching, it is impor-

tant to foreground key elements of his disposition and the affective vibe of his classes and per-

sonality. Mr. Hendrix’s class was also an experience. As Jimi’s practice is explored, several dis-

positions and instances will be considered to envision sensational practices and to wonder how 

typical teaching approaches to might be enlivened through the reunification of the head and heart 

in episodes of learning. It is also worth noting that I am deliberately engaging what I took to be 

the best elements of Jimi’s practice. I do not mean glorify or elevate his practice as flawless, I 

rather merely wanted to spotlight positive elements that engaged the hearts and senses of stu-

dents. 

Music 
 

III. OPTIMAL ARTISTIC DISPOSITIONS 

Music was woven through Jimi’s practice and throughout his life as well. Outside of 

school, where Jimi sometimes ‘jammed’ with the school band during pep assemblies, Jimi front-

ed a rock band know for their covers of 70’s rock tunes. Jimi played lead guitar and sang, of 

course. In anticipation of playing a gigs at local brew pubs, he eagerly passed out flyers in the 

faculty lounge and invited his peers to come out to the show. It was not unusual for several staff 

 

91

members to attend. When I was doing an observation in Theresa’s room, I found myself in con-

versation with her and intern, Gabby. They told me they had gone to Jimi’s show the weekend 

prior and had fun: 

Gabby: “The show was a riot, I didn’t expect to have that much fun. [Jimi] is so good at 
playing guitar and funny on stage; he really gets into it. I’ve never seen him like that, 
with so much energy!”  

Me: “Oh yeah?!” 

Theresa: [Chuckling and shaking her head with a smile] “Yeah, he was in his glory, you 
really should come out with us some time.” 

Gabby: “Yeah, you should have also seen Mr. Hendrix at the pep assembly with the 
school's band. Playing together, they were just getting down; the kids just ate it up!” 

 

Late in the school year, after being invited multiple times by Jimi, I concluded it was my 

scholarly duty to drink beer and listen to rock-n-roll. Attending a show at one of the establish-

ments where his band frequented, I saw Jimi in a different, but more clarifying, light. Donning a 

trucker hat, aviator sunglasses (at night), and sweating profusely from constant movement, Mr. 

Hendrix was especially extroverted; effortlessly shredding solos to Led Zeppelin songs and mak-

ing the crowd laugh with self-effacing banter between songs. Though a few mugs of the pub’s 

IPA may have played a role in his confident stage presence, Jimi seemed in his element, clearly 

used to playing music in front of people. From my perspective , it it was evident that Jimi had 

57

the talent to be a gigging musician, had he so desired. But, having a family, a desire for regular 

“business hours”, and a passion for “kids” and education, Jimi seemed contented to let music be 

an extracurricular hobby that could be weaved back into his profession. 

 Playing the guitar for over 20 years myself (and yet with no delusions of being anything more than a common 

57
‘hack’), I trust my ear enough to recognize technical precision.

 

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In school, an acoustic guitar —one of his many, many guitars— always sat next to Jimi’s 

desk. Sometimes he played it during class (or in passing time) to play a bit of song that related to 

class or draw/keep attention during direct instruction. Jimi also showed music videos to access 

content. In the Nineteen Eighty Four unit for instance, when considering government propaganda 

and control, the class watched Rage Against the Machine’s cynical protest video  for their song 

58

Testify (Moore, 2000), which carried overtly Orwellian themes and recycled the lyric from the 

party slogan, “Who controls the past now, controls the future/Who controls the present now, con-

trols the past” (Orwell, 1949). Mr. Hendrix’s prompts (pictured in figures 9 & 10 below), direct-

Figure 9. Worksheet: The front side of a lyrical analysis worksheet that accompanied the Testify 

music video by Rage Against the Machine.

Figure 10. The back of a worksheet connecting Rage Against the Machine lyrics back to Nineteen 

Eighty Four.

 A protest of the 2000 election, the aggressive rock video directed by Micheal Moore, mocked the cam

58
paigns of George W. Bush and Al Gore. Among several other provocative items, it featured images of 
Cold War propaganda, protest marches, military bombings, and other content critical of the U.S.’s capital-
istic system. The video ends with a clip of Ralph Nader saying “if you’re not turned on to politics, politics 
will turn on you”.

-

 

93

ed students back to the text and explicitly asking them to be cognizant of how their five senses 

were evoked. Yet, this listening was not a mere exercise in music appreciation, it was one direct-

ed toward learning. Testify was used illustrate Orwell and teach about a real-life example; the 

250,000 person protest in Tiananmen Square; a case study of violent governmental suppression 

and intentional misinformation. The students would become hooked in as their teacher shared 

conflicting accounts of the Tiananmen Square incident: declassified CIA reports indicated nearly 

11,000 civilian deaths and 40,000 injuries; the Chinese government said just 426 lives were lost 

while 5,000 police officers were wounded. Nineteen Eighty Four seemed prophetic.  

 

Addressing racism during the Othello unit, especially as it was/is expressed systemically, 

Jimi showed the controversial Run the Jewels music video for their song Close Your Eyes (And 

Count To F**k) by outspoken rappers Killer Mike and El-P, featuring Zack de la Rocha (Rojas, 

Figure 11. Screenshot: An image from the Run the Jewels music video by Close Your Eyes (And 

Count to F**K). Screenshot captured from the web in August of 2019.

2015). As the song played, with a fast drumbeat clapping, the students head’s began to bounce 

with the rhythm. Shot from a tight and shaky low angle, the gritty black-and-white video depict-

ed two exhausted men locked in an unending fistfight; a white police officer pursuing and an un-

 

94

armed young Black man  (see the screenshot above in figure 13). The music video was/is hard 

59

to watch, but no one could look away; it was an example of what Korsmeyer spoke of when she 

observed of how disgust can be magnetizing, how aversions can be attractive (2011). Several 

boys kept beat slapping their thumbs down on their desks, others tapped their feet. The racialized 

themes woven through Shakespeare’s four hundred year old work were sensed, and they sudden-

ly seemed relevant. Music videos like these empowered students cognitively precisely because 

they utilized their senses and provoked them emotionally. Coupled with analysis of lyrics and 

imagery, generative conversation and critical engagements flowed from a heightened conscious-

ness toward both curriculum and society (Akom, 2009). As evidenced by figure 12 (below), Jimi 

used scaffolding not only to help students write better essays, but also help them read music 

Figure 12. Picture: An instructional support on writing paragraphs posted in Jimi’s room to give 
pointers and make thinking (in this case, a color-coded paragraph guide) visible for students.

videos, and their own experiences. Mr. Hendrix filled his room with the sounds of music and the 

affects it engendered to harmonize the heads and hearts of his students. 

 The video was shot in a setting visually similar to the shooting of Micheal Brown in Ferguson, Missouri in August 

59
of 2014. Featuring actors Shea Whigham and LaKeith Stanfield, Run the Jewels’ images and lyrics present an 
unswerving commentary on race relations and the futile cycle of police brutality.

 

95

Passion 
 

By itself, claiming that passion is an important quality for teachers is not uncommon or 

innovative. Beyond question, the concept of having ‘passion for teaching’ or ‘passion in the 

midst of education’ is overused and often construed vaguely. While a dictionary definition might 

call to mind the presence of strong emotions, interests, preferences, and even dedication, the ex-

istence of true and robust educative passion —directed toward human flourishing— is more rare 

and illusive than one might initially think. Misusing a synonym for fondness or interest, people 

say they are ‘passionate’ about all sorts of things that operate on entirely different in essence. For 

instance, I have claimed to ‘be passionate about tacos’ and that I am also ‘passionate about my 

children and their well-being’. Though I am sincerely fond of tacos, I would  not lay down my 

60

life for them, nor would my affection or lack thereof for them impact the wider social fabric of 

society. The point here is that a rich conception of the ‘passion’ in education is not merely one 

that involves emoting enthusiasm for preferences, hobbies, short-term interests, and pursuing 

other items that students and teachers may be immediately fond of (Alexander, 1993). If con-

sumerism has taught us anything, it is that pursuing mere wants, stimulation and immediately 

pleasurable self-interest, often yields little sustained fulfillment or enduring purpose. Passion, 

when understood with more sophistication and thoughtfulness, therefore, moves beyond the id 

and the idiosyncratic and is directed more broadly towards well-being and deep satisfaction. 

 

Especially in Democracy and Education, John Dewey (1923) conceived of education as a 

holistic and encompassing entity that necessarily draws upon and forms fundamental dispositions 

and desires, both intellectual and emotional, that are directed toward nature and the good of oth-

60

 It may be more accurate to insert the word “probably” here.

 

96

ers. Pushing beyond viewing teachers only as technical experts of specialized knowledge, Max-

ine Greene likewise insisted that, particularly in the arts and humanities, educators must be in-

clined towards the inherent and often unsurfaced fears, motivations, and desires people have for 

personal and civic life (Greene, 1986). Building on Dewey and drawing heavily from a robust 

platonic conception of the education of erōs , Garrison positioned teaching holistically, as a lov

61

-

ing, vigorous, and logical vocation keenly aware of the breadth and depth humanity’s essence 

and longings (Garrison, 2010). It would be helpful, therefore, to understand passion in the teach-

ing profession as that which is directed toward deep yearnings for meaning, identity, belonging, 

understanding, goodness, and so forth. Aiming for this robust conception of passion, sensational 

teaching seeks to navigate the aesthetic dimensions of teaching that lend themselves to engaging 

these lofty purposes. Such encounters can be transformative, even producing a practical wisdom 

that helps students accomplish their best possibilities and flourish in the real world (Alexander, 

1993), perhaps even leading to having life-changing aesthetic experiences (Dewey, 1934).  

 

Unsurprisingly, Jimi’s honors English 11 classes broached content and skills common to 

the discipline. The course was accordingly structured around large units based on seminal works 

(e.g. The Odyssey, Frankenstein, Romeo & Juliet, Nineteen Eighty Four, and Othello) which 

provided avenues to quantitatively  and qualitatively  evaluate texts (Michigan Department of 

62

63

Education, 2010). By itself, thorough coverage of formal curriculum that addresses the knowl-

 When compared to other usages of the term, this conception of erōs being applied to education is 

61
markedly non-sexual or non-erotic.
 The Michigan Department of Education considers quantitive evaluations of text as those that promote students’ 
62
ability to read and understand texts, and their component parts, in their various genres and degrees of complexity.

 Qualitative evaluations of text are those that promote students’ ability to make meaning from texts’ structure, lan

63
guage conventions, and utilizing other forms of analytical knowledge.

-

 

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edge and skill required for students to read and write at an honors junior level is not  exemplary, 

let alone sensational, nor was it what set Jimi apart as a teacher. Rather, it was meeting these 

standards with a passionate disposition for broad human flourishing that made Jimi unique. Un-

afraid to dredge the depths of love, fear, and desire, Jimi eagerly used content as a conduit to dis-

cuss the good, human nature, rights and responsibility, and how to be a thinking person in com-

plex and otherwise confusing world. Often, as was the case with Vince, this passion spilled out as 

his personal life emerged, as Jimi’s personal commitments were mapped on to curriculum. One 

instance of this was found in his treatment of Othello. 

Making Text-To-Life Connections 
 

Set in Venice in the late 16th century, Shakespeare’s Othello explores issues of race and 

racism as the play reveals the tragic fate of the general Othello, a dark-skinned man (often re-

ferred to as “the Moor”) and his white wife, Desdemona, the beautiful daughter of a respected 

senator. While the play does not reveal precisely Othello’s ethnic origin (or, if he was Muslim), 

Jimi was sure to point out characters’ negatively racialized language —“black”, “thick lips”, and 

“sooty bosom”—about him. After highlighting how the couple eloped in secret, Jimi wondered 

aloud, “why would a couple be tempted to hide their relationship instead of proudly flaunting it”. 

He invoked wait time to let the students think and work up the courage to answer. 

Cassie: [with her eyes lighting up] They didn’t want to be judged! 
Mr. Hendrix: “Bingo!” 
Students: Nodding in agreement. 

Mr. Hendrix then elucidated some of the Elizabethan era’s racist suppositions to situate a back-

drop the couple’s fear of ridicule or other negative consequences. As the context and drama of 

the Shakespeare’s cultural moment was becoming clearer, Jimi turned the conversation toward 

 

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present-day application, asking students about what societal expectations for romantic relation-

ships among different races still existed. He paused and the room fell silent.  

 

After allowing a moment of awkward silence, Keisha  politely suggested that racism and 

64

racist prohibitions for dating would be worse in other places. 

Keisha: Other schools like _________, _________, and _________ (citing relatively 
homogenous suburban and rural schools in the surrounding area by name) schools might 
be worse because they are significantly less diverse than we are. 

 

I wondered if she was being direct or just walking on egg shells, as to not come across as 

rude to her audience, perhaps to avoid directly implicating her own community as harshly as oth-

ers. It seemed that she was reasoning that those whiter schools might be worse with regard to 

racism, but was apprehensive to specifically use the word “white/whiter”. Jimi politely pushed 

back: 

 

Mr. Hendrix: “I hear you, but does that mean racism is not a problem here?”  
Students: Laugh uncomfortably.  
Sean, seated in the center of the room, looked like he had been in deep thought and want-

ing to share, finally spoke up with conviction and a touch of anger in his voice: 

Sean: “Hell no. Racism’s a problem everywhere.”  
Students: Laugh uncomfortably, again. 

 

When Sean, who was normally quiet, asserted himself, his peers’ side conversations 

ceased. Everyone —me and Jimi included— seemed to sit up a little straighter in their chairs. 

Many students timidly nodded in agreement, but the now suddenly attentive class remained 

silent, imaginably because they were jarred by the previous comment or thinking about what to 

say next.  

64

 Pseudonym 

 

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Mr. Hendrix: Okay, it’s a problem. So tell me about it. 

 

Kristy, a girl sitting in the back of the room, nervously chuckled as she began to speak, 

perhaps to signal her feelings of incredulity in order to appear immune to criticism or distance 

herself from racism: 

Kristy: My grandmother was raised to think races should keep to themselves. So my 
mom didn’t want me to tell her [her grandmother] that my date to prom was a Black guy. 
Mr. Hendrix: I wonder about where these radical assumptions came from. Got any 
ideas? 
Students: [now, feeling a little more comfortable, gave stock answers like “society”; 
“racism”; and “ignorance”.  
Mr. Hendrix: Yeah, we know that generally, but can you give me a little more specifici-
ty?  

 

Eventually, Jimi guided the conversation toward how people hardly recognize and rarely 

question society’s attitudes, they just inherit prevailing beliefs uncritically. He argued that truly 

seeing, challenging, and revising these beliefs is hard. Once the class recognized this continuity 

in racialized attitudes, Jimi seized upon the momentum to point out the text’s relevance. 

Mr. Hendrix: Okay guys, Shakespeare is writing this stuff in like, 1604; couldn’t this 
have been written in 2019? 
Class: Yes! 
Everyone seemed to agree, so he continued. 

Mr. Hendrix: Racism is not so much as an isolated new thing or just an old thing but an 
enduring issue; it was and still is inherent to the human condition. This is an issue, like 
jealousy, that does not easily go away or get permanently solved. 

In a subsequent class, Jimi presented multiple images to both illustrate and further prove 

 

 

his point about the enduring nature of racist attitudes about those viewed as other. His slideshow 

began with World War One propaganda regarding a German threat to America. The slide set two 

images next to each other; the first was an image of a large and ominous gorilla, wearing a Ger-

 

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man officer’s helmet carrying distressed topless woman in a green gown; the second image was 

strikingly similar (figure 13 below). Guided by simple ‘yes or no’ questions about the author’s 

intent in making such an illustration, Jimi and the class thought aloud together, coming to the 

Figure 13. Slide: A screenshot of Jimi’s slideshow depicting World War One propaganda and 

the original King Kong movie.

conclusion that the poster was overstated and without nuance, playing on emotion without ap-

propriate reasoning (Chisholm, Shelton, & Sheffield; 2017). Animalistic power threatened vul-

nerable and civilized beauty. Jimi’s conclusion was that “the brute must [my emphasis] be de-

stroyed”; a logical consequence to a dehumanized view of a (German) creature. The slide simul-

taneously set the World War One propaganda next to the promotional poster for the original King 

Kong film made by Cooper and Schoedsack in 1933. Jimi asked more leading questions about 

visual similarities and embedded messages (Werner, 2000); the students were quick to recognize 

the motif of a powerful dark beast, aggressively bearing his teeth, threatening a helpless and 

scantly clad woman. Referencing Othello and its characters’ racialized angst about the well-being 

of the “fair-skinned Desdemona”, Jimi articulated a “recurring idea of a dark and aggressive 

male, an other, threatening a helpless white woman.” The next slide ‘flashed forward’ to 2008. It 

was the controversial Vogue magazine cover of NBA superstar Lebron James and supermodel 

 

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Gisele Bundchen. Hunching aggressively and showing his teeth, the muscular Black man held 

the white supermodel. Like the King Kong poster and WWI propaganda, James was set on the 

left of the shot with his left arm around the slender woman. Similar to the older images, Bund-

chen’s hair was long-flowing, she wore a tight green grown, and displayed a non-threatening fa-

cial expression (figure 14 below). The moment Jimi changed slides, there were strong reactions: 

Figure 14. Slide: A screenshot of the slideshow depicting racialized imagery in the controversial 

2008 Vogue magazine cover featuring Lebron James and Gisele Bundchen.

Whole Class: [Gasps and hisses] 
Marcus: Woah! 
Cassie: No way! Get out of here. 
Mr. Hendix: Boom. There it is guys! 
Blake: That is so messed up! 
Mr. Hendix: Now, you’re probably too young for this headline, but not too long ago, 
there was a big stink about this Vogue cover. What do you think, is this racist? 

 

Jimi fell silent to make space for the students to wonder about racial stereotyping (Linter, 

2004). After an initial hesitation, his students began to speak generally about “people” they knew 

 

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(I took these statements as implicit claims about ‘white people’ in particular) having a fear of the 

unknown and carrying blatantly racist prejudices and attitudes. 

Marcus: I think so, just look at it man, LeBron’s like the ape. People think like this. 
Some things never change. 
Cassie: Probably. I can see how people could take it that way. But, maybe it’s an acci-
dent. Do you [speaking directly to Mr. Hendrix] know if it was on purpose? 
Mr. Hendrix: Could be. What do you guys think? 
Gabe: [With a mischievous grin] The photographer and author knew what they were do-
ing, trying to get attention to sell the article. 
Mr. Hendrix: [Chuckling] Yeah, that might be; that’s a great thought. [in a sarcastic and 
leading tone] I don’t know, could be. 
Whole Class: Affirming head nods and incredulous smiles. 

 

Some students were absolutely convinced the Vogue cover was operating according to the 

racist motif associated with King Kong and traced even as far back as Othello, a few others won-

dered if the picture could have just been a coincidence. Though students gave mixed answers 

about the intent of the image, there seemed to be a consensus formed about the reception of the 

image. How and why the image could be construed as racist, especially given the backdrop of 

Othello and the historical images, seemed obvious in moments like these where the students 

were presented with opportunities to apply a critical lens and make inferences about texts outside 

of the bounds of schooling. 

 

Jimi also gave students the opportunity to connect literary themes to the music they lis-

tened to, as pictured in the “Othello + Pop Culture” assignment (figure 15 on the top of the next 

page). This task found Jimi making a connection of the theme of jealousy between Shakespeare 

and the music he listened to; the Beatles song Run for your life. The student were tasked with 

doing the same. In addition to playing the song for the class to demonstrate his connective think-

ing, Jimi modeled (see figure 16 below on the next page) how to write a response by putting 

 

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forth his own song summary that met the requirements of rubric. Jimi’s song/text analysis in-

Figure 15. Worksheet: Jimi’s “Othello + Pop Culture” assignment that found students connecting 

familiar music to the themes found in their literature curriculum.

cluded color codes to signal where to place a topic sentence, concrete connections between the 

Beatles song and Othello, explicit citations, and transitional sentences. Using their course’s digi-

tal classroom, Jimi required the assignment to be completed via the honors courses’ digital class-

Figure 16. Worksheet: This color coded paragraph was Jimi’s own example of connecting song 

lyrics, from Run for Your Life by The Beatles, to Shakespearean themes.

room site in the form a shared Google Doc entitled “Othello Song Bank” (see figure 17 on the 

next page). By the time the students  from both sections had submitted their contributions, the 

document totaled over 27 pages in length and included music from several different genres like 

 

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Figure 17. Screenshot: A screenshot of the Honor English 11 shared google doc. For the Othel-
lo Song Bank portion of the assignment, Mr. Hendrix and his students compiled a collection of 

songs connected to themes like jealousy, envy, domestic abuse, and racial strife.

hip-hop, classic rock, country, and even heavy metal. Along the way, Jimi left hundreds of com-

ments to help students with everything from minor edits to suggestions on how to meet the 

rubric’s requirement; he also asked them refining questions to elicit greater clarity in their writ-

ing.  

 

Though Mr. Hendrix was inclined musically, this project is not suggesting that teachers 

must necessarily use music as musician would. It is not required that people play an instrument 

or sing to teach sensationally. Rather, it is incumbent on teachers to be students of their society, 

students, and how various modalities that also impact them have potential to greatly impact 

episodes of learning. As students are able to draw upon their own in interests in and experiences 

with music, via activities such as the Othello + Pop Culture assignment (figure 18 to the right), 

they will be inclined toward deeper personal investment in the course and a more intimate 

knowledge of its content (White & McCormack, 2006). Accordingly, dispositions that are mind-

ful of the power of music to affect the senses will look for opportunities to leverage it during in-

struction. 

 

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Emoting Passion 
 

Mr. Hendrix also emoted passion. This was evident when he dramatically read from the 

plays and novels in his course. Without overacting, Jimi consistently and tastefully inflected in 

his voice, feigning anger, surprise, and a spectrum of emotion befitting the pericope he was read-

ing from. During the Nineteen Eighty-Four unit, one lesson began with attending to a Benjamin 

Franklin quote projected on the overhead screen: “Those who would give up essential liberty, to 

purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.” Dressed in an unbuttoned 

blue flannel, with a faded Guns & Roses t-shirt exposed underneath, Jimi stood at the front of the 

classroom and asked his class what this quote might mean for them. After a few inconsequential 

exchanges about possessing a willingness to accept risk in order to be truly independent, Mr. 

Hendrix transitioned the lesson into reading The Two Minutes Hate scene in Orwell’s first chap-

ter, introducing the concept as a required, daily, and public viewing of propaganda. He explained 

“The Hate” was designed by the government to manipulate and redirect citizens’ collective anger 

away from itself and to project it toward enemies of the state of Oceania; it was a time when 

“people basically get worked up shouting hatred in a mob and go crazy.” Jimi first invited his 

students to imagine what it might have felt like and tried to give a proxy for what a collective 

venting of emotion might look like. “Ever been in or seen footage of a packed stadium or theater 

with people going nuts, like being at a concert or big sports game? You can’t help but get sucked 

in.” Touching briefly on group dynamics, he referenced collective behavior during riots and how 

groups often act more extremely than individuals. Trying to lay bare the confusing angst and 

white hot anger of Orwell’s dystopian world, Jimi offered a preamble to the students who were 

about to follow along with the reading. He encouraged the class to “just listen for descriptions” 

 

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of the protagonist’s body language; “Winston’s physical responses are a recurring motif that will 

tell us about what’s really going on”. He then asked class to put their phones away, pull out their 

books, and quietly listen as they followed what he would read aloud to them, for several pages.  

 

Jimi cleared his throat and took a deliberate —perhaps intentionally dramatic— deep 

breath. Starting slowly, his deep voice began to project clearly throughout the class. Each word 

was enunciated smoothly, seamlessly rolling from one sentence to the next. Jimi’s reading had 

both a cadence and inflection that reflected a serious, even irritated, tone that seemed to intensify 

and quicken as he went on. When he came to the line,“Winston’s diaphragm was constricted”, he 

paused (Orwell, p. 12). Scowling and hunching forward, Jimi pulled his hands, which were bent 

like claws, inward toward himself to depict guttural pain. This quick break from text was just 

long enough to spotlight his previous point, “Did you catch it? There is his body, it’s telling us 

how tense the moment is.” All the students’ necks were bent downward as they stared at their 

books. They could imagine the scene as they saw it enacted in their teacher. He continued read-

ing. When the text described “the Hate rising to a frenzy” (p. 14), Jimi’s emphasis, volume, and 

speed intensified with a sense of urgency. As he went on, Jimi ramped up to the point where he 

sounded as though he was on the verge of panic. Now speaking rapidly and raising his voice 

even louder, he frantically read: 

Mr. Hendrix: People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops 
of their voices in an effort to drown the maddening bleating voice that came from the 
screen.  

[Jimi was taking heavy and slightly labored breaths between lines] 

The little sandy-haired woman had turned bright pink and her mouth was opening and 
shutting like that of a landed fish.  

[Using frantic gestures that nervously pointed across the room]  

 

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Even O’Brien’s heavy face was flushed. He was sitting very straight in his chair, his 
powerful chest swelling and quivering as though he were standing up to the assault of a 
wave.  

[Now yelling]  

The dark-haired girl behind Winston had begun crying out ‘Swine! Swine! Swine!’ and 
suddenly she picked up a heavy Newspeak dictionary and flung it at the screen (Orwell, 
1949, p. 15). 

All the while, the students were still and focused, only sporadically breaking their intent staring 

into the text to watch Jimi read and emote.  

 

Then, as the text moved to the protagonist’s moment of lucidity, there was an emotive 

pivot toward calm and clarity. To signal Winston’s meta-awareness, and perhaps suggest that 

clear thought might prevail, Jimi’s voice quieted. He took a deep breathe to gather himself and 

began to shake his head as if he was feeling regret and regaining control. He pushed up his thick-

rimed glasses onto his forward and continued soberly: 

Mr. Hendrix: The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was 
obliged to act a part, but that it was impossible to avoid joining in.  

[Jimi began to slow his breathing]  

Within thirty seconds any pretense was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear 
and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge hammer, 
seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one 
even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic.  

[Jimi put his hand on his forehead inflection; he sounded incredulous and contrite]  

And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be 
switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp” (Orwell, 1949, pp. 
15-16). 

