Examining the Impact of Race and Gender in the University Classroom

In their article examining the challenges borne by women of color negotiating tenure, Anna Agathangelou and Lily Ling (2002) recount the experiences of an Asian American female faculty member and the evaluations of her teaching. She was teaching at a predominately White private liberal arts university in the Northeast in a political science department that consisted of 25 senior faculty, of which she was the only non-White faculty member and one of only three women. In the course of reviewing her tenure case, the department centered its discussion on her teaching and research record. Both the department chair and the chair of the candidate's teaching review committee, “commended the candidate on her teaching skills” (10). In fact, the department chair reported that “many felt that the candidate was ‘a person with many impressive points as a teacher, including great seriousness of purpose and sustained efforts to broaden the curriculum and students' minds.’” Furthermore, the department “was aware of a number of letters commenting favorably on [her] teaching and … joint authorship of papers with graduate students” (10–11).

However, these positive evaluations did little to inspire confidence in the candidate's committee and department in the face of other, negative, teaching reports.

In the end, despite considerable debate and a contested vote, she was denied tenure.

This narrative reveals some of the central conflicts faced by women of color as they approach teaching in the university. Of particular note in this case is the failure of the Asian American faculty member's department to properly contextualize her own position as a lone female faculty of color teaching explicitly raced and gendered subjects to a largely White audience. More to the point, two particular aspects of the experience revealed here resonate through much of the narrative accounts of women of color and warrant greater discussion:

1. The wide range of student sensibilities, biases, and predilections regarding race and gender that are extended to women of color as faculty. This includes sensibilities that women of color in faculty positions disrupt, or at the least that women of color are required to manage in the course of teaching.
2. Procedural standards predicated on the norm of young, White male colleagues and their application as objective criteria for measuring the success or failure of women of color. For the purposes of this analysis, I focus specifically on the standardized assessments of teaching typically completed by students at the end of a course.

Student Sensibilities on Race and Gender in the Classroom

One of the principal difficulties encountered by women of color teaching in the university are the multiple and conflicting layers of race, gender, and, frequently, class that come to bear on the instructor via the student's own sensibilities regarding race and gender, and the choice of subject (Manrique and Manrique 1999; Phillips 1997; Turner and Myers 2000; Williams 1992). That is, the topics of race and gender typically invoke a range of dynamics from boredom and anguish to curiosity, fear, intimidation, delight, and resistance. As Zuñiga and Mildred (2004) point out, this resistance can take an “active” form such as repeatedly challenging or arguing with others in the classroom, or more “passive” forms such as whispering to neighbors while the instructor or other students are talking or openly doing non-course related work during the class.

In their nationwide survey of student harassment of Black female faculty, Pope and Joseph (1997) note that 54% of their respondents reported being subjected to both resistance as well as harassment from students within 12 months of the study.

Other types of harassment reported by the Black female faculty in their study included offensive notes from students, arrogant and hostile body language, shots fired into their office, stalking, threats of physical harm, sexual propositions from students, and, in one instance, a mouse placed in a woman's handbag. Moreover, these were not isolated incidents in that 85% of respondents reported being subject to such treatment between 1–5 times, and nearly a fourth (22%) experienced harassment more than five times in the 12 months prior to the survey. Finally, Pope and Joseph (1997) point out that the typical student harasser was a White male (71% of the incidents of harassment involved White students, and 50% of the incidents involved only men).⁴

In addition to this wide range of student sensibilities regarding race and/or gender, because the class is likely the first and only course dealing with these topics students take as undergraduates, they come to class with a considerable learning deficit. Few students have spent serious time reflecting on the nature of race and gender and even fewer possess any knowledge of the subject as a field of scientific inquiry. As Perez (2005) reports, ethnic and gender studies are still openly derided on many campuses, with an increasing number of conservative groups targeting departments of ethnic and gender studies and individual faculty who teach race/gender politics as insignificant, unprofessional, and even dangerous. All too often, students mirror this logic by expecting courses on race/gender taught by women of color to serve merely as a form of “therapy”; that is, as a learning environment centered largely, if not entirely, on sharing personal experiences and one not suited for rigorous academic analysis (Ansley 1991; Phillips 1997; Tatum 1992). Alternately, many students approach the subject with a sense of guilt or pity, wanting to find their own way through a past they feel has tainted them, again dismissing the academic work of the topic in favor of individualized therapy. Such dismissal leads inevitably to the suggestion that all knowledge on the subject is equally valuable, because it is predicated exclusively on individual experiences, thereby undermining the presence of the faculty as an authority. As such, it is not uncommon for students to come to class having little to no formal preparation in high school or other college classes to begin a serious study of topics such as discrimination in law and policy or the history of gender politics in the U.S., and having at best a cursory (if not distorted) understanding from popular mediums.⁵

These multiple layers of sensibilities, abilities, and expectations around race and gender ultimately produce a complex classroom environment where the faculty member has to manage the conflicting academic, political, and emotional projects simultaneously at work. For the ethnic minority female faculty member, such considerations are complicated by her location at the intersection of race and gender hierarchies that often corner her into conflicting images, demands, and constituencies. In effect, because she embodies the subject of difference students readily project onto her their notions of race and/or gender.

