Confessions of an Instructor: Reflections on Meaningful Teaching

What are some of the most memorable classes that you took in undergrad? Why were they memorable? What did the instructor specifically do to make learning accessible and fun?

I ask these questions in light of my own experiences as a student. When I was an undergraduate student studying English Literature, I dreaded having to attend, and even skipped, some of my Early Modern literature courses because of how they were taught. Even though I was interested in the course content, I was never really excited to attend class. I remember how the prof would stand in front of the classroom and read excerpts from an anthology. The sound of her voice was like a lullaby that put me to sleep almost instantly. I also didn’t like my translation course because all we did was translate essays from Japanese to English. The process was cumbersome and boring, and I vowed never to be a translator. For some reason, what stands out to me are the courses that I disliked as an undergrad student, but the lessons I learned in these courses as a student shaped the kind of instructor that I am today.

As an instructor, you don’t always get to teach the courses that you want or like. Sometimes we’re lucky, sometimes we’re not. So, you could imagine my initial response when I was offered to teach courses in classic (world) literature and translation. I thought to myself, GREAT! …

Perhaps, one of the best pieces of advice that I got was to make these courses my own. My colleagues encouraged me to “bust out” from the confines of traditional ways of teaching and learning, and motivated and inspired me to teach subjects that I once really disliked as a student. The worst thing that an instructor can do is to pass down their own negative experience to their students. One effective way of avoiding this is to reflect on why you didn’t like how the course was taught and to think about what you can do for your students so that they never have to experience what you did. Luckily, for my students, they will never have to hear me read page-after-page of something that was assigned for homework (that’s what Audiobooks are for) but I do encourage them to make meaningful connections between our historical past and the present by examining contemporary adaptations of literary classics that are relevant for teens and young adults in the 21st century. In my translation course, it was important to me that my students enjoyed the translation process, and I was over the moon when I received anonymous comments from students midway through the semester who said that “translating is fun!”  (cue the applause).

©きっしいのオムライス日記, 2019. Click to see Kishimoto’s blog. Photo shown here with permission from students who signed the “Informed Consent for Disclosure of Personal Information form” © 2019.

It is much harder to generate a strong desire for students to learn in a course that you personally had a bad experience with as a student, but take it as an opportunity to highlight your expertise and knowledge.

On the first day of my translation course, I asked my students what they wanted to translate and I tried to honor their requests to the best of my abilities. The first half of the semester was dedicated to teaching the grammatical, linguistic and pragmatic aspects involved in the translation process. The last few weeks of the course focused on applying these strategies to various texts, or discourse genres that students themselves wanted to practice translating. Another important thing that I wanted to do in this course was to show students the practical outcome of in-class work. So, I reached out to my friend, Yoshihiro Kishimoto, who is the author of Kissy's I love Omurice (きっしいのオムライス大好き, 2019). I asked him if it would be OK if our class produced unofficial translations of the recipes featured in his book as fun practice and as part of a unit on how to translate procedural discourse that he could later feature on his blog. He gave me a thumbs up, and you can check out the students’ on-line publication here (scroll down till you see “Great English version of omurice recipes !”). Thank you, Kishimoto-san!

In teaching courses that you once dreaded as a student, you gain new insight and learn to become a more effective instructor. At the end of the day, it’s important to design courses that are academically rigorous, but also ones that students would want to attend. The best instructors are those who never stop learning, and who consistently challenge themselves by pushing the boundaries of their own comfort zone.

Translating Poetry: A Special Guest Talk by Sally Ito

© Chin Music Press Inc, 2016. Front cover. Illustrated by Toshikado Hajiri. Translated by David Jacobson, Sally Ito and Michiko Tsuboi.

I am back from my four month hiatus! I wish I could tell you that I was busy traveling the world…

In reality, I’ve been busy doing research, meeting deadlines for publications, moving and teaching. I am back at the University of Alberta where I’m wrapping up a course on Japanese-to-English translation. Next semester, it looks like I’ll be teaching a course on Literature, Popular Culture and the Visual Arts, so I can’t wait!

As the end of the semester begins to dawn, I was lucky to have been able to contact Sally Ito, a Japanese-Canadian poet and translator based in Winnipeg, to deliver a guest talk to our translation class via SKYPE. I discovered Sally’s co-translated works in The Polyglot Magazine’s Unfaithful Issue, which features poetry in translation in multiple languages, including Japanese. Our class focused on a selection of poems featured in both The Polyglot and Are You an Echo? The Lost Poetry of Misuzu Kaneko. This award winning book, which also received an Honorable Mention for the Freeman Award in 2016, presents a side-by-side, Japanese to English translation of Misuzu’s poems that are also accompanied with beautiful visual translations. Like some of my students, however, this was the first time that I read Misuzu’s works, and I was struck by the simplicity and playful innocence of her poems in light of her life struggles.

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© Chin Music Press Inc, 2016. Excerpt from "Day and Night” in Are You an Echo? Illustrated by Toshikado Hajiri. Translated by David Jacobson, Sally Ito and Michiko Tsuboi.

In class, Sally shared some interesting stories that gave us behind-the-scenes insight to the translation process of her co-translated works. I think my students will agree that one of the most challenging aspects of translating expressive texts is being able to capture the nuance, tone and meaning of the source text. And while these aspects of translation can be sharpened with practice and experience, I think one of the most valuable lessons that I learned was that translation is never a solitary activity. Sally’s co-translations are a testament to the power of teamwork (and partnership with her aunt) that is essential in producing accurate, compelling and evocative translations.