Jimi’s affect first moved from panicked anger, to a tranquil vibe of remorseful reflection, and 

then went back again to a sort of hurried fear as the text resumed narrating the toxic environment 

of The Two Minutes Hate. By the time Jimi arrived at The Party’s iconic slogans —“WAR IS 

PEACE/FREEDOM IS SLAVERY/IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH” (p. 17) —students had been 

 

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sensing affect of the text for minutes, the odd discomfort generated by Mr. Hendrix reading so 

intensely help to paint Orwell’s vivid portrait of the seductive power of nationalistic fervor. Jimi 

was trying to become the script, not just read it. Maxine Greene, in her essay Teaching for Aes-

thetic Experience, explained the inclusion of creativity and imagination, a staple of Jimi’s prac-

tice, is vital in facilitating wide-awakeness, an awareness that allows students to make better 

sense of their own experiences and be freed to change their lives (1971). The wide-awake class 

seemed to be drawn out by the passion they sensed; this exposure seemed to entrench them in the 

content and —within a few more minutes— help them grapple with its meaning.  

 

Jimi often wore his heart on his proverbial sleeve, and showing his students emotion 

seemed to both influence them affectively and better enable them to process cognitively. 

Throughout this study, Jimi’s practice demonstrated that passion about content, skills, and issues 

related to the good is not only revealed in the selection of content but also in the delivery of that 

content. Passion, therefore, is not just held within the content of what is being verbalized, it goes 

beyond these symbolic utterances of concrete language in an interview or dialog. Passion is also 

felt in the inflection, gesticulations, and affect a person or group projects. As observed in Jimi’s 

treatment of the Two Minutes Hate, Maxine Greene persuasively argued that teaching that en-

gages emotion an imagination in these ways produces within students capacity to empathize, 

think critically, and envision alternative ways of being in the world, even platforming considera-

tions of social justice and equity (1971). None of this suggests, however, that teachers must nec-

essarily be loud, demonstrative, or otherwise specially animated. Rather, for teaching to be sen-

sational it must evidence a teacher’s care and interest in the myriad of valid ways that care and 

interest can be expressed. 

 

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Politcal Relevance 
 

Another key aspect of both this particular class session and Jimi’s wider practice was its 

relevance to current events and contemporary society. After the teacher-lead reading of The Two 

Minutes Hate and some recitation questions about Nineteen Eighty Four’s plot and setting —

specifically in regard to the visceral outrage expressed towards political opponents— Jimi transi-

tioned the lesson to students individually reading an article that was written from the Trump 

campaign trail in late October, 2016 (figure 18 below). Jimi copied the text and made the article 

Figure 18. Image: This figure is the cover image from TheRinger.com's article, Scene’s From an 

American Rally about the 2016 Trump campaign.

into a two-sided interactive worksheet, inserting prompts and adequate space for the students to 

respond. Jimi verbally told the class that he wanted them to read and respond, “let the article talk 

to you and then, talk back to the article. Remember that since I’m not a mind-reader and we’ve 

been making our thinking visible to each other?”. He stated that the purpose of the activity was 

to make connections between something from the 1940’s and present day, pointing out that atop 

the worksheet was a heading that read “1984 - Linking Text for Ch. 1”. Below this heading was a 

paragraph directing students to explicitly “mark up” the text by writing in the margins: “sections 

of this article should look like a dialogue between you and the text. Make thinking visible 

 

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(MTV). Make note of sections which resemble behaviors we’ve seen in the text so far.” Jimi in-

cluded two foot notes at the bottom of the first page. The first footnote clarified/restated the in-

structional purpose was to simply draw a real-life connection between a course text and a current 

event, not to endorse or condemn “a certain candidate or political view.” Jimi told me after the 

lesson that the first time he linked an article to a Trump rally, “a few people [students and par-

ents] got pissed, so this is how I cover my backside and hopefully avoid a headache”. The second 

note was a brief comment on the timing and context of the article, when many thought the Trump 

campaign was doomed to decisive loss. 

 

Jimi explained to the class that Scenes From an American Rally (from TheRinger.com ) 65

was a short and accessible first person account of the sights, sounds, and general sensation of a 

raucous 18,000 person rally in the U.S. Bank arena in Cincinnati, Ohio. Jimi was clear and care-

ful to explain that, just like the perspective of Winston in Orwell, the article sought to give an 

experiential account; the author was recounting the two days he spent at Trump rallies as a mem-

ber of the crowd and in conversations with supporters in the midst of those rallies. Mr. Hendrix 

passionately told the students:  

Mr Hendrix: Okay, so there was this hostile energy and infectious vitriol coming from 
the crowd; they’re responding to then candidate’s Trump’s derogatory statements about 
various opponents. So the author, like Orwell, describes the screams and epithets coming 
out of the mouths that surrounded him. It sounds pretty intense. 

Jimi pointed out how shouts were directed toward many different people who were enemies of 

‘the party’: Hillary Clinton, chants of “Lock her the f--k up!”; President Obama, “f--k Obama”; 

foreigners ,“f--k Syrians”; and for good measure, even Republicans who had not supported 

65

 

 The Ringer is a sports and pop culture website and podcast network, founded by sportswriter Bill Simmons.

111

Trump, “ F--k them! G-d D--n p---ies!” (Conn, 2016). After reading this, Jimi again deliberately 

made sure the students could see connections between the two texts.  

 

Mr. Hendrix precisely drew attention to how the author —reflecting on his copious expe-

rience as sports writer who had witnessed an array of human emotions, from cheers to chants and 

boo’s, in stadiums across the country— was unwittingly drawing upon Orwellian themes. Opera-

tionalizing vague hatred among ignorant people can be political rocket fuel. In addition to this 

recap that clarified the two texts, Jimi planned an exit slip/post assessment, in the bottom half of 

the second page of the worksheet, that included space for personal reflection. The prompt invited 

students talk back  to what they just read with their own “HOT TAKE” (figure 19 below) about 

66

Figure 19. Picture: This image is a picture of Mr. Hendrix’s worksheet linking the manufactured 

anger of a Trump rally to the “Two Minutes Hate” in Nineteen Eighty Four.

the article and the content therein; whether or not there were valid connections between Orwell’s 

66

 Using complete sentences, of course.

 

112

portrait and the snapshot of a grotesque political rally. When the students turned the work in the 

following Monday, their short responses by and large linked the texts tightly together, save for a 

few who felt the article was biased an unfair. However, even those who did not like reading the 

texts next to each other recognized and recalled several features of each text. It was striking to 

see almost every response acknowledge the power of mob mentality to beguile and produce zeal. 

Mr. Hendrix had unmistakably drawn attention toward Orwell and the present political moment. 

Teaching an English text sensationally made the formal curriculum real and glimpsed a contem-

porary instance of using anger, fear, and propaganda to sway a herd.  

 

Reflecting further on the not only the power of emotion but how it can be and has been 

welded has made me more mindful that, in its own right, inciting emotion is not an intrinsic good 

even though people are intrinsically emotional. Stan Lee’s proverb from Spider-Man, “with great 

power comes great responsibility”, is no doubt cliché, but probably fitting here (1962; 2019). 

Emotion was present in August of ’63 when MLK gave his I Have a Dream speech on the steps 

of the Lincoln Memorial, but it was also present in October of ’39 when Hitler (who had just re-

turned triumphantly from the trampled city of Warsaw) addressed the Reichstag with profound 

mistruths to proliferate his agenda. What this suggests to me, is that emotion is like one peg of a 

stool; without working in concert with and mediated by truth, justice, and wisdom, emotion can 

be leveraged for the most sinister ends and lead to a great fall. 

 

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An Active & Activating Pedagogy 
 

During each book unit, Mr. Hendrix’s honors courses had three to five “reading days ” 

67

depending on the length of the text. Typically, one or two of these days were for students to read 

alone at their own pace. The other two to four reading days were participatory and required pre-

emptive pedagogical moves before the lessons started to ensure a collaborative session of active 

listening and reading aloud. Jimi also made the learning targets clear so the students would know 

why class was being conducted as it was (figure 20 below). On these whole-group reading days, 

Figure 20. Slide: A screenshot of a slide stating learning targets for a reading day during the 

Romeo & Juliet unit.

Jimi had students from the preceding English 9 class help him move desks before they left so 

that his honors students would find a new seating arrangement upon entering his room. The stu-

dents’ bodies were physically positioned to see and hear each other in a more personal. The desks 

were relocated from the typical rectangular (a 5x6 grid) orientation that faced the blackboard, to 

a circular iteration  facing inward, where Jimi joined students in the circle. By this time of the 

68

year, students knew the routine. As they trickled in before the bell rang, students promptly made 

 Figure 6 on page 32, in the second chapter’s discussion of the nature of the study, shows a picture of a bookmark 

67
Jimi made for students. Complete with the schedule and activities of the Frankenstein unit, the back of side book-
mark included a list of key themes and skills to be covered by the text.

68

 See figure 3 on page 30 for a picture of the seating arrangement.

 

114

their way over to ledge on the south wall of the room to pick up a copy of the text, and if applic-

able, also took a lesson-specific reading guide. Storing book bags and other items under their 

desks, the students simultaneously read the directions and took out their journals for taking notes. 

 

To begin instruction, Jimi quickly touched on the intended learning targets and directions 

for reading and listening, which were projected on slides on the screen. Roles for reading various 

parts were assigned. Though he occasionally asked for volunteers, Mr. Hendrix was typically 

more formal in establishing roles; he usually had students sign up or even preassigned them to a 

singular role for the reading session. Sometimes, large reading parts (e.g. Juliet or Othello) were 

divided between two different people throughout the lesson. On a worn and marked up notes 

sheet, Jimi kept track of student participation during group reading; to prevent grossly uneven 

participation amongst the class, he considered who had and had not recently joined in to ensure a 

wider variety of readers (figure 21 below). 

Figure 21. Worksheet: A reading sign-up list for multiple reading days during the Othello unit.

 

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At first, I thought of Jimi as a narrator during the reading sessions, even if there was not 

an explicit narrator ‘part’ or if a student had been assigned the part. His guidance forecasted what 

to be looking for in the arc of the plot, “watch what happens next. On page 298, dad doesn’t want 

Desdemona to stay with him [Othello]…” or directed attention toward the literary devices, 

“Okay, check it out, the author is going to use Soliloquy again. Recall that is talking directly to 

the audience through talking to himself”. Since Jimi often went above and beyond merely high-

lighting themes and narrating the text, to helping students experience affective sensations 

through his own emoting and by offering emotional directives for participants, I began to realize 

that Jimi actually behaved more like a conductor or director. There was an implicit understanding 

that Jimi would be interjecting/interrupting, often to ask questions, re-read lines, or otherwise 

offer commentary and context. These stoppages did not delay the reading, rather they drew more 

attention to it, spotlit detail, and focused or redirected attention when there may have been an 

inclined to wander. Jimi involved students by asking them to restate information, “who can say 

that line a different way?”, or to (re)stress a character’s affect, “I don’t want us to miss the heat 

of the moment, can you read that line again, but this time with more anger in your voice?” In 

Teaching for Aesthetic Experience: The Art of Learning, Diaz and McKenna took up the 

Deweyan project of thinking about the everyday nature of aesthetic experience and how it is ex-

pressed in school. They argue that even subtle aesthetic aspects of instruction can invoke stu-

dents’ creative imagination and significantly impact learning in positive ways (2004). Moreover, 

the authors argued, like Maxine Greene, that invoking sensations enables students to become ful-

ly present, more aware of their own learning and able to perceive the social significance of the 

 

116

spaces they occupy. When asked about how he thought about his active role of imbuing affective 

qualities during his students’ reading, Jimi rationalized his interruptions as implicitly instructive:  

Mr Hendrix: I try to model this active process of reading, so they know that what I’m 
doing is what you should be doing. I know it can be clunky to interrupt the text so much, 
but they need to do that [to grow] as readers. 

Reflecting on Jimi’s use of the word “active”, his statement seemed to be about going beyond 

helping students to notice the literary features and vocabulary. He was also interested in teaching 

students to inflect, emote, and invest their attention more fully in the text and revealing his own 

passion about literature that had personally moved him. 

 

Though terms like affect and aesthetic were not common in his vernacular, I wonder if 

Jimi’s approach was best described as activating; that is, Jimi sought an activating approach to 

reading that would help students think and feel with the thoughts and moods of the text. Though 

these quick pauses were mindful of the flow of the text’s prose and the pacing of the lesson, they 

were especially tailored to ensure a grasp of the text’s emotional gravitas. One of the results of 

Jimi’s activity and activation before and during instruction on reading days was that is augment-

ed evocative aspects of the literature, enlivening the learning process as he incorporated the liter-

ature’s themes and implications (Grierson, 2017). Perhaps this explains why, especially during 

whole class reading sessions, it was common for class to express intrinsic interest without any 

explicit prompting. The honors students felt a freedom to (quickly as well) interrupt the reading, 

eagerly raising their hands to ask questions about Elizabethan dating customs, wonder aloud 

about Shakespeare’s intentions, or cross check their history knowledge of the social context of 

the Cold War for Nineteen Eighty Four. Jimi’s activating disposition relied upon modeling, 

thoughtful pauses, and was grateful for student participation. Collaborative reading sessions con-

 

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cluded with applause initiated by Jimi, sometimes with a spirited slow clap, he prompted the au-

dience to express gratitude, “Alright folks, let’s get a hearty round of applause for today’s stellar 
readers!” These sessions of participatory reading and affective cooperation left the class feeling 
both intrinsic appreciation of the text and a sense of accomplishing a mild performance. 

Empathic Storytelling 

In Nine Competencies for Teaching Empathy, Michele Borba situates her project about 

teaching empathy by persuasively arguing that empathy —roughly defined as being able to un-

derstand the feelings and needs of others— is foundational to providing a learning environment 

that is safe, caring, and inclusive (2018). Mindful of longitudinal work indicating an ongoing 

trend of plummeting empathy among American teens (and society as a whole), Borba simultane-

ously lamented that while education may be “producing a smart and self-assured generation, to-

day’s students are also the most self-centered, competitive, individualistic, sad, and stressed on 

record” (2018). Thankfully, research overwhelming indicates that empathy can be taught by 

teachers and implicitly ‘caught’ by students if the right conditions are met. One such pathway to 

empathy within Jimi’s practice was found through his regular use of storytelling.  

 

Describing the effectiveness of storytelling as an instructional method, Andrews, Hull, & 

Donahue pointed out how great leaders, educators, and even societies have used various forms of 

storytelling as an instructional tool that has endured the test of time because of how storytelling 

has the unique ability to both transmit important information and develop learners’ analytical 
skills (2009). In addition to the narratives being cast by film and literature, Honors English 11 
found Jimi telling (often personal) stories to access content and also making way for students’ 
own stories to connect with and flow out of content. For instance, when discussing racialized 

 

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romantic suppositions in Othello and demonstrating continuity across the centuries in a general 
and impersonal way, Jimi opened up about his own proximity to prejudice because of the legacy 
of interracial marriage in his immediate and extended family. Jimi had been standing and pacing 
at the front of the room, his normal approach during direct instruction. However, when he transi-
tioned the lesson in a more personal direction, he casually took a seat atop an empty desk in the 
front row. Mr. Hendrix told the class of his wife’s “mixed African American and Japanese back-
ground” and how it was sometimes a lightening rod that exposed flashes of bigotry. The next 
slide of his Othello slideshow showed an old sepia hued picture of his wife’s grandparents (figure 
22 below), a uniformed African American G.I., who fell in love with a Japanese woman during 

Figure 22. Photograph: A family photograph of a Japanese grandmother and African American 

grandfather that Jimi shared with his students. Used with permission.

the U.S. occupation of Japan shortly after the conclusion of the second World War. Holding 
hands in Japan, Jimi explained, the couple was met by disbelieving stares and awkwardness; in 

 

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the United States, the looks were of blatant disapproval coupled with shaking heads and scoffing 
mouths. “Back in the states, holidays were weird, especially at first. They didn’t fit in, anywhere. 
Not with Japanese folks, not with Black folks. And [scoffing], for obvious reasons, not with 
white folks either.” Jimi explained their son (his wife’s father), who later grew up and lived in a 
diverse area of Detroit during the civil rights era, wound up marrying a white woman and experi-
enced similar incredulity:

Mr. Hendrix: My wife, the granddaughter of the Black/Japanese couple, has experi-
enced the same vibes all these years later. People have asked her, ‘what are you?’ be-
cause they were unsure of her racial makeup.
Kristy: Yeah guys, when __________ [apparently another female student at school] was 
dating __________ [apparently another male student at school], her parents weren’t cool 
with it [interracial dating]. When _______’s dad found out she was dating a Black guys, 
he tried to stop it and then when that would not work, he tired to make them break up. 

Students: [Some nod to show they heard the same story]
Mr. Hendrix: And there you go. Society likes to create and maintain simplistic prejudi-
cial categories around race. And man, these boundaries are stubborn. 

The personal account and instruction made Jimi human quite human, even vulnerable. Facial ex-
pressions and tender vocal tones gave me the impression that students either felt for him/his fam-
ily or —if they had similar experiences— identified and felt with them. 

The lesson’s relevance was clearly resonating and the ingredient bringing it together was 

empathy, something Michele Borba says “makes our students better people” because it helps 

“them live one essential truth: we are all humans who share the same fears and concerns, and we 

deserve to be treated with dignity” (2018, p. 28). In moments like these, it seemed that the con-

nective tissue to ‘real life’ also offered the students a grammar to better name aspects of and un-

derstand a broader piece of the human experience. What the students were likely sensing in their 

hearts was tied directly to their cognitive efforts applied to toward Shakespeare, and society writ 

 

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large. Working out the power empathy to promote social justice, Elizabeth Segal suggests that 

understanding the individualistic lived experiences of others can be a vehicle to understanding 

wider historical and socioeconomic contexts regarding disparities in equality (2011). Because the 

students were getting to know each other —and be better known— as they were considering con-

tent, they seemed to listen intently as the connections from literature were mapped on to their 

own experiences and then projected out into the world beyond their school. 

 

Mr. Hendrix’s practice displayed his emotional intelligence and how he attempted to fos-

ter meaningful relationships with students. His care was evident in his affect, in active listening 

—when he attended to students’ contributions and was unafraid to let conversation linger when 

they began to open up— or if he noticed and checked in someone sitting disengaged behind a 

desk. The social and emotional facets of learning often seemed to blur into engagements with the 

content and with wider considerations of classroom management. Vulnerable storytelling an ac-

tive listening on behalf of the teacher and the students seemed to undergird the learning commu-

nity in multiple ways and evidence sincere empathy; the presence of which in educational spaces 

is associated with student engagement, academic success, and improved interpersonal relation-

ships (Jones et al., 2014). Further, the presence of empathy also reduces aggression, increases 

prosocial behavior (Eisenberg, Eggum, & DiGiunta, 2010) and curbs instances of bullying, vio-

lence, and racism (Santos et al., 2011). Perhaps the presence of empathy, manifested through sto-

rytelling, was a germane factor in explaining why Jimi’s classes seemed tightly knit and required 

comparatively little explicit management. 

 

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Humor  
 

By all accounts, Mr. Hendrix was a funny English teacher; this was evidenced in his self-

given title, “MC Grammar” (figure 23). The pedagogical benefits of humor and laughter have 

Figure 23. Picture: A picture from outside of Mr. Hendrix’s door of an edited image he made, 
entitled “MC Grammer”. This image was a play on words that came from combining MC Ham-

mer (the musical artist), and Kelsey Grammar (the actor).

been studied and affirmed for decades. Scholarship on humor has yielded theories that explain 

the psychological and pedagogical effectiveness of humor on learners and even go as far as rec-

ommending best-practices for the use of humor in classrooms (Banas, et al., 2011; Garner, 2006). 

Though some may see humor as superfluous, merely entertaining, or perhaps just a social asset, 

it is reputed to to be explicitly helpful for the purposes of learning as well. Comedy in class-

rooms can reduce mental fatigue, build community by making teachers more humanized and ac-

cessible, and also make the learning memorable and reinforced with other elements of experience 

(1988). Even beyond supporting the learning of course content, humor facilitates a more open 

and relaxed environment by fostering vital analytic dispositions such as patience and open-mind-

edness (York, 2017). Nini Hayes (2016) indicated that satire and similar forms of comedy have 

empowered students in asking and responding to implicating ethical questions. Writing from a 

 

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social justice perspective, Hayes saw utility in combing satire with critical pedagogy in order to 

engage political issues in ways that help students consider multiple perspectives, specifically be-

cause humor decreases anxiety, increases motivation, curiosity, cognition, and can also improve 

self-esteem (2016). Sensational teaching can there for utilize deeply human characteristics, like 

humor, to positive impact the cognition in lessons and the affect of socialization. 

 

Laughter was woven throughout Jimi’s practice, his room felt funny. Adhesives stuck 

humor on his walls, wit found its way into his slides, and wisecracks and playfulness were em-

bedded in his typical banter. Upon entering his room, time and again, I felt the stares of 

Napoleon Dynamite  (figure 24 below) and Rick Ross (figure 25 on the next page), whose fa
-

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Figure 24. Picture: Positioned outside of Jimi’s door, this is a picture of a captioned image of 
Napoleon Dynamite, the movie’s awkward protagonist. Images like this added humor to learn-

ing community.

miliar parlance’s and catchphrase’s were co-opted to affirm the goodness of being in part of the 

amusing English classes. Drawing on his knowledge of youth and pop-culture, Jimi collected and 

curated funny images (e.g. “MC Grammar”), often making his own captions to set an intentional 

 Napoleon Dynamite is 2004 independent comedy film, often referred to as cult classic that has been 
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Bravo ranked as the 14th funniest movie of all time.

 

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Figure 25. Picture: This picture is Jimi’s edited cover of a Rolling Stone magazine featuring hip-
hop artist Rick Ross; posted outside of his door with a caption promoting his English classes.

tone. He utilized the internet to make his own memes. From the front of the room, George Wash-

ington —donning a “Make America” hat— looked on (figure 27 below). At first, all the humor 

Figure 26. Picture: A photoshopped picture of George Washington wearing a “Make America” 

hat (spoofing Trump’s campaign slogan); Jimi displayed this image on his wall.

seemed peripheral. But then, as my observations began to unfold, I caught myself entering the 

 

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space in a better mood, perhaps anticipating laughter and to be mildly entertained. Once I noticed 

what was happening to me, I also noticed the light and pleasant affect on the students. All of us 

would sense and anticipate laughter; this was a key reason why the learning environment was 

often cordial. Students paid better attention as to not miss an absurd pun or amusing image such 

as ‘the Dos Equis guy using doublethink’ (figure 27 below). This subtle stroke of genius kept 

Figure 27. Meme: A meme spoofing a well-known Dos Equis commercial Jimi created for a 

Nineteen Eighty Four slideshow.

content at the fore. No wonder multiple quantitive studies have concluded that humor has a posi-

tive impact on task interest (Matarazzo, Durik, & Delaney, 2010). Likewise, positive and proso-

cial types of humor also puts students at ease, stabilizing situations and relationships and even 

lends itself to higher order thinking (Bieg & Dresel, 2018; Korobkin, 1988). Jimi’s humor was a 

significant aspect of his practice not just for learning, but it was also a conduit for his relational 

dynamics as well. 

 

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However, not all forms of humor are valid. Since most students have a sense about what 

constitutes appropriate uses of humor, it is important to note that some of its forms could be 

detrimental to a class’ socialization and learning. Frymier et al. found that humor with no themat-

ic connection to the current topic in class can often be regarded by students as distracting; nega-

tive and excessively self-disparaging humor often undercuts a teacher’s credibility and diminish-

es students’ seriousness toward learning; and unsurprisingly, aggressive humor that is used to 

disparage or ridicule wounds interpersonal relationships and fosters resentment (2008). Yet, 

when humor is used in ways perceived to be on task, positive, and otherwise appropriate, it bol-

sters not only the socio-emotional and motivational dimensions of instruction, but also augments 

the cognitive dimensions as well (Bieg & Dresel, 2018). In Jimi’s room, the jesting typically was 

on topic, it had a point, it was going somewhere (see figure 28 below). Humor was embedded in 

directions/instructional materials and found in improvised conversations.  

Figure 28. Slide: From a slide show about Shakepeare, this is an example of on-topic humor to 

teach relevant terminology. Here, Jimi rewrote a contemporary ‘pick-up line’, with modern 

slang, in Old English.

 

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Though Jimi did sometimes make jokes at his own expense, it was clear he was not being 

serious, nor was he broadcasting any form of self-loathing. Likewise, though Jimi loved to use 

sarcasm, it did not have a harsh edge, especially towards students. Typically, he described his 

own quirks in endearing ways, for instance, his interests incentivized his “geeking out” to learn 

additional information. The students’ affirming smiles at comments like these suggested they ap-

preciated his modesty and tacit insinuation that it was okay to be smart and perhaps even fun to 

learn sometimes. Jimi’s sarcasm came into play as he overstated the significance of mundane 

items; how his “rad slideshow just might be the best thing you’ve ever seen!”. When he said 

things like this, Jimi had a mischievous grin and an intentionally ‘over-the-top’ enthusiasm, mak-

ing his voice louder and deeper than usual; I think he was trying to sound like an eccentric D.J. 

But instead of dwelling on the humor for its own sake, the comedy consistently served the func-

tional purposes of capturing and sustaining attention and further establishing interactions within 

the learning community (see 29 figure below).  

Figure 29. Slide: A slide used to teach about Shakespeare’s reputation for coining words that 
became common parts of vernacular. Complete with a meme, Jimi included contemporary ex-
amples of widely used phrases that were introduced by rappers like Lil Wayne and Snoop Dogg.

 

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Berk (2002) shrewdly described humor as an “instructional defibrillator”, insisting it is a 

pedagogical tool that can improve connection with students and bring “subject matter to life” (p. 

4). To this end, one of the most memorable aspects of the entire research project truly brought 

learning to life. One day, during the Nineteen Eighty Four unit, the honors classes deeply ex-

plored Big Brother, the omnipresent symbolic leader of Oceania who surveilled the population 

through posters and telescreens. Predictably, the students would receive straightforward direct 

instruction explaining Big Brother through the perspective of the novel’s protagonist, Winston 

Smith. But what the students —or I— did not expect, was to learn about the ever watching eye 

experientially. Arriving to school, we found menacing propaganda posters distributed on nearly 

every imaginable surface of the school, just as citizens of Oceania would have found in their set-

ting. Mr. Hendrix made, printed, and then posted throughout the school 50 copies of an 8 x11 

image based on the English Socialist Party logo, the fictional totalitarian government of Oceania. 

Set on a black background and in front of a large red V, the menacing poster displayed the iconic 

logo with the word “INGSOC”, Orwell’s phrase for the party. At the bottom of the poster sat big 

block letters reading “BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU” starkly capitalized. Above the 

text, and occupying that majority of the poster’s surface area was Jimi’s face.  

