Teaching Philosopy

Gilbert Neri

         Everyone in my family is a storyteller. On Christmas eve in Los Angeles we’d gather at my grandmother’s house for the dreaded task of spreading masa for tamales. It was usually then, in those long afternoon hours sitting around a plastic covered dining table that the stories would emerge. They were always group efforts, each one of us with a different version of what really happened. They were always loud and always true. Sometimes they were funny to tears, but sometimes they ended in anger and serious disagreement. Whatever the story, no matter how many times it had been heard, they were remembered a little differently, and presented as brand-new each time.
         I too am a storyteller and I approach teaching in a similar fashion. As a student, I always experienced great difficulty grasping subjects that did not have a narrative element in their explanation or link to a personal experience or memory. It was in the classes that fostered a storytelling environment where I realized that everyone’s presence and participation were the driving force behind really learning the subject matter. When learning was a collaborative effort and personally meaningful, knowledge moved beyond information memorized and then returned; it became a tool. As a teacher, I keep this memory with me.
         This approach helps me develop in-class strategies to bridge gaps between theory and life experiences. Making links between theory and practice is one of the most challenging things I have undertaken. There are a number of reasons for this, as each class and each individual in that class will have very different ways of linking the two. One of these is the very belief that the divisions between theory and real life exist as distinct borders and that each has little or nothing to do with the other. This is hard to overcome because often times this feeling precedes even the first class meeting. I still struggle with this, but I approach theory as I approach poetry; it reveals itself over time. In approaching it this way, it can seem less daunting and a certain permission is granted to everyone not to feel obliged to “get it” all at once and find their own ways of absorbing or rejecting it. 
         Another reason bridging the perceived gaps between theory and practice pose a challenge to me is the realization that though this may empower an individual to gain broader perspectives, new perspectives take some getting used to. It is not always easy to traverse the distances between new knowledge and life at home. Although valuable, critical thinking is not a value in and of itself, and as such, I see the importance in helping to focus this energy productively, integrating its power as an analytical tool with the diverse backgrounds of the students who employ it.
         More importantly though, I feel a deep commitment to creating a learning environment where perceived boundaries between and among disciplines are reexamined. Some of the most rewarding times I have ever experienced in teaching are those when a majority of the people in the class came from supposedly non-artistic fields of study. What I enjoyed most about working with these students is the fact that their approaches to projects broadened the scope of what was possible and often led into territory where none of us were very certain how to proceed. It was at these times that the multidisciplinary environment proved invaluable in furthering each of our investigations.
          In a beginning sculpture class at California State University, Monterey Bay, I assigned a project wherein students were to tell a personal story in sculptural/ multimedia form. One student chose to do a very personal piece dealing with the issue of loss. It was one of the last projects in the semester so as a class we were well acquainted, which added to the intensity of the projects. Few of the students were Art majors, and although many of the projects during the semester revolved around the development of basic skills and issues in contemporary art this project was an opportunity to move beyond the original parameters of the course. It was during the critiques of these very personal projects when I realized that any attempt to keep the discussion framed within the context of art would not only fail of its own inadequacy, but also limit our need to express sincere emotion and vulnerability. “Art”  became the thread between our earlier theoretical investigations  and shared personal experience. 
         I view learning as a contract you make with yourself, it is one that is life long, pitfalls included. I am committed to teaching because I also have a passionate commitment to learning. It is a passion that is rooted in the love of telling, questioning, and listening. Yet with this passion comes the responsibility of sincere engagement  in the subjects I teach and also with the students I have the fortune of knowing.  It is for this reason that I  continue to search out new ways of telling, and new ways of listening.