An Apologie for Service Learning

When I sit down to reflect on my involvement with service learning and the teaching of English composition and literature over the last several years, for some reason Sir Philip Sidney comes to mind, the Renaissance scholar, poet, courtier, soldier, and gentleman. I've liked Sidney's An Apologie for Poetrie since first reading it in graduate school. Initially, I was intrigued by the idea of apologizing for--or "defending," as in the alternate title to Sidney's work--something that most normal people today would assume needs no apology. After all, why would one apologize for, say, Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken," read for inspiration at high school graduation ceremonies across America each year? (Though I suppose one might apologize for using it again and again and again in the same circumstances.) Of course, in Sidney's day, still under Plato's long shadow, poetic fictions were considered potentially dangerous: their emotional power might draw the unsuspecting into all kinds of moral or political temptations. His defense thereby had an important cultural purpose. Quite the reverse of our own time, where poetry that is not "Hallmarkable" is too often ignored by the general public, less in need of defense than in need of a good advertising campaign.

Sidney continues to interest me for other reasons as well, most importantly, because of the sheer size of his subject and the audacity of trying to encompass it within a single apology, in what turns out to be less than 20,000 words. Poetry is so large and diverse that long library shelves are typically devoted to its criticism and analysis. Nevertheless, Sidney is able to defend it successfully not just because he has the benefit of standing on the shoulders of others--Horace, in his Ars Poetica, among them--but even more importantly because of his dazzling rhetorical skills, which enable him to treat a vast subject with clarity and vitality.

Not a bad model when one turns to service learning: the pedagogy that asks students to put their learning to immediate use by sharing it with others in the community who will benefit from it, as part of the class assignment structure. Though certainly not equivalent to poetry, service learning, like poetry, is also both a large subject, in its diversity of manifestations in the classroom and its support organizations, and a common enough pedagogy in recent years that its practitioners seemingly need no longer apologize for it. In use in middle schools and high schools (where, for example, students are learning environmental science by helping clean up streambeds), in place on college campuses throughout the country where service learning centers are multiplying, even written into the mission statements of a growing number of institutions, service learning seems to have arrived. As our university president said to me recently in an informal discussion about service learning: "what's not to like?"

Yet any pedagogy worth its salt--and our student's time--must be examined and re-examined, so that it can continually justify itself as social circumstances change. What's true for life is no doubt true for teaching. To misquote Socrates slightly: "the unexamined pedagogy will not get grant support." Given this, what follows is my modest defense of a subject much larger than my venue, which I aim to make manageable, if not by standing on Sidney's shoulders, then at least by borrowing his architecture.

Sidney begins his apology for poetry with an educational anecdote, the story of his learning horsemanship at the Emperor's court. The enthusiasm of his instructor, John Pietro Pugliano, for his chosen profession of soldiering and above all else for the noble horse was so great that Sidney reports he needed all his powers to prevent himself from wishing he was one. His pedagogical conclusion: "self-love is better than any gilding to make that seem gorgeous wherein ourselves are parties" (95). Certainly this is true for trends in education. I can think of innumerable instances when I have sat at conferences and workshops listening to an inspired devotee of "the latest thing" (soon to be referred to as, "not that old idea?"): from situational sequencing, to microthemes, to learning contracts, to on-line intranets, to Power Point lectures. As an inveterate experimenter, I would often go home and try them, modifying and incorporating elements into my own teaching, often with some success, yet never quite as blinding as I'd hoped. For as we all know, with teaching there is no magic bullet, no perfect pedagogy. Teaching, as an art, requires a method as complex and nuanced as rhetoric itself.

So I was dutifully suspicious when I first heard of service learning at a composition conference--suspiciously intrigued. Here was a pedagogy that matched many things I already tried to do in the classroom, from making learning matter, to providing real world contexts for material, to finding ways to move beyond lecturing for the entire period, to giving students a chance to learn by doing. Little did I know at the time, that by getting involved in a formal service learning effort, I would not just be trying out a new idea in one class, I was actually starting something that would impact all my teaching, that in spite of its unfamiliar terminology to me, had elements as old as education itself.