This is particularly problematic given what others have reported about the effect of students' political biases in the evaluation of courses and faculty; namely, that students tend to respond negatively when they encounter norms and beliefs that differ from their own (Kelly-Woessner and Woessner 2006). Moreover, when confronted with such difference students will often attempt to discredit both the source of information (the faculty) and the information that differs from their own beliefs (Johnson 1996; Lundgren and Prislin 1998; Lapinski and Boster 2001). Thus, by embodying such difference, female faculty of color become the focus of dissonance, even before any actual instruction begins. Add to this the complexity and tension surrounding the subject of race and gender politics, and it is reasonable to assume that most students in these classrooms will feel uncomfortable and project that discomfort onto the faculty.

What emerges from this multi-layered experience is what Ansley (1991) refers to as an above-ground and underground classroom, or what I prefer to describe as competing classroom “scripts” written alternatively by the faculty, the class in public or “above-ground,” and by the students in their own “underground” encounters as they grapple with complex issues rarely broached in other academic settings. Women of color teaching the complex range of racially and gender conscious courses must attend to and manage each of these separate scripts. All too often, the university's failure in approaching this dynamic is in only evaluating and understanding the above-ground scripts and doing so with the same standards applied to other courses and faculty in the university that never approach this range of complexity.

The complex combination of these experiences was revealed in Ansley's (1991) recounting of her courses on the history of law and discrimination:

This complexity was mirrored in the results of a student survey and focus group I conducted on the intersection of race and gender in the classroom at the University of Colorado in spring 2005. While time and space prevents a full discussion of these measures here, student responses tended to reflect the narrative accounts from faculty in several ways. First, students indicated strong gender biases in their survey responses—believing that female faculty were more likely to be “patient, interesting, kind, and lenient,” while male faculty were more likely to be “prepared, knowledgeable, in control and authoritative.” Similarly, most students agreed with the statement that “professors teaching subjects that directly reflected their race or gender are more biased and less likely to teach objectively,” and that “classes addressing race and gender were more likely to be taught by opinionated teachers”; in effect, confirming that at least some of the students carry into the classroom preconceived notions of race and gender that are projected onto the faculty themselves. Finally, while a majority of the political science students surveyed had taken more than one class from either an ethnic minority or female faculty member, a very small percentage of students had any previous exposure to explicitly raced or gendered classes before entering the university.

One caveat to these sensibilities and their manifestation in the classroom was the use of an engaged pedagogy by the faculty. The use of different pedagogies became apparent during a separate focus group I conducted in which students were asked to evaluate a lecture about a racialized topic presented by four political science faculty, namely: an Anglo male faculty member, an Anglo female faculty member, an ethnic minority male faculty member, and an ethnic minority female faculty member. Student evaluations of the faculty varied, in part by race and gender; however, the use of an “engaged pedagogy” proved an important factor in mitigating negative impressions predicated on race and/or gender and enhancing student responsiveness to the faculty. As such, when the faculty utilized this engaged approach students often reacted favorably even when discussing difficult subjects, whereas when faculty were more constrained in their teaching style they received less favorable responses. And yet, those faculty who made use of a more constrained approach in their teaching—something closer to the types of professional presentations we are used to at conferences—reported doing so precisely because they were accustomed to this type of instruction and because they felt it provided some distance from the highly charged and racialized topic they were assigned to discuss.

Thus, it can be said that ethnic minority female faculty often embody multiple “disruptions” to the standards, norms, and practices of the university, and it is left to them to manage the conflict that emerges from challenging these hierarchies. That is, their presence as both racial/ethnic and gender minority disrupts the traditional configuration of university faculty who continue to be overwhelmingly White and male. This is compounded by their concentration in courses which are explicitly raced and gendered—in effect, courses which disrupt the traditional cannon of the university. Finally, when they employ explicitly “engaged,” “feminist,” or “racially conscious” pedagogical practices in the classroom they disrupt the traditional notions of discipline and rigor. In and of itself this complexity is not problematic; that is, given the right recognition, support, and resources such a rich combination can produced unprecedented learning opportunities benefiting both students and faculty. Unfortunately, all too often these complexities go unrecognized and in cases such as that of the Asian American female faculty highlighted at the beginning of this essay, may even be punished. In what follows I discuss how this lack of recognition often manifests itself procedurally in standards used to evaluate faculty.

