The above epigraph came from a student in my standard Introduction to Political Theory course at the end of the fall, 2005 semester. This course was offered at San Francisco State University (SFSU), a large (30,000 students), public, urban institution and part of the California State University system. The size of the class was 45 students, typical for such an introductory course, consisting mostly of juniors and majors in political science (since the course is a requirement for graduation for such majors).¹

The intellectual caliber of the students appeared to be normally dispersed: there were some excellent students and some weak ones, especially with regard to the latter group's writing skills—a quite common occurrence at SFSU. Almost all of the students had completed at least one other core class (usually Introduction to American Government or Comparative Politics) and were taking a political science elective concurrently with the introductory political theory course.

The epigraphic message inspired me to write this essay in order to pass along some insights generated by this student's (and her peers') reaction to the course readings. Good instructors say that teachers should always learn from their students. I think I have, and I want to impart one successful approach to assigning readings for introductory political theory courses, which constitute part of the core of our discipline and the undergraduate political science major across the country.

After teaching introductory courses in political theory for nearly four decades, I have come to realize that the choice of assigned readings is crucial to the success of such a course. Instructors must carefully decide which thinkers to include from amongst the many who deserve to be read, and which works and editions of the selected theorists are best. Moreover, we need to address the important issue of how comprehensible the potential readings are for the first-time political theory student and, of course, determine the time to be allocated to each reading. Should we assign the whole text, or merely excerpts? Should secondary commentaries on the texts be assigned to assist the students' understanding of the readings? If so, which ones, and why? As is true for any text-based course, the selection of texts is the quintessence of the overall learning experience. All these preliminary but essential issues confront the instructor of introductory courses in political theory before the first class meeting is ever held.

The standard introductory course in Western political theory is the staple of almost all political science departments and is usually required for the major. This class is likely to be the only experience in the subject for most political science majors, since political theory is students' least-chosen subfield within the discipline. Therefore, instructors of the course have great responsibilities and challenges. The first goal is to familiarize students with the 2,400-year-old, grand tradition of Western political theory beginning with Socrates/Plato and extending to the present. Second, instructors usually seek to provide students with a conceptual framework for the academic field that includes the questions and issues political theorists have focused upon throughout the ages, such as political obligation, the right of revolution, and equality (just to name a few). A third goal is to teach students how to read and comprehend challenging theoretical texts and to write rationally persuasive essays defending their own judgments of political value and political prescriptions in reaction to the readings and class discussion. A final main objective is to improve students' critical thinking skills. Other objectives could be added, including learning about Western intellectual history or events like the French and American Revolutions. Central to these goals is the aim of encouraging students to intellectually engage with and learn from the assigned texts. Therefore, the instructor's selection of required readings proves essential to achievement of the course's multi-dimensional mission.

One important component of selecting the readings for an introductory course is whether to use the canonical primary sources only. These usually consist of readings from Plato onward, including Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, and Marx, as the core. Sometimes the work of such theorists as Augustine, Aquinas, Burke, Mill, and Nietzsche and contemporary thinkers such as Rawls, Arendt, or Foucault are added, depending upon the preferences of the instructor. On the other hand, an instructor might rely upon a topical or thematic approach that uses one comprehensive introductory text that narrates the development of the grand tradition of Western political thought. This approach presents summaries and analyses of the great political theorists (sometimes in historical sequence) organized by the author(s) around a prescribed analytical framework.

My estimate is that the canonical, primary source approach is more frequently used by instructors of political theory courses, but that the thematic approach is utilized sufficiently enough to warrant the publication of several new analytical texts (or editions) each year. Furthermore, users of a thematic text would not ordinarily assign it with the original works of political theorists because of the amount of class time required to organize each type of this course. Thus, both course designs are typically mutually exclusive, although followers of the canonical sources approach might recommend a thematic text (as described below) to supplement and enhance students' reading about the theorists included in the grand political theory tradition.

I assign thematic texts to help students theoretically contextualize the selected, great political theorists' ideas as well as their biographical and historical background. In addition, such thematic texts usually provide exegetical analyses of the great political theorists' main writings. My purpose in this essay is not to argue for either of these approaches since both, in my view, are valuable in their respective ways. Rather, it is to aid instructors who assign a thematic text and organize their course accordingly.