Which brings me back to Sidney. For in a clever turnabout in the initial stages of his defense, he too invokes ancient authority, accusing critics of poetry of ungratefulness, for turning their backs on the original nurse of their own knowledge, like vipers who were thought to devour their own parents. So too might academic critics of service learning be similarly censured. Service--certainly more than salary--has always been central to teaching. As Seneca says in De Beneficiis:

Or as a contemporary educator Parker Palmer puts it, "Good teaching is an act of hospitality toward the young" (50). Our having been the recipients of this hospitality should not, of course, insulate service learning from critical examination, but remembering this fact might help avoid too quick a dismissal of it.

Part of the trouble, I think, lies in the term service learning, especially on the service side. For many, the label doesn't immediately call to mind exactly what it is, and what it does call to mind may not immediately be subscribed to, without supporting explanation. An examination of the etymology of service may emphasize why. As the Oxford English Dictionary shows, the English noun service and its cognates servant and serve all have to do with slavery, from the Latin servitium (meaning "slavery" or "servitude") and servire ("to be a slave"). Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in the U.S., servant was actually the typical term used for slave.

Of course there are other definitions as well, chief among them the military and religious, both themselves problematic. Interestingly, the definition that is chiefly intended by the current label--public service--comes into English quite early on, at the start of the fourteenth century, as "the condition or employment of a public servant." But at that time, public service was chiefly understood as service in the military, as in "being in the king's service"--not necessarily a happy thought to those educators today who don't think of their profession as necessarily hierarchical, who don't choose to think of themselves as agents of a ruling sovereign, envisioned in the person of an administrator, regent, or legislator. Even the modern sense of public servant is not without its perils, with the reputation of politicians, the individuals most commonly associated with the term, ranking near the bottom, along with union leaders, in surveys about public respect of the professions./1/ Similarly, the sense of religious service comes into English at about the same time, as "the condition or fact of being a servant of God," along with other sacred meanings that remain associated with the term today, including "the celebration of public worship"--i.e., a worship service (not to mention the move in poetry from the sacred to the erotic, with servant also being adopted as the term for a "devoted lover" as early as Chaucer's time). These, also, contribute to some of the difficulties. Upon hearing about service learning, some automatically assume it to be the province of do-gooders, or perhaps woolly headed romantics motivated only by a devotion to students, certainly not professionals--at the very least, too eager to impose their own personal values or morality on others, as I will return to below.

Later meanings of some relevance include "placing things in front of someone else," as in serving food and serving a tennis ball, which isn't many steps from an educational application, as in serving up a lecture. While there are many other nuances (actually there are 37 separate definitions of "service" in 7 categories in the OED), a 20th century development is the most significant of those remaining, revealing that at least for the general public the term actually possesses many positive associations, enough for it to be to employed by advertisers to sell things: used as a verb or noun, service--having been separated long enough from its feudal origins in more hierarchical times, when it inherently involved serving someone above you on the social ladder--is now most often used simply in the sense of "performing work" for anyone, above or below, e.g., in servicing a car or providing service with a smile, or even to describe whole divisions of our economy, the service sector, of which teaching is considered to be a part.

From this complex admixture one can begin to see why the label might encounter difficulties among some academics, or at least to initiate confusion. Part of the trouble is that the pedagogy is actually older than the term service learning. Added to this is the fact that both the pedagogy and its terminology are new enough to still be considered under construction. Interestingly, according to B.W. Speck, the term service learning doesn't seem to have even come into widespread, general use until as late as the 1990s (5-6). Its use in East Tennessee by the Oak Ridge Associated Universities is cited as the earliest institutional appearance. Before that, the broader terms "experiential learning" and "active learning" sufficed, under the rubric of which it emerged as a distinct pedagogy, particularly with support from the Campus Compact, formed in 1985, and COOL--The Campus Outreach Opportunity League--founded in 1984 (National Service learning Clearinghouse: Welcome to Service Learning: History). Educational historians, however, rightfully trace its 20th century beginnings to the innovative work of John Dewey, in his Experience and Education (1938) and elsewhere, where he makes the influential binary distinction, now typically phrased as that between "education as transmission of information" and "education as experience," from which service learning certainly takes its orientation, if not its name./2/

