Tag: circumstances

  • Teaching and Learning Can’t Happen Under These Circumstances

    Teaching and Learning Can’t Happen Under These Circumstances

    I’m hoping everyone working in higher education is aware of the recent events at Texas A&M, where a student recording of an exchange with an instructor ultimately led to the dismissal of the instructor and the demotion of both the department chair and college dean that had backed the instructor’s classroom autonomy.

    I looked at the big-picture academic freedom implications in a newsletter for the Center for the Defense of Academic Freedom, where I note that one of the people who initially defended the instructor’s autonomy was Texas A&M president Mark Welsh, who told the student complainant that firing the instructor was “not happening,” only to reverse course after a storm of right-wing outrage and political pressure rained down.

    The instructor was a model of professionalism—watch the video yourself if you don’t believe me—and yet this student set out with a plan deliberately engineered to get the instructor fired, and it worked.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about this student, about what has to happen for a young person to enter college seeing something like this—personally targeting and destroying another human being who is just doing their job—as what they want to spend their college years doing.

    It is an act of great cruelty, and yet I must imagine this person does not see themselves as cruel. I’m sure they somehow have justified this cruelty, but there is simply no justification for it. If they are not cruel, what is left? It becomes an act of madness.

    One of my favorite things about teaching college-age students is that they are ready for the whole deal, adults who have volunteered themselves for a potentially transformative experience. Look, I’m not naïve about the more transactional mindsets that students bring to college, but it always seemed to me that at least the potential for something more meaningful, more lasting, was always present.

    I loved teaching because I knew that this was the goal, even as I only had vague notions of how it could be achieved. And when it was achieved for a particular student, it was clear that this was not necessarily replicable on a mass scale using the same approach. That difficulty is fascinating. The tension in not knowing if it can be pulled off, but trying anyway, was energizing, sometimes even intoxicating. This is very hard, but it is also very worth doing.

    At least I think so.

    Sometimes, when things were going well during a class, I would step outside myself for a moment and think, Look at all these people! Each one of them was a person, and together we were collectively being human, at least for a moment. What could be better?

    Here we are. I honestly don’t know how anyone can teach and learn under the present circumstances. For the bulk of my career, I worked in places where my political and religious views were out of sync with those of most my students, but I could not imagine being afraid of them exacting punishment or revenge on me for the mere fact of these views. My students were fundamentally open and curious, not without convictions by any means, but also essentially trusting that everyone involved in the educational enterprise had their best interests at heart unless proven otherwise.

    Now, it seems prudent to assume someone is out to get you, because it only takes one person of bad faith armed with a smart phone and ill intent to destroy your career. There is an essential fragility, a brittleness to this student who took down their instructor that makes them impossible to work alongside. There is no potential for community. Even if they are only one in a thousand, the whole deal is spoiled.

    In my course policies, I would often share a quote from Cornel West regarding the project I hoped the students and I were embarking on together.

    “I want to be able to engage in the grand calling of a Socratic teacher, which is not to persuade and convince students, but to unsettle and unnerve and maybe even unhouse a few students, so that they experience that wonderful vertigo and dizziness in recognizing at least for a moment that their world view rests on pudding, but then see that they have something to fall back on. It’s the shaping and forming of critical sensibility. That, for me, is what the high calling of pedagogy really is.”

    There are places today where it seems like even articulating such a philosophy, let alone attempting to put it into practice, would disqualify me from the classroom.

    As I was first working on drafting this column, I saw the news of the violent death of another young person who got his start as an antagonist to college professors and became quite wealthy and powerful primarily by calling down harassment on others—harassment that caused them to fear for their jobs and even sometimes their lives.

    He had a wife and two children under 4 years old. More madness.

    I honestly don’t know what to make of any of this. I am in a moment of Dr. West’s “pudding.”

    Maybe tomorrow more helpful thoughts will come.

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  • There’s nothing certain about the circumstances when a duty of care applies to students

    There’s nothing certain about the circumstances when a duty of care applies to students

    The Secretary of State for Education was recently asked in Parliament if she would meet with campaigners to discuss the “duty of care” owed by higher education providers to their students.

    Janet Daby – the Minister for Children, Families and Wellbeing in the Department for Education (DfE) responded on her behalf, and also outlined the department’s current view on the law for holding negligent institutions to account.

    At first glance, her response was unhelpful – arguing the department’s position is that a duty of care in higher education may arise in “certain circumstances”:

    Such circumstances would be a matter for the courts to decide, based on the specific facts and context of the case being considered, and will be dependent on the application by a court of accepted common law principles.