To that end, in this article I discuss my choice of assigned reading in addition to the thematic text when the thematic text approach is chosen. When the thematic text approach is used, I strongly recommend assigning a second reading that illustrates and reinforces the ideas discussed in the main text. This additional reading should be, in my view, a contemporary work in political theory that organizes the insights of several canonical political theorists on a profound political problem or around a theme and illustrates the thematic text's representation of political theory.

In fall, 2005, I chose Leslie Paul Thiele's Thinking Politics: Perspectives in Ancient, Modern, and Postmodern Political Theory (2003) as the thematic text, which has the merit of including ancient, medieval, modern, and postmodern political theories in its treatment of the expansive range of Western political thought. In assigning an abstract topical reading such as Thiele's, I have learned that there is a corresponding need to exemplify the ideas, categories, historical description associated with, and exegetical accounts of the political theory canonical texts provided by the main text. This second illustrative volume provides an exemplar of work in political theory to aid students in reinforcing and enhancing their abstract and conceptual learning from the main thematic text. Selection of this second work presents yet another decision about reading assignments to the instructor teaching political theory to novices.

Which single work can provide a stimulating sample of the best characteristics of political theory, yet also be informative about the corpus of several political theorists? Time does not permit the assignment of more than one work since the majority of the course is consumed with teaching the conceptual approach to the political theory canon advocated for in an analytical and historically comprehensive text like Thiele's. A great political theoretical work like Plato's Republic, Hobbes's Leviathan, or Rousseau's Social Contract might be considered an apt choice for this second illustrative assigned read, but how does one make a selection among the many canonical books in Western political theory? I recommend instructors not select one such canonical work or primary source in political theory, but instead choose a contemporary volume, like the two described below, that utilizes multiple political theories to illuminate a provocative and engaging theme.

It is possible to meet the challenge of adding an illustrative reading to a thematically based course by searching among the works of contemporary political theorists. I search for a broad, historically sweeping volume that utilizes and analyzes the insights of several canonical political theorists on a compelling theme to which the students will relate immediately. I have found that this type of supplementary reading instantly engages and challenges my Introductory political theory students because the volume is relevant to an important current political subject or problem and is advanced in nature. The latter trait ensures that the volume will be challenging to students so that when they progress in understanding the volume they have an important sense of accomplishment, as the epigraphic note shows. Such works are not numerous, but in my judgment and experience this second illustrative reading is of critical importance to the content and success of the course.

I want to emphasize that while I have always used a book, such as Thiele's, written specifically for students beginning their study of political theory as the main text, I accompany it with a contemporary and advanced scholarly work in political theory that engages the students by organizing the ideas of several, great political theorists addressing a compelling theme. Sophisticated concepts and insights from such a volume need to be explicated and historical background provided. The instructor should stimulate class discussion by posing questions about the volume's argument, the acceptability of the author's claims, and the relationship between the illustrative reading and the comprehensive text.

For several years I used John Seery's innovative Political Theory for Mortals: Shades of Justice, Images of Death (1996). My students have always responded strongly and enthusiastically to this volume. They immediately realized the political profundity of such problems as human mortality even though the author's conceptualization and level of discourse were not aimed at the political theory novice. Such an advanced and challenging assigned reading places responsibility upon the instructor to clarify and explain the nature of the conceptual framework and the exegetical analyses of the political theorists examined by the author. My students recognized through this reading that political theorists, such as Seery, raise fundamental as well as practically important issues worthy of their greatest cognitive efforts, and, furthermore, with such efforts the intellectual rewards for success would be great as well.

My aim in assigning this second book is to share a work that I am excited about as a political theorist since the instructor's enthusiasm as the leader of the discussion transfers to the class' consideration of the arguments in the book. Furthermore, such a reading has to be dependably engaging for the students in the class, as well as representative of the immensely rich history of political theory. Political Theory for Mortals most definitely meets these criteria with its trenchant interpretations of how death has been contemplated by political theorists since Plato and including early Christian and recent feminist thought (see Chapters 2–4). Despite enthusiastically assigning Seery's volume for several semesters successfully, I was concerned that its 1996 publication date might put it out of print, so I was on the lookout for a replacement, and I found one in 2005.

