It's a tough issue. We are all trained in specific disciplines, at least to the extent that we are awarded degrees in specific fields. We have expertise within our discipline that we likely do not possess outside of it. What makes any of us think that we can teach something that doesn't lie comfortably within the traditional boundaries of our discipline?
These are legitimate questions, and I understand why some of my colleagues think they are vitally important, but I confess they just don't worry me that much. They come from a point of view that sees education as primarily the transfer of knowledge from the master to the pupil. But if you view knowledge as something that students must build for themselves, then there is not as much emphasis on the specialized expertise of the instructor. In fact, the instructor and students could be learning together. And, I think, some of the most interesting and important learning takes place in just those places where disciplinary boundaries get fuzzy and we are forced to transgress the boundaries and venture forth from our comfy boxes.
At least historically, rigid disciplinary boundaries can stifle knowledge. The strict divide between natural philosophy and mathematics (aka astronomy and astrology) likely held back the progress of what we would now call science for centuries. I'm just about finished with Bob Westman's The Copernican Question, and today I read his description about what Johannes Kepler had to say about disciplinary boundaries. Kepler, as you may know, was largely responsible for breaking the rigid barriers between natural philosophy and mathematics (or physics and astronomy, if you want to use more modern terms). Westman's description has to do with the aftermath of Kepler's publication of a Copernican textbook, the Epitome of Copernican Astronomy.
Here's what Westman and Kepler have to say:
Kepler was explicit about challenging traditional disciplinary authority in his dedication: at stake, he wrote, are the "rules of the Academies" (leges Academiarum), the "honor of the Academics" (honor Academicorum), and the "boundaries of Academic Philosophy" (Academicae Philosophicae limites). Patrons were obliged to protect these boundaries, Kepler acknowledged, but a wise prince "knows that the boundary posts of true speculation are the same as those of the fabric of the world" and not those "set up in the narrow minds of a few men." Kepler understood the resistance that he could expect from the universities: "They are established in order to regulate the studies of pupils and are concerned not to have the rules of teaching change very often: in such places, because it is a question of the progress of the students, it frequently happens that the things which have to be chosen are not those which are most true, but those which are most easy."
I have always felt special sympathy for Kepler. Even more so now.
But then you can't trust my opinion on this. I am a PhD physicist who teaches astronomy courses that make extensive use of history. I clearly have no respect for disciplinary boundaries. I'm sure some must think that my students are being irreparably harmed by having such an instructor, but I'm more concerned with what my students think (and what they learn). For the time being I will continue to delude myself that I'm teaching what is most true rather than what is most easy, and I will hope that some wise prince (or princess) out there will agree with me.
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