Part of the confusion about service learning results also from that fact that no completely dominant definition of the pedagogy has yet emerged; every practitioner and support organization seems to have its own, each with slightly different emphases. Nevertheless, enough uniformity has now evolved that the chief elements can be identified by citing one or two definitions, instead of sorting through long competing lists. One definition that I particularly like, because of the distinction it makes between method and philosophy, was composed early in 1991, through the influential collaborative work of the Wingspread Conference. In their words:

This philosophy, from Dewey and others, holds that education must be tied to a purpose, one that includes preparing individuals to become citizens in a participatory democracy. One additional definition should suffice, especially if it is one of the enumerative definitions, which also abound, which itemize what have come to be recognized as the key elements of the programmatic aspects of service learning, such as that used in The National and Community Service Trust Act of 1993:

Having reached these definitions, we can now turn to critics of service learning and their arguments, to see how they may be answered. It must be recognized at the outset, however, that my aim, in the words of Dr. Johnson's Imlac, is more to "examine, not the individual, but the species...to remark general properties and large appearances...not number the streaks of the tulip." Following Sidney, my plan here is more to survey the boundaries of the arguments than to marshal the evidence or engage in detailed summaries of the scholarship that assesses the efficacy of service learning. On the other hand, I also follow Sidney in his attempts to focus his remarks by giving specific attention to a contemporary moral critic with practical concerns, rather than arguing solely at a high level of philosophical abstraction. It may be remembered that Sidney's opportunistic target, the representative poet hater to whom he ostensibly responds, is Stephen Gosson, though he always has the heavyweight Plato in mind as well. A convenient Gosson for us might be Aldo Bernardo, one of many critics who has harsh words for the elements that compose service learning. To refine the comparison at the outset, however, there really isn't a large collection of service learning haters that match the Sidney's mysomousoi, or poet haters. Instead, there are critics of trends in contemporary American education in general, of which service learning is seen as a part. These tend to be self-identified traditionalists, or education conservatives, battling a despised progressive agenda on many fronts, often using the work of E.D. Hirsch as a rallying point, as their heavyweight. With all the moral fervor of Gosson, Bernardo blasts the new pioneers of modern education, Benjamin Bloom, William Spady, William Glasser among them, inspired by Dewey, for helping institute a new paradigm that has shifted the direction of our education processes in several ways. Instead of focusing on "basic academic knowledge," he claims, education now "deemphasizes facts and knowledge, and emphasizes politically correct social, psychological, and global thinking." The focus has turned away from knowledge to vague outcomes. These outcomes are then illustrated with a series of references to some of the signature elements of service learning, though Bernardo doesn't specifically use the full term. In this brave new world of education, he laments, students are taught to "respect the rights of others to think, act, and speak differently from themselves within the context of democratic principles, and the promotion of social justice." To further these misguided aims, he believes "untested teaching methods" and other "novelties" are introduced, including "forming partnerships with businesses...[and] mandatory community service" [my emphasis]. Wielding Hirsch's The Schools We Need and Why We Don't Have Them (1996) and Cultural Literacy (1987), Bernardo condemns the focus of schools today on problem solving and critical thinking, on process over content, as based on what Hirsch identifies as the long-failed pedagogy descended from the Romantic movement, which, employing "natural methods," saw children as plants needing nurturing, rejecting the "mechanical methods" that preceded them, which saw children more as unmolded clay needing fashioning. In Hirsch's and Bernardo's eyes, the battle lines are now clear: on one side is an approach to education that stresses "knowledge that is demanding and challenging and academically rich" in content. The other side stresses "social growth, sensitivity, feelings, emotions, values, behavior, the fostering of self-esteem, and desirable attitudes toward life and learning which will lead to 'self-directed' learners who are creative and productive." And evidence for the failures of the reformers can be seen in declining test scores.