When I first read Cynthia Halpern's Suffering, Politics, Power: A Genealogy in Modern Political Theory (2002), I was immediately captivated with its powerful, poignant, and compelling subject, its originality in conception, and its passionate prose. It is a creative analysis of the political thought of Luther, Hobbes, Rousseau, and Nietzsche on the relationship between suffering and politics. This is a unique combination of theorists, especially the inclusion of Luther, whose ideas are typically omitted from introductory survey courses. Presenting a religious thinker like Luther provides unusual opportunities for a class to reflect upon the important yet often overlooked relationship between religious and political ideas. Of course, the canonical inclusion of Hobbes, Rousseau, and Nietzsche provides the platform for highlighting central issues in political theory given these theorists' profound influence upon the tradition. This includes the foundation of modernity through Hobbes, Rousseau's first penetrating criticism of modernity, and the innovative opening provided by the inclusion of Nietzsche and the postmodern critique of the tradition. All of these characteristics, in the context of the pervasive and compelling experience of human suffering, proved both provocative and instructive for my students in the fall, 2005, semester; in fact, that term's class discussion was the most widespread and lively, and its students' comments the most incisive, of any I have seen in my teaching career.

How did Halpern's work relate to Thiele's basic text for the course? Thiele emphasized the concept of the “conceptual lens” in political theory (see Chapter 1), that political theories define the world for their readers. I found this idea useful in explaining what political theory does for the student of this subfield: it helps them analytically organize the complex reality that is contemporary social life. Halpern's work can serve as an illustration of Thiele's point by providing students with the lens of “suffering, politics, and power” within modern societies (as Seery's does with death). Thiele also discusses the nature of modernity and postmodernity that Halpern's specific explicative discussions of the writings of Luther and Hobbes, Rousseau and Nietzsche apply. In short, the second, contemporary volume should provide a particular example of political theory work that fits the analytical framework discussed in the main text of the course. It should also stimulate class discussion about the ideas of notable political theorists on a central organizing theme that students find compelling: suffering and power for Halpern, and the consequences of death for the social and political order by Seery.

Halpern uses the ubiquitous and important human experience of suffering, an immediately recognizable profound problem, to organize her analyses of the thought of Luther, Hobbes, Rousseau, and Nietzsche. Halpern's volume proved incredibly useful in a class discussion of Luther's politically relevant ideas. Although there were no Lutherans in the class, Halpern's work stimulated a discussion of the relationship between religion and politics, how Roman Catholic and Judaic ideas differed from Luther's, and the politically relevant consequences of these differences for modernity and contemporary society. A similar excellent discussion was held in connection with Seery's unusual chapter on the political significance of Jesus and early Christian thought (mostly Paul) regarding death (see Chapter 3). Considering the sources of both of these religiously based chapters, one insight that emerges is that students are extremely receptive to the analytical, critical, and secular discussion of political theory through the discussion of the ideas of religious thinkers such as Jesus, Paul, and Luther that they associate exclusively with religious training and private life, and not a secular college environment (even if they themselves are not religious). For all of the students, this was the first time religious ideas were discussed for their socio-political impact without questions of faith being raised.

Seery starts off his volume with the following statement: “This is a book about death and politics. Here is the theme to start: Political theorists today, those scholars who think and write broadly about politics … have been largely silent about death, and that vast omission ought to be largely reexamined.” He later adds: “Death figures importantly, to say the least, in the canon of Western political thought—the extended corpus—even if it hasn't been sufficiently and explicitly addressed in much contemporary materials …. To start, Socrates famously referred to all of life as a preparation for death, and Plato insisted that the purpose of philosophy was to teach people how to die” (2, 6). He then divides the work into chapters examining in sequence the political thought of: Plato (Chapter 2), Jesus and early Christian thought (Chapter 3), Feminism, in particular, Donna Haraway (Chapter 4), and concludes with “politics of the ‘Final Position,’” or politics in the land of Hades (Chapter 5). One can easily see how an instructor can use such a framework to create intellectually engaging and rewarding class discussion even with students new to political theory: What could Socrates have meant about life preparing us for our death? Or, Plato about philosophy teaching us how to die? Why is contemporary social life so silent about death and such ideas? And so on.

