In introductions to cultural anthropology, teaching hunter-gatherer societies might seem like a necessary (although boring) pitstop on the way to the exciting, recent ethnographic studies. For me, the “early societies” week in the syllabus is one of my favorites. While students might be reading about the Azande or the Trobrianders, I use this activity to remind them how these seemingly outdated perspectives are pertinent to their own relations with the environments around them.
I like to teach this week as if it were a prelude to environmental anthropology, encouraging my students to think about the ways they engage with their immediate environments, in this case, the college campus. I find that this activity is also an opportunity for some of my quieter students and kinetic learners to shine among their peers. My objective for this lesson is to have students understand that the way society is structured shapes their environmental engagements and imaginaries.
This activity can be conducted in several ways depending on how much time you have or your objectives for the class. The first iteration is fairly simple, teaching the hunter-gatherer perspective with a competitive spin. The second is to teach hunter-gatherer, pastoral, and agricultural societies in comparison to one another. This iteration is more complicated and takes more time, but it makes for better discussions and a more holistic perspective.
First Iteration: Hunter-gatherers
I separate my students into small groups, usually four or
five students depending on the class size. Each group is a hunter-gatherer
society, and as a team they have two tasks. First, they must research what
local edible foods they may forage for, and what animals they may hunt. I
generally give them fifteen minutes for this part of the activity. All of their
potential food sources must be native and local to the area – no invasive or
introduced species. With ten minutes left to the activity, each group elects
one person to leave the classroom, tasked with finding something edible on
campus (no, they may not buy or find processed food) and bringing it back to
share. Groups not able to bring back anything edible fail as a society.
I had a student once bring back a poisonous plant. Her society died. In another class, one of my quietest students rolled off with his skateboard, coming back within eight minutes, and with nine oranges! His knowledge of the campus environment earned him applause from his society.
Second Iteration: Comparative early societies
In the more complex iteration of this activity, I separate
my students into small groups (4-5 each), but groups are separated into either
hunter-gatherer, pastoral, or agricultural societies.
Hunter-gatherers have the same tasks I detailed above.
Pastoral societies must research where on campus they would be able to raise animals, and how long this would take. The group must provide data on where and what they would raise, and why. In the first ten minutes of this activity, the group elects one person to scout the nearby campus, taking photographs of the animals they see and bringing them back to the group for analysis.
Agricultural societies must plan where they would plant crops, what crops they would plant, and how many people these crops could feed. This society must research local weather and soil conditions in order to make these decisions. This group may elect one member to scout possible growing areas, this person has ten minutes to take photos of places and plants that the group could use to plan their society.
The group research and scouting part of this exercise takes about 15-20 minutes. I always bring students back together after this activity in a group discussion, asking them to reflect on how their perspective of the campus environment changed as a result of their tasks. I usually give them three-five minutes to do this in their small groups before we discuss as a class. Below are some possible questions for the class discussion.
What are some of the challenges you faced when
planning your society?
What kind of political or legal conflicts would
you have encountered based on your society’s plan?
What kind of social conflicts might you have
How far in the future did you have to think when
you were planning your society?
How did you see the campus environment as you
were planning your society, and how is this different than how you see it on a
Which type of society do you think would best
flourish here (on this campus, in this city, in this state)? And why?
What type of society do you – as a college
student today – live in?
How does this shape the way you understand your
environment (on campus)?
Andrews is a cultural anthropologist of environments, borders, and health
on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic. Her research examines how
diver fishermen navigate changing ocean environments amidst emerging politics
of conservation. She is currently finishing her dissertation as at UC Irvine,
where she prefers to be outdoors or in the ocean, activities that are tertiary
resource, of course.
The interactive webpage, Ancient Egypt, hosted by the British Museum allows students to digitally learn about topics like mummification, pyramids, geography, and religion through stories, activities, and quizzes. For example, students learn about timekeeping through a story about an ancient temple and by exploring a timeline of important developments in ancient Egyptian history. Students then test their knowledge by placing important objects in chronological order from oldest to most recent.
These activities require you to have a flash plug-in, like the free one offered by adobe, downloaded onto your browser.
