by David Williams | Xchanges 19.2, Fall 2025
Download PDFRethinking Authority in the Classroom
A Theoretical Foundation for SL Course Design
Like many of my colleagues, I cut my teeth on Paolo Freire’s (2014) Pedagogy of the Oppressed, most notably his criticism of the “banking” model of education, which regards students as empty vessels to be filled with information by the teacher. The consequence of the banking model is that it disempowers students by undermining their agency and ignoring how knowledge is produced “through inventions and re-invention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other” (Freire, 2014, p. 72). In this learning environment, the teacher is the authority and sole bearer of wisdom. To upend this oppressive hierarchy, teachers’ efforts “must coincide with those of the students to engage in critical thinking and the quest for mutual humanization” (Freire, 2014, p. 75). In short, teachers must view their students not as dependents but as partners on the journey toward greater knowledge.
SL pedagogy embodies Freire’s (2014) educational philosophy because it challenges students and teachers alike to recognize dominant power structures at work both beyond and within the university. For service-learning to be transformative, those involved “need to be aware of the cultural, historical and political dynamics at work in any community practice and the university needs to recognize that sustained service learning will bring change to the institution, its practices and its beliefs” (Asghar & Rowe, 2017, p. 124). This awareness applies to instructors as much as it does to students (Carrington et al., 2015). SL does not just seek to benefit community partners; it challenges us to interrogate how we learn and what effect(s) said learning has on our potential as active and responsible citizens.
Teachers are not exempt from this challenge (Carrington et al., 2015), for when they “confront their narrowly defined pedagogical box, it is then they are able to consider new ways to change the structures and practices of organizations they are affiliated with” (Carnicelli & Boluk, 2017, p. 129). It is through such critical self-awareness that Henry Giroux’s (1988) “language of possibility” (p. 98), knowledge production that prioritizes agency over existing power structures, is made possible. This self-awareness entails carefully considering how a class is structured, including the volume and design of assignments (Petersen & Henning, 2018). The goal of SL, after all, is for students to “create their own knowledge and apply theory to practice” (Asghar & Rowe, 2017, p. 119), and it is therefore essential that instructors create “generative spaces wherein students could fail and problem-solve” (Leon et al., 2017, p. 46). When we instructors remove ourselves from the picture, or at least minimize our presence, students' potential and initiative can be awe-inspiring. The kids are all right indeed.
Balancing Structure and Fluidity in Assignment Designs
Students who reflect on their SL experiences often mention the value of being able to “find their own success” (Leon et al., 2017, p. 51). Thus, if a SL project is too rigidly designed, this may lead students to “focus only on instructor needs and values rather than also considering community perspectives” (Shumake & Shah, 2017, p. 13). For my class, I scaffolded our project by dividing it into four phases, all group assignments: an action plan, essentially a written agreement among groupmates as to how they will work together over the coming months; an annotated bibliography compromised of sources outside of those offered by ER, a podcast script; and, of course, the deliverable: a 20- to 25-minute educational podcast that ER could offer as a teaching resource.
These core assignments provided a sense of linearity and pacing that my students found helpful, though I emphasized that we would stay flexible based on the needs of our community partner. If, for example, ER were to suggest edits to the podcast script assignment based on the content they normally produce, our class would discuss and likely implement those changes. Our work also fulfilled several common learning outcomes of FYC: accounting for multiple perspectives (action plan), using effective research methods (annotated bibliography), marrying information with creativity (podcast script), and engaging in multimodality (deliverable). Moreover, while ER requested a podcast mainly to appeal to younger audiences, podcasting also provides an opportunity to critically discuss this medium’s ability to “resist traditional, exclusionary publishing norms and practices” (Woods & Wood, 2023, p. 2). If one aim of SL is to rethink education, then this revolutionary mindset can (and, I argue, should) be reflected in the assignments we offer our students.
Owing to the need for flexibility, instructors using SL in the classroom should be prepared to act more as facilitators than authorities. Admittedly, this dynamic can be difficult for GTAs. I often find myself battling the familiar sensation of “academic guilt” and questions over whether I am doing enough for my students. However, reduced authority can benefit instructors as much as it does students. Burnout among graduate students remains a significant concern, one linked to higher levels of stress, anxiety, depression, and cynicism (Allen et al., 2022). Assuming more facilitative roles in the SL classroom can ease some of the immense pressure GTAs feel. More importantly, this shift can help them “reconnect with the idea of being learners” (Leon et al., 2017, p. 53), further eroding the teacher-student hierarchy and producing a more genuinely collaborative learning experience.