Both Seery and Halpern's texts address a topic that students immediately perceive as significant, and then expand and deepen their thinking on these vital subjects by showing the contribution political theory can make not only to broad political issues that most individuals have little opportunity to affect, such as trade or monetary policy, but to factors that influence their own lives. As the student's epigraphic quotation reveals, Halpern's volume engaged her interest and she experienced the power that an insightful text in political theory has to provide greater understanding of her own life. The student's comments also illustrate the commonplace belief in the pedagogic literature that when students' interests are engaged, chances to achieve greater learning increase. Using Halpern's conceptual lens, which views suffering “as a moral experience, one that raises the question of the real and how it is justified …. [as well as it] raises the problem of good and evil, guilt and innocence, of the success, worth, or failure, and lack of the self or the community in which it happens,” leads the reader to the conclusion that suffering is “necessarily, also, a political question” (1). Such a viewpoint forces the reader, even the novice reader to contemplate suffering, and life in general, in a different light. Further, the similarities and differences of thought on suffering by Halpern's four selected theorists (Luther, Hobbes, Rousseau, and Nietzsche) shed light on the nature, causes, responses, blame, and responsibility for suffering, or what the author terms “a problematic of suffering, a genealogy of its theoretical and political development in several stages from the time of the Reformation” (2). Such a work can deliver on the promise of political theory and the implied premise of this discourse's rasion d'être in the initial test for the value of such an introductory course. By bringing to the students the reflections of great political theorists on the pressing problems of today, these ideas about the human experience can encourage and energize introductory students to reflect systematically on the enduring question of the founder of this field of inquiry, Plato: what is the nature of the good life and how to achieve it?

The different volumes selected for the course serve two purposes: an analytical text like Thiele's lays the course's foundation by capturing the abstract nature of political theory while succinctly summarizing its great tradition; an illustrative volume like Seery's or Halpern's supplements and complements this analysis by examining in detail specific political theories. Taken together, these volumes make for a coherent and effective introduction to political theory. Such supplementary volumes are further useful due to their topical format; their's is not just a chronological, historical account of theorists, but a selection of theorists thoughts germane to a central organizing topic.

As enthusiastic as I was about assigning these supplemental volumes, one thought did give me pause: even with my assistance, would introductory political theory students be able to comprehend these advanced works of political theory? Such works' prose, ideas, modes of reflection, and reasoning seem beyond the abilities of today's first-time students of political theory. I knew that assigning such philosophically deep and challenging work was unconventional, to put it mildly, and a decision that most political theorists would look askance upon. Was assigning these works merely extreme self-indulgence and irresponsibility on my part? Simply because I appreciate Seery and Halpern's works, was assigning them to undergraduates appropriate, or would such an assignment create a frustrating academic experience with no pedagogic value? Even worse, might the text reinforce the popular image of the field of political theory and its literature as esoteric, irrelevant, and incomprehensible (see Seery's discussion of what he terms “the academicization of political theory,” Chapter 1)?

To answer these questions, I rely on my general view of assigning readings in my political theory courses: I choose the best work available in terms of its profundity and creativity, no matter how challenging. Class discussion is dedicated to elucidating, explaining, and assessing the reading. Students are encouraged to ask questions about the work's ideas and their applications. I find that when students realize a book is both valuable and challenging they come to class desiring clarity of a text that may be difficult to comprehend without help, but that they know holds the promise of great intellectual insight. This judgment is based on a myriad of classroom experiences. It contradicts the condescending practice of assigning new students specially targeted volumes that trade new, original, more intellectually exciting, valuable, and challenging analyses for easier conceptual accessibility. These specifically designed, lowest common denominator texts usually provide superficial, tedious, uncritical, unfocused, and noncontextualized—historically and conceptually—summaries of the canonical theorists' works; that they generate less challenge to students is clear, but at the cost of less excitement and engagement—and, I would contend, less reward. Assigning challenging work gives class discussion a raison d'être that is missing from the typical introductory class.

As a college administrator, I have read of thousands of students' criticisms on evaluation forms. A standard complaint is: “The Instructor did not go beyond the text,” or, “The Instructor merely repeated the text” (today with the addition of PowerPoint slides), and the pervasive, “The class and readings were boring.” When the topic of assigned readings is perceived as important, challenging, and engaging, such as the subjects of death or suffering, then students' desire for elucidation is genuine, and they will succeed even when using advanced work. In fact, a heightened, lively, and valuable, even life-changing, intellectual experience can result.

I assigned Halpern's work to my Introduction to Political Theory class with some concern knowing it was the first time I'd used this work. Fortunately, the student response to the book was uniformly positive, even enthusiastic. To be candid, not one student felt they understood Halpern's exegeses and applications of the works of Luther, Hobbes, Rousseau, and Nietzsche to the basic theme of human suffering. Nonetheless, class discussion revealed that human suffering was a ubiquitous phenomenon within the human condition, one that every student in the class had experienced personally; some even retold their own confrontation with suffering. They enjoyed discussing this profound aspect of life that is seldom explicitly discussed in public, and even rarely by their family and friends.