 

Jimi had made his recent school yearbook photo —a stern shot that featured Jimi’s pierc-

ing eyes— black and white, editing it further to make it look aged and similar to Nineteen Eighty 

Four’s descriptions (figure 30 on the top of the next page). Mr. Hendrix was Big Brother and his 

face was everywhere. Employing the help of senior students from his honors class the year prior, 

the posters (and liberal amounts of masking tap) found their ways into every hallway, into the 

cafeteria, restrooms, library, and locker rooms. After the students, who of their own accord uti-

 

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Figure 30. Picture: Jimi and several of his students posted  Nineteen Eighty Four themed propa-

ganda posters (with his likeness as “big brother”) all over the school.

lized a school copy machine to make several more copies of their own, Jimi and I estimated that 

there were at least 80 posters hanging on walls, lockers, doors, and windows throughout the 

school. The sensation of Nineteen Eighty Four was spread throughout the building. Students en-

tering the room remarked about the posters, laughing about feeling their teacher’s “creepy stare 

everywhere” as they went about through the school. It was as if they were queued to paraphrase 

Orwell, “it was one of those pictures which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when 

you move” (1949, p. 3). As they listened to a lecture and read about Big Brother, Jimi’s face and 

the text “BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU” was simultaneously projected across the 

room’s screen —just as it was displayed throughout the room and school, for the entirety of the 

period. The students felt surveilled as they learning about citizens being surveilled. Since humor 

accommodates higher-order thinking is by increasing a person’s willingness to encounter chal-

lenging concepts (Askildson, 2005), it is no doubt a significant reason why the content and expe-

rience of this lesson was so memorable. 

 

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When I began the study, I initially asked Jimi what he thought his students most signifi-

cant takeaway from his class was. He told me that though he hoped his students would share 

something novel, that they would “say something about critical thinking for college and real life, 

but they would probably just say it was laughter instead”. However, since comedy was a plat-

form for learning, often tied to attending to a concept or was otherwise useful in fostering an un-

derstanding or interest in content, I suppose that both laughter and critical thinking for ‘real life’ 

should be considered inseparable. Perhaps thinking with and through various sensations like 

laughter, listening to melodies, and feeling empathy for others was most significant takeaway 

from his class. 

Bringing it Together 
 

The conclusion and application of the experiential lesson on Big Brother was an unex-

pected exemplar of sensational practices leading to higher order thinking and real world applica-

tion. The lesson that began with humor and students sensing their teacher’s stare in the hallways 

took an explicitly critical turn as it connected themes of Nineteen Eighty Four with being an in-

formed citizen. After experiential and direct instruction about Big Brother, Jimi spent the last 

half of the period considering U.S. foreign policy. Jim made and lectured off of a slideshow enti-

tled “Who are we fighting?” (figure 31 on the top of the next page); with an accompanying 

worksheet, it sought to utilize Orwell to explore governments as political actors who craft narra-

tives and establish legitimacy regarding their conflicts and alliances. The combination of multi-

ple forms of stimuli throughout the unit, and that day in particular, engaged the students on a 

deeper psychological level that would also utilize their perception, memory, and exposure to con-

tent in such a way that would platform analytic thinking (Olson, 2000). Jimi premised his foreign 

 

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policy presentation by looking ahead to the 2020 election. His countenance became quite serious. 

Figure 31. Slide: The opening slide of a powerpoint presentation connecting Orwell to U.S. For-

eign Policy.

The students would soon be eligible to vote. As such, Jimi insisted his students needed to be able 

to confidently make informed decisions as citizens, more aware of the past and attuned to the 

present. 

 

Through the lens of Orwell, multiple ways of government control or omission of informa-

tion —be it through surveillance or through crafting motivated narratives in White House brief-

ings— were broached. The class was asked to consider “if the same sorts of things [as evidenced 

in Nineteen Eighty Four] have happened in our own history?”. The ensuing material offered a 

history of the lead up to the U.S. invasion of Iraq (figure 32 on the top of the next page). Ger-

mane to the rationale for Operation Iraqi Freedom were the (unsubstantiated) narratives about 

weapons of mass destruction and links to terrorist organizations. The students saw a timeline, 

pictures of Donald Rumsfeld (figure 33 on the next page), Hussein, bin Laden, maps of the Mid-

dle East, and an overview of regimes the U.S. has helped prop up and depose respectively. In ut-

ter silence, the students leaned in curiously; they learned the U.S. previously supported Iraq  as 

70

70

 Via supplying weapons to be used against its enemies.

 

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Figure 32. Slide: A statement on the strategy and narrative surrounding war in Nineteen Eighty 

Four and a portion of a timeline of events leading up to the U.S. Invasion of Iraq.

Figure 33. Slide: A slide applying themes of Nineteen Eighty Four to a quote by former Secre-

tary of State Donald Rumsfeld justifying the Invasion of Iraq.

it was set against Iran in an armed struggled. Jimi pointed out that, like in Orwell, there seemed 

to be a murky version of the past (see figure 34 below). A revised narrative redefined Iraq in rela-

Figure 34. Slide: A politically relevant slide connecting the changing narratives of the past in 

both Nineteen Eighty Four and in United States foreign policy.

 

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tion to the United States, it was repositioned as “the enemy of the moment”. Jimi read this salient 

Nineteen Eighty Four quote: 

And if all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed – if all records told the same 
tale – then the lie passed into history and became truth. ‘Who controls the past,’ ran the 
Party slogan, ‘controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.’ And yet the 
past, though of its nature alterable, never had been altered. Whatever was true now was 
true from everlasting to everlasting. It was quite simple. All that was needed was an un-
ending series of victories over your own memory. ‘Reality control,' they called it: in 
Newspeak, ‘doublethink’ (Orwell, 1949, p. 40). 

 

That moment dredged up my old feelings of anger at the Bush administration, specifically 

at Rumsfeld’s motivated reasoning that inconsistently applied a faulty foreign policy logic to var-

ious actors across the world depending on how their violent regimes intersecting with US self-

interest. I suppose that’s why am being long-winded here, it was refreshing to see Jimi show stu-

dents how well-documented truths can get manipulated. But instead of just offering a smug 

commentary or sticking to explicit English curriculum, Jimi made the interdisciplinary move 

teach more history and thusly better situate the prophetic nature of Nineteen Eighty Four. 

 

The students learned a cursory history about al-Qaeda, the Taliban, and the U.S. funnel-

ing money to the Mujahideen when they were fighting the Soviets in the 1980’s (see figure 35 on 

the next page). Jimi, in my view, even handedly explained criticism has been directed towards 

both U.S. parties, citing the Obama administration’s involvement

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 in Syria as well. Along the 

way, various students interjected or interrupted Jimi’s lecture to express disbelief, surprise, or 

frustration. Marcus, shaking his head, remarked, “Yo, this can’t be for real! If it is, man, that’s so 

 Jimi explained how the U.S. supplied arms in the Syrian civil war and commented on the complicated 

71
interactions and policies regarding Syrian president Bashar al-Assad.

 

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Figure 35. Slide: A slide giving context about past support of Saddam Hussein; complete with a 
picture of Rumsfeld shaking hands with Hussein, this slide highlights narrative contradictions in 

U.S. foreign policy.

messed up.” Encouraging students to go factcheck for themselves on any reputable site, Jimi 

confidently assured Marcus and the rest of the class these events were no secret. 

 

After becoming familiar with Orwell, stimulated through various sensational practices, 

and given relevant information about the U.S.’s foreign policy, the students were given open-

ended prompts about what they learned and whether or not previously elected officials were in 

the right. English class had become a history lesson, with a civics application. Sifting through 

student responses, I noted how several commented on their surprise, expressing astonishment 

that the U.S. had shifted its alliances, could be tied to the death of innocents, and crafted narra-

tives that changed dramatically from one historical moment to the next. A few students triangu-

lated Jimi’s lecture with knowledge from their history classes; one such student offered an anec-

dote about Teddy Roosevelt’s approach to diplomacy and spoke to isolationism as a desirable 

alternative to the U.S.’s modern policy toward the Middle East. Many expressed anger at the past 

and insisted on transparency in the future. Others wondered about Jimi’s sources of information. 

Multiple students connected the history of U.S.’s foreign policy to themes from to Orwell’s 

 

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dystopia. A student in 7th period commented on how the lesson reminder her of problems with 

Iran she saw depicted in the film Argo . Moving beyond mere information recall and even syn

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-

thesis across texts, it was clear that students were making vivid connections between various dis-

ciplines, their own lives, and moral judgements about the world they lived in (figure 36 below). 

Figure 36. Picture: A picture of student work responding to the “Who are we fighting” 

slideshow prompts. This student’s comments revealed his perceived hypocrisy and contradiction 

within the U.S. government, similar to that in Nineteen Eighty Four.

Interdisciplinary content knowledge layered dimensions of the students’ learning about Nineteen 

Eighty Four helped them make better sense of literature, history, and the contemporary political 

landscape. All the while, the students’ questions, comments, and responses evidenced critical 

thinking as they applied their knowledge and moral intuition with varying levels of nuance and 

sophistication. 

 Starring Ben Afflack, Alan Arkin, Bryan Cranston and John Goodman, Argo was a 2012 historical film 

72
about the Iranian hostage crisis situation in 1979-1980. 

 

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Caveats 
 

While many facets of Jimi’s practice were heartening, like any other professional, his 

IV. CAVEATS & CONCLUSION 

practice was not immune to critique. Procedurally, Jimi’s spontaneity and responsiveness to stu-

dents during instruction often meant that he loosely made and followed plans and eagerly deviat-

ed as he saw fit. One negative externality of this freedom was recurring frustrations surrounding 

pacing lessons and keeping his classes in sync with each other. Students in his first period often 

got further ahead in curriculum, and though they may have been more productive in broad con-

tent coverage, seventh period enjoyed deeper explorations of the content and their social/emo-

tional lives. Since every class has unique personalities and its own affordances and challenges 

associated with teaching at various times of the day, it is not out of the ordinary or necessarily 

problematic to have difference between classes of the same subject. However, since Jimi was de-

cidedly biased towards variance and often chose his intuition over a strict plan, it was not unusu-

al to find him left scrambling to finish a slideshow or having to push a discussion to the next day 

when the educative momentum and immediate context had dissipated. Speaking critically about 

his practice, Jimi confessed “sometimes it [the lesson] just falls flat or flops when they’re [the 

students] not into it or when my timing’s not right”. This tension of balancing productivity with 

spontaneity was especially evident early on in my observations as that part of the semester inter-

sected with the harshest point of winter. The school’s numerous snow days disrupted the se-

quence of instruction and the class periods that featured more improvisation could have benefit-

ted from more structure and tighter adherence to planning. 

 

While schooling is no doubt restrictive in countless ways, many individuals and aspects 

of society thrive within structure and routine. To clarify though, Jimi was by no means disorga-

 

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nized or a poor planner. Rather, he was simply inclined towards the art of teaching —not the sci-

ence of teaching focused on technique, procedure, and strict timing— (Weisman, 2012)  which 

made instruction a bit of gamble, especially compared to Vince (who will be considered in the 

next chapter). His loose style and free spirit sometimes paved the way for insights, teachable 

moments, and meaningful interactions. Yet, at times, these lofty items and other straightforward 

aspects of instruction  were missed or not fully realized, especially if instruction relied heavily 

73

upon student participation. Excessive uniformity can be suffocating (especially for creatives and 

non-conformists), but a pedagogy that lacks continuity from day to day, and coherence in expec-

tations and time management can close itself off to optimal learning conditions. Perhaps struc-

ture and routines are not always bad, provided they do not limit creativity and connection with 

students. 

 

Apart from procedural challenges, some might wonder if Jimi (and any other teacher for 

that matter) was doing enough to promote justice. Positively, his pedagogy identified, named, 

and deliberated over social problems in vivid ways, but negatively, it omitted a vision of collec-

tive action, civic cooperation, and concrete steps to challenge the status quo and otherwise in-

crease civic involvement. Jimi’s experiential and sensational repertoire yielded empathy, com-

munity, and critical thinking, but not necessarily directly active citizenry. Elizabeth Segal has 

pointed out that in addition to individual empathy and understanding social context —two things 

Jimi promoted exquisitely— a sense of collective responsibility and the pursuit of concrete ac-

tions are also required to generate responsible social involvement (Segal, 2011). Provided a 

teacher excelled at helping students develop more nuanced and empathic awareness of the lived 

 e.g. Making smooth transitions between activities, taking attendance, fostering well-rounded student participation, 

73
and covering enough content to administer a post assessment.

 

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experiences and needs of others, many would not see an absence of explicit calls for collective 

social action as deficiency for teachers purporting to care about justice. However, those inclined 

towards activistic pedagogies might still justifiably critique Jimi’s practice because concrete 

steps for social change were rarely explored. Despite this concern, it is my view that Jimi pre-

pared teenagers for further inquiry and fostered awareness. That is, the sensational practices and 

dispositions observed in Honors English 11 promoted critical consciousness among still very 

formative students which is a necessary condition for future social involvement. 

 

Another germane consideration, that will later be taken up in greater detail, is how a case 

of an artistic teacher that utilizes sensational practices, might be transferrable to teacher prepara-

tion and professional development. While it is easy to find encouragement from a participant like 

Mr. Hendrix, it might be difficult to glean off of him. What if this case was just an instance of a 

refreshing teacher, not necessarily a productive model easily transferable to other teachers? This 

project found me wondering if Jimi’s case could be written off as too idiosyncratic to emulate or 

draw tangible action steps from. After all, eccentricity and unique approaches are hard to recre-

ate, especially if they rely heavily on personality traits. Conventional wisdom suggests preservice 

(and inservice) teachers can more readily learn from straightforward information, following pro-

cedures, incorporating instructional techniques, and otherwise operationalizing best practices. 

Yet, the same line of thinking supposes, it may be unrealistic to expect people to be funny, cre-

ative, or musical. To counter this, I would firstly point out that even traits like creativity, humor, 

and social/emotional intelligence are not simply innate and fixed within people; they can be 

learned and developed (Robinson, 2009). But moreover, I must reiterate that this project is not 

focused on idealizing an individual’s traits as much as it is about championing teachers bringing 

 

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their multifaceted personhood to bear on the practice in relevant ways. One would suppose and 

hope that acumen with entities like music and pop culture, or other entities that resonate with 

student populations, can also be learned and employed in intuitive ways that are enjoyable, suited 

for students and content, and productive for learning curriculum. Some teachers’ practice of 

yoga, affection for sports culture, nurturing and relational skills, commitments to justice, or be-

ing a foodie shows up in practice. At end, perhaps incredulity toward utilizing a case such as this 

actually reflects more of a problem with preconceived thinking about education. Given that the 

profession, especially in the humanities, is quite human, a dearth of social/emotional intelligence, 

creativity, and improvisation in teacher preparation and development should not be typical or 

normalized, it should be alarming and resisted. 

Conclusion 
 

Confidence that Mr. Hendrix’s case can be positioned as more than merely inspirational is 

justified. Though perfection is elusive and particulars might have to be transposed and contextu-

alized in order to be generalized from, this is both a portrait of multi-modal teaching accomplish-

ing interdisciplinary curricular ends and a refreshing anecdote of how being personally authentic 

and committed to greater principles can establish a learning community among students, not to 

mention improving one’s own morale by creating more meaningful work. This case might be 

useful to teachers becoming better professional versions of themselves by tapping into what is 

authentic within them and their students. Jimi’s general approach to teaching paved the way for 

community, a more holistic version of learning for the students, and afforded him a vocational 

authenticity that resonated with his commitments and personal life. A passionate and funny story-

teller in interviews and during instruction, and by all indications in his social life as well, Jimi’s 

 

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teaching practice sought relevance, experiential encounters with multiple types of texts and me-

dia formats, and involved deliberate planning before, spontaneous activity during, and thoughtful 

reflection after instruction. Ivan Olson, in The Arts and Critical thinking, endorsed the idea that 

aesthetic transactions enable critical thinking because of their unique ability to vividly draw upon 

multiple forms of brain function and human experience at once (2000). These transactions in 

Honors English 11 revealed such things. Readings, songs, and videos were paused in order to 

better noticed and interrogated. The students laughed regularly, sometimes they expressed anger 

and vulnerability. They saw glowing screens, read plays aloud, and wrote quietly. Evocative mu-

sic was heard and social ills were grappled with. Students deliberated about how they were gov-

erned and wondered how technological advances complicate ethics. These pedagogical decisions 

and personal dispositions taken together engaged and activated his students’ senses, helping them 

to invest in class and care about its subject matter. The modes of learning accessing various as-

pects of affect and cognition both captured their attention and fostered higher order thinking, 

preparing them to engage in an interdisciplinary thinking and better grasp underlying and endur-

ing issues that cut across time and curriculum. Since Mr. Hendrix’s practice united the head and 

the heart, utilized affect to empower cognition, and was frankly interesting, the art of sensational 

practices has been considered. Now, it is valuable to consider another participant on how his 

teaching helps envision the science of sensational practices. 

 

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CHAPTER 5: THE SCIENCE OF SENSATIONAL TEACHING 

“Perfection is not attainable. But if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence.” 

- Vince Lombardi, NFL Hall of Fame Coach

“What happens in one domain influences what happens in others. For example, emotions 
can trigger or block learning. Emotions & social contexts shape neural connections which 
contribute to attention, concentration, & memory, to knowledge transfer & application.”

— Darling-Hammond, Flook, Cook-Harvey, Barron, & Osher in

Implications for educational practice of the science of learning and development, 2019. 

Uniting the Affective and Cognitive Domains 
 

In many ways, that Tuesday in mid April was a day like any other. As students entered the 

I. INTRODUCTION


room, they received their standard two-sided handout for taking guided notes; that particular 

worksheet corresponded to a slideshow lecture on section 2 of chapter 22, “U.S. Involvement & 

Escalation” (figure 37 below). The lesson began with Vince asking the class questions about con-

Figure 37. Worksheet: This is the front page of a two-sided guided-notes sheet for students enti-

tled, “Foreign Policy During the Cold War”. The document corresponded precisely to a 

slideshow and cited the lesson’s standards at the top of the page.

 

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tent from the day prior. He addressed the origins of the Vietnam War, was curious about particu-

lars surrounding the Gulf of Tonkin incident, and inquired about President Johnson’s decision 

making. These were indeed questions of recall, but the substance of the inquiry was deliberately 

aimed at helping students form historical meanings about the evolving national mood during the 

Vietnam era. Vince asked strategic questions, but did so with strategic pauses.  

Strategic pauses. 

 

 

 

 

—unlike monotonous continuity— 

 

 

 

Can interrupt the typical flow.  

 

 

Strategic pauses can invite deeper engagement. 

 

Strategic pauses can signal that something is important. 

 

Standing there and scanning the room, trying to make eye contact with students not yet 

looking up at him, Vince’s curious expression seemed to concurrently spotlight the importance of 

the White House’s narrative and the shifting national mood regarding foreign policy. Wait time 

Figure 38. Slide: The introductory lecture slide for Vince’s Vietnam War Unit. As was often the 
case, the introductory slide included a statement of standards (“8.1.2” atop the slide) and the 

learning target (pictured at the bottom of the slide).

quickly brought about the cessation of side chatter. Wait time also drew increased attention to 

 

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specific events and how their precise chronology produced an understanding of why the Johnson 

administration would soon lose credibility with the American public. It was necessary contextual 

knowledge about how public opinion influenced whether or not President Johnson would run for 

reelection (Beyer, 2008). The content of the prior lesson would behave like well-placed bread-

crumbs leading to a wider understanding. 

 

Once the class engaged, Vince quickly prompted students to recall how the US govern-

ment leveraged a misleading account of a sea attack to justify war against the North Vietnamese. 

Incentivized in part by the prospect of being tossed a piece of candy for a correct answer, the 

students collectively sifted through their notes to patch together a rough timeline of events lead-

ing up to the official start of the War. LaMarcus, a thin boy in the front row, identified Secretary 

of State Robert McNamara as a key figure in foreign policy. After catching a mini-Snickers bar 

with a contented smile, LaMarcus immediately tried to answer a follow-up question about an in-

fluential Cold War ideology, but Vince (thanking him for his eagerness) insisted on hearing 

“from someone else this time”. Vince asked his question again. Four or five seconds of silence 

passed. More wait time. With what appeared to be reluctance, Javier timidly suggested that the 

Domino Theory  contributed to the President’s authorization to increase U.S. military presence 

74

in Indochina. Javier’s correct answer earned him a mini Butterfinger. After a few moments of 

recitation, I sensed the 14 and 15 year-old students were beginning to grasp the conflicted na-

tional mood at the outset of the Vietnam War; they were now ready for the day’s lesson. 

 

Pressing down on the clicker in his right hand to advance the slideshow, Vince began the 

presentation. Most slides in this presentation —like almost every other presentation— began or 

 The Domino Theory suggested that, like the momentum of a falling domino, if a particular country 

74
came under the influence of communism, communism could easily spread throughout the broader region.

 

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ended with a short video or sound clip embedded into the slide; the clips were pre-programed to 

be initiated by his click. As was typical, the students saw footage; this time, the brief footage was 

of President Johnson addressing the nation in in 1965. The slide (figure 39 below) and the ac-

Figure 39. Vince’s slide about U.S. entry into the Vietnam war, complete with an embedded 
video (on the upper right) from the March of 1965. Like all slides, this one’s content corre-

sponded directly to the guided notes worksheet.

companying lecture unpacked Johnson’s change of mind regarding U.S. military presence and 

the ensuing increase of troops that would unfold throughout the late 1960’s. Two slides later, 

when attending to the messy and unpredictable nature of guerrilla combat, the slide began with a 

selection of a music video lasting roughly 75 seconds. Run through the Jungle (embedded in the 

slide featured in figure 40 on the top of the following page) by Creedence Clearwater Revival 

played through speakers, its sounds were set against footage from various documentaries and 

motion pictures about the war. With pencils in hand, the students collectively gazed at the flash-

ing images. When the song faded out, Vince gave immediate attention to the illusiveness of hid-

den combatants in unfamiliar jungles. The carefully curated slide presented information and mul-

tiple still images of tunnels and thick green vegetation. The sights, song, and commentary made 

the concept of guerrilla warfare accessible and made way for natural exchanges: 

 

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Figure 40. Slide: A slide explaining the complicated and frustrating nature of war in the Viet-
nam. Note there was an embedded video in the top right corner played the era specific song (+ 

footage) Run Through the Jungle by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Mr. Lombardi: You see, we thought this should be an easy war to win. We have this big 
military; a sizable fighting force, superior technology, and we’re comparatively wealthy. 
[We thought] Should be easy to win a war against small and poor country. [Pointing the 
screen] Vince asked, why wasn’t this going to be easy? 

Tammia: [promptly raising her hand and staring at the projected pictures] The terrain? 
The jungles, they were hard to get through and then [pointing to the graphic on the bot-
tom left of the slide] there were tunnels, so I bet they [the Vietcong] could just pop out to 
shoot and then go hide. 

Mr. Lombardi: Yeah, if you have the element of surprise and elaborate systems of tun-
nels, your enemy can’t see you; that will balance things out. This is how the Vietcong 
would win. And, the Vietcong would also dig false tunnels with bombs in them… Any-
one ever seen Forrest Gump, how he had to crawl into those little holes with a gun and 
flash light? 

Students: [Many nods, and 6 or 7 hands raise, apparently making a connection between 
the film and history class] 

LaMarcus: [excitedly blurting out] Woah, that’s sweet! 

Mr. Lombardi: You never knew what to expect, so there was a strategic and psycholog-
ical advantage. They also set booby traps; know what those are? 

Students: [Laughter] 

 

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Mr. Lombardi: [Pointing to the right side of the screen] Here's an example of a Punji 
Pit. When the Vietcong knew the U.S. would be coming in the area, they would dig a 
spike pit in a path and cover it up with a brush and they would put feces on the spikes to 
cause infection.  

Jamari: [With wide eyes and a surprised tone] That’s what that was for?! That’s so 
messed up, but so smart. 

Mr. Lombardi: [Transitioning to the next slide] That’s right Jamari, they were always 
trying to outsmart us, and often succeeding. The Vietcong didn’t have uniforms so they 
blended in with regular villagers. And because they were hard to identify, soldiers didn’t 
always know who to fight. 

 

Vince’s liberal use of the second person seemed to aide in perspective taking because it 

implicitly invited his audience to imagine what it would be like if you were there; what might 

have been felt or thought given these past circumstances. While narrating hypothetical encoun-

ters in Vietnam, Vince wove in precise terminology so that vocabulary (in this case ‘The Viet-

cong’ and various elements of ‘guerrilla war’) would be reinforced. Meanwhile, transitions be-

tween slides and elements of his content were seamless. Vince was executing a calculable plan. 

Each slide featured two to eight images, headings were clearly labeled, and there was typically a 

one to three minute video clip to illustrate content

75

. Each numbered slide corresponded to a la

-

beled numerical heading on the guided notes sheets (see figure 41). Because students often wrote 

in unison, and without being prompted, when key points were displayed or emphasized, I de-

duced the note-taking protocol had now become intuitive. Students seemed accustomed to locat-

ing and writing down featured vocabulary, since the terms were easy to locate; vocabulary was 

always highlighted in turquoise, bolded and underlined, and set against a dark background (see 

 e.g. This presentation featured Youtube and documentary clips; an animated cartoon about the vietcong/mim, in

75
terviews with American G.I.s, and footage of student protests.

-

 

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figure 41 below). Vince’s attention to class norms early in the school year seemed to be paying 

Figure 41. Slide: A slide examining how the horrors of war prevented the Vietnamese from sup-
porting American action. Note the highlighted vocabulary and embedded video about the use of 

Napalm.

off. Such procedural norms helped students to track along with the component parts of the les-

son’s content and significance.  

 

These historical meanings were formed in part because information was portrayed along-

side carefully placed and aesthetically charged sights and sounds. Vividly portraying death and 

destruction, strong images were fodder for emotional highlights (Kostoulas, 2017). Slide nine 

(again, figure 44 above), for instance, went well beyond the abstract to vividly depict the cruel 

impact of chemical weapons like Agent Orange and Napalm. Graphic pictures, that Vince eluded 

to at the beginning of the period , showed scorched earth. Children with severe birth defects. 

