The blog sputtered. Then it fizzled. This was not what I had planned.

I was teaching a course titled "What Is Third Wave?" The class was an independent study consisting of three students at Goucher, an East Coast liberal arts college. It is the kind of campus where innovation and close collaboration with students are encouraged and celebrated.

The class was an exploration into whether—or to what degree—the theoretical and activist foundations of Third Wave feminism differ from those of the so-called Second Wave. My students and I were interested in reading some of the more challenging Second and Third Wave literature to structure this study. Questions about the similarities and differences between feminist eras first came up in a class on contemporary feminist theory these students had taken with me the previous semester. The independent study participants were soon-to-be graduating seniors interested in continuing their investigation into these sets of issues.

Because "What Is Third Wave?" was an independent study, and because my students and I were working closely together on our venture, it made sense to stay flexible with the pedagogy. When the "Sex Workers Art Show" came to town, we went. When we got hungry during a marathon theory-fest, we ordered pizza. When we realized we wanted a forum to continue exploring theoretical dialogue outside of our once-a-week scheduled meetings, we started a blog.

Vicki Tobias writes that "blogs have in common an unregulated and libertarian essence. Blogs are a manifestation of our First Amendment rights, providing both voice and audience for anyone with an opinion, including self-identified feminists and those engaged in women's issues."[1] "Yes!" we thought. Unfettered access to free expression was exactly what we were aiming for. My students and I were about to enter the democratic world of the Internet and unleash our unbridled enthusiasm for feminist ideas. Or at least this is what we intended.

The first post to our blog was a somewhat messy if astute critique of Astrid Henry's book Not My Mother's Sister. My student Emma took serious issue with framing a Second Wave-Third Wave divide in terms of familial relations. As Emma pointed out on our blog, patriarchal systems seem most comfortable equating women with home life. When we construct our understandings of feminism in similar ways, she asserted, we perpetuate a patriarchal paradigm. Emma posted these thoughts at 1:28 a.m. As I see it, this is a true advantage of blogging with students: The hours after midnight are often ripe for deep thoughts but awful for calling professors or classmates to talk them over. How else but by blogging can students continue a classroom debate about compelling issues when the ideas feel so fresh and urgent and yet it is so late at night?

The second post highlighted issues of everyday feminism. The matter in question was Mother's Day, and the challenge was selecting an appropriate greeting card. "As this [academic] year comes to a close I finally find myself seeing the everyday feminism in my life," my student (again, Emma) wrote.

I went to shop for a mother's day card this week and I ran into an experience that I am sure I have had for at least the past 10 years . . . I walked into a Hallmark store, thinking I was going to get my mother something unique . . . I found myself staring at a plethora of cards, most of them in tones of pink and pastel . . . The writing on the inside was all about thanking a mother for her sacrifice, for her willingness to give up her life for her kids . . . None of these cards seemed to fit my mother, or any of my friend's mothers. And more than that they seemed to imply something that horrifies me more than the re-election of Bush; that mothers are self-sacrificial.

While Emma recognized that parenting—or any form of care for others—involves an element of giving from the self, the notion that the corporate mainstream insists on reinforcing an ideology of maternal sacrifice contradicted Emma's lived experience, her observations of the world around her, and certainly the possibilities she perceives for the professional and familial choices of her future. "Hallmark" Emma tells us, "might just need to be reminded about what motherhood means."

These posts were thoughtful and intriguing. The problem was that, by the end of the semester, these were the only two posts to our blog.

I think it is fair to say that when setting up our blog site my students and I initially expected rousing online debate, scintillating insight, and even the occasional post from folks outside our small face-to-face circle. But what actually happened was that our weekly meetings satisfied our need for dialogue and debate. In between meetings we simply busied ourselves with the other demands of life and study.

Why Did the Blog Sputter Out?

So what went wrong? Or perhaps, since this was an experimental venture, the more appropriate question is, Why was there such a gap between our initial expectations and the (virtual) reality of our blogging experience? As a professor, what would I do differently the next time around to ensure greater success with online blogging as a pedagogical method?