Still, even professionals encounter obstacles. For example, what happens when translators can’t agree on an interpretation of a work? We know that not all poets interpret the meaning of a poem in the same way, and in Sally’s case the last lines of the poem “Day and Night,” featured in Are You an Echo, posed a problem for translators because it could be translated in two different ways. To resolve this issue, the translators asked people to illustrate how they interpreted the last lines of poem. I thought this was such a fun and interesting method to achieve clarity in meaning. Sally’s backstory to the translation of “Kaguyahime –Songs from Folktales 2–,” featured in Unfaithful, was also interesting in that it gave us insight to what was happening at the time when she was translating this poem and how a tragic event within a community can impact the depth of meaning conveyed in the translated text. In other words, poets and translators are not locked up in some ivory tower. Not only are they sensitive to the poetic words on the page but they are equally sensitive to how these words make meaning in the world in which she/he belongs. The beauty of poetry in translation lies, to some extent, in its subjectivity that enables the poetic imagination.

Overall, I couldn’t be happier for this experience. It was an interactive session where Sally, as well as the students read poetry out loud (as it should), and we all had so much fun!

Works Cited

Misuzu, Kaneko. Are You an Echo? The Lost Poetry of Misuzu Kaneko. Illustrated by Toshikado Hajiri. Translated by David Jacobson, Sally Ito and Michiko Tsuboi, Chin Music Press Inc, 2016.

The Life of an Academic: Defense Tips

In anticipation for my thesis defense, which was scheduled on July 18th, I experienced a wave of emotions: from impending doom and doubt, to a state of euphoria, and RELIEF. This blog is motivated in part by my own experience of having successfully defended my thesis in Comparative Literature at the University of Alberta, and to demystify the culture of fear and anxiety surrounding the “big day” because I’m probably not the only one who was uncertain about what happens behind closed doors. Here are my top five pieces of advice that I hope will help you prep or relax. So grab your glass of wine, or cup of tea and be calm, and read on.

Finally some sunshine in Edmonton!….on the day that I’m scheduled to fly back to Toronto!

1. What Happens Behind Closed Doors is No Mystery.

I often found that when I asked about what happens during a defense it resulted in more questions and confusion than answers. This can be stressful especially in preparing for the defense, but here are few things in to keep in mind.

All the information about the defense procedures for the department of Modern Languages & Cultural Studies (MLCS) can be found here, here, or here !

In short, the thesis defense begins with your arrival to wherever you are scheduled to be. Arrive ten fifteen minutes early to set up a presentation, if you have one. Once everyone is present, the non-examining chair will ask you to leave the room briefly, and s/he will call you back in when the committee is ready. From there, you may be asked to give a short presentation if you’ve prepared one, and this is followed by the members of the committee asking you questions in order of the member least closest to you. There will be two rounds of questions, and you’ll be asked to spend approximately 10-12 minutes for each question. In-between the first and second rounds, the non-examining chair will ask if you’d like a break. My committee and I didn’t, so we proceeded with the second round. After the second round of questions, you’ll be asked to leave the room while the committee deliberates. And, once they reach a decision they’ll call you back in and announce the results. My defense began at noon and it ended at around 2:30-2:35-ish.

2. How do you Prepare for the “Big Day?”

Get advice from friends who have recently defended, or the best thing you can do is to consult with your supervisor first and ask him/her questions or concerns that you might have about the defense. They’ve supervised dozens of grad students and have lots of experience. Plan early and schedule a meeting with him/her, and don’t be afraid to ask questions. Your supervisor is your greatest supporter. In addition, give yourself some time between the day you submit your thesis to your non-internal external(s) and the day of the defense. My defense was scheduled two months after I submitted my thesis to the non-internal external, and during those two months, I worked on other projects, publications (and played some Zelda BOTW). Two weeks before the defense day, I re-read my thesis and took note of the kinds of questions that I thought I might be asked. For example, these questions stemmed out of the kinds of assumptions I made in my reading/interpretation of texts and theories. Reading my thesis with “fresh eyes” was effective because I was able to predict, or tailor my response to three, or four out of the ten questions that were asked during the defense. So, channel your inner Sherlock Holmes and start looking for clues!

3. Treat the Defense with Respect, Not Fear.

It might seem impossible but try to relax. (I know this is easier said than done). I was so excited to defend; that is, until I landed in Edmonton …and then it all started to feel “real.” Several days prior to the defense, I think I may have gotten four to five hours sleep a day due to jet-lag and nervousness. There is no single solution to getting over your nerves, but perhaps the best advice I received was from a colleague that I ran into on my way back to my hotel. He told me, “Go into the exam with respect not fear or anxiety” (Thank you Andreas!). Remember that your committee and externals wouldn’t have agreed for you to defend, if they felt you weren’t ready. During my defense, I felt that my work was respected by everyone on the committee, and although some questions were a bit harder than others to answer, the questions they asked all came from a genuine place of interest and inquiry. For me, the defense itself went much smoother than I had anticipated, so breathe!

4. During the Defense

Answer questions using the T-model. This is one piece of advice that my supervisor gave me, which I found incredibly helpful. Simply put, because you have such a limited time to answer questions, begin with a “general” statement, then, narrow it down by providing an example. Remember to be succinct and clear (though I must admit, the first question was the hardest one for me to answer only because my nerves got in the way, but I quickly found my rhythm).

5. After the Defense

If you’re not one of the lucky few who got a tenure track job straight out of your PhD program, then, you’ll want to be proactive about taking your next steps, especially for those who still want to pursue an academic career. As I mentioned before, schedule a meeting with your supervisor (or rather, who is now your colleague) and get tips about turning the thesis into a book, about collaborating with him/her on research/publication initiatives, and find ways to develop your teaching dossier.

Good luck! And remember to eat well and “relax.”