Day-to-Day Interactions
My 75-minute class sessions were usually divided into periods for class discussions and group work. We would spend about 45 minutes discussing the assigned readings on a given day. These readings mostly consisted of accounts from Holocaust survivors, eyewitnesses, and others with personal connections to this event. They include seminal titles like Primo Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz and Art Spiegelman’s Maus, and lesser-read works—at least, for first-year college students—by authors like Charlotte Delbo, Tadeusz Borowski, and Zofia Nałkowska. The main purpose of these discussions was to get my students to think about the Holocaust foremost on a human level and encourage critical thought. Additionally, while SL allows students to direct their learning, asking first-year students to confront a difficult subject like the Holocaust unassisted is a dicey proposition. As the instructor, I still need to know when and to what extent to be a guiding hand.
This goes likewise for technical instruction, as many of my FYC students have little to no experience in podcasting. While Clemson University offers a comprehensive module for learning Adobe Audition, the audio-editing app used to create our deliverable, I devoted several class periods to explaining/demonstrating this app’s interface and various functions. Like many educators, I am keenly aware of the disempowering effects of the digital divide and do not presume that all students have the confidence or prior experience to jump right into multimodal composition. Like any educator, my primary aim is to create an equitable learning environment by equipping every student with the tools to succeed, and this remains true in an SL course.
After our discussions, students would convene in groups for the remainder of the day. Each class was divided into four groups, comprised of four to five students, a decision reflecting the belief that “before [students] can serve the community, they have to learn first how to serve each other” (Petersen & Henning, 2018, p. 443). While I remained available to answer questions and offer advice upon request, how groups used this time was left to them, whether it was to continue discussing that day’s reading, make progress on the current phase of our project, or troubleshoot a problem. Put otherwise, students were given time and space to assume agency by directing their learning, an approach they initially found intimidating but ultimately embraced. It was during these meetings that students were challenged most to exercise critical thinking and problem-solving; and they regularly exceeded my expectations in doing so. They proposed and debated ideas; organized meeting times outside of class; negotiated team roles; displayed leadership when those more versed in digital creation helped their less experienced peers; and exercised democracy by voting on the next steps in their work. My SL experience showed me that when students are tasked with finding their own answers, as opposed to having answers supplied to them, they are ready to meet the moment. Most importantly, this time allowed students to “develop genuine relationships and […] engage in meaningful dialogue” (Asghar & Rowe, 2017, p. 123) by encountering diverse perspectives, a crucial step toward producing a more empathetic and responsible citizenry. As proud as I was of my students’ work, I was equally thrilled to see friendships and feelings of accountability form amongst them.
My students’ autonomy also applied to correspondence with the community partner, as they communicated directly with ER to ask questions about the project and receive feedback on three of their core assignments: the annotated bibliography, the script, and the deliverable. Naturally, this only occurred after students consented to share their work, and communication was entirely online, given that ER does not have physical offices. This was yet another significant change for my students, many of whom are used to producing writing that never leaves the classroom. Involving the community partner in the creative process helps students realize the true value of their work, which is that it has life and impact beyond the university and is not intended to meet the instructor's expectations only. My students were elated by the compliments provided by ER on their scripts, including praise for the maturity they displayed in writing about such a difficult subject. Moments such as these can inspire untold levels of confidence in learners.
That said, I would caution instructors to think ahead about maintaining healthy communication in SL classes. A good first step is to consider the community partner one plans to work with. I admit to having had an advantage in this regard. ER is an educational program whose members understand the unique dynamics of working with students, namely the importance of providing supportive and constructive feedback. While direct contact with community partners can result in heightened feelings of community, empathy, and responsibility (Everhart, 2016), the simple reality is that not all community partners are experienced in working with students. In those cases, instructors need to be prepared to act as intermediaries. This could be as simple as intervening if a partner offers excessively critical feedback that may discourage students. (One strategy to avert this situation is to request that feedback be sent directly to the instructor, who then relays it to the class. Those moments present a challenge that any instructor is familiar with: balancing honesty and support in sharing feedback.) While we should recognize that young people are resilient, lest we revert to the banking model of education, we are still obligated as educators to advocate for our students.