Statement of Teaching Philosophy

Susan Buck-Morss, in her study of Walter Benjamin’s Arcades Project, noted that the true power of Benjamin’s unfinished final work came from the journey of discovery unique to an unfinished text: “Rather (and this is no small part of its political power), the Passagen-Werk makes us historical detectives even against our own will, forcing us to become actively involved in the reconstruction of the work.” This, I believe, is a good metaphor for how I seek to teach. I aim to give the students enough information to discover historical concepts for themselves: not too much that there is no room for interpretation, nor too little that they can only barely grasp the concept at hand. I want them to become historical detectives – even if partially against their will – so to better strengthen their understanding of historical actors within their time and place.

Having been an instructor of history at an engineering school, I found the concept of being a historical detective was alien to many. The students wanted concrete, unambiguous answers to historical questions, rather than the cacophony of differing theoretical perspectives or the possible inaccuracy of first-hand witnesses. Thus, teaching history at Georgia Tech meant not only instructing students in the chronicle of being-in-the-world, but also a demonstration of the ambiguities of human life and the multiplicity of perspectives.

My teaching philosophy, therefore, relies on the value of multiple perspectives and voices to actively reconstruct historical ideas. Rather than simply lecture and dictate knowledge down to students, I invite them all to participate in the free exchange of mutual understanding. Each student, by their very nature, comes into the class with their own unique set of experiences and values. Thus, I ask students to foreground their own personal relationship to the material as often as possible. For example, in my class “Culture and Technology,” one student who worked for an Atlanta shelter demonstrated for the need for unhoused populations to own a cell phone in a world where almost all information is conveyed online. In my class on Nazi Germany, one student had a grandmother who survived the Holocaust and was able to bring her self-published memoir into class. Students, therefore, were teaching each other, gaining multiple perspectives beyond the singular situatedness of the instructor.

My job as instructor, then, is not only to foster this environment, but act as the connective tissue between students. In practice, I make it my priority to diversify the mechanisms of learning in the classroom. Although I prioritize discussion, I know that discussion favors the neurotypical and punishes the shy. Therefore, I always end class with a short writing prompt to give students the opportunity to participate without having to speak. The result is a reported feeling of learning together. For example, in one of my student feedback forms, one student wrote:

“From my personal experiences, Mario is a rarity with respect to his desire to help the class grow without the obtuse tendency to impress one’s own opinions and beliefs. Most of the students I know are more than capable of generating unique and insightful thoughts; and Mario did a remarkable job at bringing the class together in a way that each member was encouraged to introduce those ideas to other students. I believe that Mario will do great things for the History Department, and should be congratulated on a job well done.”

Another wrote: “Mr. Bianchini’s ability to hold a conversation with students to show how something they said could relate to a plethora of other things that could relate to the course is a great skill. He doesn’t make the students feel bad for speaking their mind and shows them how what they said had more meaning than they even considered.”

No matter what form my teaching takes, my goal will always be the same: to foreground student voices, for we are historical detectives, just with different ways of looking.