From these criticisms, and others like them, can ultimately be identified three basic, albeit overlapping, complaints to be laid at the doorstep of service learning. Each of these, by the way, I have also heard from some of my own colleagues in the halls and at meetings when specifically discussing service learning on our campus. First, that service learning isn't academic enough; that it inevitably introduces distractions to what should be the central focus of education. Secondly, that it is part of the dumbing down trend permeating education in general. Thirdly, that it promulgates the misguided imposition of a particular politics and/or morality onto students.

As to the first criticism, it will be recognized as a version of Hirsch's opposition of the teaching of knowledge to the teaching of process, and his valorization of the former. Interestingly, this first criticism is nearly the same one Sidney faces in his defense, where critics of poetry claim that "there being many other more fruitful knowledges, a man might better spend his time in them than in this" (123). In other words, why study the fluff of poetry (or alternatively employ a service learning pedagogy with its various non-academic distractions) when one can study the more academic subjects of philosophy and history. Sidney's answer is equally applicable here (with the simple substitution of our term service learning for his the poet):

Encompassed in Sidney's words is exactly what the response of service learning advocates should be to those who would criticize it for not being academic enough. Even granting that the attention service learning gives to things such as civic engagement allows non-academic concerns into the classroom (something that most service learning proponents would themselves dispute), the result nevertheless produces an even higher level of academic achievement because with the opportunity of real world interaction, students are given a chance actually to practice what they are learning by sharing it with people who can benefit from it, thereby further solidifying what they have been taught; they are thus more motivated to learn in the first place; and finally, they are often motivated to go on to continue sharing their knowledge in ways that benefit the community after the class is over.

A personal example may help illustrate this. In my Introduction to Literature classes, I have begun to have the students serve as discussion facilitators in the Jr. Great Books Program at the local middle and elementary schools. We don't spend class time discussing the value of civic engagement per se, though I do introduce students to a brief history of service learning pedagogy and its aims, with the students invited to subject it to rhetorical scrutiny the way we do all texts in the class (and as I would any pedagogy), assessing their historical and cultural contexts, including their designs on and demands of us as readers or learners. Further, it does take up class time to organize and administer the students' placements. Nevertheless, the preponderance of class time is spent on teaching them how better to analyze literature, the subject of the class. In my experience, what time is "lost" in organizing and administering the class (i.e., employing and addressing service learning) is easily made up for by the motivated learning that takes place as a result of the students finding themselves in situations where they have to put their new knowledge to real use where it is needed--the very essence of service learning. Further, the ongoing classroom discussion we have of their experiences and difficulties isn't a distraction from our subject matter, though it too involves some attention to the challenges of teaching; on the contrary, it is the place where some of the most vital discussions of literature and its cultural context occur, because it suddenly matters more to the students, who then begin to see themselves as having an academic role to play in that cultural context. Sidney's famous phrase for this process of making learning pleasurable, marrying teaching and delighting, certainly is applicable here. As with poetry in Sidney's day, service learning can function as a "medicine of cherries."

