A Teachable Moment Missed?

“What do you think about Obamacare?” asked my work-study student when she came into the office.  She is an international student studying at my institution and had been in a business management class where the subject had been discussed.  As one of the many in this country frustrated by the continued effort by conservatives and political pundits to discredit the expansion of health care coverage that is the law of the land, I responded with a great deal of emotion.  “It is the Affordable Care Act, not Obamacare, first of all,” I replied.  “Even if President Obama is willing to acknowledge that term, I am not.  I was not in favor of the law, not because I see it as a problem, but because it does not fully address the problem of affordable health care.  What we need is a single payer system not this giveaway to the insurance and pharmaceutical companies.  But that was not going to happen so the President chose to work through the current system in place.  There are certainly flaws that need to be fixed, but the solution is not to dismantle the legislation and start anew.  That tactic will only result in the continuation of our current, out-of-control, health care system which lines the pockets of CEOs and fills the coffers of politicians while failing to provide adequate health care to millions of people.  Health care is a right, not a privilege!  It is something that people should have because we care about one another not something that depends upon one’s ability to pay!” 

As I paused to take a breath, I saw the shock—dare I say terror—in her eyes.  It dawned on me that what she really wanted to know is what this Obamacare thing was not my opinion about it.  She had heard about it since coming to this country but did not understand what it meant.  Instead of hearing that question I launched self-righteously into a one-sided moral argument.  Was I hoping to educate another ill-informed student about a current ethical and political issue?  Was I thinking that if I argued it forcefully I could persuade her that my perspective was right?  I’m not sure.  What I am sure about is that this was no way to answer her question, or the questions of other students for that matter.  Fortunately, we were able to talk about it and I was able to tell her why I went the way I did.  I doubt she will ever ask my opinion again.

Over the past few days since the incident I have asked myself, “How often do I react this way to student inquiries?”  I do believe that I try to be as objective as possible when students in the classroom ask important questions.  I seek to probe the nature of their question, engaging them in a process of exploring all sides of a situation, even if it means playing devil’s advocate (and there is no shortage of devils out there when it comes to misinformation regarding the Affordable Care Act).  I am often reluctant to voice my opinion because I worry that it will close off conversation, shut down their own inquiries into important subjects and ideas.  This is no way to educate I tell myself.

As a teacher of religious ethics, it is obvious to everyone in the class that the way I have structured the syllabus, the readings chosen, or even the content of the course itself communicates to some degree my approach to the subject.  Yet students often ask where I stand on an issue or what my beliefs about a particular idea or doctrine is.  At the beginning of each class, as we develop our ground rules for discussion, I make sure that I raise that issue.  I tell them that I am reluctant to share my views because I do not want to close off conversation or generate reluctance on their part to state their own.  Usually, students suggest that after it is clear the student discussion has run its course, if they asked my view that they would like to know what it is.  Perhaps that is the best path to take; I don’t know.  

What I do know is that in this situation I should have asked what she wanted to know and why she was asking the question.  This would have enabled me to get a better handle on the question at hand and certainly provide a better even if partial answer.  Yet I am passionate about this and about other important ethical issues that call for clear moral reasoning rather than the expediency of the moment.  Is it my job to hide my passion, to be objective (whatever that means), so that students can learn?  Or does being passionate about an issue provide an opportunity for students to learn?  For over twenty years, I have wrestled with these questions.  I imagine that the struggle will continue.