Standardizing Inequality: Gender, Race, and the Limitations of Teaching Evaluations

In what ways do the procedural norms at work in the university embody the experiences, traditions, and histories of those who created them? More to the point, do standardized evaluations of teaching serve as sufficiently objective measures of teaching quality and effectiveness or do they merely standardize inequality? The paradox in the liberal-minded department proceedings is that the same flexible, good-natured will that served to allow entrance to the now-aging bedrock of older White men may equally serve as a disciplining mechanism that excludes the newer generation of non-White, non-male, increasingly non-Western entrants (Allen et al. 2002). As Reyes and Halcon (1988) and Turner and Myers (2000) note, this can be attributed at least in part to the projection of standards and norms about what constitutes “merit” that, albeit presented as objective measurements of excellence, reflect the positionality of those who framed them. In the case of reviews for teaching, this discourse frequently emerges as departments rely heavily, if not exclusively, on scores of teaching evaluations that are presented as objective measures of the faculty's strengths and weaknesses.

Thus, the strength of a faculty member's teaching is evaluated largely on the basis of a collection of statistics drawn from 1–2-page multiple choice questionnaires administered to students in a typically small increment of time at the end of each semester. In the case of teaching-intensive institutions and positions, where ethnic minority female faculty are concentrated, these measures can make all the difference in reappointment or termination (Andersen and Miller 1997). Putting aside the problems associated with such a sterile instrument of measurement, the most problematic aspect of this tool when applied to women of color teaching in the academy is its failure to provide any understanding of the complex context described earlier. These measurements typically tell us little or nothing about the racial and gender make-up of the students, their approach to the subject (particularly important in explicitly raced or gendered courses), their previous exposure to or training in the subject, or the degree to which their sentiments for the instructor are bound up with their own sensibilities regarding the subject.

Instead, the underlying expectation with these evaluations is that they objectively measure faculty teaching performance across colleges and disciplines and across markers of race and gender. In other words, universities readily assume that the same measure used to evaluate courses which do not entail the same complexity of emotions and underlying tensions can effectively be used to evaluate race and gendered faculty and racialized and gendered courses that challenge and disrupt university norms.

In fact, the question of how to properly evaluate and assess teaching has generated a good deal of discussion and writing, particularly in the professional space provided by PS and by the annual APSA Teaching and Learning Conferences. This discourse has explored concerns over possible gender bias, especially in the kinds of questions used, in the interpretation of the data, and in the sex-role stereotypes of students projected through these evaluations (Andersen and Miller 1997; Banks 1988; Basow 1987; Basow and Silberg 1987; Bennett 1982; APSA Committee on the Status of Women 1992; Freeman 1994; Kierstead, D'Agostino, and Dill 1988; Langbein 1994; Martin 1984). While conflicting results exist (see especially Basow and Silberg 1987; Feldman 1993; Kierstead, D'Agostino, and Dill 1988; Sidanius and Crane 1989; and Tatro 1995) the research is consistent on the significant impact that student's gender expectations and resultant sex-role stereotypes have on their evaluations of faculty. In other words, to the degree that male and female faculty perform in line with students' gender expectations, they are generally rewarded with higher teaching evaluations. By extension, there tend to be negative repercussions in the standardized evaluations to the degree that these expectations are transgressed (Andersen and Miller 1997; Basow 1987; Kierstead, D'Agostino, and Dill 1988; Langbein 1994; Statham, Richardson, and Cook 1991).

In addition, negative responses in student evaluations rarely emerge as explicit gender discrimination. That is, students will rarely comment directly on the faculty member's sex in their evaluation, instead directing their comments at a faculty member's “authority,” “legitimacy,” “kindness,” and “competency.” Thus, Langbein (1994) reports that “female faculty are rewarded relative to men for ‘supportive,’ ‘nurturing’ behavior, but they are punished, relative to men, for ‘objective,’ ‘authoritarian’ behavior that is role inconsistent” (551).

Dueling expectations of classroom conduct and pedagogy from departments and students complicate the work of faculty in these environments (Andersen and Miller 1997). As Agathangelou and Ling (2002) argue, departments and colleges typically expect discipline, expertise, and, increasingly, pedagogy free from any overtly political overtones, particularly in classes that are centered on race and/or gender. In other words, there is a professional expectation of perfection in these courses, as if to affirm their presence at the university through this type of presentation. For female faculty this is countered by the expectations of students for behavior that is nurturing, supportive, attentive to individual needs, and comfortable, and a greater tendency to punish faculty who fail to conform to these expectations (Statham, Richardson, and Cook 1991). Thus, if female faculty are under pressure to be exceptionally prepared, emotionally distant, and devoid of explicit political tendencies in their teaching and yet students react unfavorably to this, then how do they resolve this dichotomy? More to the point, how do they negotiate the terrain of exacting college and department expectations of expertise while developing an effective pedagogical style that will enhance their teaching performance? And what of the experience of ethnic minority female faculty who must contend with gender and racial expectations as well as complicating department expectations? At the very least, the empirical evidence from studies of student gender expectations and the narrative account from ethnic minority faculty suggest that we need more focused research on how these questions of race and gender intersect in the classroom.