This educational resource, also available in Spanish, enables students in undergraduate and graduate cultural anthropology courses to analyze the “Wheelchair Caravan of Integration,” a mass mobilization by Bolivians with disabilities that took place across Bolivia from 2011 to 2012. As they progress through this activity, students will also learn how to think holistically and critically about a wide-range of topics like disability, medicine, the body, the senses, citizenship, and Latin America utilizing primary sources. First students read the original narrative, “Wheelchair Caravan in Bolivia,” in which Carlos Mariaca, a Bolivian activist with disability who led the march, details the profound role collective support played as the activists strove to perform the complementary, non-hierarchical duties that made their arduous journey across Bolivia possible. Next, students watch two-minute videos produced by the Bolivian media that show an important moment in the caravan journey when activists, frustrated that their mobilization was not receiving necessary public attention, got out of their wheelchairs at a public plaza in Santa Cruz and utilized their bodies to gain visibility for the sacrifices they made in their struggle for equal rights and to demand a financial benefit from the national government. The first media video, “Caravan Interview Activist,” created by ATB Digital, provides commentary by a journalist and an interview with an activist. In the second video by Viva, “Caravan Interview Public,” footage and interviews show the public’s reactions. Finally, students can write or actively discuss their responses to the questions offered in this resource. In sum, this multi-modal activity offers students a unique opportunity to critically analyze primary sources as they comparatively explore how the Bolivian activists, media, and public differentially interpret the Wheelchair Caravan of Integration’s significance.
Wheelchair Caravan in Bolivia by Carlos Mariaca
In 100 days, from November 15th, 2011 to February 26th, 2012, people with disabilities (PWD) in Bolivia achieved a historic mobilization in wheelchairs, traveling 1520 kilometers from Trinidad, Bení through five Departments of Bolivia to La Paz, the seat of government. “The Wheelchair Caravan of Integration,” led by the leaders of the Bolivian Confederation of Persons with Disabilities (COBOPDI), together with the leaders of the Departmental Federations (FEDEPDIS), had the objective of claiming rights for PWD by proposing a new law, “Preferential Treatment for PWD,” to improve the quality of life for this social sector and grant an annual benefit of 3600 Bolivianos or 521 U.S. dollars. They also demanded the creation of community shelters for people who do not have families and must wander as orphans through life in extreme poverty.
The Wheelchair Caravan of Integration was on
the road, exposing itself to the climatic conditions and the dangers of
vehicular traffic, counting only on the support of Bolivian citizens. They were
accompanied by some of their relatives and other Trinitarians who, together
with their children, joined the demonstration in solidarity, to push
wheelchairs, prepare food, wash clothes and help them with personal hygiene
tasks. In mutual agreement with the caravan’s leadership, it was their
responsibility to ensure they did not miss breakfast, lunch, and dinner and
provide for all of their needs, whether it was repairing and replacing shoes
that fell apart on the road or distributing clothes that were received as
donations. Two cars transported the portable kitchen, food, rations, sleeping
bags, and old mattresses. The food that supporters prepared was for everyone.
The children who accompanied them were supplied with milk and diapers that were
either purchased or donated from different parts of the country. The caravan, which had received very little coverage in the media and was ignored by government authorities, became known as “The Invisible March.” A block before entering the main square, people with disabilities decided to change this situation so they took off their clothes, got out of their wheelchairs, and onto the ground. They entered the 24 de Septiembre Plaza, crawling on the ground in a shocking and moving effort to make their struggle visible. Those who could not mobilize were dragged by volunteers or supporters, even a journalist from Santa Cruz helped. This impressive action was made in homage to the brothers and sisters with disabilities who do not have adequate conditions, must crawl in their homes, in the streets or where they live, to leave their corners, look for food or perform their basic biological needs.
