This guest post is brought to us from William Arnold (PhD student), Kaitlyn DaVisio (PhD Student) and Professor Cynthia Miller-Idriss, all of the School of Public Affairs, American University
The pressures of academia can be intense. For graduate students, there are concerns about income, grades, and a ‘hidden curriculum’. For faculty, there are administrative pressures on narrow performance metrics, and an ever-shrinking pool of tenured positions. Despite these stressors, both students and teachers would do well to remember why we chose to engage in this profession. Most often, one’s interest stems from a joy for learning, the feeling of discovering something new, and the opportunity to share research with other like-minded individuals. In a world where pressures are intense, we must invest in ways to ensure academia remains an enjoyable pursuit. We should not lose our curiosity, nor our passion for discovering something new. One way to foster continued interest in the academic enterprise is through a loosely structured and flexible independent study, which we term a ‘trunk and branches’ approach.
An independent study is a course in which one or two student(s) create their own course syllabus and outcomes with the oversight of a faculty advisor. They are typically used to allow students to study topics not provided in other university courses, or to allow one to study a particular topic in greater depth. As second year PhD students at American University, we were particularly motivated to take an independent study course for the opportunity to dive deeper into our topic of interest – namely, cultures surrounding violent extremism – and to explore new ways of thinking.
Rather than pursuing a ‘traditional’ independent study, following a syllabus co-created with a faculty ex-ante, we employed what we came to call a ‘trunk and branch’ approach. We began our venture with a broad theme, looking at a number of seminal texts in the field. From that point we considered the question ‘what was most interesting about this article?’. This prompted us to isolate the most intriguing aspects, which we then focused on in the next set of readings – i.e., leaving the trunk and travelling up the branch of a tree. In this process, our faculty advisor guided us towards readings best suited to address whatever themes we found interesting from our previous set of readings. Such an approach gave us the flexibility to explore questions that we would not have considered asking in the first place, were it not for a deductive approach that allowed us to move from the generic to the specialized.
For instance, after looking at seminal texts in international relations (our trunk), we became particularly intrigued by their invocation of culture. This led us to consider sociological literature on culture and structure (our branch); which raised questions for us on subcultures and countercultures (our leaf). Where a series of readings were not interesting or perhaps did not answer our questions, we considered why they were not interesting to us and what perspectives they lacked, which prompted us to identify more readings to fill the gap. This enabled us to include more diverse perspectives in our study, such as from historically marginalized voices, where a focus solely on ‘seminal works’ may have silenced such voices. When we felt we had exhausted an area, we moved back down the branch to the trunk, and then turned to an opposing position. For instance, after exhausting the topic of culture from the bottom-up, we turned to readings on how structures of power impose culture from the top-down.
Our faculty advisor played an important role in guiding our academic venture. Neither of us students are sociologists by training, and we would not have thought to consider sociological perspectives of culture had we not been pushed to readings outside of our innate academic disciplines. Rather than having an instructor in a formal sense, we had a guide, who was able to direct us to the location of branches we might feel interesting and recommendations of literature. At its core though, the direction of the exploration was guided by the students, who made the decisions as to what content was most interesting from a given set of readings, as well as the thematic linkages between different branches. This approach was well suited to an independent study, outside of the traditional classroom setting with a syllabus with a set instructor.
As graduate students, we are often told to not propose a research question that has an obvious answer. If we do, then the topic is likely to lack the requisite complexity to make a project interesting. We would suggest that the same holds for an independent study topic. If a student who is tasked with creating a syllabus for an independent study topic has a clear idea of exactly where the literature should and will go, then the exploration may be somewhat superficial – charting familiar paths along the surface of a topic. To be clear, in many circumstances this approach will be preferable to the student, especially one seeking an overview of a given subject. However, independent studies often serve as an opportunity to dive deeper into a topic of interest; or, at the graduate level, to explore potential thesis and dissertation topics. We argue that creative thinking requires a creative approach – one that can flourish in the possibilities of an independent study.
In a climate where academia is becoming increasingly driven by efficiency and narrow metrics, we would do well to remember that progress is rarely linear. The constant need to prove relevance inhibits the time and space needed for creative endeavours, when it is these creative projects that can push both students and instructors into new ways of thinking. Giving students the space to explore (and to fail) has benefits two-fold. It allows students to follow interests, and it also opens up areas of exploration and connections that the instructor may not have previously considered. The joys of learning often come from the journey, not the destination. Instead of determining the destination of a project before you begin, getting started with just a sense of the direction in which you want to travel gives you the flexibility to enjoy the journey. And at the end of the ride, you may end up at a destination you did not realise existed.
So much of academia relies on tried and tested patterns, with set syllabi and ways of teaching. But familiar patterns lead to familiar results. Academia must also require thinking outside of the box, trying things, and being prepared on occasion to fail and reroute. It is through this creative process that we can break cycles and explore new patterns and causal links, to move schools of thought forwards. A ‘trunk and branch’ approach may not always be suitable, but in certain circumstances it provides the flexibility to allow for a student-centered approach that facilitates creative learning.