76

76
 On occasion, Vince offered what could be interpreted as mild trigger warnings for graphic content. However, he 
typically showed sensitive content (e.g. that involving violence or vulgarity) with no warning or additional commen-
tary. During this lesson, for instance, Vince offered a quick and casual warning at its outset, “…later we’ll see im-
ages that are hard to look at but will help us understand the nature of war”. When I followed up to ask Vince about 
his approach and philosophy to trigger warnings, his response suggested he had both given extensive forethought 
and that he stood firmly in his minimalistic rationale. He told me that he generally didn’t like to “make too big a deal 
of trigger warnings” because to begin to truly understand the reality of things like war or the struggle for Civil 
Rights, the reality of its horrors should not be avoided. Vince insisted, “the fact that it [war] is/was offensive is part 
of the point. You can’t clean that up and still do justice to history”. 

 

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Vivid anecdotes were shared about the devastation of plant, animal, and human life. A GIF  em77
-

bedded in the slide featured children screaming while running, badly burned by napalm (see the 

bottom left image on figure 44); another GIF showed a small child wailing over a dead body 

(bottom center of figure 44). Vince paused, “Just look at that.” Upon seeing these gruesome 

sights, the students began to emote what I took to be disgust and empathy. Vince then spoke 

about the indiscriminate killing that resulted from search-and-destroy missions, offering com-

mentary to better explain the context of the off-putting images. Emoting more repulsion, students 

shook their heads and furrowed their brows: 

Joe: [Smacking his lips to scoff] Yo, was this for real? I’m mean, did we really do that? 

Mr. Lombardi: [Nodding] Yes sir, I’m afraid so. And, if you were Vietnamese, how do 
think you would feel about the U.S. if your countryside was poisoned, your village was 
burned, and your loved ones had either been killed and scarred beyond recognition? 

Tammia: [Shaking her head in disgust] Oh, I’d hate them.  

Mr. Lombardi: Why? [Another strategic pause… Looking around the room, perhaps to 
invite more participation] Would you see them as liberators or a threat? 

Tammia: No, they’d be my enemy. I mean just doing that to people. It was like random 
killing. Especially to kids. Most of them weren’t even fighting. I’d hate that army. 

Students: [Many nods and expressions of agreement] 

Jamari: [Eagerly raising his hand, waiting to be called on] … 

LaMarcus: [Emphatically nodding to agree with Tammia, spoke up before Jamari could] 
I know, right?! That’s BS. It’s one thing to kill those who are trying to kill you, but it’s 
another thing to just kill people when you can’t tell them apart. 

 Pronounced with a hard g, as in ‘jiff’ or ‘giff’, the acronym G.I.F. stands for graphics interchange format, a 

77
moving graphics file that shows a brief burst of footage.

 

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Jamari: [Also nodding and still raising his hand, finally blurted out] Yeah and they (sic) 
[the Vietnamese] whole nature, the countryside and stuff, got messed up during the war 
too. I’d hate the U.S. if I were them. 

 Mr. Lombardi: And the Vietcong, the communists we were fighting —though they 
harmed villagers too and used them as instruments of war sometimes— didn’t use chem-
ical warfare like we did. So you see why the U.S. was going to have trouble convincing 
people they were the good guys, liberating people from communism? 

Students: [Many nods and expressions of agreement] 

 

Since this inquiry was interested in examining instructional approaches that employ aes-

thetics to engage the affective domain in episodes of learning, many aspects of Vince’s teaching 

were intriguing. The logical procedures and methods where Vince enacted clear content, com-

bined with and augmented by emotional highlights —subjective arousals brought about by aes-

thetic objects— (Kostoulas, 2017), led to a deeper engagement with information and the personal 

meanings derived from it. It is no wonder that later

78

, when learning about the war’s increasing 

unpopularity, students easily referred back to this lecture, explicitly recalling items like “napalm” 

and “search-and-destroy” tactics with ease. As was often the case, Vince’s sensational ways of 

teaching —again, not meant synonymously as positive or exemplary— united the students’ heads 

and hearts through bodily sensations (e.g. through sight and sound) and affective elements when 

empathy, emotion, and desire were invoked.  

 

In consideration of utilizing Vince as a case representing the science of sensational teach-

ing, it is important to examine his disposition, commitments, and the logical ‘flow’ of his classes 

and teaching philosophy. If the outgoing Jimi, with his spontaneous improvisation, could be posi-

tioned as an exemplary artist of sensational practices, Vince was the scientist; a methodical tacti-

 Both the following day when Vince asked questions of recall and when the students later took a test, Vince report

78
ed the students respectively retained the information and performed well on their formal assessment. 

-

 

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cian who was thoroughly calculated. Though in some ways (e.g. a communication style that 

lacked an overtly visceral delivery) his instruction could have been considered less of an emotive 

‘experience’ when compared to Jimi, Vince’s systematic and coherent approach routinely 

brought in affective elements and aesthetic content. That is, Jimi embodied sensational teaching 

primarily through his big and winsome personality, Vince demonstrated sensational teaching by 

carefully curating content that connected heart and mind in concert with planning and executing 

developmentally appropriate norms and procedures. As was the case with the previous partici-

pant, I once again want to make it clear that what follows is a deliberate engagement with more 

or less what I perceived to be the best elements of his practice. Vince’s teaching was not infalli-

ble. Rather, this project, especially at this juncture, is best served by considering the positive el-

ements of practice that united affect with cognition in order to explicate ways students can be 

engaged as they learn. 

II. THE PARTICIPANT


What’s in a Name?  
 

Besides being lauded as a winner and champion, Vince Lombardi, the late coach of the 

Green Bay Packers, was known for unmatched discipline, adherence to high standards, and mo-

tivating leadership. Throughout the 1950’s and 60’s Lombardi became arguably one of the great-

est coaches in the history of sport because he was a student of the game without match. His fas-

cination with football was so great that those who knew him well said he was always coaching 

football, even when he wasn’t coaching football. Even in the off season, Lombardi’s schemes 

found him drawing up new plays and preparing his players to outwit their opponents. The 

coach’s unrelenting emphasis on precision and execution could be traced back in large part to a 

 

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military imprint via the West Point Military Academy. His conception of ‘being on time’ —affec-

tionately known as Lombardi Time— meant showing up at least 15 minutes early for all meet-

ings and engagements. Lombardi was an outlier on many fronts and often enigmatic. For in-

stance, though Lombardi’s well-known discipline and patriotism were in sync with his times, the 

gruff coach held surprisingly progressive social views that seemed to transcend and even chal-

lenge the culture embedded in the game he so loved. Instead of upholding the status quo by just 

‘sticking to sports’, his uncompromising leadership made no quarter for discrimination against 

his Black /African American and Gay players. This atypical ideological stance reverberated 

79

throughout the Packers organization and even extended to directly chastising establishments 

within the city of Green Bay that were inclined to segregate or disfavor such minorities. Gritty 

and prepared, Lombardi was a tactician who in the midst of his fascination with and attention to 

precise football knowledge was also unlikely in his inclination towards the greater social good. 

 

Unlike coach Lombardi, the temperament of Vince the teacher (pseudonymously referred 

to as “Mr. Lombardi” here in this study) was comparatively mild. He didn’t possess a militaristic 

leadership style nor a fiery temper. However, he possessed many attributes that were reminiscent 

of the Hall of Fame football coach. For instance, the discipline of Mr. Lombardi could be traced 

in large part to proximity with the military as he was heavily influenced by his father, a hard-

scrabble veteran of the Vietnam War. Vince had an unmistakable toughness about him evidenced 

in his work ethic and in seemingly everything he did. Even his automobile was a testament to his 

individualism and grit. He drove a JEEP convertible, personally modified such that it was lifted 

high off the ground, with an open/exposed top and no doors. Through rain and the harshest 

 As mentioned previously, I remind my reader that though pop-culture, my participants and their curriculum, and 

79
literature often uses these terms as synonymous, I acknowledge these terms are not necessarily equivocal.

 

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snows of winter, the top of the old green JEEP —that Vince himself maintained— was always  80

off. Like a soldier of old, the only luxury Vince afforded himself was a pair of driving goggles 

akin to those used by troops during World War II. When my wife asked me what I thought about 

the new participant in my study, I think I initially referred to him —quite endearingly— as one 

part geek, two parts badass. We need more geeky, badass teachers. 

 

Vince was a meticulous planner and record-keeper who was always among the first to 

arrive at school. He worked on weekends and during holiday breaks. His discipline and docu-

mentation made him easy to work with because his schedule was predictable and established 

long in advance. Furthermore (and compared to the other participants in the study), Vince consis-

tently responded to my phone calls and emails with promptness and clarity. I believe this was 

simply because Vince was a motivated and self-disciplined individualist, always seeking new 

hills to take and unswayed by the specter of obstacles or hard work. For instance, earlier in the 

school year, in the fall, he took it upon himself to propose and convince the school board (known 

for their aversion to spending money) to release tightly held funds to enable 66 students and 7 

chaperones to take an overnight trip to see Hamilton in Chicago. As was the case with other field 

trips he initiated in the past, Vince recruited volunteers, raised extra funds, and arranged lesson 

plans for substitute teachers such that the students left behind would be taught well in the ab-

sence of their teachers. As a leader within his department he also established, organized, and cu-

rated a vast treasure trove of history resources that he shared with his colleagues on a google 

drive. This drive featured assignments, lesson plans, movies, and digital web-quests that were 

organized alphabetically according to the various eras and subjects they pertained to. 

80

 I’m not being hyperbolic by using the word “always”.

 

152

 

In my initial conversations with Vince, I quickly began to see that his uncanny discipline 

was fueled by a deep and intrinsic motivation. His vocation —the teaching and learning of histo-

ry— was his muse. History was in his blood. He explained his love for history existed since 

childhood, an infectious hobby passed down from a focused father to an inquisitive son. Apart 

from being a veteran and “a military history junkie”, his father regularly participated in reenact-

ments for the Civil War and American Revolution. After long days at school, Vince read histori-

cal biographies and novels during evenings. Though he was typically stoic and even keeled, 

Vince’s eye lit up when he spoke about particulars of the past. When we spoke about curriculum, 

he sometimes unwittingly slipped into an instructive mode as he eagerly described the details of 

a historical era or explained what he had learned through recent personal study. He was teaching 

history, even when he wasn’t teaching history.  

 

Vince was also passionate about traveling each summer to various historical sites. Every 

other year he organized, planned, and lead international class trips to places like Greece and 

Rome. In the “off years”, Vince told me about taking “historical vacations”, either by himself or 

with his wife. For instance, during the summer prior to conducting my study, Vince had designed 

his own trip that took him through some half dozen European countries to visit sites and monu-

ments from World War II. Unsurprisingly, these vacations were preceded and accompanied by 

copious amounts of reading and yielded updated slideshows for his classes featuring (for in-

stance) his very own pictures from Normandy, Berlin, and various locales within the French 

countryside. When asked what he would do if he could not teach history, without any hesitation, 

Vince told he me he would find work in social studies curriculum development. 

 

153

 

By this point in his career, Vince had taught for 18 years total, the last 15 of them were in 

his present district. Apart from brief stints teaching psychology, economics, and government, the 

bulk of his teaching had been invested in his favorite subject, US History. At the time of my 

study, his present course load included three sections of general US History to (mostly) freshmen 

and two sections of Advanced Placement US History (APUSH) for juniors. Vince enjoyed the 

two classes for separate reasons. He loved the depth, skill acquisition, and rigor of the AP course, 

but relished the pedagogical autonomy in how he could teach 9th grade US History. Especially 

when compared to its APUSH counterpart, the cursory course had significantly less demands on 

content coverage and it did not necessitate recurring activities specifically tailored to test prepa-

ration. In short, the 9th grade course was not only accessible to a broader student constituency, 

but was largely created in his own image and thusly wrought with music, film, and other affec-

tive elements. Given these considerations and that Jimi’s case already provided a glimpse into 

working with 11th grade honors students, I decided to focus on Vince’s approach to teaching 9th 

graders to broaden the student profile included in this study. 

III. (ROUGHLY) SCIENTIFIC FORMULA, COMPONENTS, & DISPOSITIONS


The Science of Sensational Teaching 
 

The Merriam-Webster dictionary traces the English word “science” back to the Latin 

word scientia, which is essentially knowledge based on demonstrable and reproducible data 

(2019). As such, the scientific method (or perhaps more precisely, methods), establishes a learn-

ing archetype that involves predictable steps designed to solve problems and collect information 

through facets like hypothesis, observation, experimentation, data analysis, and then drawing 

conclusions through the former. While there was not an abundance of experimentation in Vince’s 

 

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practice, his craft relied upon systematic procedures that helped his students learn about and 

make meaning from the past. An approximately scientific approach to teaching was apparent 

through a consistent instructional formula evidenced by sequential enactments and predictable 

patterns, themes, and exercises (Weisman, 2012). Lessons were logical, reproducible, and easy to 

foretell. Such an approach created a positive learning environment for students where they could 

expect learning scaffolds, continuity in stimulating content and instructional format, and pre-

dictable assessments that were derived from historical meaning more so than rote memory. 

A commitment to structure and procedures 
 

Scholarly consensus around the science of learning and development (SoLD) affirms the 

presence of consistently structured instruction as something that establishes optimal learning 

conditions (Cantor et al.,  2018). More specifically, such an environment makes for continuity in 

relationships, consistency in practices, and predictable routines that have been purported to re-

duce anxiety, support engaged learning, and promote retention (Darling-Hammond et al., 2019). 

In this vein, Vince’s class was nearly impeccable. The following figures and approaches outline 

Vince’s formulaic approach and the constituent elements involved in respectively teaching a les-

son, teaching throughout a week, and covering content across the course of the semester: 
DAILY FORMULA FOR LESSONS

Step 1) REVIEW — For 2 to 4 minutes revisit content from the day or section prior, asking 
pointed questions about salient topics, vocabulary, and about the meaning(s) of the preceding 
material.  *When reviewing a previous unit, invest 5-7 minutes for review.

1a: Simultaneously Pass Out Papers — Concurrent to reviewing the previous lesson 
(and introducing the new lesson), pass out blank guided-notes sheets corresponding to 
the ensuing lecture/slideshow and return any graded student work. 

Step 2) INTRODUCE NEW LESSON — In 1 minute or less, concisely state the lesson’s topic 
and objective, forecasting what the students can expect from instruction and the activity(ies) 
therein. When the slideshow takes more than one class period, remind the students they were 
picking up where they left off and continue to work through their notes sheet. 

 

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2b: *If broaching a new unit — Expand the introduction to 5 to 7 minutes. Highlight 
key themes, questions, vocabulary, and mention some of the forth coming assignments.
Step 3) LECTURE (WITH SLIDES)— For 25 to 40 minutes, lecture corresponding closely to 
the slideshow presentation and guided notes sheet. 

3a: Differentiate within the presentation — Explain slide content, draw attention to 
vocabulary words, narrate stories, use music and show video clips in bursts of 1 to (typ-
ically no more than) 3 minutes.
3b: Invite interaction — Routinely ask students questions about what they are seeing, 
thinking, and feeling. To highlight an important point or facet of the lesson, or when 
students are not paying attention, pause and question. Ask students to make predictions, 
connections, and for their opinions/commentary on the content and related media.
Step 4) CONCLUDE (WITH ACTIVITY OR EXIT SLIP) — For roughly 5-10 minutes, 
check for student comprehension using a formative assessment
information or creativity use what they learned to evaluate ideas and historical persons.
- Format: Paper or Chromebooks, students can work alone or with a partner.


 that requires students to recall 
81

Figure 42. Procedural List: This figure represents Vince’s procedure for lesson planning.

WEEKLY PROCEDURAL NORMS

A) Follow the daily formula, lecturing through 3-4 different slideshows with corresponding di-

rectly to guided notes sheets.

B) Enact one in-class assignment (showing students exemplars), project, or review activity. 
C) After moving through 2 to 3 sections:

a) Review material to check for understanding and administer multiple choice quiz.
b) Do an assignment/activity that applies the learning of previous material.

D) Collect quiz scores as formative assessment data and reteach according to students’ quiz per-

formance.

Figure 43. Procedural List: This figure represents Vince’s procedure for weekly lesson planning.

CURRICULAR SCOPE & SEQUENCE 

E) After 2 to 3 sections, show a portion of film/documentary/TV episode to illustrate the content 

previously learned.

F) After working through a unit/chapter, review for 2 days and then watch a full-length film/

documentary/TV.

Figure 44. Procedural List: This figure represents Vince’s general approach approach to plan-

ning across a semester.

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 See figure 49 for examples of formative assessment.

 

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The orderly experience in Vince’s class was explained in various manifestations of his 

discipline; his preparation, continuous reflection, and ongoing curation of materials. To overex-

tend the motif of scientist, Vince was always in ‘the lab’ to repeatedly experiment within the 

bounds of his teaching system. In addition to the long hours onsite, throughout the school year, 

his Saturday mornings were devoted to refining his craft at home. After his morning coffee, 

Vince told me that he reviewed and adjusted slideshows to sure up his timing and transitions in 

the future. These mornings also involved previewing content for the week ahead to re-familiarize 

himself with material and seize opportunities to incorporate updated current events and/or mul-

timedia. During his summers, Vince methodically conducted an audit the of year prior, consider-

ing the scope and sequence of each unit and assessments therein. 

 

Vince was always looking to improve and seemed to never be satisfied. At several points 

in this study, I was taken aback when Vince directly asked for critique and suggestions on how to 

better clarify, engage students, or about how well he was balancing the various modes of instruc-

tion present in his practice. He continuously refined an exhaustive list of resources that corre-

sponded with various historical era. For instance, Vince produced an eight-page repository called 

“Mr. Lombardi’s US History Super Doc” (figure 45 on the next page) consisting of live hyper-

links to videos, articles, interactive tools, webquests, maps, and etc. The ‘Super Doc' was essen-

tially digital connective tissue useful in enlivening and differentiating curriculum. Moreover, as a 

departmental leader and champion of excellence, this document—along with all of his 

slideshows, assignments, assessments, and other resources—was shared via Google Drive with 

all of the teachers in his department. When I asked a few his peers what they thought of Vince, 

 

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Figure 45. Document: This figure is a screenshot of page 3 of Vince’s “US History Super Doc”.

they —to a person— raved about his excellence and generosity for sharing his ‘playbook’ with 

them. He cared about all the students in his school succeeding. 

Deliberate Multimedia Pedagogy & the Brain 
 

In 2006, Mishra and Koehler put forth Technological Pedagogical Content Knowledge 

(TPACK) as a theory to explain the knowledge that teachers need to effectively teach their stu-

dents. TPACK was built upon Shulman’s (1986) conception of Pedagogical Content Knowledge 

(PCK) which asserted that, by itself, expertise in subject matter may not be able to make content 

accessible to students. Given this premise, Misra and Koehler believed the most profound change 

happening in education in the early 21st century had to do with the use of technology in the 

classroom, and therefore, teachers must learn how to combine it with content and pedagogy to 

 

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create ideal learning conditions. TPACK is further clarified by an understanding that the mere 

presences or incorporation of technology in a classroom is inadequate. As skeptics of digital 

technology sometimes point out, it can be used to replace differentiation and scaffolded instruc-

tion; in those cases it is associated with a decline in intellectual rigor, oversimplification, or pas-

sive entertainment (Mitra et al., 2010). However, Nichols (2003) shrewdly separated correlation 

from causation, reminding us that the educational shortcomings associated with technology are 

not intrinsic to the medium. Rather, such shortcomings only reflect a poorly implemented peda-

gogy or an over-estimation of technology’s potential; by itself, technology is at worst a neutral 

factor in learning. Alas, optimal learning hinges on whether or not teachers can take up technolo-

gy in educatively appropriate ways. 

 

Vince’s extensive planning and thoughtful integration of multimedia —which included 

among other things, heavy scaffolding, learning outcomes, thought given to timing and attention 

spans, and corresponding content— made his practice immune to the typical criticisms levied 

against teachers who use multimedia in non-optimal ways. The building blocks of his instruction 

were not composed carelessly, nor were they employed haphazardly. On the contrary, and in step 

with the vision of TPACK, it was difficult to isolate technology, content knowledge, and peda-

gogy from each other. Each component of instruction fit hand-in-glove with the others and was 

situated procedurally. Technology corresponded to considerations of differentiation and the flow 

lesson. What follows represents key elements of Vince’s teaching practice with accompanying 

instructional commentary: 

 

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COMPONENTS OF DAILY INSTRUCTION:

Slideshows: Presentation consist of roughly 12 to 20 slides. All vocabulary words are 
highlighted in turquoise set against a dark back ground, numbered according to prompts 
on the guided notes sheet. 

Slide composition: Slides feature 1 to 8 pictures, often with 1 to 2 embedded 
multimedia clips.

Transitions: Transitions from slide to slide and moving through content 
within each slide are controlled by manual mouse-click/clicker.
Embedded Multimedia: When present, video and audio clips are typical-
ly between 30 seconds and 3 minutes. Multimedia is self-contained 
within each slide, linked to a file in the presentation. Like the appear-
ance of successive text, multimedia is activated by mouse-click/clicker 
as sequenced on a list of the slide’s ‘actions’.

Guided Notes: A two-sided worksheet (corresponding to the slideshow) stating the les-
son’s objective and corresponding curricular standard (located on the top of the first 
page). Worksheet prompts are numbered according to numbers used on the slide show. 
Activities: From short readings to free-writing, activities will typically guide students to 
answer central questions and utilize vocabulary or themes to create their own poems or 
raps, memes, or comic strips. Test review presents students with ‘Jeopardy’-style games 
(sometimes using Kahoot! or interactive slideshows); students often receive candy for 
participation.
Assessments: Formative assessment takes place within activities and exit slips (some-
times using the class set of Google Chromebooks). Summative assessments, like quizzes 
and tests, are comprised of questions that are multiple choice, true/false, fill-in-the-blank, 
and short answer.


Figure 46. List: This figure describes an organized list of components involved in Vince’s daily 

instruction.

FIGURE 47 — COMPONENTS OF THE WIDER CURRICULUM:

Sections: Thematic and chronological summations of 2 to 4 individual lessons.
Units/Chapters: Thematic units comprised of 3 to 5 sections loosely corresponding to 
the (rarely used) school US History textbook.

Units by Name/Era:

- Industrialization
- Guilded Age (w Labor movement & Immigration)
- Progressive Era
- Imperialism
- WWI

 

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- Great Depression
- WWII
- Cold War
- Vietnam
- Civil Rights

Test Review: 1 to 2 class periods; typically including 1 day of lecture/slide review and 1 
day of an activity or review game. Reviewing for semester exams requires 3 days.
Assessments: 

Formative assessments: As mentioned above, this is accomplished with formal 
exits slips at the end of each lecture and through informal recitation questions 
that check for understanding at the beginning of the next lecture. 
Summative assessments: Projects based on themes and skills; tests are com-
prised of content from 2 to 3 units. 

Assignments/Projects: Most activities take anywhere from 15 minutes (during an indi-
vidual daily lesson) to up to a day or two depending upon the task. Students typically do 
rudimentary research or find contemporary examples of historical phenomena (e.g. iden-
tifying modern labor violations or propaganda). Often, in conjunction with being given 
instructions, students were shown exemplars of previous student work and given class 
time to use the web on the class set of Chromebooks.

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Assignments, by name: HIPPO  Assignment; Personal Timeline; The Jungle 
Assignment; An American Tail, Guided Age; Labor Movement Assignment; Im-
perialism & WWI Activity; 1920’s Project; WWII Propaganda Assignment; Arti-
fact Day; Bomb Shelter Assignment; Life Under Communism; Vietnam Song 
Analysis; & Civil Rights project.

Video Used Substantially: Iron Jawed Angels (film); Far & Away (film); This Week 
Tonight w Jon Oliver (TV); Cinderella Man (film); Saving Private Ryan (film); Band of 
Brothers, Episode 2 (TV episodes); One Survivor Remember (documentary via Teaching 
Tolerance); Atomic Cafe (documentary); The 60’s (NBC TV Miniseries); Letters Home 
from Vietnam (documentary); Vice Documentary; SDS (Students for Democratic Soci-
ety) Documentary; Viva La Causa (documentary); & Forrest Gump (film).


Figure 47. List: This figure describes an organized list of components involved in the scope and 

sequence of Vince’s semester of teaching.

 

Vince’s carefully selected content and multimedia enabled students to learn intuitively by 

relating the images they saw and the sensations they felt to their own lives and prior knowledge. 

 This assignment centered around analyzing historical documents through the concepts associated with the acro

82
nym H.I.P.P.O, respectively standing for: Historical context; Intended audience; Purpose; Point of view; and Outside 
sources.

-

 

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Procedurally, video  was used in short bursts that were calculated, developmentally comprehen

83

-

sive, and tailored to relevant content (Weisman, 2012). Vince said, “I make sure to choose things 

that would be interesting to them [the students]. I’m also looking for quick clips that illustrate 

my point and fit within the flow of the lesson.” The regular use of multimedia helped to balance 

out instruction, reducing what would potentially be filled with Vince’s monologue and making 

room for student feedback during guided viewings. 

 

When used thoughtfully and directly tied to curriculum (as was the case throughout my 

observations), multimedia utilizes many learning processes that lead to deeper engagements with 

information (Mitra et al., 2010). Scholarship has long recognized visual images and related stim-

uli are more easily remembered than information derived from only one mode of learning 

(Bashman & Treadwell, 1995). Interested in the affordances of teaching with video clips, Berk 

(2009) affirmed that video is a vital tool for learning and instruction because it so naturally uti-

lizes both hemispheres  of the brain. Especially when complementing relevant content, video is 

84

a profound learning tool because it stimulates the brain like almost nothing else, simultaneously 

tapping into core intelligences (verbal/linguistic, visual/spatial, and musical/rhythmic) and en-

compassing a large part of the totality of human learning (Berk, 2009). Unlike the non-optimal 

cases of Theresa and Edward which were characterized by passive consumption —where glow-

ing screens offered a break from teaching— Vince’s practice utilized glowing screens as addi-

tional avenues for instruction. That is, digital entities were used as valid texts to learn from, not 

83

 This was true unless Vince showed feature-length films after covering a larger unit of instruction.

 The brain’s left hemisphere operates in what most would typically consider a more cognitive matter as it process

84
-
es language and gives learners access to information through words, lyrics, and the logic of chronology and plots. Its 
counterpart, the right brain is typically associated with more affective dimensions since it apprehends non linguistic 
input entities such as visual images, color, sound effects, and melodies (Berk, 2009). 