Competing demands on students' time meant that open-ended, self-directed blogging entries were the first things to fall by the wayside in the face of other pressing concerns. Studying for exams or writing a research paper quickly took priority over posting to our blog. As it turned out in this instance, a commitment to feminist theory and practice was overshadowed by deadlines for graded assignments in other classes. One might think or hope that concepts like activist commitment, internal motivation, and intellectual curiosity could play out in practice on a blog. I will admit, there was a bit of the Montessori background in me: I had certain expectations that my students would be drawn to post their feminist musings simply because their naturally curious, sponge-like minds led them to. The reality was that there needed to be some concrete payoff for taking part in the blogging process. There needed to be points. Scores. Maybe even a grade. Don't get me wrong: My students loved the blog. They were as excited about the prospect of blogging as I was. But, like I said, without a concrete payoff, even the best of intentions could not be met once the demands of the college semester set in.

It is also quite possible that posting their thoughts-in-progress—publicly and perhaps permanently—was, for some students, a risk far greater than they were willing to take. My students are amazingly self-confident. But, still, compared to the fleeting embarrassment they might risk by speaking in class, when it came to blogging, they may have feared eternal ridicule in (what seems like) a potentially infinite public forum. This is not sheer hyperbole: Blogging involves risk. Even if we supposedly can remain anonymous online, who wants to be flamed?

My hunch is that along with the need for academic reward, I should not underestimate my students' (real or imagined) anxiety over blog humiliation. This is important especially because the very essence of blogging is that is spontaneous and public. We blog with and for each other, and this is at once blogging's great feminist potential and the potential source of our vulnerability. That said, the greater the risk, the greater the possibility for new ideas. The best new thoughts never come by playing it safe. Blogging means that students will weigh in freely and creatively, which is perhaps riskier than processing information through the safety and privacy of more traditional forms of academic research (which, for the record, I also use quite rigorously). Academic research may be more deliberately thought-out, but it leaves less room for the impulsiveness, spontaneity, and immediacy that the Internet offers.

Ideas for Future Success

Was I naïve in thinking that ad hoc, point-free blogging would work? Not really. I have successfully assigned other point-free projects in the past. These have included, for example, impromptu writing assignments about controversial issues raised in class discussion or spontaneous collective action attempting to establish a women's resource center on campus. (No points were given to students for their involvement in this latter example, and the administration rejected our efforts, but it was a worthwhile project nonetheless.) The difference this time was that successful blogging required an ongoing engagement with the process. This was not a one-shot effort like the ungraded projects I had assigned in the past.

In the future, I expect that three key items will invite greater success in using blogging as a pedagogical tool. First, providing points for posts is a fair exchange. In the context of college courses, where opinions and data are traded in the marketplace of ideas, and where grades are the currency, points are a legitimate form of feedback and reward.

Second, a successful classroom blog requires more structure—at least at the beginning of the process. The pedagogical technique most similar to blogging has been my use of the discussion feature on Blackboard, where I have posed highly structured sets of questions. Students were expected to log on during specifically allocated time periods. Within this more structured framework, online student dialogue was robust. It often took unexpected turns, veering off in fruitful directions. Students who were quiet in the physical classroom found their "voice" within the relative safety of these virtual discussions. In this regard, online posting met my established goals of increasing student participation and expanding the avenues of discussion, while also providing opportunities for me to redirect the discussion or provide correct information where appropriate. The drawback to Blackboard discussion, though, is that, as my student Dana put it in an email to me, "it's a bit stuffy." In contrast, blogging "is a pretty cool way to make our ideas public and be able to read everyone else's thoughts—especially for quieter students, it's an informal, less intimidating way to get your point across."

Finally, the blogging process may benefit from forthright discussions about feminist pedagogy and Internet technology.[2] If feminist pedagogy includes the ability to question power dynamics within the classroom, then blogging opens possibilities for a democratic learning process. As a pedagogical strategy, blogging helps us achieve key feminist goals in the virtual world. Using blogging in the classroom means that a) we are committed to leaving no woman behind when it comes to Internet technology; b) that women and feminists are active agents in making sure information technologies are "directed towards enhancing human well-being rather than strengthening existing power monopolies"[3]; and c) that feminist classrooms encourage "greater freedom of spirit and of the experience to be creative."[4] Discussing these points in advance may have benefited my students and encouraged them to blog more actively.