It was important to make this reality visible to the public so they see them as they are and witness the conditions in which they have to face life and hear their demand for equal rights in their country. Not only was this mobilization a sacrifice, it was very emotional because they exposed the painful and difficult lives of those with disabilities, who live in total defenselessness to indifference of the State and the current Bolivian government. The public as well as the media were moved, openly weeping at the sight of this outward display of true suffering. They understood the message, the activists needed them to achieve their goals. The activists exposed their message to the media, so people could learn to see that people with disabilities in Bolivia are just like everyone else. They laugh, cry, love, sing, dance, and get angry like any person who does not have a disability. They are not saints, or angels, or demons; they are human beings with one or multiple disabilities and that their struggle is for love, love for life, love for their family, love to live even in spite of adversity and love so as not to renounce the possibility of a better and dignified life in Bolivia.
Questions for Students How did the activists explain the meaning of this mobilization? Why does Mariaca Alvarez say that it was important for the activists to achieve visibility?
How did the activists use their bodies to achieve visibility? Why do you think using their bodies in this way worked?
How did the caravan activists mobilize collective action
in both their journey and at the plaza in Santa Cruz? Why do you think they
wanted to make their collective action visible?
Compare how the activists, media, and public interpreted the mobilization in Santa Cruz. Explain what differences stand out to you.
In Bolivia, people with disabilities use person-first terminology to confront the dehumanization they experience in their everyday social relationships. How do we understand the impact of this group’s experience with dehumanization in Mariaca’s narrative and the videos? Why is it important for many people with disabilities to combat dehumanization?
How do members of the caravan highlight the limitations of defining disability simply as a medical problem that requires treatment? What other social and cultural considerations should we make?
When analyzing these resources with students, it is important to note that while “disabled person” is often the preferred terminology for activists in Western countries like the United States, Bolivian activists with disabilities prefer the term “person with disability.” They assert that the person-first expression enables them to better challenge the dehumanization they routinely experience. Additionally, in Mariaca Alvarez’s narrative, we see him use the term, la movilización, which can be roughly translated into “demonstration” in English. However, we decided to use the direct translation, “mobilization,” as it underlines the claims to social, political, and spatial mobility activists in the caravan have been making. These nuanced differences highlight the importance of being culturally sensitive to how different meanings of disability are produced through the distinct sociopolitical relationships people living in local environments have with history, culture, and global disability models.
Carlos Mariaca Alvarez, who helped lead the Caravan protest, curated the videos and authored the original narrative, “Wheelchair Caravan in Bolivia.” Mariaca, who has physical disability (Triplegia, 75%), served as the National Historic Leader of the Bolivian Confederation of People with Disabilities (COBOPDI) from 2002 to 2012, and founded the Inclusive Social Movement (MSI) and Emerging Society Bolivia (SEMBOL). Marica is also a self-taught lecturer and writer of Oriental Philosophy and Esoteric Psychology.
Megan Neal wrote the pedagogical guide, student questions, video transcripts, and translations. Neal is currently a PhD candidate at the University of California, Irvine. Her research examines how citizens with disabilities in La Paz, Bolivia challenge normative understandings of development, the senses, and political participation. She also serves as the Web Content Producer for the Teaching and Learning Anthropology Journal’s Website.
This resource was originally published by Cultural Anthropology: Teaching Tools: https://culanth.org/fieldsights/851-first-day-activity-ten-things-you-believe-to-be-true
By Angela Jenks
The first day of class is often a challenge for new instructors. After addressing the inevitable logistical issues (e.g., enrollment, the syllabus, access to course materials), should you end early? Dive right into a lecture? Engage students in an ice-breaking activity?
Like other faculty (Lang 2008; Nilson 2003), I have several goals for the beginning of a class: 1) I want to introduce the course topic and ways of thinking about course materials; 2) I want to introduce myself as an instructor, setting the tone for the rest of the course and stimulating student interest; 3) I want to encourage students to talk to each other, both to learn about their colleagues and to make connections that may prove useful if they want to form study groups or share notes and resources later on; and 4) I want to learn more about who my students are and why they chose to enroll in the course.
Here at the University of California, Irvine, courses run on a quarter schedule, so we have just started spring classes. This has given me the chance, once again, to bring out one of my favorite beginning-of-class activities. I first participated in this activity when I was a student in a folklore course taught by Alexandra Griswold at the University of Pennsylvania. I remembered it years later when I began teaching on my own, and I have used it routinely in both introductory cultural anthropology and anthropology of religion courses. I often use it on the first day of class, and always during the first week. It is easily adaptable to both small and large courses.