 

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just as entertainment, rewards for good behavior, or tranquilizers to subdue his students while he 

graded (Hobbs, 2006). He taught with digital media thoughtfully and actively, just as he taught 

with printed materials or student-centered activities, weaving the sights and sounds into salient 

moments of the lesson.  

Differentiated Multimodal Instruction 
 

It is common knowledge that schools have student populations that vary widely in cul-

ture, socioeconomic status, language, gender, and so on. What may be considered less is the real-

ity that, to no fault of their own, students from diverse backgrounds can have additional learning 

needs (Cole, 2008) that stem from lacking the various forms of privilege and capital afforded to 

comparatively dominant populations. What’s more is that within and across collective diversity, 

individuals diversify further in their motivation, learning style, and attention span. One educative 

way to address this complexity is to approach curriculum and instruction through differentiation. 

More than just a set of strategies or activities, differentiation is a holistic teacher commitment to 

respond to students needs in their classrooms’ content and processes (Sousa & Tomlinson, 2011). 

In our first interview, Vince asserted his view that effective teaching involves transmitting con-

tent in a number of different ways because of the diverse ways that students learn. Moreover, and 

a large part of why I elected to study his general 9th grade U.S. History survey class, Vince’s 

classes offered a greater mix of abilities and a wider diversity than the sections of Advanced 

Placement. 

 

Determined to execute a curriculum that he said would “balance out how kids learn and 

what kids do”, Vince’s roughly scientific approach to sensational teaching systematically baked 

in heterogeneous content, procedures, and assessments that took into account varied learning 

 

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needs and differences to help students learn effectively (Tomlinson & Jarvis, 2009). Though 

Vince’s regular teaching format may have been predictable, his instructional approach was typi-

cally quite differentiated. He wanted to constantly present information in ways that piqued inter-

est and cycled through different learning styles. He wanted to break up the sound of his own 

voice with interesting music and video clips that could help students grasp historical context and 

meaning. Sometimes this meant presenting drama through film, humor in political cartoons or 

satire, or public sentiment through songs of protest. As figure 47 above attests, students would 

regularly hear lecture and music, reply to questions of recitation, see slides with pictures and 

video, follow along and write on their guided notes, and respond to prompts that required them 

to recall, synthesize, predict, and apply. On an almost daily basis, a wide variety of learning 

styles were accommodated through content that was calculably multi-modal and developmental-

ly comprehensive for classes of mixed learners (Tomlinson & McTighe, 2006). Moreover, this 

format appealed to students by being engaging, relevant, and sometimes representative of differ-

ent cultural viewpoints and experiences.  

 

It wasn’t the case that Vince succeeded in engaging his students simply because he used 

media and variance. Rather, the recipe for success seemed to lie in how he used media and vari-

ance. Vince had a casual way of inviting students into the content such that they unwittingly 

made inferences and connections to their own lives. For instance, in a class period focusing on 

the culture and economy of Postwar America , Vince played samples of songs (from artists Lit

85

-

tle Richard, Chuck Barry, Elvis Presley, and Chubby Checkers) that had been banned from the 

radio. Encouraging students to be the experts of the state of contemporary music, Vince asked 

85

 That is, after World War II.

 

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them about modern artists who have been objected to for various reasons. After redirecting mis-

taken comments about feuds between various rappers, Marcus mentioned criminal charges had 

been brought against R Kelly and that “a lot people think you shouldn’t listen to Michael Jackson 

because he might have done bad stuff to kids”. Nodding, Vince affirmed to Marcus by saying 

that censorship can functionally take on different forms, whether it came from record companies 

or popular opinion. Tammia then jumped in to share a meta critique of hip-hop that she was 

aware of, “some people think hip-hop has problems in the ways it treats women. I know it’s not 

always bad, but people worry about the influence that it might have on kids”. Vince seemed to 

appreciate her comment. Emphatically saying as much, he asked everyone if they had “caught 

what Tammia just said”. He repeated the comment to the class and said that was what it was like 

then (in the 1950’s). After looking at lyrics for a few minutes, and receiving information about 

shifting attitudes, the students were asked why the old songs were controversial; they quickly 

noticed themes that revealed them to be suggestive, overtly sexual, and challenging to racist 

norms. This class period, that started with recitation, moved from a multimodal and interactive 

lecture, and concluded with students working alone or in pairs to respond to a prompt about the 

changing values of Postwar America; they would invest the rest of the period to prepare a short 

artifact to present with the whole class the following day. Engaging old content on new technol-

ogy, students then used the class’ set of Chromebooks to create their choice of a rap, meme, or 

comic strip to described the mood of the era. The following day, the class reviewed with a 

gameshow-styled quiz Vince built on the game-based learning platform Kahoot!. 

 

For teaching to be consistently deemed effective for heterogeneous learners, it is often 

required that subject matter be delivered across a number of unique “frequencies” (Weisman, 

 

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2012, p.112). In this regard, Vince’s penchant for differentiation can explained in part by his ac-

knowledgment of different learning styles, but also by his mindfulness of adolescent attention 

spans. In the initial interview, Vince offered a rationale for his multimodal approach: 

I have to be able to compete with today’s attention span. Any classroom with the typical 
lecture and book-related worksheet [format] can’t compete. These kids were born with 
technology and have developed along the way with screens; they [the glowing screens] 
are with them every step of the way. 

He went on to explain his view that since students are naturally inclined to switch their attention 

“from one thing to next”, his class would have to anticipate and accommodate that proclivity by 

regularly differentiating instruction by breaking up lecture and recitation with video and music. 

 

Scholars maintain that student interest essentially occurs in two ways: triggered interest 

and maintained interest. An example of triggered interest would be something out of the ordi-

nary, “like a teacher singing in class or hopping on one foot to demonstrate a scientific principle” 

(Marzano, 2013, p. 4). Since triggered interest might only attract attention for a moment and not 

be intrinsically focused, maintained interest is preferred because it is predicated upon tapping 

into students’ natural curiosity and interests. Drawing from literature and common sense, 

Marzano pointed out that maintained interest occurs not in a given moment, but on an ongoing 

basis in atmospheres where teachers are enthusiastic, where the relevance of content is apparent, 

and when lessons are holistically interactive or participatory via items like discussion or healthy 

competition (2013). The presence of such regular differentiation in Vince’s practice maintained 

student interest. As students were routinely drawn in and stimulated, they were cognitively and 

emotionally engaged. Moreover, they were also engaged situationally through recitation, review 

games, and various other activities where they were required to supply missing information or 

make predictions about the consequences of historical decisions. 

 

166

 

Since as early as the mid 2000’s, researchers began to regard K-12 students as digital na-

tives who were learning in distinctly different ways than previous generations, it has been com-

mon to find a collective lament over the reality that education does not integrate new technology 

as fast as other domains of culture (Barnes, Marateo, & Ferris; 2007). Vince was simultaneously 

aware that while digital media is the most common way (particularly young people) get informa-

tion, communicate, and learn, schooling is still orientated around an emphasis on printed texts. 

As a consequence of his use of well-placed short video clips that he invited students to react to, 

such as Muhammed Ali protesting Vietnam (see figure 48) , students—who would normally have 

Figure 48. Slide: Vince’s slide explicating the role race played in who fought in Vietnam. In the 
midst of lecture. Featured on this slide was news footage of Muhammad Ali speaking out on 

the war and Marvin Gayes’ song What’s Going On.

trouble holding extended attention on a singular mode of instruction—were typically able to re-

focus their attention as they were continually stimulated throughout the lesson. Unsurprisingly, a 

more recent Israeli study on video lectures found that when learners have opportunities to inter-

act with instructors, their ability to pay attention and learn significantly improved (Geri, Winer, 

& Zaks, 2017). It didn’t take long for me to conclude that Vince’s students stayed on task not be-

 

167

cause of explicit discipline or formal management per se, but because they were engaged by the 

instruction. This regular cadence of thoughtful differentiation, laced with liberal amounts of 

video and commentary that routinely invited students to interact, seemed to explain both Vince’s 

consistency in reaching an array of students and his own sense of efficacy as a teacher (Dixon et 

al., 2014).  

Historical Empathy & Historical Thinking 
 

Vince also exhibited sensational teaching through his commitment to the affective dimen-

sions of historical thinking and his promotion of skills associated with it. Historical thinking is 

indeed a nuanced and contested concept that has been defined differently by a number of schol-

ars who put forth distinctions, commonalities, and competing emphases. For instance, while 

Wineburg sees historical thinking is an ‘unnatural’ set of domain-specific practices and processes 

centering around the capacity to recognize the ways in which the past is distinct from the present 

(1999, 2010), Levisohn reframes the concept as more intuitive and ‘learned’ (2017). Quite help-

fully, Seixas (2017) pointed out that even national paradigms have offered their own iterations of 

historical thinking: the British tradition has stressed the importance of learning key concepts ; 86

the German tradition has prioritized historical consciousness that can understand complexity of 

interpretations of the past and expectations about the future; and the U.S. has emphasized the in-

quiry method to apply history across the social sciences in a way that draws heavily from Jerome 

Bruner’s ‘structure of the discipline’ (1960) so that learning history is roughly equated to being 

able to ‘do’ history. While these and other conceptions of historical thinking often involve as-

pects that could be construed as or tied to empathy and/or the affective domain, it is not often the 

86

 

 e.g. Cause and consequence, continuity and change, evidence, ‘significance’, and so on.

168

case that empathy—a concept particularly germane to sensational teaching—is explicitly named. 

Nonetheless, cognitive elements of historical thinking cannot and should not be divorced from 

empathy and affect. All this being said, it seemed to me, both from observation and interviews, 

that Vince imprecisely sought a version of historical thinking that incorporated inquiry (as he 

modeled it for students), but primarily revolved around understanding key concepts through the 

assistance of historically empathic dispositions. 

 

Empathy involves “an emotional reaction to the comprehension of another’s emotional 

state or condition that is the same or very similar to the other’s state or condition” (Eisenberg, 

2000, p. 179). As such, Vince’s slideshows often tapped into emotion through clips historical fic-

tion (see figure 49 below). It is important to recognize, therefore, whether by proxy through con-

Figure 49. Slide: A slide about the social division during the Vietnam war. Embedded in the 

slide was a clip from The 60’s miniseries featuring a heated argument about the war.

cepts like ‘perspective taking’ or various ways of ‘understanding’, empathy (and/or similar no-

tions involving the affective domain) is at least complimentary to historical thinking, if not a pre-

cise expression of it. In Teaching History for the Common Good, Barton and Levstik contend that 

 

169

reducing empathy to mere cognition is limiting because caring about others and their perspec-

tives is prerequisite to “meaningful deliberation” (2004, p. 207). For this reason, sensational 

teaching takes up Endacott’s assertion that authentic historical thinking must be underpinned 

with an empathetic posture so that it can engage students in both cognitive and affective ways 

(2010). Since history is inherently human, and thereupon is necessarily laden with emotionally 

charged content, historical thinking must involve feeling. A historical mind cannot flourish, or 

perhaps even be intelligible, without a historical heart. One such way to do this is to develop the 

ability to see the world as others experienced it in the past. 

 

Vince often asked his students how they would feel if they were in the proverbial shoes of 

historical persons. As mentioned previously, he often used the second tense  to speak about the 

87

past. I wondered if this impulse to highlight, identify (with), and practice historical empathy with 

others, particularly those who were marginalized or on the underside of power, stemmed from his 

own wrestling with issues of power. When I spoke with him about this, he seemed both aware of 

his status as a white college-educated man and troubled that society wouldn’t benefit many ‘oth-

ers’ the way it would benefit a person like him. Along these lines, Vince’s attention to the chal-

lenges and motivations of various historical individuals and populations sometimes rang through. 

In addition to the example given in this chapter’s introduction and several instances when cover-

ing the Guilded Age, Progressivism, and the Civil Rights unit, Vince built upon a robust sense of 

context and chronology to platform a “historical feel” such that students could personalize the 

difficulties and develop connections between themselves and those in the past (Endacott, 2010). 

87
 e.g. Instead of speaking more literally in the third person, Vince would say things like, “we [the US] sacrificed a 
lot and were proud of our troops on D-Day” or “we didn’t want to hear about the My Lai Massacre because it made 
us ashamed”; statements like these seemed to implicitly associate the students with thoughts and feelings from his-
torical eras.

 

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One vivid example was a day in April that crescendoed with a simulation surrounding the Viet-

nam Draft. 

 

Per usual, Vince introduced his lesson, entitled “A Nation Divided” (slide 53 above) by 

telling the students they would soon have more insight into why the (Vietnam) war became in-

creasing controversial and protested, especially as men from minority and working class popula-

tions were more likely to be conscripted. He lectured through content punctuating inequalities, 

casualties, and other negative factors associated with the war. To better consider the significance 

of the historical moment, the class would hear songs, see lyrics, images, and video. Vince high-

lighted lyrics from and then played Phil Ochs’ (1965) protest song Draft Dodger Rag, telling the 

students to draw upon their notes to, “consider how the lyrics will mention excuses that would 

help someone avoid the war… being injured, you know, having a ruptured spleen, carrying a 

purse, college, or having a honey; what could these lyrics mean?”: 

When I got to my old draft board, buddy, this is what I said  
Sarge, I'm only eighteen, I got a ruptured spleen — And I always carry a purse 
I got eyes like a bat, and my feet are flat,  
And my asthma's getting worse (Ochs, 1965). 

Carefully connecting lyrics to the content, recitation was used to guide the class towards an un-

derstanding of how the song represented various reasons men sought to use to avoid Vietnam. 

Vince explained and gave quick anecdotes about phony health problems (e.g. flat feet), planning 

to enroll in college, and even leveraging rampant homophobia (referring back to the line “I al-

ways carry a purse”). Here, Vince paused. Deliberately. It was clear he anticipated students’ sur-

prise or awkwardness at learning gay men were excluded from military service. Shaking his head 

incredulously, he gently commented:  

 

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It might be shocking to some of you, but the anti-gay sentiment was so strong at that 
time that the army —as a formal policy— [his tone became more somber and serious] 
thought gay Americans were unfit to serve their own country. The bias ran deep and was 
certainly in the wider American public too. We’ll explore this more in a few weeks when 
we look at that particular struggle in the Civil Rights unit, but I wanted to point that out 
now before moving on. Stay tuned for that. 

He then explained how the rationale and images of war people saw on television, when coupled 

with the demographics of conscription, increasingly found a divided nation with people speaking 

out and demonstrating. 

 

With some brief framing, he then punctuated content knowledge with the use of period-

related video. The students viewed a tense scene from The 60’s (NBC TV Miniseries) depicting 

an argument among two men about the validity of the war. They also saw a short clip from a 

documentary about the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS)

88

 which highlighted the group's 

formation, goals, and activities. Moving through a few more slides respectively entitled “African 

Americans in Vietnam, “The New Left”, and “From Protest to Resistance”, the class explored 

statistics about disparities based on class and race, the social divisions among ‘hawks’ versus 

‘doves’, large protests in across the country, and how these demonstrations were bemoaned as 

unpatriotic; a form of speech that many ridiculed and some wanted to officially restrict. As a case 

in point, Vince pointed to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On?. Beginning to roll and nod their 

heads with the rhythm, students became transfixed as Gaye’s smooth voice washed over their 

ears with poignant words flashing across the screen. Quite strategically, Vince drew attention to 

lyrics before hitting play and recited a few of them after: 

Mother, mother — There’s too many of you crying 

 Complete with songs and footage from the era, the Youtube documentary, Students For a Democratic Society, can 

88
be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jCR46YyKuk

 

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Brother, brother, brother —There’s far too many of you dying 
You know we've got to find a way — To bring some lovin' here today,  
Picket lines and picket signs — Don't punish me with brutality  
Talk to me, so you can see — Oh, what's going on (1971). 

By providing background knowledge, asking guiding questions, and contextualizing the times, 

Vince provided a portrait of the historical period (Reisman & Wineburg, 2008) He explicitly 

asked about the word choice, the meaning of “brother”. He wondered, what it was that ‘was go-

ing on’? Tre had a guess. According to Tre, what ‘was going on’ was that poor Black men were 

dying in “a rich white man’s war”. Vince paused to let the comment hang in the air. Tammia 

broke the silence to affirm him, “Oh, you woke Tre!” As Vince’s slow and confident nods re-

vealed his pleasure with the insight, Marcus enthusiastically slapped Tre high-five, “that’s my 

man!”. Affirmed by his teacher and a few peers, Tre seemed to beam with pride because it was 

his comment that clarified for his peers one of the ugly inequalities of the draft. With the class 

now seeing the era’s tensions a little more clearly, Vince explained there were many factors in the 

60’s (e.g. housing, waste collection, policing, & inequalities in schooling) adding up and “com-

ing to a head” in society. As an instance of this, Vince explained a bit about the ‘Detroit Riots’ of 

1967; how the events might be better understood “not as riots because that language places 

blame, like who’s at fault? Well, Black people. But rather thinking of it as an uprising might be 

more accurate because people were rising up against racism; fighting back against the oppression 

that stemmed from longstanding inequalities and oppressions based on race, and class too”. This 

attention to language modeled for the students both an empathetic posture and the critically 

thinking necessary to rethink historical narratives that omit the role of perspective as it intersects 

with the omnipresence of race, class, and power.   

 

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As if to punctuate this point about inequality, Vince strategically pivoted away from the 

era’s Black experience to contrast that draft reality with examples of powerful and/or famous 

men who either ‘dodged’/avoided the draft or were fortunate enough to take other routes to avoid 

combat: George W. Bush, who joined the Coast Guard; Bill Clinton, who enrolled in college; Ted 

Nugent, who evaded the draft by taking drugs, not bathing, and acting insane during his physical; 

and even the 45th President of United States. Showing his draft cared (figure 50 below) Vince 

Figure 50. Image: A screenshot of Donald Trump’s draft card, taken from Vince’s slideshow.

discussed multiple reports of Donald Trump —via his wealthy and well-connected father— be-

ing granted an exemption from a podiatrist who may have never even examined him (Eder, 

2018). The ‘historical feel’ of the content was rubbing off on 7th period (Endacott, 2010). Feel-

ing indignant, Jamari scoffed, “That’s a bunch of BS. Got a rich daddy and that’s it… And you 

know what?! He might even send people to fight before too long”. The feel of repugnance at the 

(historical) inequality was palpable and perhaps a bit infectious. Though I was normally quiet in 

the back left corner of the room, I found myself audibly scoffing in agreement with Jamari. 

 

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Bringing the drama embedded in historical content to bear on the present, Vince then 

used the past to interpret the present (Barton & Levstik, 2004; Kohlmeier, J. 2006). “Speaking of 

President Trump”, he transitioned, “enduring tensions over what patriotism is and what free 

speech is, are still going on today; aren’t they?”. He asked (rather rhetorically) if the class was 

familiar with President Trump’s call for NFL players to be fired for protesting police brutality by 

kneeling during the national anthem; mostly lackluster nods and ‘uh-huh’s’ indicated the students 

were vaguely aware. Vince introduced a clip from a VICE Documentary How NFL Protests Mir-

ror Berkeley’s 1960s Free Speech Movement (figure 51 below). Students watched intently as they 

Figure 51. Slide: This slide contained VICE News documentary footage of NFL players taking a 
knee in protest of police brutality. The documentary linked free speech protest back to Vietnam.

saw Black players respond to the President’s suggestion that protesting players  should be fired 

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by NFL owners. When video had transitioned to Berkley’s ban, in the 1960’s, on political activity 

and concluded making its point, Vince asked, “In what ways do you see history repeating itself 

here? How does that make you feel?”. Students identified incredulity being directed toward those 

who spoke out against injustice, specifically seeing a common thread of the powerful attempting 

 Trump also referred to Colin Kaepernick—a now iconic NFL player, who knelt during the national anthem in 

89
protest of police brutality—as a “son of a bitch”. 

 

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to silence critical views, often associated with minorities and younger people. Vince then prod-

ded further about defining what constitutes patriotism. While this may not have registered with 

as many students as the previous point about being threatened by expressions of free speech, a 

slew of nodding heads suggested that some were recognizing a narrow version of what it meant/

means to be patriotic can be used to silence dissent. Vince proceeded through content in this way, 

Figure 52. Slide: Vince’s slide discussing the sinking morale among US soldiers as it was ex-
pressed in phenomena like fragging and drug use. This slide also showed two pictures of 

Vince’s father (blacked out face on top left and right); Vince additionally added commentary 

from his father’s perspective.

critically considered the present in light of the past. With slide about “Sinking Morale”, Vince 

unpacked a fading among the soldiers and how they sometimes responded with drug use and tak-

ing drastic actions against their superiors (figure 52 below).  

 

With about five to seven minutes left in the period, students’ responses, body language, 

and interacted told me they were grasping the context, chronology, and the weight of the histori-

cal moment (Foster & Yeager, 1998). Given this information and relevance, Vince chose an in-

teresting way to conclude the lesson; a simulation of being drafted into the Vietnam War. He ex-

 

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plained how in 1969 the Selective Service System instituted a lottery system that selected draft-

aged men to fight based on a numerical system corresponding to their birthdays: 

Low numbers would have a high chance of being drafted, high numbers would likely be 
spared. For instance, if you were between the ages of 18-25 and born on September14th 
—which was assigned the number 001— you would be drafted, unless you got a defer-
ment for one of the reasons we discussed. 

Vince pulled up an interactive website (figure 53 below), explaining it as a tool to simulate if 

Figure 53. Picture: A picture of Vince’s projector screen when he simulated drafting the class 

into the war via the Selective Service System using an interactive website.

“you would have been drafted”. He asked Marcus for his birth date and typed it into the search 

bar. Marcus had a high number, so Vince told him he’d be fine. Everyone  became curious. Stu

90

-

dents then eagerly began to offer up their birthday’s to see if they would have been drafted. 

When it was revealed that Jamari’s birthday gave him a low number, he smacked his lips to sig-

nal his displeasure, “they (sic) not taking me, I’m grown!!”. Vince told him that if he couldn’t 

find a powerful relative to pay a doctor to help him fail his physical, he would likely be sent to 

90
 On my own, I even went to the site and discovered my birthday—March 11th, assigned the relatively low number 
of 136—would have put me around the top third of the dates most likely to be drafted. Like the students of 7th peri-
od, I sincerely grimaced as I imagined have to fight in Vietnam.

 

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Vietnam. The bell rang. Though it was the last period of the day, and students had social lives 

and buses to catch, they lingered until each of them (even the girls who knew they would be his-

torically exempted from the draft) had placed their birthday in the lottery system.  

 

After the bell, students demonstrated empathic responses and intrinsic curiosity; they 

were thinking historically. To better personalize and understand the predicament of draft-aged 

men, they wanted additional clarity and offered their own health information as potential bases 

for deferment. Vince warned that the military wasn’t easily convinced and offered anecdotes 

from men in his father’s (who he explained as “a hawk who actually volunteered to fight in Viet-

nam”) platoon, who were unsuccessful in seeking a deferment. While others wondered about 

how to out-smart the system or provocatively suggest they would volunteer to fight, I realized 

the students were organically thinking with content knowledge and talking to each other: 

Mikayla: What if I can’t see good?  
Vince: Depends on how bad, but even so, there are lots of jobs in the military that don’t 
require strong eyesight. 
Joe: Oh that would suck. I wouldn’t fight. I’d be a dove or something. Maybe even move 
to Canada! 
Vince: Gotta be careful with that Joe, recall that lots of people would be arrested for 
dodging the draft. If not put in jail, conscientious objectors —who were ridiculed a lot— 
would then be assigned some form of noncombatant service, if they didn’t get in trouble. 
Marcus: [being contrarian, with a mischievous smile] Oh, I’d just go fight then. I’d be a 
hawk, like your dad, Mr. L. 
Tammia: [rolling her eyes] Marcus, you’re crazy! 
Mike: [smiling mischievously as he was getting up to leave] I’d just pretend to be crazy. 
Vince: Let’s talk more about this tomorrow! 

The formula of a multimodal lesson that included affectively charged content, engaged students 

in historical thinking and historical empathy. By my count, on this particular day, Vince asked 35 

 

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questions and his students —unprompted— asked him 11 questions that I would consider higher-

order

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. The lesson seemed to work so well that Vince had to remind his students that, while they 

didn’t have to leave, they might need to be going so they wouldn’t miss their bus. 

IV. CAVEATS & CONCLUSIONS


Caveats 
 

Vince’s practice regularly afforded students with affective proximity to the emotions and 

actions of others (and sometimes those who had been ‘othered’) in history as it made deliberate 

space for the cognitive processing necessary to understand them (Gerdes et al., 2011). But as was 

the case with Jimi, Vince only incorporated two of the three components of Elizabeth Segal’s 

model of empathy; individual empathy and contextual understanding, not necessarily a tangible 

sense of social responsibility (2011). I also initially worried Vince’s craft would be too teacher-

centered and that he might overuse video (Mitra et al., 2010). And in some ways, it was and he 

did. Day in and day out, his voice was unquestionably the most prominent. Vince told me that, 

“in a vacuum”, he wished for more student talk and discussion, but reasoned that due to content 

coverage, novice understandings of history, and the relative academic immaturity of ninth 

graders, it was best that he “had the reigns most of the time” to dispense knowledge and ensure 

pacing was maintained. He supposed his teacher-centrality was mitigated a bit by a commitment 

to modeling historical thinking and skills for his students, further reasoning that he was “setting 

them up for the future”, both in his class and beyond. Perhaps looking to justify his practice and 

demonstrate wider differentiation, Vince told me that his AP sections of older students were 

much more conversational; he said discussion often flourished there. Though I did not observe 

 Bloom’s taxonomy, for instance, considers items that go beyond mere recall (such as application, analysis, syn

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thesis, and creation) to be higher-order.

-

 

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any purely student-lead discussions in the general sections of US History, nor did I see what I 

would consider in-depth conversation, Vince was self-aware and self-critical in conversations 

with me, often critiquing himself without my prompting. I wondered about the impact of my 

presence during these moments, that perhaps he wanted to ‘do right by me’ as someone he under-

stood to be connected to a respected teacher preparation institution. Either way and especially 

since Vince was proactive and driven, he still had the autonomy to format and/or re-format his 

practice such that it was more collaborative. Despite this, he rationalized his teacher-centered-

ness  as the result of curricular demands and pursing the modes of instruction he was best at. 

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But like many experienced professionals, Vince did not hold a naive or rosy view of his practice 

because he simultaneously wished he was “more well-rounded” in his pedagogy. Vince was re-

flective, and somewhat of an optimist, also encouraged by his effectiveness at working through a 

system that paced individual lessons and curriculum across different sections of US History, 

found students learning/seeming to enjoy it, and found him often affirmed by his administrators 

and peers. 