In sum, the next time I use blogging as a supplement to classroom teaching, I will do things a bit differently: I will jump-start the online interactive process by providing extra credit or points toward class participation, and I may also assign pedagogical literature about technology and feminism. I will definitely provide structured guidelines and expectations for online discourse. Presenting students with sets of questions before logging on lets them know what to expect and provides the opportunity to mull over topical issues. Blogging does not require ongoing micromanagement, but providing initial structure helps. As simple as this sounds, this is a point I missed in my first pass using blogging as a classroom element.

Ideally, however, providing structured questions to stimulate blog responses is necessary only in the most limited sense. This is, after all, a medium distinguished by the possibilities for individuality and intellectual creativity. If I were to instruct my students with precise "what, when, where, and hows," they would no longer be blogging; the exercise would have to be called something else.

When blogging works well, students quickly find their "sea legs." Online discussions provide opportunities for students to find or expand their confidence in articulating the logic and implications of theory and politics. The safety and distance that online posting provides ensure that students who are shy or more methodical do not get talked over by more eager students whose hands easily shoot up in the air in the classroom setting. Understanding students' fears of vulnerability on the Web will help bypass potential problems with blogging participation.

But, that said, perhaps a blog is not always the best way to go. Sure, blogging sounds like a cool idea. It is certainly the medium of the moment. But if my ultimate goal was to create a forum for the free and lively exchange of ideas, to push the students and myself to think more deeply, analytically, and critically about the material we were reading, then I know for sure this goal was met during our weekly face-to-face discussions, our impromptu meetings on campus, our panel presentation at a national conference, and our adventure at the "Sex Workers' Art Show." There's nothing quite like human connection to get those feminist juices flowing.

Postscript

The good news is that when I last checked in on our blog, I discovered that a post had been made in October 2005. This was five months after the class had ended and the three members of my independent study had graduated. While there were only two posts during the semester, five more appeared after the class was officially over. This tells me that although our blog did not make the splash I had hoped for, the possibility remains that blogging can create a discussion forum with reach beyond the classroom walls. And, to this feminist professor, that is ultimately what education is all about.

The author sends many thanks to Emma Douglas, Sarah Morse, and Cara Peckens for their keen sense of intellectual adventure.

Endnotes

1. Vicki Tobias, "Blog This! An Introduction to Blogs, Blogging, and the Feminist Blogosphere," Feminist Collections 26, nos. 2-3 (Winter-Spring 2005): 11-17, http://www.library.wisc.edu/
libraries/WomensStudies/fc/fcblogs1.htm. [Return to text]

2. The literature on pedagogy and feminist blogging is still relatively new. For recent perspectives on blogging in feminist classrooms, see Tobias, "Blog This!" Also see "Round-Up: Blogging Women's Studies," Feminist Collections 27, nos. 2-3 (Winter-Spring 2006): 15-21, http://www.library.wisc.edu/
libraries/WomensStudies/fc/BlogRoundup.pdf. For discussions about feminist pedagogy, the Internet, and cyberspace—if not about blogging per se—see Lucretia McCulley and Patricia Patterson, "Feminist Empowerment Through the Internet," Feminist Collections 17, no. 2 (Winter 1996): 5-6, http://www.library.wisc.edu/
libraries/WomensStudies/fc/fcmccul.htm; Sara P. Pace, "Feminist Pedagogy and Daedalus Online: the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning," Academic Exchange Quarterly 6, no. 1 (Spring 2002): 104-110; Pamela Whitehouse, "Women's Studies Online: An Oxymoron?" Women's Studies Quarterly 30, nos. 3-4 (Fall-Winter 2002): 209-225, http://www.uwsa.edu/
ttt/articles/whitehouse.htm; Carol L. Winkelmann, "Women in the Integrated Circuit: Morphing the Academic/Community Divide," Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 18, no. 1 (1997): 19-42. [Return to text]

3. Lourdes Arizpe, "Preface: Freedom to Create: Women's Agenda for Cyberspace," in Wendy Harcourt, ed., Women@Internet: Creating New Cultures in Cyberspace (New York: Zed Books, 1999), xv. [Return to text]

4. Ibid. [Return to text]