The activity has 6 steps:
Ask students to write a list of ten things they believe to be true.
In my experience, the activity works better if students do this before class, rather than writing the list during the class session, although I’ve done it both ways. I tell them that I will collect the lists, so all of the items should be things they are comfortable with me knowing, and at least three should be things they are willing to share with other students in the class.
I purposefully leave the interpretation of the term belief up to students, although I often say that they are not limited to listing religious beliefs. Students’ lists often do include statements about the supernatural: I believe that God exists; I believe in karma; I believe that I have seen a ghost; I believe witches are real. Others include statements they perceive to be explicitly anti-religious: I believe in evolution; I believe that science can answer all our questions; I believe that there is no life after death. Many will include statements about their everyday lives: I believe my boyfriend loves me; I believe I live in California. And there are always some whimsical responses: I believe that chocolate makes everything better.
In class, students are instructed to find a partner who they do not know well. Each student should interview his or her partner, learning the partner’s name and other information (e.g., major, year in school, where they are from) and three things she or he believes to be true. Small groups of three are also fine if necessary. I often explicitly tell students that they should not simply trade lists to read, but should share their three beliefs in conversation. This step can usually be completed in 5–10 minutes.
Ask students to introduce their partners to the entire class and to share one thing their partner believes to be true. At this stage, I have divided the board into three columns. I write short versions of these beliefs in the first column. In small classes, every student is introduced; in large classes, I ask for volunteers to introduce their partners.
Ask students why, when they were being interviewed, they chose that set of three beliefs to share with their partner. I write these responses in the second column on the board. Common responses include: Those were the three I felt strongest about; the three I’m most certain of; the three I thought were least weird; the three I thought others would agree with and not judge; the three I thought would be most controversial; the three I thought were most unique to me.
Ask students why, when they were introducing their partner to the class, they chose that one belief to share. Again, I write the responses on the board, this time in the third column. Common responses include: That was the one I agreed with; the one I thought everyone else could relate to; the one that was most different from my own beliefs; the one I remembered; the one nobody else had said yet.
Depending on the course I am teaching, this activity provides a segue into future conversations about epistemology, the culture concept, anthropological representation, or ethnographic research. In introductory courses, I ask students to reflect on their understandings of the term belief, and I use their lists to help demonstrate multiple ways of knowing. Following this activity, we might talk about the problems of defining culture or religion in terms of easily articulated beliefs, and I emphasize the normalized, invisible aspects of cultural life that we would never think to write on a list or to state to a stranger.
This activity is also helpful as I encourage students to question common understandings of culture that presume bounded groups: the Azande believe X; the Trobriand Islanders believe Y; or Latinos believe Z. Would it be possible, I ask, to create a list of what college students believe?
The activity is also a simple way to introduce some of the complexities of ethnography and to encourage students to think critically about the way anthropological knowledge is produced. What factors, we discuss, might affect the ways in which people talk to an anthropologist or the ways anthropologists write about their data and craft ethnographic representations? Are any of those similar to the factors that affected what students in the class chose to share or report?
In upper-division classes, students and I engage in a deeper interrogation of the concept of belief in the history of anthropology, and this activity leads into a discussion of introductory readings by Malcolm Ruel (1997), Byron Good (1993), or Stanley Tambiah (1990).
I have found this activity to be successful at a variety of institutions. In addition to introducing and encouraging critical reflection on course concepts and providing a reference point for future class discussions, the “ten things you believe to be true” activity gives students an opportunity to meet each other, encourages their active participation in the course, and allows me to learn more about my students and their understandings of anthropology.
Good, Byron J. 1994. “Medical Anthropology and the Problem of Belief.” In Medicine, Rationality, and Experience: An Anthropological Perspective, 1–24. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Lang, James M. 2008. On Course: A Week-by-Week Guide to Your First Semester of College Teaching. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.
Nilson, Linda B. 2003. Teaching at Its Best: A Research-Based Resource for College Instructors. 2nd edition. Bolton, Mass.: Anker.