 

Vince liked to hold tightly to his ‘game-plan’, but still had the presence of mind to ac-

knowledge how such an adherence likely precluded opportunities for teachable moments and 

spontaneous responsiveness to student questions, concerns, and interests. While his systematic 

approach was marked by differentiation and had enlivened ways to cover lots of ground, the 

format was mostly the same from day to day. Being a person who prefers variety and autonomy, I 

 If it seems that I’m being 'too easy on’ Vince (or my other participants), it is because at the outset of the project, I 

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decided that when I considered the teachers’ practices, I wanted to prioritize empathy over judgement as I consid-
ered their work. As someone who has taught US History to high school students, and therefore also feeling similar 
demands given a scarcity of time and resources, I stand behind adopting a posture that is more sympathetic than crit-
ical.

 

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wondered how students (like myself) who thrive with more freedom might have felt with a such 

a formulaic course. No doubt, one limitation of this study is that it only directly accessed the 

teachers and the materials they chose; my inferences as to how students perceived their classes 

are therefore limited. Though my eyes and ears were stimulated time again with aesthetic and 

affective elements of Vince’s practice, I also wondered about two other things: if my unusual en-

thusiasm for history artificially inflated my perception of the students’ interest and engagement 

and; secondly, if I would have held such a positive perception of the formulaic approach if it in-

volved teaching another subject, particularly one that I was disinterested in. Indeed, further study 

incorporating student interviews could help iron these questions out.


 

The high emphasis on extensive content coverage —sometimes construed as synonymous 

with a ‘just-the-facts’ approach— observed in Vince’s teaching is not typically known for being 

affective or able to address the heart, senses, or even broader purposes of social studies disci-

plines (Grant, 2001). Since (as I discussed when stating my positionality and assumptions), I pre-

fer a more critical, historically progressive, and student-centered approach over and against tradi-

tional conceptions which typically emphasize ‘just-the-facts’, standardization, and content cov-

erage (Garrett, 2011), I was skeptical when I initially met Vince. I had heard about his reputation 

for exquisite content knowledge, I knew of his extensive curation of resources, and that, as his 

colleague Edward suggested, ‘Vince would be unstoppable on [the trivia gameshow] Jeopardy’. 

After initially interviewing him and watching a couple of lessons, Vince’s passion for and fidelity 

to history content was striking. He knew a lot and his students were exposed to a lot. My initial 

supposition was that his practice would largely be a bonafide sort of ‘just-the-facts’ approach, 

thinly veiled by the use of digital technology, and omissive of the loftier human dimensions that 

 

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my scholarship seeks to investigate. Yet in the end, I was surprised (and even mistaken) to see 

how his roughly scientific approach regularly animated the affective domain and was leveraged 

toward critical thinking and sometimes even considerations of justice. On a practical level, an-

other useful aspect of following a predictable route was that when students were absent and 

needed to make up work, Vince’s organization , strategies, and curated resources made it easy 

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for them to catch up. What I came to see was that, at least in Vince’s mind, his teaching was 

heading somewhere beyond the content that he so dearly loved. He saw his pedagogy as helping 

students play the game of school and the game of life. As coach Vince Lombardi’s influence 

went beyond football, Vince the teacher’s influence was not confined just to the robust content 

and refined pedagogy he had been tinkering with for 18 years. 

Conclusions 
 

If Vince’s pauses in instruction revealed that something —whether a concept, definition, 

historic theme, or student comment— was significant within the small moments of a lesson, it 

seemed this phenomena also held for larger aspects of curriculum as well. In the wider scope of 

his practice, Vince only paused or took a break from the execution of his formulaic approach for 

two items; to watch a film (after finishing a unit) or to work on a project at the end of the se-

mester. As mentioned previously, feature length films were viewed only after content knowledge 

and historical significance had accumulated in such a way that students could watch to not only 

to be entertained, but also to utilize historical empathy, recognize context, and better understand 

and appreciate the people and issues of the past (Stoddard, 2012). Unsurprisingly, I observed 

more regular and spirited interactions from minority students when such aspects of Vince’s class 

 Vince made his (google) slideshows and video clips used in class readily available for students so they could re

93
trieve the information contained in their guided notes and keep pace with curriculum.

-

 

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represented them. As I talked with him about the issue of representation, Vince seemed aware 

that in order to more consistently and effectively access the hearts and minds of students, stu-

dents would need to see themselves in the curriculum. In a round about way, Vince told me that, 

though he still had a long way to go, he had been making strides in bringing in content represen-

tative of minorities; he was clear that it wasn’t this way when he started. From my observations, 

interviews, and consideration of materials, I deduced that this impulse mostly meant an increased 

representation of the African American and/or Black people when encountering Civil Rights (and 

a bit in other units ) and Indigenous peoples when broaching his unit on Western Expansion. 

94

Since the role of films/videos relevant to these eras has already considered, it is most fitting to 

attend to the other, and perhaps more important, item that warranted a pause in or break from 

Vince’s instruction; the final project. 

 

The capstone of Vince’s US History class was a student-centered Civil Rights research 

project that took place at the end of the school year that would result in students making and pre-

senting a booklet (see figure 54 on the next page). Throughout the Fall semester and the rest of 

the year, students were exposed to several smaller activities, but none so intensive as the year-

end project. Vince explained to me that part of the reason why he was disciplined in keeping an 

efficient pace through curriculum was so that his classes would have ample time to learn content 

and work within his longest unit that featured over 21 days of instruction. After seven days of 

general instruction about Civil Rights, several class periods were devoted to unpacking various 

 Elements of Immigration, World War II, and other units did address a legacy of racism in the United States. How

94
ever, it would be a stretch to suggest that such historical understandings were used to encounter the present. Ad-
dressing historical racism can make for a remarkable opportunities to spotlight and implicate items such as white 
supremacy as an enduring and ongoing reality that not only ‘was’, but still is woven into the fabric of our national 
story.

-

 

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Figure 54. Picture: The cover of a student’s booklet for the year-end Civil Rights project.

expressions of the wider movement(s) that normally are lumped together without nuance or ig-

nored altogether. One day summarized and focused “African American Civil Rights”. Another 

day attended to Gay rights. Two days were invested in understanding Latinx rights (with one of 

those days spent viewing Teaching Tolerance’s documentary Viva La Causa ). Likewise, one 

95

day was set aside for women’s rights. Finally, two days were devoted to Indigenous Rights as 

well. The remaining 6 days of the unit found the class taking a rare break from the typical 

slideshows to give students time to work (under Vince’s guidance) as they researched a particular 

movement of their choice. The project began with modeling as Vince showed examples of previ-

ous students’ work. In step with the classes’ roughly scientific orientation, this assignment pro-

vided students with steps to follow as they (also building on notes from class) used their 

 Meaning “The Cause” in Spanish, La Causa was a movement of Mexican American agricultural work

95
ers started by César Chávez and Dolores Huerta in 1962.

-

 

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Chromebooks to do research from various websites Vince selected in advance. The students were 

given a scaffold to frame in their projects, a fourfold organizational schema that considered: 1) 

historical wrongdoings; 2) key people and events that inspired the movement; 3) accomplish-

ments; and 4) issues not solved/still occurring. The structure offered thematic ways to investigate 

oppression, analyze how minorities were not merely passive victims but were instead proactively 

organized and resistant, and also draw their own conclusions about the ongoing nature of in-

equality and oppression (e.g. Black people facing police brutality and persistent wage disparities 

between men and women). Along the way, students watched additional film and video clips, 

drew or printed off pictures to illustrate iconic aspects of the movements (see figures 55 and 56 

on the follow page for examples of student projects), and presented their work in class the day 

before final exam preparation began.  

 

Vince hoped this project would demonstrate general learning, but also that many chapters 

and aspects of US history were still being written and that, even if in small ways, adept students 

of history could perhaps write themselves into the story. When I asked him about something he 

was proud of in his practice, Vince told me that a few weeks prior, immediately following spring 

break, one of his previous students approached him after taking some college visits to HBCU’s 

(Historically Black Colleges and Universities) in Alabama and Georgia. Vince said the young 

man stopped by after school to show him pictures he had personally taken of one of Birming-

ham’s most iconic  National Historic Landmarks, the 16th Street Baptist Church. “I could tell 

96

how much that trip meant to him, I was honored he connected it to class and wanted to share it 

96
 A registered site in the Birmingham Civil Rights District, the 16th Street Baptist church was an organizational 
headquarters and rallying point throughout the 60’s. The church was also bombed by the KKK in 1963, taking the 
lives of four young girls —Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson, Cynthia Wesley, and Denise McNair— injuring 
another 22. It remains in operation to this day and is frequented by a number of visitors each year.

 

185

with me. If I’m honest, I actually got a little emotional on the way home.” It was these messy 

interplays of facts and feelings, of formal content and informal interactions, and of precise defin-

itions, glowing screens, and anecdotal stories that gave me confidence that at least some of his 

students were encountering history not just affectively and cognitively, but also meaningfully and 

personally. 


Figure 55. The first two pages of a student’s project on “Native Rights”; like the previous fig-
ure, these two (of five) pages in the pamphlet record various historical wrongdoings, accom-

plishments, inspirations and major events.

Figure 56. Picture: The first two pages of a student’s project on “African American” rights; these 

two (of five) pages in the pamphlet record various historical wrongdoings, accomplishments, 

inspirations and major events.

 

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CHAPTER 6: SITUATING & ENVISIONING SENSATIONAL TEACHING  

“We talkin’ about practice, man. What are we talkin’ about?  

Practice. We talkin’ about practice, man.” 
- NBA Hall of Fame basketball player, Allen Iverson 

“Teachers who are alienated, passive, and unquestioning cannot make such initiations 
possible for those around. Nor can teachers who take the social reality surrounding them 
for granted and simply accede to them. Again, I am interested in trying to awaken educa-
tors to a realization that transformations are conceivable, that learning is stimulated by a 

sense of future possibility and by a sense of what might be.”  

- Maxine Greene in Landscapes of Learning, 1978, p. 3.  

I. SENSATIONAL TEACHING 

 

It’s not surprising that a dissertation entitled “Sensational Teaching” is concerned with 

making teaching more ‘sensational’. But before proceeding, I must —again— be clear about the 

sort of ‘sensational’ being put forth. In my usage, sensational is not synonymous with adjectives 

like “excellent” or “superb” that mean instances of teaching are somehow positive, neither does 

it focus on instructing in ways deemed effective during standard evaluations. Sensational teach-

ing is indeed positive, but I don’t mean it like that. Rather, in this work, ‘sensational’ speaks to 

the multifaceted ways inner experiences and the senses are necessary for deep learning. Sensa-

tional teaching is accordingly interested in aesthetics and instructional methods that evoke such 

feelings precisely for their unique ability to address students’ affective domain. Yet, I’m not satis-

fied with the mere presence of sensation  in school or of just having feelings present for their 

97

own sake. I hope sensations and feelings manifest in explicitly educative and socially productive 

97
 No doubt, people always have some form of sensations and feelings in and about school, even if they are negative 
and/or underwhelming. The meaningful questions here surround the quality and type of sensations and feelings that 
engendered therein and their ability to be educative. 

 

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ways. This thick conception of teaching and learning insists that instead of ignoring or (unwit-

tingly) denying the full spectrum of human nature, schooling ought to anticipate, embrace, and 

seize upon it. Sensational teaching therefore hopes to move education beyond the thin slice of 

cognition that only occurs ‘mentally’ in the left hemisphere of the brain to consider how compre-

hensive and meaningful learning also involves what happens bodily, emotionally/viscerally, and 

socially. What this calls for on a concrete level is a break from the traditional materials and 

methods that tranquilize. Norms that make for anesthetized schooling are those that are more 

likely to be ‘neck-up’, left-brained, and skewed toward teacher-centrality and student passivity. 

While more specificity will be offered later (see figure 63 on pp.146-47), it is also imperative to 

note sensational teaching not only demands explicit relevance to students’ personal and civic 

lives, but also a marked criticality and rigor of thought in terms of higher-order thinking and at-

tention to issues of ethics and justice. 

 

Someone recently asked me if I considered thinking or feeling as most important in the 

learning process. My answer was “yes”. I think feeling is important and I feel that thinking is 

important. Although the notion of a clean break between the ‘head and heart’ is a myth, it is a 

seductive illusion that has permeated throughout and thoroughly shaped orientations of schooling 

in the late modern West (Shusterman, 2011). Joining the chorus of scholars like Dewey, Greene, 

and Shusterman, I reject wholesale the dualist assumption that thinking and feeling are separate 

or can somehow be separated. While some experiences and activities undoubtedly skew towards 

what might be deemed respectively emotional (e.g. experiencing a loved one’s funeral) or cogni-

tive (e.g. solving a crossword puzzle), thinking is necessarily intertwined with feeling and vice 

versa. After all, a funeral involves (albeit emotionally messy) mental processing as we contem-

 

188

plate: memories; a legacy; how to socialize with and comfort others; abstract concepts like time 

and mortality; and even ponder extrapolative thoughts about the future. On the other hand, work-

ing on a crossword puzzle —something supposed to be emotionally vacant— can actually pro-

mote a tranquil mood, invoke pleasure via a sense of amusement, or when accomplished, even 

help a person feel intelligent. 

 

In short, sensational teaching is built upon the intersection of affect, aesthetics, and edu-

cation. Affect is an emotion or desire that influences behavior. Affect was first advanced theoret-

ically by Spinoza who posited that the mind’s power to think is often (and deeply) tied to exter-

nal stimuli that, when encountered, aid or diminish a body’s capacity to act (Shouse, 2005). Giles 

Deleuze later attended to the transformative nature of interactions between subjects and objects 

(1984) and later with (along with Felix Guattari), described art as radically creative and power-

ful, insisting that robust encounters with it can produce new ways of being in the world (1994). 

Another building block is aesthetics, which is generally interested in the study and appreciation 

of the arts. Aesthetics in education is often interested in the use of music/lyrics, film/television, 

graphic novels, and other performative or emotive elements in classrooms. To theorize affect and 

aesthetics, I draw upon a Deweyan awareness that the essence of art doesn’t ultimate reside in a 

physical thing itself. Instead, the power of aesthetics lies within experience, the interactions or 

interplay between people and objects (1934). Garrett & Kerr’s explicate this notion further by 

stressing how new possibilities are opened up when aesthetic experiences occur. As such, these 

interactions can use the senses to transform people as they make meanings, interpretations, and 

recognize and reconsider their place in the world (2016). 

 

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II. SITUATING SENSATIONAL TEACHING 

Square Peg & A Round Hole  
 

A thoughtful observer of this project will likely have noticed how it attempts to operate 

‘outside the box’ of common educational norms. As such, one might expect an open-ended and 

non-traditional conclusion that imagines how sensational teaching might be taken up in creative 

ways which serve teachers’ autonomy and unique convictions about the field. I plan to go that 

route. Yet before doing that —even though it could be viewed as a pragmatic concession to larger 

educational currents— I still feel compelled to address the field in ways that acknowledge more 

traditional orientations of teaching in order to be more compatible with them. After all, one chap-

ter speaks to the ‘art’ of sensational teaching, another speaks to the ‘science’. Indeed my partici-

pants were different and not all teaching candidates are the same. Since one of the most germane 

aspects of this study ultimately lies is its implications for teacher preparation, I want to maximize 

as much uptake as possible across the varied array of ideological commitments that stakeholders 

have. To do this, the proceeding sections represent an attempt to transpose ideals of sensational 

teaching into more tangible outcomes, some of which may be considered somewhat predictable. 

Thus, before concluding in a more intuitive way, it my be shrewd to additionally invest energy to 

‘fit a square peg in a round hole’. 

 

Particularly as the field touches upon secondary social studies and English education, ex-

amining the relationship between sensations and learning is exceedingly relevant to the craft of 

teaching. Prospective (and practicing) teachers ought to be familiar and proficient with an array 

of teaching strategies, various learning styles, learning outcomes, enacting curriculum, and in-

trinsic motivation. To this end, there exists promising insights for teaching with aesthetics and 

affect; taking up these principles could empower future educators with theoretical insights and 

 

190

even impactful best practices (Deleuze & Stivale, 1984; Shouse, 2005; Marcus, 2010; Linebarg-

er, 2011; Stoddard, 2012; Russell, 2012). As teacher preparation seeks to prepare its candidates 

for the broad and holistic technological and social realities of the 21st century, it must not lose 

sight of the broad and holistic realities of human nature that have existed in the past and will ex-

ist in the future. Yet before directly considering some implications of this study, it is beneficial to 

further situate this work within in the field, namely in terms of how to conceive of education. 

Talkin’ About Practice 
 

 

The enterprise of teaching —and by extension how to best prepare teachers— is concep-

tualized in many different ways. Some see teaching as fundamentally revolving around a collec-

tion of knowledge domains, conceptual principles (e.g. overarching guidelines like the Danielson 

framework), or even the amalgam of a practical toolkit that involves strategies (e.g. lecture or 

‘think-pair-share’). Instead of understanding the field in those ways, sensational teaching is most 

compatible with a conception of teaching that centers more directly on fundamental capacities 

that shape what teachers ought to be able to do in real time. Since teaching ultimately requires 

tangible skills for orchestrating instruction with holistically human students, sensational teaching 

is best suited by two approaches —informed by understandings of teachers as decision-makers 

and reflective practitioners— that emphasize teachers’ behavior (Grossman, Hammerness, & 

McDonald; 2009). Sensational teaching should neither be thought of as purely theoretical nor 

entirely practical. Rather, it is best understood as a fundamental orientation or competency that 

can be both practically exercised and theorized across contexts like K-12 placements, college 

courses, or even in professional development. 

 

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The institutions and scholars that conceive of teaching as a practice would probably be 

most amenable to this project. But it is first worth considering how the term is being used be-

cause it has meant different things and has been used in different ways in discussions surround-

ing teacher preparation. For instance, Forzani (2014) pointed out that practice-based ways of 

learning to teach are distinct from developing core (or high leverage) practices. On one hand, 

‘practice-based’ teacher education, often seen as a departure from tradition academic or theoreti-

cal approaches, is an approach that concentrates on experiences with the practical realities of the 

classroom. Accordingly, to produce strong teaching candidates, these practical practice-based 
programs emphasize and maximize the role of teaching placements and having field experiences. 

On the other hand, there is a sense that teaching as ‘practice’ speaks to concrete teaching com-

plex techniques or behavioral capabilities —often referred to as core or high-leverage prac-

tices— that novice teachers must learn to master prior to assuming classroom responsibilities. 

Forazani (2014) explained that the sort of preparation oriented around skilled practices then, is 

“less concerned with where teachers’ training takes place and more with what teachers are helped 

to learn and how they learn it” (p. 358). Programs that emphasize this iteration of practice typi-

cally promote three essential ideas in common; first, all students are meant to achieve ambitious 

learning goals (e.g. critical thinking and problem-solving skills); second, these core practices are 

partially improvisational in that they hinge on the unpredictable realities of classrooms in real-

time that novices must learn to manage; and finally, subject matter becomes important as it 

serves the goals and activities of the preparatory curriculum (2014).  

 

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Skilled Practices 
 

Leaning into my earlier concession about fitting a ‘square peg into a round hole’, one 

might now expect me to talk about best-practices and associated literature. Though perhaps 

somewhat antithetical to this dissertation, I can still envision how sensational teaching might be 

taken up as an aptitude that can be learned and taught. After all, if this project merely reveals ap-

titudes people are born with, its utility to equip and empower prospective and practicing teachers 

is quite limited. Though I believe sensational teaching is largely intuitive and admittedly some-

what nebulous —more of an art than a science if you will— it seems nearly self-evident that 

teachers can learn to and improve at fostering inner experiences and tapping into the senses to 

create deeper learning. In this vein, it is worth noting that skilled practices are those that preser-

vice teachers could learn to be more proficient in specifically as it is understood in terms core 

or

98

 high-leverage practices (HLPs), which are often said to be expressions of ambitious teaching 

(McDonald et al., 2014; Windschitl et al., 2012). These practices —anchored in significant learn-

ing goals for K-12 students and scholarly conclusions about how novices learn to teach— are 

essentially refined skills that are both complex and foundational, “specific, routine aspects of 

teaching that demand the exercise of professional judgment and the creation of meaningful intel-

lectual and social community for teachers, teacher educators, and students” (McDonald, Kazemi, 

& Kavanagh; 2013, p. 378). In 2009, Grossman, Hammerness, & McDonald, set forth general 

criteria about what practices that should be targeted by teacher education. Although there is some 

 Several scholars use this language with further and important distinctions, but for the functional purposes of this 

98
project, I —rather confidently— use ‘core practices’ and ‘high-leverage practices’ interchangeably because both 
terms refer to developing and refining skills that are explicit and important to the work of teaching and learning to 
teach with excellence.

 

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variance definitions, all conceptions of core or high-average practices share the following char-

acteristics:  

- Practices that occur with high frequency in teaching; 
- Practices that novices can enact in classrooms across different curricula or instruction-

al approaches; 

- Practices that novices can actually begin to master; 
- Practices that allow novices to learn more about students and about teaching; 
- Practices that preserve the integrity and complexity of teaching, and; 
- Practices that are research-based and have the potential to improve student achieve-

ment (p. 277). 

 

Such practices generally represent the abilities novices must become proficient with in 

order to be responsible and able practitioners. Used widely across subject areas, grade levels, and 

contexts, such competencies are considered to be fundamental precisely because they are used 

frequently, are necessary for improving the quality of teaching, and are crucially important to 

supporting the learning and social and emotional development of students (TeachingWorks, 

2020). Offering clinical specificity, TeachingWorks’

99

 utilizes the aforementioned criteria by fo

-

cusing on the development of specific high-leverage practices novices experiment with, rehearse 

in simulations/approximations, and utilize when teaching in classrooms.  

 

The distinguished list of core practices (see figure 57 on the next page) absolutely repre-

sents much of what teachers need to do to be effective, especially at tapping into the left hemi-

sphere of students’ cognitive processing. Yet, when specifically attending to the undergirding pil-

lars of thought that situate sensational teaching, I can’t help but wonder if the present list of high-

99
 As a clinical approach to learning to teaching, TeachingWorks offers the high-leverage practices framework that 
focuses on novices developing a set of core practices that allow them to experiment, rehearse in simulations/approx-
imations and practicing teaching in classrooms can be a helpful reference point. The experiential work of enacting 
important practices with learners (whether with peers or teacher educators in simulations or with K-12 students in 
placements) is valuable precisely because it simultaneously involves experience with decision-making and opportu-
nities to reflect on the outcomes and implications of such teaching. Thus, experience with high-leverage practices 
can help novices develop an effective practice replete with reflection and awareness of salient aspects of learning 
(Grossman, Hammerness, & McDonald; 2009).

 

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TeachingWorks’ High-Leverage Practices (HLPs): 

1. Leading a group discussion 
2. Explaining and modeling content, practices and strategies 
3. Eliciting and interpreting individual students’ thinking 
4. Diagnosing patterns of student thinking 
5.

Implementing norms and routines for classroom discourse 
and work 

6. Coordinating and adjusting instruction 
7. Establishing and maintaining community expectations and 

agreements about behavior 
Implementing organizational routines 

8.
9. Setting up and managing small group work 
10. Building respectful relationships with students 
11. Communicating with families 
12. Learning about students 
13. Setting learning goals 
14. Designing single lessons and sequences of lessons 
15. Checking student understanding 
16. Selecting and designing assessments 
17. Interpreting student work 
18. Providing feedback to students 
19. Analyzing instruction for the purpose of improving it

[Figure 57. List: The 19 High-Leverage Practices put forth by TeachingWorks.]

leverage practices is too sterile or underwhelming in its consideration of the bodily, visceral, and 

social elements of humanity that flow out the more cardinal desires, hopes, and fears that are 

preeminent in our existence. What would Dewey —attending carefully to aesthetics and its relat-

ed experiences—, Deleuze —concentrating on the power of affect to alter being in the world—, 

Greene —so attuned to transformation and wide-awake-ness— and Shusterman —fixated on the 

role of the body in learning and in experience—, might have to add about humanizing such 

teaching capacities? Surely these antecedents take priority over and ultimately explain the rea-

soning for quality instruction. I mean, at the end of the day, why else ought teachers build com-

munity or promote discussion? Why set learning goals or provide feedback? What is the 

purpose(s) and how can that purpose(s) be more explicit in the midst of learning essential prac-

 

195

tices? Favorable observations or improvements on standardized testing is well and good, but 

that’s not why anyone chooses to go into teaching, nor is it why we educate students in the first 

place. Surely, these important pedagogical skills are means to a greater end that cannot be omit-
ted from what it means to teach live well. Poignantly, the French writer and aviator Antoine de 

Saint-Exupéry said, “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide 

the work, and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea” (1948). So, 

as we ponder what makes for good teaching, we mustn’t let the how draw us away from the why, 

nor assume or take for granted the most important and virtuous ends of profession as we invite 

novices to learn it. 

 

Although sensational teaching is can described as a general phenomena punctuated by a 

disposition inclined to utilize practices that tap into and bolster the totality of our humanity 

(rather than a singular skill like leading a discussion), it maps onto a conception of teaching as 

the coalescence of skilled practices. That is, it is not optimally suited for a traditional paradigm, 

nor a purely academic/theoretical, purely practical, or represented by a toolkit of procedures and 

strategies. And since teaching as skilled practices fits well with the ‘scientific’ aspect of this 

project and is perhaps the most compelling way to produce capable teachers, there is natural 

connective tissue to a learning framework like TeachingWorks. As it stands though, the list of 

noble competencies omits the sort of directives that would constitute sensational teaching. As 

such, how might sensational teaching contribute to the project of developing proficiency in high-

leverage practices and better round out what it means to teach live well? If I may audaciously 

imagine another high-leverage practice for novices to become proficient with, perhaps it would 

read something like this: “20) Engaging students’ humanity through sensational practices”. Per-

 

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haps I’m getting ahead of myself and perhaps the nomenclature of sensational teaching is not 

essential either, I don’t need the recognition or the ink. Perhaps saying “engaging students’ hu-

manity through aesthetic and/or affective instruction” would suffice. Yet, the field generally and 

the humanities disciplines specifically —especially in an era of standardization, conformity, 

teacher burnout, unprecedented inequality, and bored and disconnected student— desperately 

needs to better access motivation, interest, and the core of what it means to human. 