The second criticism stated above, that service learning is a part of the dumbing down of education throughout the country, should be seen as contiguous with the first one. Bernardo frequently invokes the dumbing down phrase, ultimately dismissing it in favor of an even more inflammatory one--emasculation (note that he only offers the two choices: education reform is either one or the other). When given only this binary choice, or even the less disingenuous one Hirsch uses, between teaching either knowledge or behavior, either information or values, most educators would readily admit to preferring the former in each pair. But of course, Bernardo's binary is a false characterization, and even Hirsch's is a misrepresentation of Dewey's basic distinction between "education as transmission of information" and "education as experience." To experiential-learning advocates, experience and knowledge, of course, are not mutually exclusive; nor is the end goal to "teach experience," conceptualized as a collection of proper behaviors. Rather, recognizing that knowledge and values are inevitably intertwined, the pedagogy self consciously addresses this fact, subjecting (at the college level certainly) their relationship to academic scrutiny. Taught in this fashion, courses employing a service learning pedagogy should actually be more academic than their non-service learning counterparts, if the latter naively assert that knowledge, facts, and information can be addressed in a cultural vacuum. Thus, the behaviors that service learning teaches, if one chooses to phrase it that way, are indeed academic ones, of inquiry, scepticism, research, and engagement--intellectual processes that all concomitantly contribute to the sustenance of a vital, civil society. Service learning by design is more likely to result in a smarting up than a dumbing down.

This isn't to say that service learning will automatically be put into practice in a solid fashion, nor that particular choices made in using it, as with any pedagogy, can't be criticized. Courses like the generically named Service Learning 101s, not tied to an academic subject matter, designed intentionally and solely to teach the value of service by requiring it, rightly deserve scrutiny. And after some point in a person's course of study, programs that concentrate more on social skills than academic skills should be made to defend themselves. As a parent I have questioned some of the requirements introduced into my daughter's elementary curriculum, wondering why, for example, she was spending more time on her D.A.R.E. homework, trying to think up 20 ways to say "no" to drugs, than her math. But as Sidney says in response to a similar criticism of poetry, in the rejoinder that has been popularized by the National Rifle Association in its own sphere: it's not service learning that abuses people, it's people that abuse service learning. Or in Sidney's more elegant words: say "not that Poetry abuseth man's wit, but that man's wit abuseth Poetry."

Finally, even some who don't have such visceral objections to the direction educational reform has taken during the 20th century are sometimes suspicious nevertheless of a pedagogy that to them, appears to impose what they see as a particular politics or even a particular morality or set of values onto students. I have heard from colleagues on the left who are worried that service learning necessarily promotes a volunteerism they associate with conservative political causes; colleagues on the right have similarly told me they worry that service learning necessarily promotes social activism that they associate with politically liberal causes. From either side of the political landscape, those unfamiliar with the pedagogy, except by name, seem most suspicious about the civic engagement aspects of service learning. Even if it works in getting students motivated, isn't there something unseemly, they say, about having designs on students that are above and beyond those of the subject matter itself? Isn't it a bit like those English language classes taught in Japan that are really a front for the spread of Christianity? Or as an administrator friend of mine recently said, upon hearing that I was requiring my students to do public service where they were to engage in public storytelling as part of our Mytholgoy course: "Isn't that illegal?"

This queasiness can become even more acute when such questioners find that service learning advocacy doesn't just come from the grass roots, that the Campus Compact was first formed by university presidents, in part, to counteract the view that students and universities were becoming too self-serving, and further, that the federal government through the Corporation for National Service, spends tax dollars to support many kinds of public service and civic engagement, seeing service learning as a part of this. Might not involvement in service learning thus jeopardize academe's necessary separation from worldly concerns, or call into question its ability to remain unbiased and disinterested? Or for the more paranoid or cynical, is it possible that the true purpose of service learning might be chiefly to pacify public opinion about the status quo, or that it is really just a marketing ploy designed by universities to pry more money out of parents anxious that their progeny have become more concerned about beer than Beowulf?