Conclusions: Negotiating the Terrain of Race and Gender in the Classroom

There are several conclusions that can be drawn from this preliminary discussion of race and gender and their relationship to women of color teaching political science. First, the complex range of student sensibilities, department expectations, and complex reactions around race and gender create a challenging classroom environment not frequently replicated in the more traditional course offerings of political science departments. Moreover, this complexity is often unrecognized and even misunderstood by colleagues. One important strategy for negotiating this terrain is to make explicit these challenges for the colleagues, department chairs, and university committees that will evaluate teaching for promotion, merit pay, and tenure. In addition to pointing to the growing body of literature documenting these challenges, an alternative strategy is to craft an independent teaching evaluation intended to measure student responsiveness and expectations on race and gender in the course. This evaluation can be administered at the beginning of the course to measure students' understanding of race and gender and then again at the end of a class to capture much of the knowledge and sensibility otherwise missed on a standard teaching evaluation. Alternatively, an increasing number of colleges and universities are permitting faculty to make changes or additions to their standard course evaluations. Taking advantage of these situations can illuminate the different student sensibilities that are carried into classes dealing with race or gender and that may be projected onto faculty who embody these differences. More importantly, they can bring to light important sites of learning that might otherwise be ignored. Faculty should be sure to present these alternative evaluations in their annual merit reviews, as well as petitions for promotion and tenure, along with a statement contextualizing their significance.

Second, because this challenging environment (including instances of open resistance and harassment) can impact the teaching evaluations of women of color faculty as well as their ability to find a home in the university; it is important that there be some balance to the number of explicitly raced or gendered courses that any faculty is expected to teach, let alone a junior female faculty of color. In other words, one strategy, especially for junior faculty still negotiating the terrain of professional development in the university, and for department chairs wanting to assure the maximum opportunities for success among their faculty, is to limit the number of explicitly raced or gendered classes that any faculty member teaches in a given year. To be clear, the point of this strategy would be to assure that no faculty is being unduly overloaded with teaching courses that can carry with them greater challenges, require stronger pedagogical skills, and consume greater amounts of faculty time, energy, and emotional labor. However, there should be some attention to the fact that for many women of color these classes reflect their area of academic expertise; thus, the attempt to limit or balance these classes should be done only in consultation with the faculty in question and not as a unilateral decision from departments.

Third, some data suggest that the type of pedagogy employed also makes a difference in student responsiveness. As such, it becomes a worthwhile investment for faculty to emphasize an engaged pedagogy with their students. The results of the focus group are especially suggestive that faculty who invest the time and energy to not simply prepare for class but to develop personable relationships with their students within the class (complete with movement, humor, personal examples, exercises that move beyond the material) are likely to benefit in higher course evaluations even when teaching in classes than are explicitly raced or gendered diversity courses. And yet, there also needs to be some recognition of the additional scrutiny these types of classes have faced recently, particularly when they've employed explicitly “feminist” or “racially conscious” approaches. While an investment in such pedagogy can create vibrant and rewarding classrooms, they can also be met with confusion and even punishment when they conflict with department or university expectations regarding the teaching of controversial subjects. As such, it is important that faculty understand the risks to employing these strategies, but it is more important that they negotiate these tactics in advance with their departments so that there is full knowledge of the context, challenges, and conditions that the faculty member faces.

Ultimately this discussion is not meant to either glorify or disparage the experiences of teaching race and gender in the political science classroom. In fact, the forms of tension and even resistance that emerge from students in response to these intersections can be important sites of learning. The problem is that to effectively negotiate these sites of resistance and transform them into productive learning opportunities requires time, energy, and skill that most new faculty do not automatically possess and most universities are not equipped to provide. In short, there is a careful dance that must take place, one predicated on understanding race and gender, to effectively transform these sites of resistance. Establishing an “engaged classroom” setting makes a difference in these outcomes but will require a consciousness about the state of race and gender at the university, a commitment of time and resources, and a desire for change.

Author Bio

Anna Sampaio is associate professor of political science at the University of Colorado at Denver and Health Sciences Center, where she teaches and researches in the areas of racial/ethnic politics, Latina/o politics, gender politics, immigration, post-colonialism, and transnationalism. She was twice recognized by the APSA Pi Sigma Alpha National Honor Society for excellence in teaching.