 

Sensational teaching, as it has been articulated thus far, may still be a bit too broad to be-

come an infallible compliment to a list of high-leverage practices, but there is promise as it is 

conceived in roughly ‘scientific’ ways. Surely, there is more work to do to refine this fledgling 

idea. However, when understood charitably, the conceptual and practical aspects associated with 

sensational teachings are both distinct and called for. That is to say, to be a well-rounded teacher, 

novices must learn to do many things represented by TeachingWorks’ HLPs. Novices, and their 

students, will fail to meet the profession’s demands if they cannot perform these practices. But, 

novices (and experienced teachers) will likewise struggle to meet the profession’s demands, par-

ticularly regarding its humanistic qualities, if they cannot teach sensationally. As it stands, it is 

quite possible (if not common) to encounter a teacher who, for instance, can just diagnoses pat-

terns of student thinking, but cannot motivate; someone who can models strategies, but does not 

pique interest; someone who can interpret students’ thinking but does not engage them affective-

ly; someone who checks for cognitive understanding but does not bring affective passion or em-

pathy into the classroom. Sensational teaching could be a missing piece of the ‘necessary prac-

tices’ puzzle. 

 

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Concrete Ideas & Habits of Mind for Sensational Teaching  
 

On the surface, greater inquiry and attention to aesthetics and affect in teacher prepara-

tion and professional development might generally promote a greater use of items such as music/

lyrical analysis, film/television, graphic novels, and performance arts in the practical outworking 

of instruction (Clough & Halley, 2007). But, since the mere incorporation of digital technology 

or graphic novels, for instance, doesn’t necessarily ensure quality instruction, it appropriate to 

wonder how might these entities be used optimally in a more robustly humanistic approach to 

pedagogy. Digging deeper for distinct principles and interventions that could undergird holistic 

learning, sensational teaching necessarily brings considerations that demand more than simply 

teaching with a wider array of modalities. Going beyond teachers making minor adjustments in 

their teaching, this work calls for thinking about instruction with greater sophistication and giv-

ing more attention to the pedagogical implications of human capacities and interests. Thus, a 

markedly sensational conception of learning has philosophical and practical implications on con-

crete aspects of teaching (e.g. lesson planning, scaffolding instruction, and assessment), prepara-

tion, theories of learning, and motivation. 

 

As mentioned previously, though affective and aesthetic elements often come into play 

during instruction, they are often treated with less care than traditional instruction and are conse-

quently rarely taken up in ways that are rigorous, educative, or ambitious (Hobbs, 2006; Lampert 

et al. 2013). Sensational teaching seeks out and spotlights the importance of deeply incorporating 

aesthetics and affect. Instead of seeing these items as addendums or cosmetics, it is worth con-

sidering specifically how one might thoughtfully educate through the sensations in ways that 

productively lead to learning. The positive and negative themes drawn from this study’s qualita-

 

198

tive data suggests there are many concrete principles and practices educators can employ in order 

promote effective pedagogy. Since sensational teaching broadly envisions a mode of education 

that reunites the (whole of the) mind and body within instructional experiences, it consequently 

prescribes educators can take up in their practice:  

SENSATIONAL TEACHING’S 15 HABITS OF MIND :
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1)

Incorporate non-traditional materials and methods (e.g. digital media, music, and other aes-
thetic ‘texts’) that engage students’ senses and affective domain; 

2) To avoid didactic norms like teacher monologues, utilize non-traditional teaching methods 
(e.g. guided viewings, simulations, and participatory activities that rely upon student invest-
ment) that are interactive, student-centered, and experiential; 

3) Structure sensational elements of instruction with clear procedures and scaffolds that pro-

mote learning;  

4) Simultaneously anticipate the need to improvise, adapt, and respond to student responses and 

other unplanned elements of the classroom; 

5) Teach sensationally with educative purpose; incorporate learning objectives and make clear 

connections to content;  

6) Proactively develop and curate relevant content, activities, strategies, and lesson plans that 
engage the senses, provoke affective and cognitive responses, and relate to the circumstances 
and lived experiences of students; 

7) To prevent passive student consumption, create regular space for student feedback, auton-

omy, and interaction directly with (sensational) content; 

8) Differentiate instruction to address multiple senses and both hemispheres of the brain; 
9) Embody and project passion; for students and their learning, for content, for critical thinking, 

and for issues of justice; 

10) Instead of passive consumption or taking a break from teaching, pursue an active and acti-

vating pedagogy that invites student engages; 

11) Instead of merely learning factual information, also promote skill-development relating both 
to general higher-order thinking (e.g. argumentation) and specific subject-related skills (e.g. 
document analysis); 

12) Promote justice and practice empathy by incorporating ethical and emotive considerations 

that attend to issues of power, privilege, and perspective; 

13) Foster community through making prosocial, affirming, and personalized connections with 

students; 

14) Use self and student reflection to improve both learning outcomes and the quality of class-

room experiences; 

15) Link sensational elements of instruction with formative and summative assessment. 

Figure 58. List: This figure represents a list of sensational teaching’s 15 habits of mind.

100

 Also see Appendix C.

 

199

 

Although these suggestions can provide a framework to envisage a more humanized and 

holistic approach to instruction and might help teachers discern whether they are creating opti-

mal conditions for learning, I must add a caveat. Since this work lauds creativity and autonomy, 

it is leery of being overly directive or dogmatically prescribing ‘the one correct way’ to teach. I 

don’t believe there is just one way to teach. So instead of viewing the aforementioned items as 

rigorous checklist that teachers must ‘answer to’, my hope is that —especially those who take 

traditional views of teacher preparation— will be able to glean insight and have a reference point 

for their own actions during instruction. This means that I am not seeking to, for (habit of mind 

#9) instance, determine the specific volume, pace, or tone of voice a teacher ought to use during 

a given lesson. Rather, and trusting teachers’ discernment, I simply invite them to consider if 

they have adequately imbued their practice with passion. 

Ambitious Teaching, Deliberate Practice, & Rehearsal 
 

While it is heartening to see how the more scientific aspects of sensational teaching can 

be worked out concretely to function in concert with an established framework like high-lever-

age practices, it is also important to explore how the artistic or more qualitative elements of sen-

sational teaching (e.g. demonstrating passion, pursuing an activating pedagogy, and fostering 

community) might find resonance with other pedagogical aims that are perhaps a bit more quali-

tative. Beyond being taken as an interrelated set of concrete skills, sensational teaching —when 

taken as a more general proclivity— can also map on to the notion of ambitious teaching. Ambi-

tious teaching involves deep knowledge in three domains: 1) content knowledge, along with a 

corresponding belief in its potential to enrich students’ lives; 2) knowledge of students’ lives and 

perceptions of the world, and a pronounced optimism about their capabilities; and 3) knowledge 

 

200

of how to create space for students to holistically flourish in school and in life (Grant & Grad-

well; 2009). Like Windschitl et. al (2012), who draw upon ambitious teaching to argue that 

skilled practices ought to drive preparation, I too see value in emphasizing its triad of deep 

knowledge to drive the practices that support learning for pre-service teachers and K-12 students 

alike.  

 

To better orient and establish ambitious teaching, Lampert et al. bring to mind notions 

like “teaching for understanding, intellectually ambitious teaching and learning, and authentic 

pedagogy” to position students as “sense-makers” and teachers as curious investigators of learn-

ing who hold high expectations while enacting complex and thoughtful practices (2013, p. 227). 

While sensational teaching is distinct from ambitious teaching because of its pointed interest in 

pedagogical actions that simultaneous utilize affect and cognition, there is no doubt overlap in 

conceptions of the holistic aims role of education and students themselves. Jimi and Vince both 

represented cases of effective teaching, not only from the vantage point of positive evaluations 

based on reviews and test scores but also from more subjective pedagogical elements like moti-

vation, student engagement, and robust connections between students affective and cognitive 

domains. Since these participants also believed in the transformative power of their content, 

knew their students well, and held students to high standards for their participation, content 

knowledge, and use of relevant skills, it would also be fair to describe their practices as expres-

sions of ambitious teaching. This suggests that sensational teaching, while distinct from ambi-

tious teaching, could additionally be a means to achieving that end. 

 

Many of the goals of teacher education are obviously and essentially tied to the practical 

realities of the classroom and while such experience is important and necessary to learning to 

 

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teach well, it is possible to be familiar and comfortable with the realities of the classroom but be 

too inept to perform the lofty demands of the profession. Anecdotal experiences of observing 

seasoned but mediocre teachers confirms what many studies have found; experience is not syn-

onymous with proficiency (Ericsson, 2004; Ericsson, 2006; Windschitl et al., 2012). Put less gen-

tly, some —if not many— novice and in-service teachers have a high quantity of experience with 

low quality practices. They don’t necessarily need more experience, they need better skills. What 

often works for teaching people to learn an instrument or a sport holds true for teaching as well. 

It is with good reason that, for instance, basketball coaches seek improve their players not just 

through playing the game or scrimmaging. To become better at playing, the game is decomposed 

as to spotlight and target the most germane components; those essential abilities are rehearsed 

and simulated. Quite universally, coaches instruct and critique their players by meticulously 

working on fundamental skills (e.g. various shooting, dribbling, & rebounding drills) and pointed 

training exercises (e.g. weightlifting, stretching, & sprinting). Honing in on and becoming profi-

cient with fundamental aspects of the game sums up to and establishes a repertoire of skills that 

the athletes can then employ in the unpredictable flow of a game. Likewise, since sensational 

teaching is ultimately interested in ambitious teaching goals for learning, it makes most sense to 

utilize a conception of teaching which supposes being excellent requires the coalescence of fun-

damental competencies. Preparation should thusly equip novice to be competent in such mean-

ingful aspects of instruction (Ball & Forzani, 2009, Grossman, Hammerness, & McDonald, 

2009; and Lampert, 2010) so candidates can anticipate student behavior, make wise decisions, 

and otherwise perform well real time.  

 

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The combination of repeated practice with pointed feedback and often working in concert 

with conceptual understanding is something referred to as deliberate practice. Initially interested 

in athletic expertise, K. Anders Ericsson (1996) put forth deliberate practice as the project of ac-

cumulated practice in tasks that require effort, concentration, and technical skill over time. Dis-

missing the value of extended experience for its own sake, Ericsson (2004) highlighted the need 

for quality practice in tasks that require performing well in representative situations. Expert-level 

ability then, is fostered first by “identifying superior, reproducible behavior for representative 

tasks in the associated domain” (2004, p.78). Then, novices must hone in on and rehearse the 

most essential and important skills and get regular pointed feedback. With broad applications 

ranging from learning to play music to and developing acumen for professions like medicine, the 

insights of deliberate practice has also been applied to teaching. Drawing heavily from Dreyfus 

and Dreyfus (1986), Lampert et al. explain that developing expertise in the complex work of 

teaching requires authentic situational experiences “in the company of others” (such as peers and 

more experienced instructors of mentor teachers) where novices will get conceptual guidance 

and feedback on their performance (2013, p. 228). Conceiving of teaching as a practice —that 

involves the mastery of fundamental skills and/or the summation of fundamental capacities— it 

is wisest to assume that sensational teaching will be best acquired and refined by rehearsals of 

the core practices that involve supervision and feedback. 

 

The development of candidates who are proficient in a given knowledge domain, concep-

tual principle, teaching strategy, or any other goal of teacher education teaching hinges in large 

part on the type of curriculum and pedagogy teacher education programs employ. Understanding 

teaching as a complex and interactive work directed toward holistic student learning, Lampert et 

 

203

al. suggest ambitious teaching as the best possible approach for equipping preservice teachers to 

attain some of the most holistic goals of learning (2013). As such, the types of programs oriented 

around rehearsals or approximations of skilled practices and ambitious teaching in methods cour-

ses and practice in the midst of field work are ideal bedfellows for sensation teaching. Unlike 

traditional programs, alternative certification programs that rely on quickly becoming familiar 

with rudimentary strategies, or academically/theoretically inclined approaches, programs focused 

on refining essential skills that are directed towards their own adaptive knowledge and the ability 

to attend to students’ (higher order) thinking in realtime are best suited to develop a practice with 

necessary skills for the comprehensive and meaningful learning that involves bodily senses, vis-

ceral impressions, and social interaction.  

III. IMPLICATIONS, APPLICATIONS, & CAVEATS 

Implications 
 

All of what has been considered up to this point affirms that the affect and aesthetics are 

essential in learning, not merely decorative, novel, or superlative. Invoking imagination and ac-

cessing multiple parts of the brain and body is perhaps the most appropriate way to access, expe-

rience, and share knowledge and wisdom. Accordingly and since sensational teaching addresses 

an educational divorce between the ‘head’ and ‘heart’, hoping for a remarriage in classrooms, 

teaching preparation is the logical site for courtship. To foster the awareness and sorts of abilities 

that will engage students holistically, candidates must be pointed towards the totality of humani-

ty. And since foundations courses exist largely to impart the conceptual principles, frameworks, 

or guidelines that teachers use to guide their understandings and decisions about teaching and 

learning (Grossman, Smagorinsky, & Valencia, 1999), these courses are ideal sites for students to 

 

204

learn about the role of the body and the social and emotional sphere. Programs would be wise to 

be informed by insights from neuroscience that acknowledge how learning involves passion and 

cognition, that what is known logically by the left-brain must also be expressed viscerally in the 

right brain.  

 

Though it would be redundant to produce another literature review and presumptuous to 

generate a precise list of assigned readings, candidates —and their future students— would be 

well-served by exposure to the distinguishing voices and concepts that inform and apply salient 

elements of sensational teaching. Teaching writ large and teacher preparation specifically might 

want to think about reading (and reading more) about Richard Shusterman’s understanding of the 

human as a sentient soma. In the 14 wide-ranging essays of Thinking Through The Body: Essays 

in Somaesthetics, Shusterman unpacks the role the human body plays in all learning and in expe-

rience. He draws from “the pragmatist insistence on the body’s central role” to highlight and ex-

plore “the soma —the living, sentient, purposive body— as the indispensable medium for all 

perception” (Sushterman, 2012, p.3). Since the physical body is often forgotten or taken for 

granted in education, teachers of the humanities need to move beyond merely being aware of the 

a sensing and thinking body to affirming and addressing its apriori necessity as the “basic in-

strument of all human performance, our tool of tools, a necessity for all our perception, action, 

and even thought”(p. 26). Teaching should therefore understand and seize upon how students 

could and already do think through their bodies. 

 

Building upon what generally does and can happen in the brain and body, a deeper con-

sideration of what happens to people consciously and subconsciously in their encounters with art, 

aesthetics, and affect related experiences is crucial. Dewey, particularly in Art as Experience 

 

205

(1934), speaks to the transformative and dynamic ability of art to enhance and enliven people’s 

lives as they encounter it. Teachers must not take lightly the potentially transformative interplay 

between their students and aesthetic objects. Whether viewing a music video or comedy sketch, 

such artifacts can uniquely draw and retain attention, inviting experiential provocations that pro-

duce new and deeper meanings and more robust engagements with content and the social reali-

ties of school. In Teaching for Aesthetic Experience (1971) and Towards Wide-Awakeness (1977),  

Maxine Green’s notions of awakened learning and shrewd attention to how schooling might, 

through passionate encounters with the arts, open young minds to creativity and new possibilities 

to learn and grow not just academically, but learn and grow in their humanity. Britzman’s under-

standing of “learning as a psychic event” that consider how the repressed fears and buried emo-

tions carried within a person’s affective domain are brought into episodes of learning extend and 

complicate knowledge (p.19, 1999). Further psychoanalytic and Deweyan insights, as worked 

out by Jim Garrett (for example), can speak to the multifaceted ways that experiences with aes-

thetics produce new knowledge and awareness. 

 

 

Finally, another powerful idea worth exploring is Mihály Csíkszentmihályi’s concept of 

flow (figure 59 on the next page), which is essentially the state of being so enthralled in a 

worthwhile activity that nothing else seems to matter (1990). Long interested in what constitutes 

true happiness, the Hungarian-American psychologist determined that experiencing a flow state 

(or in ‘being in the zone’ in conventional speak), where people experienced optimal levels of per-

formance, was integral to not just productivity but also in finding contentment, joy, and meaning 

 

206

Figure 59. Graph: This graph illustrates Mihály Csíkszentmihályi’s Flow Theory and the relation-

ship between challenge and skill required to generate the state of flow. Used with permission.

in life. To experience flow, or to at least get closer to a flow state

101

, a person must be appropri

-

ately challenged according to their competency; such experiences foster improvement and are 

intrinsically rewarding. This suggests that challenging students according to their skills and pas-

sions can potentially make learning fun, empowering, and rewarding. 

 

Methods courses, in contrast, which help students develop strategies and tools for teach-

ing, ought to direct deliberate attention to specific core practices that address actions that teach-

ers can take to promote student-centered experiences. Programs that emphasize and pursue peda-

gogies of enactment (Grossman, Hammerness, & McDonald; 2009) —through modeling, oppor-

tunities to rehearse and receive feedback, and field work— will be best suited to equip candi-

dates to perform complex practices that employ affect in episodes of learning in realtime. This 

might practically mean candidates are directed to differentiate more extensively, to frequently 

 The state of flow involves such an intense concentration that people cease to think about their problems or irrel

101
-
evant information, and even temporarily lose sense of time and self-awareness. These rare and ecstatic moments are 
predicated on not just doing an interesting task, but also upon simultaneously striking the right balance between 
challenge and skill. A task that is too difficult produces anxiety, but one that is too simple produces boredom. 

 

207

utilize digital media, and develop actives that make students physically move and experience 

various emotional or affective sensations in order to or as they learn. Teaching and teacher prepa-

ration might want to think about implementing insights from TeachingWorks’ high-leverage 

practices so that candidates are cognizant about developing the ability to improvise, attend to 

students’ thinking, foster community, and so on. New courses or new kinds of field experiences 

would be wise to center relevancy to students’ lives and interests in episodes of learning (Lewis 

& Tierney, 2013). To accomplish this, the incorporation of music, pop-culture, and students voic-

es to co-create lessons and curriculum would be instrumental for any disciplines but particularly 

in the humanities. This means the relationship between content knowledge and learning styles 

needs to be considered in light of both human desires and aesthetic encounters. The Principles of 

Sensational Teaching (figure 63) and further insight from existing best and worst practices for 

using video, music, and other digital and aesthetic content should be consulted to orient and en-

vision both rehearsals/teaching episodes and the observation protocols that evaluate them in sem-

inars and in field work. 

Revisiting an Inclusive Pedagogy 
 

As addressed throughout this work, sensational teaching offers more its ability to engage 

many aspects of individual learning; it holds also promise to improve educational experiences 

and outcomes for students from populations on the underside of power and privilege. Ambitious 

teaching, which related to many aspects of this project, is said to be valuable to education for its 

ability to empower all students, regardless of their demography, to engage with schooling and 

learn deeply (Windschitl et al., 2012). Since sensational teaching shares many of the same as-

sumptions and goals as ambitious teaching —with its pursuit of community, relevance justice, 

 

208

empathy, and promotion of higher-order considerations of ethics— it too, for similar reasons has 

great potential to better engage and empower students of every demographic. In the practices of 

Jimi and Vince, I observed regular representation of various minority positionalities in their se-

lection of media that augmented curriculum. Female, gay, and students of color often participat-

ed, and from my vantage point, did so with relative comfort and ease. Perhaps this could be ex-

plained by their teachers’ proclivities to bring in multiple perspectives and to regularly present 

accessible artifacts that effectively challenged uncritical curricular narratives, de-sanitized the 

ugliness of the past, and highlighted enduring injustices. All this suggests that while sensational 

teaching might be primarily understood as a creative and holistic approach to pedagogy, it natu-

rally and necessarily touches upon deeply human domains such as creativity, emotion, and ethics. 

No doubt, scholars and teachers particularly interested in teaching for social justice could lever-

age sensational teaching to accomplish such ends. 

 

Expanding and building upon Gloria Ladson-Billings’ (1995) culturally relevant peda-

gogy, Paris’ (2012) concept of culturally sustaining pedagogy calls for education to move be-

yond relevance and authentically sustain cultural pluralism in our diverse democracy. Countering 

the impulse for a singular culture and language to dominate schooling, sensational teaching prac-

tices could be used to bolster student centrality, incorporate multiple perspectives, and represent 

the art, language, and culture of minorities in affirmative ways. In Jimi’s practice, for instance, 

the class creatively explored a Shakespearean treatment of prejudice —something often discon-

nected from current events— through the lens of Black hip-hop commentary on racial profiling 

and police brutality. Jimi’s corresponding ‘Othello Song Bank’ assignment invited students to co-

construct curriculum as they curated their own collection of songs that connected to textual 

 

209

themes. In Vince’s craft, his strategic decision to use films like Teaching Tolerance’s Viva La 

Causa, allowed students to learn about Mexican American Civil Rights more authentically and 

thoroughly than they would if they were merely exposed to the minimal coverage in an anglo 

textbook. The vivid footage featuring seminal figures like César Chávez and Dolores Huerta, 

coupled with commentary from Mexican American scholars helped to legitimate and affirm the 

Mexican experience, identity, and the many contributions to US History. Pedagogical decisions 

like these helped to pluralize, affirm, and expand the footprint of various cultural expressions in 

sustaining and socially just ways. 

 

Sensational teaching not only holds promise for minority students but also for working 

class students who often fall behind their economic counterparts whom schooling was designed 

for (Carter & Thelin, 2017). Instead of relying upon extrinsic motivation and the restrictive be-

havioral codes often used to suppress working class students, this project looked for student-cen-

tered approaches and various ways to access the funds students bring with them to into schools. 

Taking the desires and hopes of disenfranchised students seriously, it was heartening to en-

counter lessons that cultivated class consciousness. Vince’s treatment of the Vietnam draft, for 

instance, organically invited higher-order thinking, cultural analysis, and ethical considerations 

that empower his students to think critically about class disparities in.  

Linking Theory, Practice, & Morale 
 

Another implication of sensational teaching is the linkage of theory and practice; practi-

cally melding theoretical understandings of learning and motivation, via aesthetics and affect, 

with concrete classroom realities like lesson planning and differentiating instruction. There are 

many enduring tensions between learning to teach in higher education and the teaching and 

 

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learning that happens in school (McDonald, Kazemi, & Kavanagh; 2013). As Popkewitz (2002) 

pointed out, there is a distinction, that often boils over to an outright estrangement, between the 

disciplines encountered in the academy and subjects learned in K-12 schools. Often posited as 

two alternative and opposite paradigms, the worlds of scholarship and teaching sometimes seem 

unreconciled. The former paradigm is positioned as a site for budding academics to learn how to 

become a scholar —evolving into an identity that is conversant with specialized knowledge, 

skill, and methodology in order to theorize and advance a given field of study— while in the lat-

er, students learn knowledge about content —themes, events, and thinking skills— en route to 

becoming well-rounded citizens. All this suggests that when put into practice, the lofty theorizing 

of intellectual giants such as Dewey and Deleuze will be functionally distilled and fleshed out as 

practitioners incorporate sensational teaching in their day-to-day craft. 

 

Furthermore, as teacher turnover and low morale are sobering realities for the profession, 

this study may contain elements that stave off such challenges. Behavioralist assumptions and 

realities abound in education, finding many stakeholders dredging through bogs of extrinsic mo-

tivation to either avoid punishment, perform well on high stakes tests, or otherwise merely en-

dure dulling modes of schooling (Greene, 1977; Robinson, 2009). Teachers in particular are reg-

ularly confronted by challenges of classroom management and student motivation, social in-

equalities, pressure of content coverage and student performance on standardized exams; these 

stressors stifle creativity and contribute to teacher burnout and turnover (Bronson & Merryman, 

2010). Furthermore, Jones & Risku insist that teachers today must contend with an, “education 

world [that] has largely succumbed to the ways and means of the business model”, where mea-

surable assessment has mistakenly positioned complex persons as quantitative data, effectively 

 

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diminishing and ignoring human interests and creativity along the way (2015, p. 85). Though not 

a silver bullet by any means, enlivening teaching with the presence of sensational practices can 

offer refreshing oases in the midst of an otherwise parched educative landscape. 

Limitations 
 

At this juncture, it might be foolhardy to view sensational teaching as something more 

than a fledgling idea. It is still largely untested. Although sensational teaching refreshingly con-

fronts uninspired and superficial teaching methods, unless it is codified and backed by formal 

institutional support, it could simply amount to another novel idea that gets fragmented and 

quickly overlooked by existing streams of thought and preparation. Calls for reform in teacher 

education are already numerous, predictable, and often unimaginative. More data is always 

preferable, if not necessary. Not being an established concept, it is yet to be cross-examined or 

refined by seasoned academic minds. Perhaps that will come in time. To move the needle to-

wards a more humanized conception of teaching, it will likely take further clarity about how sen-

sational teaching can specifically accomplish curriculum, adhere to standards, and readily pro-

duce actionable knowledge for professional development. There is yet work to be done to make 

this project compelling enough for not only teacher-educators, but also for principles, superin-

tendents, school boards, and university presidents who have established practices commitments 

about education. Additional case studies and other forms of research would need to be conducted 

in contexts that boast strong relationships between schools and universities that are open to re-

form.  

 

The development of sensational teaching among preservice and inservice teachers and its 

tangible spread in the classroom may be presently limited by the orientations and commitments 

 

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that exist within settings of preparation. Yes, all modes of teacher education model practices to 

some effect (Darling-Hammond & Bransford, 2007). But the institutions that prepare teachers in 

traditional ways and in the settings that are, at least in my view, disproportionately skewed to-

ward either practical or academic approaches will miss the opportunity to focus on practicing the 

instructional elements that are so central to (sensational) teaching. The settings that are philo-

sophically inclined to view teaching as an intricate combination of complex practices and practi-

cally use clinical and field-based experiences in school-university partnerships —organized 

around approximations, rehearsals, and other reflective activities— are the rare places primed to 

adequately support its propagation and diffusion. This suggests that further development of ob-

servation protocols and instructional supports will incentivize buy-in from stakeholders con-

cerned about evaluations and standardized testing and among those interested in establishing 

measures of accountability in and replicable preparation experiences. 