Ruel, Malcolm. 1997. “Christians as Believers.” In Belief, Ritual, and the Securing of Life: Reflexive Essays on a Bantu Religion, 36–59. Leiden: Brill.
Tambiah, Stanley Jeyaraja. 1990. Magic, Science, Religion, and the Scope of Rationality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Resource Contributed By:Angela Jenks, University of California, Irvine
Whatever the zeitgeist is at the moment, whether it is characterized by an over-saturation of critical thinking or a complete lack of critical thinking, critical thinking is nonetheless something that has to be covered as a part of the intended learning outcomes. Why? Because teaching in higher education means training new researchers, and research cannot be performed satisfactorily without skepticism.
What is critical thinking? Critical thinking is questioning assumptions, preconceptions, all that which is taken for granted, and all that which is seen as natural. This cheat sheet covers most of the questions that one might possibly ask when presented with a supposed fact, claim, or mere statement. A student does not need to ask all of those questions all the time, in order to be critically thinking, but they can serve as a good guide for when a student mistakenly thinks that there is nothing more to question. And it could be a good aim for the teacher as well, to try to have the students aim to instinctively ask one of these questions also after their education has ended. The cheat sheet can be a good hand-out during class, or any time depending on the progress of the students.
How does one teach critical thinking? There are many ways. One that can be very useful, depending on what other Intended Learning Outcomes might be involved, is Interactive Role Playing. This resource can help one design a session of Interactive Role Playing. One does not need to follow that to the dot. The important part is to give the students a chance to play the Devil’s Advocate because the aim of the role-playing activity is to foster one’s capacity for empathy. It is through empathy that one questions one’s assumptions and preconceptions.
An example session of interactive role-playing could be that students are divided into various stakeholders that anthropologists might encounter at some point during their empirical data gathering. For example, one group can be Government, one group can be Corporation, one group can be NGO, and one group can be an Indigenous Population. Such a particular set-up usually ends up answering the question “why is no one helping the indigenous population?” That would be a suitable set of roles for a class on Human Rights. One should adapt the roles to suit the class in question. A class on Gender could have a group of students play Men’s Rights Activists, another group play Feminist Student Union, and another group play Democratic Law Enforcement. The more provocative and controversial the roles are, depending on the zeitgeist, the more effective the Interactive Role Playing will be in fostering empathy and per extension critical thinking.
Depending on the subject matter, it might be pertinent to intermittently remind the students of the difference between empathy and sympathy. You can also find a more extensive comparison of the terms here.
In general, ‘sympathy’ is when you share the feelings of another; ’empathy’ is when you understand the feelings of another but do not necessarily share them.
That reminder should help them let go of any aversions they might harbor towards playing the role of someone they have personal animosity towards. That is important for all students of all disciplines, but perhaps more so for anthropologists. Anthropologists need to be able to research phenomena regarding people or events that one might personally have issues with. The distinction between empathy and sympathy, then, should lead to a small notice of the distinction between one’s professional role and one’s personal role, and a distinction between issue and person. Interactive role-playing in particular, and the critical thinking in general, are teasers for how to properly conduct ethnographic fieldwork at a later point in time. More so, because critical thinking should permeate the whole academic and post-academic experience. From how one conducts oneself during a thesis defense, to how one conducts in-depth interviews.
The distinctions underpinning Critical Thinking
…can you think of more?
What the teacher should want, in conclusion, is for the students themselves to want to avoid attacking the messenger instead of the message, to want to stay on-topic, to maintain composure, and, above all, further the contribution to the scientific body of knowledge. When all these pieces come together, the anthropological teaching experience is one step closer to having fulfilled its social function. When all those pieces come together, the teacher can take more pride because the students will have progressed as academics and as researchers. When all those pieces come together, it should be seen as a win.
Teaching Resource Contributed by:Robin Öberg, Exeter University
Robin Öberg is a doctoral student in Social Anthropology. She earned an M.A. in Applied Cultural Analysis and an M.Sc. in Social Anthropology. She has served as a Postgraduate Teacher’s Assistant in Economics and Anthropology, and a Visiting Scholar teaching Applied Cultural Analysis and Ethnographic Fieldwork.