To assist students, I prepared detailed chapter summaries and elaborations on the author's points to use in class discussion. In addition, I related Halpern's work to the ideas and conceptual framework provided in Thiele's work, highlighting, for example, how a conceptual lens helps organize and conceptualize the world and the importance of power to social life and political theory for each theorist Halpern included in her work. I then followed up this type of comparative theoretical discussion with the key evaluative question: Which “lens” on the world or theory is superior in the student's mind, and why? Additionally, I discussed the contributions of the theorists analyzed by Halpern, focusing, for example, on the importance of Luther's and Hobbes' thought to the creation and development of modernity and the society the students live in today.

Class discussions were interactive and full of energy. Many students participated, asking questions and offering original thoughts about the book's ideas and interpretative claims. Simply put, these were the most vibrant and rewarding class discussions I have ever led in political theory even though I do not think the class was unusual in its intellectual capacity compared to previous classes. I believe it was the compelling nature of Halpern's subject matter and the obvious profundity of the ideas of the selected political theorists she conveys to her readers. I should also point out that we read Halpern's work two-thirds of the way into the semester; the students are more willing to take risks in their contributions to class discussion at this latter portion of the semester when the class has a more developed collective identity.

Two visiting candidates for a position in political theory taught this group of undergraduates and were observed by the entire department of political science's faculty. Many, as well as the candidates themselves, remarked at how impressed they were with the class' intellectual curiosity, involvement, and thoughtfulness. I attribute this to the standard that engagement with and discussion of Halpern's challenging work created.

Now, regarding workload for such a course, I admit that beyond preparing the special chapter summaries, I also had to think more deeply and prepare more thoroughly with such a demanding text than I would have had I simply relied upon my basic knowledge of the canonical theorists and adhered to the normal introductory approach of representing necessarily caricatures of the great political theorists' ideas. Some instructors of political theory may be reluctant to take this prescribed approach to assigned readings because of the extra workload involved. This may be true, but I hope this reluctance can be overcome by the professionalism of my political theory colleagues and by their commitment to the best learning experience for their students.

Furthermore, and more self-interestedly, I would recommend this approach even with its required greater preparation time and additional expense of intellectual energy for the great rewards such a class provides the instructor. In addition to the internal reward of participating in such a successful heuristic experience, I received outstanding student evaluations; even more striking, several students (in fact the largest such group in my teaching history, 10 students) took another of my political theory elective classes because (they stated) of their excellent experience in introductory political theory.

I wrote this article to encourage my fellow political theorists to be bold and unconventional in their teaching of introductory political theory, especially when making important decisions about which readings to assign. Following the point of this article, even if one takes the traditional canonical theorists' primary sources approach, I would not shrink from assigning such notoriously difficult theorists as Hegel, Nietzsche, Foucault, Rawls, or any other the instructor finds insightful and compelling on engaging themes, even if they seem, at first, too difficult for new political theory students to comprehend. Instructors should not be daunted by challenging yet rewarding texts, as my own experience with Halpern and Seery's works shows.

Or, if one takes the thematic approach (as I do) with a text written to provide an analytical framework for introductory students to political theory, try assigning a work that exemplifies the text's account with the best challenging yet stimulating contemporary work in political theory. Select one with a compelling subject matter that uses political theory to illuminate a profound theme or subject, even if the work is not intended for beginning students. As long as the instructor is prepared to devote sufficient class time to elucidate the text, then both students and instructor will gain great rewards.

The student epigraph to this essay is one of the most gratifying notes I have ever received from a student in my long teaching career. To know that a struggling student experienced the joy of interacting with a challenging work like Halpern's, and experienced the feeling that she had mastered it, was gratifying for me as an instructor. This student's life has been changed. The next time she confronts a challenging intellectual problem or reading in school, or in her personal life or career, she will analyze it with confidence as a result of her experience in reading, discussing, and writing about Halpern's advanced and sophisticated volume. Also, the student's candid statement about her achievements transcending her grade is an inspiration for any teacher, and especially for an instructor of such a challenging subject like political theory.

In conclusion, I assert that political theorists need the pedagogical courage to assign truly great political theoretical works, both canonical and contemporary, if they are to achieve outstanding results in teaching such courses; such readings should be both challenging and engaging in nature. We should not fall prey to lower and condescending expectations that dull our beginning courses in political theory. We must, I contend, avoid dilution of content and diminution of value of our students' first-time—and for many, only—experiences of political theory. If we do this, new students can experience the immense intellectual promise of our important field, demanding as it must be.