    It would be easy to argue that lawmakers, including Janet Daby and skills minister Jacqui Smith, should not simply defer to the courts on matters of law and institutional accountability.

    After all, lawmakers have the power to create laws – so overall responsibility doesn’t rest solely with judges and their judicial interpretation of common law principles.

    But perhaps Daby’s response was more helpful than it looked – because it directly confronts misleading statements that have persisted since 2023, particularly those made by former Minister Robert Halfon.

    Although some might view her answer as a cautious response, in reality, it was a breath of fresh air – a much-need step in addressing the confusion that has clouded our understanding of legal responsibilities in higher education.

    From Halfon’s Law to Daby’s Law

    To grasp the significance of Janet Daby’s correction, we must first revisit the origins of the confusion – what I’ll call here Halfon’s Law.

    Introduced by Robert Halfon in 2023, it laid the foundation for a misrepresentation of the legal duties owed by higher education providers to their students. Halfon’s Law is a belief that stemmed from a misunderstanding of online material, initially presented in a now-deleted AMOSSHE blog that was published in 2015.

    In responding to the 128,000+ registered voters who signed our parliamentary e-petition calling for a statutory duty of care, Halfon asserted his department’s belief that universities already owed their students a broad and generalised duty of care. He said:

    Higher Education providers do have a general duty of care to deliver educational and pastoral services to the standard of an ordinarily competent institution and, in carrying out these services, they are expected to act reasonably to protect the health, safety and welfare of their students. This can be summed up as providers owing a duty of care to not cause harm to their students through the university’s own actions.

    At first glance, this might sound reasonable, but in truth, it was far from accurate. By conflating a general moral and legal principle – to act in a way that avoids causing harm to others – with a formal, court recognised duty of care that only arises in specific, legally-defined circumstances and relationships, Halfon introduced a dangerous oversimplification.

    It was a distortion used to justify dismissing the petitioners’ call for a statutory duty of care, effectively silencing important conversations about the protections that students need.

    Halfon’s Law, with the documented source having now been quietly removed from its original website, was a misstep in understanding the complexities of legal responsibilities in higher education. Its fall from grace is something to be celebrated.

    Enter Daby’s Law: Janet Daby’s response marks a shift towards legal clarity. A duty of care may arise in certain specific circumstances, but ultimately, it is the courts that will determine the existence and application of any such duty on a limited case-by-case basis – should lengthy and costly litigation ever actually occur.

    As it stands therefore, nobody truly knows what protections are in place, leaving students vulnerable, and institutions at risk of being punished for failing to do the right thing. As such, Daby’s position not only corrects the errors of Halfon’s Law, but also raises significant concerns, including the urgent need for a properly codified duty that both universities and their students can understand.

    The advocacy that led to Daby’s law

    Daby’s correction of the record didn’t happen by chance. It was the direct result of relentless behind-the-scenes efforts from advocates, especially ForThe100, who recognised the need to dismantle Halfon’s contention? – since it was a significant barrier preventing meaningful progress.

    For too long, Halfon’s Law and its sweeping and factually incorrect statements had clouded the conversation around student safety and wellbeing, effectively stopping us from moving forward and pushing for the protections students desperately need. Too many policymakers thought it true – and so dismissed the need for a dedicated duty.

    The subtle shift in content and tone, while preferable to outright inaccuracy, introduces its own set of challenges. Without clear or codified guidance, students, families, and institutions are left to navigate a murky and uncertain legal landscape.

    That vagueness is deeply problematic. It means widespread confusion about rights and responsibilities, leaving institutions uncertain of their obligation, and exposed to unforeseen legal liabilities – while students are left unsure of the protections they can depend on.

    Worse, the lack of clear, direct, and upfront standards is a reactive rather than proactive system, shifting the burden onto individuals to seek legal recourse only after harm has occurred.

    This approach neither prioritises prevention nor ensures accountability, leaving gaps in a system meant to put students first.

    It is now crucial that the government corrects the public response to our petition without delay. Halfon’s Law remains embedded in the official narrative, and its continued presence in government communications perpetuates confusion, and blocks meaningful progress.

    More importantly, for over five decades, students have been without adequate legal protection, and this gap continues to undermine their safety and wellbeing.

    Nobody should be reassured by a duty that arises in “certain circumstances” where those circumstances would be a matter for “the courts to decide”. Students and universities need instead to know where they stand – with the same sort of clarity on offer for the duty of care that universities as employers owe to their staff.

    The next step is for the government to act – taking concrete steps toward enacting statutory reform that holds higher education institutions accountable for their acts and omissions with regard to student safety and wellbeing, and giving students and their families the confidence that when they enrol into a university, they know the minimum “duty of care” that they can actually expect.

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