Though on almost all points I agree with Freire (indeed, my own liberal, dialogue-based education allows me no other choice), I find myself most frustrated by his argument that narrative is antithetical to a useful, productive educational experience. I understand, theoretically, that he means lecture-based teaching versus dialogue-based, and I agree that the former can be mind-numbing and the latter can be vibrant and engaging. Perhaps it is my own love of narrative and of narrating that makes that word the sticking point for me, but I can’t help wishing there was another term he could rail against. Narrative, though it can be all the things that Freire rails against, does not have to be soul-crushing dictation.
Narrative can be lively, entertaining, useful, and still invite feedback. I believe this can be true in all disciplines. In composition, and indeed in most of the humanities, I see how Freire’s point seems sound. If true knowledge “emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other,” then how are students going to learn without being able to vocalize curiosity and take part in a dialogue (1)? Rote recitation of grammar rules and agreement on the One True Thesis™ do not invite interpretation. Yet, I could imagine a scenario where information was offered narratively, as a story, information offered in a more traditional lecture form leading to a later discussion. Perhaps it is disingenuous of me to question whether a dialogue is really the most appropriate format for teaching the hard sciences, but even though Freire himself is not speaking of that, I worry for the students in those classes as much as for those in my own introductory composition course. I remember too well the dull, plodding info-dumps of Astronomy 101—a subject I actually have a genuine interest in. That class remains the only class in college I ever fell asleep in, my head nodding as my professor droned, in the planetarium, under the beautiful shifting stars. If, instead of mindlessly spewing statistics, that professor had instead taken a page out of Bill Nye’s or Neil Degrasse Tyson’s book and engaged us with a story leading to, perhaps, some open-ended questions for discussion….I would have missed that five minute nap, to be sure, but I feel I would have learned something more lasting.
When I try to come up with an analogy for the type of narration I am imagining, the scenario that comes to mind is a role-playing game. In the bi-weekly Dragon Age game my friends and I play, our Game Master calls the shots. He is the teacher, the imparter of information, the one who “cognizes” and then “expounds” (Freire 5). Yet we, the players, are not the mindless receptacles that Freire is so concerned about. Instead, we are active participants in the expounding, because our imagined characters have a real investment in the consequences of the expounding. And, when decisions need to be made (let’s imagine that the professor has posed a question, or brought up a sticky paradox), we are invited to react, in character. We add to the narrative. We tell the teacher what happens next.
I’m not suggesting that students should create imaginary personas and integrate them into a fantasy scenario in the classroom; however, I think that narrative can be a hook, a carrot dangled in front of the bunny, that draws students into the discussion. In short, though dialogue is perhaps an ideal, I don’t know that I believe it is necessarily always an immediate possibility in a classroom environment. I wouldn’t invite a dialogue about MLA formatting, for instance; however, I would show them what I know, and then raise possible issues, inviting students (after the narrative, let’s say) to comment on and discuss the problems they foresee, or challenges they might face.