 

Though sensational teaching seeks to pave the way for supporting students to live flour-

ishing lives through humanized teaching, its very orientation is somewhat slippery. That is, since 

the concept is largely qualitative, defined broadly, and subjective in many ways, sensational 

teaching may be hard to assess and put into practice. The sincerity of one’s passion, the degree of 

students’ somatic engagement, the quality of improvisational responses to behavior, and the ap-

propriateness of linkage to multiple forms assessment don’t make for easy checklists or straight-

forward observation protocols. For instance, what differentiates a well-curated reservoir of class-

room materials versus a mediocre collection? How might a ‘sensational’ teacher know she has 

adequately engaged both hemispheres of the brain and truly activated the depths of her pupils’ 

imagination. How much attention to justice is enough and should it necessarily lead to action 

 

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outside of the classroom? Can an educator, no matter how thoughtful and create, truly manifest 

outcomes like producing students who more empathetic or inquisitive? In contrast, concrete and 

clear-cut items are easier to recognize and teach. An observing field instructor can count explicit 

checks for understanding, a teacher can ask herself if she has established routines for group work 

or stated a daily learning goal. But how can an instructor reliable and consistently activate stu-

dents’ affective domain? To this end, Dewey shrewdly clarified there is a profound difference 

between ‘having experience’ and ‘having an experience’ (1934). Teachers can hope and even 

plan for an aesthetic experience to psychically occur between subjects and a piece of media of 

aspect of a lesson plan, but they cannot guarantee that one will happen. A class might objectively 

experience watching a clip from an award winning movie or participate in scaffolded discussion 

about the lived reality of racism, but that won’t ensure students are transformed through the aes-

thetic elements and affective potential of the lesson. 

Vignette of Sensational Teaching: Collaborating with An Intern 
 

While I was thinking about how to conclude this final dissertation chapter, my work as a 

field instructor for social studies interns gave me an opportunity to see if sensational teaching 

could perhaps help solve a problem of practice. All year I had been working with Chelsea, a 

twenty-something in the throes of being the lead teacher of a freshman-level U.S. History course. 

Placed in a rural and predominately white school, Chelsea was precocious in many ways. In ad-

dition to understanding policy, she demonstrated a critical consciousness about inequality and 

what role teaching might play combating it. In the months leading up to her taking on the respon-

sibilities of the lead teacher, we had productive conversations about how schooling wasn’t neu-

tral. We agreed that education was either an accomplice to injustice or an avenue to subvert it. As 

 

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such, Chelsea wanted to promote higher order thinking, relevance to current events and students’ 

lives, and sought to tease out enduring problems in the American experience, particularly as they 

involved race. However, as one might expect from a novice, when lessons were enacted, they 

routinely fell short of her lofty goals. 

 

Throughout the year, Chelsea successfully improved many aspects of her practice; she 

was implementing organizational norms, transitions were becoming tighter, she was becoming 

more comfortable with projecting her voice, and using wait time to invite more participation. 

Grasping content had always come easy for Chelsea, and her students were now receiving con-

structive feedback on their work. Though these steady improvements were being made over the 

course of the school year, Chelsea struggled to achieve her desired learning outcomes (even with 

tempered expectations for a beginning teacher). Moreover, she was still having difficulty with 

classroom management and keeping students on task despite her mentor’s encouragement to use 

punitive measures or take other extrinsic steps like changing the seating chart. In short, Chelsea 

had made many strides in the mechanics of teaching, but was still ‘stuck’ in following her men-

tors traditional approaches that did not help her realize her deepest motivations. Thankfully, her 

high standards and persistence pushed her toward constant improvement. 

 

One day, after observing Chelsea teach a lesson about the Guilded Age, she confided in 

me about feeling frustrated, that though she was prepared and intrinsically excited about the ma-

terial, “the lesson flopped”. She explained this was because the students didn’t seem interested or 

inclined to grasp the historical significance of inequality that she wanted them to grapple with. I 

agreed. As we unpacked the execution of the lesson, I pointed out that she still was following in 

the instructional pattern of her mentor, who lectured with worksheets most days. I wondered if 

 

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some of the off-task behavior and the disaffected vibe of the room could be attributed to students 

being bored and/or being emotionally disengaged with the traditional methods and materials. 

Chelsea initially repeated her mentor’s suggestion that ‘perhaps some kids don’t really care 

about learning because of family backgrounds that didn’t value academics’. I pushed back. I 

asked Chelsea what she thought her students did care about: “what are they things that trouble 

and motivate them?; what won’t they shut up about?; what do you think they are afraid of?; what 

do they hope for?” She immediately cited things like music, social status, their parents’ ability to 

hold down good jobs, and having a bright future. She understood her students on a human level. I 

asked if any of those relevant themes intersected with US history. With a contemplative sigh, 

Chelsea agreed the connection was there the whole time. We then revisited how what she cared 

about and imagined how her motivations for teaching might map onto teaching content that deals 

with inequality, specifically as it involves race and class. Since she was seeking advice, I shared 

with her about my (research) interests and offered a few ideas from my past life as a classroom 

teacher. We decided to co-plan a lesson together during the next unit.  

 

Chelsea decided a lesson on Japanese Internment would be ideal. She sent a rough outline 

that began with the bombing of Pearl Harbor by Imperial Japan. There would be a slideshow 

with a timeline explaining how President Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066 was the basis for 

interning upwards of 120,000 people in the early to mid 1940’s. The students would be exposed 

to vocabulary words like “concentration camp” and language to help understand differences in 

Japanese immigrant status (e.g. Issei, Nisei). Chelsea even made a fill-in-the-blank worksheet. 

However, she suspected that her predominately white students might struggle to care about what 

happened to Japanese people long ago. I asked her why she felt that way. Chelsea supposed stu-

 

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dents couldn’t relate to a seemingly distant past and did not identify with minorities in general 

and Japanese folks specifically. Even though she thought the racism of this era of history was 

another instance of systemic racism, she worried that Japanese Internment might seem vacuous, 

like an outlier in an otherwise ethical upright story of our country. I agreed. 

 

As we exchanged emails regarding her upcoming lesson, I pointed out that though the 

rough draft of her lesson plan had standard parts in place, I did not see any experiential elements, 

nor did there appear to be clear evidence of what she and her students cared about. Noting that 

the materials and methods in her lesson plan were exclusively traditional, I suggested incorporat-

ing another medium or atypical strategy which could better capture and hold the students’ atten-

tion. To address her overarching reasons for teaching, I recommended stressing the ethical prob-

lems of the era throughout the unit to avoid presenting Internment as an outlier.  

 

At first, Chelsea was apprehensive about centering justice and using atypical methods. 

Concerned about parents and other staff members potentially being offended, she questioned 

whether she was allowed to reframe even a small portion of curriculum to focus more explicitly 

on racism. On one hand, it was striking that a conscientious and progressive person like Chelsea 

would have such pause. Yet on the other hand, the timidity was understandable given her experi-

ences in such a conservative and conventional school. I reassured Chelsea that she was well 

within the bounds of curriculum and that taking measured risks is part of finding one’s own voice 

in teaching. Given this encouragement, I prodded her to be creative, to consider how she could 

make her students both feel and see discrimination as a broader, enduring, and present reality. 

Eager to dialog, Chelsea asked for concrete suggestions. I recommended framing the lesson 

around a question about whether internment and fear of immigrants is just an isolated incident in 

 

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the U.S.’s past or if was an enduring issue. Chelsea quickly called to mind the stereotypes and 

mistreatment of Muslims after 9/11 and Mexican detainment/living conditions that at the border. 

I suggested de-centering the white perspective in the textbook, supposing a first person account 

from a Japanese American could promote the sort of empathy and understanding she was seek-

ing. I then remembered, when I taught Japanese Internment, I had the class analyze lyrics from 

the song Kenji by Fort Minor

102

. Unfamiliar with the song but curious, Chelsea asked what it was 

about. I explained that it was written by Mike Shinoda —a person of Japanese ancestry— who 

also fronts the popular and Grammy winning band Linkin Park. I told her Kenji recounts the ex-

perience of Shinoda’s family being sent to an internment camp after the attack on Pearl Harbor. 

The song includes moving interview audio with Shinoda’s father and aunt; it splices vivid first-

person accounts (e.g. being led into custody at gunpoint) with the cutting lyrics about oppression 

and racial profiling. Considering these suggestions, Chelsea revised her plan.  

 

When I arrived to observe Chelsea teach her Japanese Internment lesson, I immediately 

noticed a few pedagogical shifts. The dry erase board that featured a weekly writing prompt for 

the students was more critical. It read “Why do you think the US feared Japanese-Americans af-

ter Pearl Harbor? Why or why not? Explain.” Days before, Chelsea had passed out a graphic or-

ganizer on the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the beginning of US involvement in World War 

Two; the themes and vocabulary dealt with racism in foreign and national policy. The considera-

tions of the unit were more ethical and critical than what I previously observed. 

 

Addressing discrimination and emphasizing the realities of the present cultural climate, 

Chelsea began with stating her purpose, “I want to help you guys understand the world we live in 

102

 From their 2005 Album, The Rising Tied.

 

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now; how people get grouped, categorized, and how we build society around those assumptions”. 

She passed out notecards and asked students to write down physical and social traits that made 

them unique. Chelsea provided examples (e.g. hair/skin/eye color, sexual preferences, wealth, 

whether a person was perceived as athletic, etc.). With Chelsea scribing on the board, the class 

provided responses and made of the tallies of the various categorizations (e.g. having blue or 

brown eyes, being a “jock” or a “geek”). Chelsea grouped her class accordingly, asking if there 

were any social consequences in school for being poor instead of being middle class. The stu-

dents readily participated, speaking to how having new clothes and a car would help with popu-

larity and dating. They agreed that being poor made it harder to be confident. 

 

Chelsea then presented rudimentary scenarios that hypothetically discriminated against 

various traits. “What if the consensus was that blue-eyed people are dishonest?”. Since blue-eyed 

students were a numerical minority, she suggested putting all of them in the back of the room and 

forcing them to sit in isolation during their lunch. She asked the blue-eyed students how they felt 

about being discriminated against, about having to occupy separate spaces. I surmised that 

Chelsea knew that if she immediately began talking about race, the predominately white class 

might be resistant; at this point in the year, she had already shared with me about controversies 

arising from students and parents insisting on donning the Confederate flag in school. Chelsea 

shrewdly slow-played this consideration of justice to accumulate buy-in before directly address-

ing race writ large. Tapping into their sense of fairness, the normally-disengaged students eagerly 

replied that they would be indignant if the scenario were a reality. After a few more scenarios, 

Chelsea shifted to discuss how African American, Native Americans, and Japanese Americans 

were among many in our history who actually have faced much more extreme discrimination. 

 

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With the personal connection in place, Chelsea proceeded with the formal content regarding per-

ceived Japanese threat to national security.  

 

As would be expected, and as the lesson went in a less student-centered direction (lecture 

and timeline of events), I noticed students beginning to text and have side conversations. Yet, 

when she transitioned to a lyrical analysis of the song Kenji, the students immediately tuned back 

in. They started by reading the lyrics (initially without music playing). Chelsea asked questions 

to help students anticipate the message of the song, urging them to underline key phrases that 

would help them understand. “What lyrics speak directly to racism and being discriminated 

against?”. A girl in the center of the room noted property being destroyed and racial slurs; several 

students pointed out a specific lyric:  

Then they got back to the home 
And what they saw made him feel so alone 
These people had trashed every room 
Smashed in the windows and bashed in the doors 
Written on the walls and the floor 
“Japs not welcome, anymore!” (2005) 

Chelsea explained that the term “Japs” was and is a “terribly offensive slur”. After a few minutes 

discussing context and vocabulary, the students would hear, in Chelsea’s words, “about people 

being locked up in a crowed prison, in their own country, because of their race”. Chelsea hit play. 

 

Some nodded their heads along with the melodic guitar riff, others tapped a pencil along 

with crisp snaps of the snare drum. There was no side chatter. Students looked intently at the 

lyric sheets they had marked up just moments ago. When the song finished playing, students 

spontaneously made comments about how unfair and terrible Japanese Internment was. A few 

said the song was “sad” or “that [internment] was so messed up!”. After the class was given 5 

 

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minutes to write about what they thought the point of the song was, Chelsea asked guiding ques-

tions about the basis of this instance of oppression. It was race, it was ignorance. Via her com-

puter, on the projector, she pulled up the bank of vocabulary words the students had been learn-

ing in the unit. I gleaned that the day before, they learned “racial profiling” and “quandary”. Dur-

ing the next minutes, they would learn “essentialization”, “security threat”, and “xenophobia.” 

With these terms in place, Chelsea initiated what became the first real discussion I observed all 

year. With consisting prompting from their student teacher, the class began to share with each 

other about racism in their own families or how they had personally felt discriminated against 

(e.g. being perceived as fat or for living in a trailer). It seemed to me that many of the listeners 

were able to envision the horrors described by the music. Following this discussion, Chelsea 

transitioned to the concluding activity, which involved reading a short article about the living 

conditions of Mexicans in detention centers at the border. The students were to respond to a 

question that compared and contrasted internment then with a different form of internment now. 

They would discuss their responses during the next class period.

After the bell rang and the class was dismissed, Chelsea seemed to beam with a sense of 
accomplishment. I asked my typical post-observation questions about how she thought the lesson 
went. Citing how students liked the song and talked about themselves, Chelsea told me this les-
son had more student interest and empathy than any other. She was surprised no one seemed to 
“push back” on the unveiled anti-racist stance. Chelsea noted that, “even the kid [a boy who sits 
in the corner of the room] who said ignorant shit about the Confederate flag was tracking along. 
He loves music. I didn’t expect even he might be able to care about Internment”. I couldn’t help 
but smile as she let out a giddy chuckle. 

 

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I later learned Chelsea’s lesson was vaguely inspired by an iteration of a lesson some-

times refereed to as the blue eye/brown eye experiment—a lesson that is truly sensational. Put 

forth by Facing History and Ourselves, a non-profit organization that develops educational mate-

rial on prejudices and injustice in American and European society, the blue eye/brown eye lesson 

is one that helps students understand how salient features of identity inform group membership, 

privilege, prejudice, and discrimination (2020). The context for the original version of this lesson 

is traced back to 1968, shortly after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.. An elemen-

tary teacher, named Jane Elliott, in a small white town in Iowa decided to help her third graders 

understand discrimination. Suspecting students would not grasp the realities of racism, prejudice, 

and discrimination, Elliot designed a lesson that was morally charged and drastically experien-

tial. This two-day experiment found Elliott privileging students with one eye color over the other 

on the first day and the vice versa on the second day. The privileged group was told they were 

comparatively superior than the other group (e.g. more intelligent, athletic, respectful) and were 

given benefits such as longer breaks, second helpings at lunch, and better access to playground 

equipment. The privileged group was also told to avoid other group, who had to wear distinct 

clothing to help them be distinguished from a distance. In short time, the class turned on itself. 

Elliott found her formerly tranquil classroom disturbed as “many privileged students asserted 

their dominance through bullying and name calling” and less many privileged students disen-

gaged or became angry with some even becoming violent (Facing History and Ourselves, 2020). 

In the years since the blue eyes/brown eyes lesson was first enacted, it has been adapted and op-

erationalized in a multitude of educational contexts and research has been conducted with its ini-

tial participants to explore its lasting effects. 

 

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Transformative lessons like those described in this chapter powerfully engage students 

and teachers because they link experiential learning and ethical decision-making to our deepest 

needs and desires. Though it may be difficult to measure and will such sensational moments into 
existence, their value makes them worth striving for. In this vein, I wish I had adequate data to 
prove the pedagogy embedded in Chelsea’s Japanese Internment lesson improved the students’ 
content retention, test scores, and that they were definitively moved in an anti-racist direction. It 
would also be nice to have a clean script to follow so that I could replicate this occurrence with 
other interns. But alas, perhaps it is most fitting to celebrate, not scrutinize these glimpses of 
progress. Though Chelsea (and her students for that matter) had not ‘arrived’ because of one en-
gaging episode, this vignette represents something greater than a novice enacting a strong lesson. 
Beyond highlighting the importance of careful planning and the power of collaboration, this in-
stance speaks volumes about unleashing the spirit of sensational teaching. Instead of externally 
referring to an observation protocol or formal curricula, two educators turned within to mine the 
moral and affective substance that drive us all. Focusing deliberately on what mattered to stu-
dents and the teacher, Chelsea was given —and eventually gave herself— permission to be cre-
ative, to consider how the senses and inner experiences might be leveraged to pedagogical and 
social ends. At the end of the day, this lesson found enough traction to move the needle of 
progress. 

Conclusion 
 

Whether conceptualizing teaching in a scientific way —as a coalescence of skilled prac-

tices that can be taught in traditional ways— or in artistic way —as messy and intuitive process 

that involves apprenticing, sensational teaching can push education in a more holistic and hu-

manized direction that affirms the senses, feelings, and desires that educators and students bring 

 

223

with them into schooling. Though there are undoubtedly aspects to refine and further develop, 

this project has established 15 habits of mind that provide tangible principles for teacher-educa-

tors, teachers, and novices to create optimal conditions and take specific actions to educate 

through the sensations and foster deeper learning. Perhaps more promising though, is the collab-

orative vignette that envisions how teachers might work together to delve into real social prob-

lems through students’ affective domain. Beyond promising to generally make learning more in-

tuitive and enjoyable, sensational teaching additionally lends itself to improving experiences and 

outcomes for students on the underside of power. Students of color, working class students, and 

emergent bilinguals may find connective tissue to their (sub)cultures, learning styles, and diverse 

identities as student-centered opportunities to relate to and sustain their complex social lives are 

seized. May this project further link theory and practice, help make learning enjoyable, and be 

leveraged to make education and society more thoughtful and just. 

 

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APPENDICES


 

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Appendix A: Consent Form 

 

 

 

________ High School

You are being asked to participate in a research study. Researchers are required to provide a con-
sent form to inform you about the research study, to convey that participation is voluntary, to ex-
plain risks and benefits of participation, and to empower you to make an informed decision. You 
should feel free to ask the researchers any questions you may have.  

The study is en#tled: Sensa&onal Teaching: Examining The Presence and Poten&al of Aesthe&cs 
in Secondary Humani&es Classrooms 

1. Purpose of Research 
The purpose of the research is to analyze the use of aesthe#c texts (e.g. films and music videos) 
and affec#ve teaching prac#ces (e.g instruc#onal scaffolds, forms of assessment) in secondary 
humani#es classrooms. This research focuses on nature of teachers’ prac#ces, mo#va#ons, and 
thinking around the use of aesthe#c and affec#ve modali#es in their instruc#on. 

2. What You Will Do 
Teachers par#cipa#ng in this study will be asked to sit down for three interviews and allow me 
to observe instruc#on across mul#ple units of study between February and May 2019. The first 
interview will take place before observing teaching, a second will occur in the midst of units of 
instruc#on, and a third will be conducted aPer the comple#on of observa#ons. All interviews 
and interviews will take place at ________ High School and during the normal school day. Par-
#cipants will be able to skip any interview ques#on at the #me of each interview.  

3. Benefits of the Study 
Educators will not benefit directly from the study. However, I am hopeful that future teaching 
and research will be informed by the findings of this study. 

4. Poten?al Risks 
There are no known poten#al risks of this study. The curriculum students will engage in has 
been taught in various itera#ons for many years at ________ High School. However, at any #me 
a student has a concern, there are normal supports within ________ High School to assist as 
well as direct contact with the researchers. 

5. Privacy and Confiden?ality 
All informa#on gathered in this study will be confiden#al and aYributed to random number 
iden#fiers assigned to each par#cipate at the beginning of the study. Interviews will be recorded 
for transcrip#on purposed and destroyed by September of 2020.  All data will be stored on a 

 

226

password protected computer accessible by only one person (Jus#n Detmers). At no #me will 
data collected during the study be aYributed to any student by name. 

6. Your Right to Par?cipate, Say No, or Withdraw 
You have the right to say no to par#cipate in the research. You can stop at any #me aPer is has 
already been started. There will be no consequences if you stop and you will not be cri#cized. 
You will not lose any benefits that you normally receive.  

7. Costs and Compensa?on of the Study 
There will be no costs or compensa#on to any par#cipant in this study. 

8. Contact Informa?on 
If you have concerns or ques#ons about this study, please contact the researcher (Avner Segall, 
avner@msu.edu, 361 Erickson Hall, East Lansing, MI, 517-432-4874). 

If you have ques#ons or concerns about your role and rights as a research par#cipant, would 
like to obtain informa#on or offer input, or would like to register a complain about this study, 
you may contact, anonymously if you wish, the Michigan State University’s Human Research 
Protec#on Program at 517-355-2180, Fax 517-432-4503, or email irb@msu.edu or regular mail 
at 4000 Collins Road, Suite 136, Lansing, MI 48910. 

9. Documenta?on of Informed Consent 
Your signature below means that you voluntarily agree to par#cipate in this research.  

 
Signature 

 
 

 
 

 

 
Date 

 

 

 

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Appendix B: Interview Protocols  

(Interview Script + Questions) 

Initial Instructions:

1) Introduce the study, explain my role as an instructor in the teacher education program, 
interested in what teachers are doing in instruction regarding aesthetics, sensational prac-
tices, motivations for teaching and learning, and desired learning outcome. 

2) Clearly state that this interview is optional, confidential, and transcribed transcripts can 
be made available upon request. The participants can withhold or redact information, or 
even choose to withdraw.  

3) Explain the rationale for the research: 
I'm observing five high school teachers as they teach with with both traditional and aes-
thetic texts to see what they are doing during instruction, consider how they make curric-
ular decisions, and to understand their thinking about student learning. I will interview 
them and evaluate multiple forms of data to see if they are promoting what I refer to as 
‘sensational teaching’ during instruction. 

Hopefully, this study will offer insight for how teacher preparation can better prepare future 
teachers to engage the learning interests and needs of 21st century students. 

- Ask if there are any additional questions and have participants sign a waiver and then proceed 

with the interview (recording answers on lab-top) regarding these questions: 

Pre-observation Interview questions:

• Can you give a brief introduction of yourself, your name, program, major, minor and 

any other relevant information related to becoming a teacher? 

• Can you give context on your setting, a brief introduction of your career trajectory and 

the subject you’ve taught in this school district? 

• Can you give a brief introduction of your students, what curriculum you have recently 

covered and you’ll be covering in the remainder of this semester? 

• Can you share with me why you became a teacher and what most significantly moti-

vates you about your profession? 

• Can you share your previous experiences of teaching with digital media, movies, music 

video, and other modes that will involve emotion (what I’m referring to as aesthetic texts)? 
• Can you share any significant experiences of learning with aesthetic texts specifically 

in your discipline or more generally? 

 

228

• What do you think are the best practices —things to do or not do— when using this 
sort of instruction? How did you form this opinion? Are you enacting these practices in your 
classroom? Why and why not? 

• When you hear the term “aesthetics” what does that mean to you? 
• Do think it is important for humanities teachers to utilize emotion and cognition simul-

taneously? Why or why not?  

Interview questions in the midst of observing lessons/units of instruction

103

:

• How do you feel about this specific lesson, lesson plan, and content? 
• What specifically worked and what do wish had gone differently? 
• Why did you choose to utilize the specific resources (both traditional and aesthetic 

texts) you used?  

• If applicable, how does your version of teaching this content vary from your col-

leagues? 

• What were you trying to accomplish that couldn’t have been accomplished with anoth-

er medium?  

• What kind of learner benefitted from this/these instructional approach(es); which kind 

of learner was potentially left behind with this/these instructional approach(es)? 

• If you were to teach the lesson once again, would you change anything? If yes, why 

and how? 

• How have you taught this content differently in the past or how might you teach it dif-

ferently in the future? 

Post-observation interview questions

104

: 

• How do you feel about this unit of instruction in general? What do you like about it and 

what do you find challenging? 

 Specific questions will arise after each observation. But in generally, broad questions will flow from the follow

103
ing.

 Specific questions will arise after each observation. But in generally, broad questions will flow from the follow

104
ing.

-

-

 

229

• What specifically worked and what do wish had gone differently? 
• Why did you choose to utilize the specific resources (both traditional and aesthetic 
texts) you used? What were you trying to accomplish that couldn’t have been accomplished 
with another medium? 

• What challenges or obstacles do you think exist in teaching students with traditional 

and aesthetic mediums?  

• Regarding the use of aesthetic texts and the incorporation of affective experiences in 

your classroom, how do you think about learning outcomes and assessment? 

• What pressures do you feel prevent you from teaching how you want to teach? 
• What do you think students took away from the lessons that incorporated aesthetic 

texts? Why do you believe this? 

• On the days where I have not been present in your classroom, what has my observa-
tions missed, failed to see, or otherwise omitted? What else would you like me to know (e.g. 
about your lessons plan, differentiated instruction, student feedback/test performance, & etc.)? 

• What in your teaching are you most proud of?  
• What do you hope your students take away from being in your class? What feedback 
have you heard from students, parents, and other colleagues about what it is like to be your 
student? 

• What, if anything, do you wish you could change about your practice?


 

230

Appendix C: Sensational Teaching’s Habits of Mind 

Sensational Teaching’s Habits of Mind: 

1)

Incorporate non-traditional materials and methods (e.g. digital media, music, and other 
aesthetic ‘texts’) that engage students’ senses and affective domain; 

2) To avoid didactic norms like teacher monologues, utilize non-traditional teaching meth-
ods (e.g. guided viewings, simulations, and participatory activities that rely upon student 
investment) that are interactive, student-centered, and experiential; 

3) Structure sensational elements of instruction with clear procedures and scaffolds that 

promote learning;  

4) Simultaneously anticipate the need to improvise, adapt, and respond to student responses 

and other unplanned elements of the classroom; 

5) Teach sensationally with educative purpose; incorporate learning objectives and make 

clear connections to content;  

6) Proactively develop and curate relevant content, activities, strategies, and lesson plans 

that engage the senses, provoke affective and cognitive responses, and relate to the circum-
stances and lived experiences of students; 

7) To prevent passive student consumption, create regular space for student feedback, au-

tonomy, and interaction directly with (sensational) content; 

8) Differentiate instruction to address multiple senses and both hemispheres of the brain; 
9) Embody and project passion; for students and their learning, for content, for critical think-

ing, and for issues of justice; 

10) Instead of passive consumption or taking a break from teaching, pursue an active and ac-

tivating pedagogy that invites student engages; 

11) Instead of merely learning factual information, also promote skill-development relating 
both to general higher-order thinking (e.g. argumentation) and specific subject-related 
skills (e.g. document analysis); 

12) Promote justice and practice empathy by incorporating ethical and emotive considerations 

that attend to issues of power, privilege, and perspective; 

13) Foster community through making prosocial, affirming, and personalized connections 

with students; 

14) Use self and student reflection to improve both learning outcomes and the quality of class-

room experiences; 

15) Link sensational elements of instruction with formative and summative assessment.

 

231

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