Responses to such questions about the teaching of values in the curriculum, and about the political implications of pedagogy have attracted mountains of comment and polemic. Let a few additional words suffice here about imposition. William Blake, himself a bridge figure between (as Hirsch would have it) the mechanism of the 18th century and the naturalism of Romantism, knew that all education ultimately involves imposition. His proverbs and parables in the Marriage of Heaven and Hell make this abundantly clear, including one that concludes with an Angel-critic crying out this same complaint to Blake's protagonist-educator, whose vision and pedagogy the Angel doesn't like:

Blake's wisdom is summed up in a concluding proverb: "Opposition is true Friendship," itself preceded by an earlier proverb on the same theme: "He who has suffered you to impose on him, knows you" (Blake's pedagogy is obviously one of repetition: he tells readers what he means, then he shows them, then he tells them again). As Blake knows, the key educational question is whether imposition occurs in such as way as to allow enlightement, as opposed to shutting it off; and enlightenment happens only when it is done in the open, and ideally, with permission.

Service learning, to its credit, has never hidden its interest in promoting civic engagement, has never been embarrassed about promoting the social good, and civic virtues, as an important end of education. And with this we come face to face with what has been lurking in the background of this essay all along, and no doubt is the real reason why Sidney comes to mind whenever I think of service learning: the fact that it isn't simply a formal correspondence with the structure of Sidney's argument that motivates his incorporation here. Sidney's subject, though ostensibly poetry, is at the same time education, and his view of education reflects his own humanist pedagogy of engagement. The very purpose of learning for Sidney and the humanist enterprise he was part of was to prepare individuals for service, to make them ready to "serve the Prince," ideally moving them to engage in "virtuous action."

Service learning's incorporation of this attitude towards education thus isn't simply a 20th century novelty--it doesn't begin only with Dewey--nor can its essence be traced solely to the Romantics. In this respect, Dewey's work can be seen simply as part of the long developing mainstream philosophy of Western education, with its attitude toward the liberal arts setting its imprint on the first colleges and universities in Europe, as well as the system of public education in the U.S. The Western idea of education is a humanist construction, with the idea of service and promoting virtue infused into its very core. Sidney's defense--while not precisely a defense of service learning--is certainly a defense of a philosophy of education that service learning shares.

And of course the provenance of civic engagement is even older than this, which brings me to Plato, the figure with whom any essay purporting to incorporate Sidney's method, and subject, must conclude. Near his apology's end, Sidney finally turns overtly to Plato, to face the revered Greek's unambiguous banishment of poets from the ideal Republic, a problem when Plato is also one of Sidney's chief sources of authority. The problem is finessed, if not solved, by examining both Plato's words and actions. Echoing his own argument earlier about abuse, these reveal to Sidney, at least, that since Plato himself was a poet, and he couldn't have intended to banish himself, that Plato must have intended only to banish those who would abuse poetry. Our task is easier, since Plato does not similarly banish civic engagement. On the contrary, both his words and actions proclaim that his conception of academic study requires it. Our word "academy," of course, comes from the name of Plato's school of learning, called the Academy after the grove of Academos outside Athens, where it was located. Having been disappointed by the quality of individuals involved in politics, in public service, Plato set out to remedy this fact, with the school immediately gaining the reputation of training up virtuous young men with the values and knowledge that would enable them to become statesmen. From its inception academic study (i.e., study in the Academy) has involved both esoteric pursuits and attention to the production of philosophical statesmen, the philosopher kings and kings as philosophers characterized in the Republic. Seeing the teaching of virtue and civic engagement as part of the purpose of education is not a novelty.

Sidney, having gone on longer than I have here, concludes his apology with a good natured curse of lifelong critics of poetry, praying that they never gain favor by lacking skill in writing sonnets, and that when they die, their memory die from the earth for want of an epitaph. While amusing in his hands, a similar curse might seem mean spirited here (may you critics of service learning live in a country where everyone thinks only of himself?). So instead of a curse, I'll end with an invitation, an invitation to you critics of service learning not to stop subjecting its pedagogical philosophy and its many practical manifestations to scrutiny, for in such dialectic lies the path of truth. My invitation to you is to try it. And if you do, I hope that you find that both in my invitation and my apology, "I have done thee worthy service, / Told thee no lies, made no mistakings" (Tempest 1.2.247-48).

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