“We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear, I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already, for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns; and We do assure you in the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime, my lieutenant general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people.” – Queen Elizabeth I, “Speech to the Troops at Tilbury”

Note: This version of Elizabeth’s speech was taken from Joseph Black, et al. (Eds.). 2011. The Broadview Anthology of British Literature: Concise ed, volume A. 2nd ed. Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview.

When I teach this speech given by Elizabeth I in 1588 to her English troops as the ill-fated Spanish Armada bears down on their island, I often imagine it as the queen’s response to a soldier asking, “Why do I have to fight in this battle?” In my British literature survey courses, which are also general education courses, we focus on the multiple ways in which Elizabeth encourages the investment of her English soldiers in what they think is an upcoming invasion by the Spanish. She addresses their faith, demonstrating that their enemy is the enemy of their God (ironic as that is given the staunch Catholicism of Spain at the time). She addresses their patriotism, highlighting the presumption of Spain for attempting to invade her/their country and alluding to their need to protect their own people and lands. She addresses their potential period-typical concern at following a female leader by assuring them she has the “heart and stomach of a king” and that she herself “will take up arms,” or rather will appoint a “lieutenant general” who is a “noble” and “worthy subject.” Then, if all that is not enough to get them into the spirit of battle, she addresses the “rewards and crowns” that will “be duly paid” to them. Truly, there is something for everyone.

Why am I beginning a discussion of teaching the significance of general education courses and curriculum with a speech by Elizabeth I? Besides the fact that I am an early British literature specialist and that is what I do, the purpose in beginning over four hundred years ago is that Elizabeth’s speech highlights in a rather dramatic fashion being aware of, addressing, and creating solutions to issues of investment in a group of people. The soldiers are about to embark upon a dangerous undertaking that will require motivation and purpose, as do any soldiers going to war. Elizabeth does not provide one, but several reasons – personal, religious, political, monetary, etc. – for the English to dedicate to their cause.

But Really… Why?

We, especially those of us who teach general education courses, have heard the dreaded student question: “Why do I have to take this course?” Sometimes the question is verbalized, and sometimes we see it in the quality of work or in attitudes in the classroom. The question can certainly be a “wet blanket” that can affect the dynamics of a course and sap our motivation. We see value in what we do. Sometimes the material is what we have dedicated our lives to learning and sharing with others. How dare someone question why. This is important stuff! Yet, students are skeptical. They frequently do not see the value in courses not directly tied to their majors, courses with subjects in which they are not traditionally interested, courses they are made to take, or courses that they believe have no bearing on “real life” or getting that first job after graduation. In other words, general education courses – or at least how they perceive general education courses.

When our students ask that familiar question – “Why do I have to take this course?” – we would do well to remember Elizabeth’s example. While research has pretty well debunked the “myth of learning styles” (see, for instance, Christopher Pappas, “The Myth of Learning Styles”), it is true that the reasons or motivations for students to invest in their learning are not one size fits all. Due to the level of interest in the subject, background, capabilities, etc., what speaks to one will not necessarily speak to another. In fact, only one motivation may not be enough for even one student. This is encouraging; it suggests diversity, complexity, and individualism. P. Seldin (1995, p. 105) states, “Valuing diversity means acknowledging that diversity and oppression exist and affect our lives. Diversity is not about lowering our standards; it is about creating ways for all students to meet the standards of academic excellence.” My goal is to treat every student with the same respect. Different students have different abilities and start at different levels of cognitive ability and experience, but, nonetheless, every student deserves the education they are receiving and to do so in a safe environment. As J.A. Banks, et. al. (2001, p. 198), asserts as one of their principles of diversity: “Schools should ensure that all students have equitable opportunities to learn and to meet high standards.” I doubt very much if a roomful of instructors would identify the same motivations to learn. Why would students? Furthermore, what speaks to us as instructors will not necessarily speak to them and vice versa. This is due both to our training in our field and passion for it (I hope!) as well as our varying stages of life and experience. We see the grand plan as we are cogs in it, but, more often than not, our students don’t – intuitively, especially. Susan A. Ambrose, etc., in How Learning Works: Seven Research-Based Principles to Smart Teaching (2010, p. 99) call the gap between instructor and student the “expert blind spot,” when “expert instructors are blind to the learning needs of novice students.”  In terms of my point here, I would replace “the learning needs of novice students” with “what novice students need in order to invest in learning.”

This concept may be, on the surface, rather simple, but incorporating it into our teaching philosophies, strategies, and instructional design is more complicated. It requires us to consider varying methods of creating, building, and sustaining investment in our courses, in the material, in the lessons, in the activities, and in individual class periods. It requires checking in to make sure that the methods are working, tweaking and revising when they aren’t. There is no doubt that fostering student investment requires instructor investment. This can be exhausting if we let it.

We can, on the other hand, choose to look at the need to foster student investment in a different light. In addition to the university-distributed course evaluations at the end of the semester, I always have students fill out a feedback form with additional questions I have devised. In my general education literature courses, I ask students if they feel they gained a “liberal arts and sciences experience” in the course. One memorable response from an anonymous student was: “Not really. There wasn’t any science.” My first reaction was one of dismay. Remember, despite the fact that we had indeed delved into science on a couple of occasions, this was a literature course, and I was dumbfounded at the response that seemed to miss the point of not only my course, but the design of the university’s curriculum and mission in general. Once beyond my initial melancholy, I realized that this student was serious; they genuinely did not understand my question, the terminology, or how what they studied was relevant. Recognizing this, I further concluded that, without that understanding, how could this student transfer skills and lessons from my course to another and, as we hope, to their life? There was more at stake here than content or retaining subject matter. Here was a student asking me, quite legitimately, “Why?”

When I was a child, I was one of those who wouldn’t complete a task unless I knew the reason for it. While I have no doubt that this trait could be annoying to my parents, I was more involved and more enthusiastic once I had been given an explanation that made sense to me. When I mentioned previously that students are skeptical, what they really are doing is questioning. They are examining, if at varying levels of consciousness, stubbornness, and seriousness, what is important about what they are being asked to learn. While we might cringe at their methods of asking and the tone of their questions, isn’t questioning what we want our college students to do? Aren’t we trying to help them think critically, to encourage them not to follow blindly (even when we know what is good for them)? Elizabeth F. Barkley, in Student Engagement Techniques: A Handbook for College Faculty (2010, p. 7), defines, “One of the goals of a college education is to help students move beyond dualistic thinking to more complex stages as they learn to deal with uncertainty and relativism. As experiences challenge their thinking, students begin to see that truth is contextual and relative, and since there is not a single correct answer, everyone has a right to his or her own opinion.” “Why do I have to take this course?” is a step in this development.