My name is Hannah; I started teaching at UAL in 2021 and currently work across several courses at CSM and LCC.
My ‘base’ is the Sound Arts programme at LCC. I was a student on this course back in 2010 and I am currently a PhD student in the department. I also feel at home with Culture, Criticism and Curation at CSM, where I’ve gotten to know the team and have been given opportunities to shape what I teach.
Last year, I curated the graduate and postgraduate shows for BA and MA Sound Arts, which was an absolute pleasure—working with students, tutors, and technical teams. This year, I designed and taught an elective at CSM for BA Culture, Criticism, and Curation. This was my first time delivering a unit of content entirely my own, and I really enjoyed teaching my specialist subject. Aside from that, I teach on several collaborative units at LCC and CSM, deliver workshops on public engagement and various aspects of sound production. I also supervise dissertations for Contextual and Theoretical Studies and Cultural Histories.
I’m looking forward to the PgCert in Academic Practice and gaining a deeper understanding of how to create the best possible learning experiences for students.
As an educator, I hope to foster a learning environment where all students feel heard and valued. Reading Dr. Haifaa Jawad’s article Islam, Women and Sport: The Case of Visible Muslim Women (2022) has prompted me to reflect critically on how my own teaching practice might inadvertently privilege certain identities while overlooking the compounded barriers faced by others. Jawad’s use of real-life examples, such as visibly Muslim women’s experiences of navigating sports participation, underscores the complex interplay of faith, gender, and societal perceptions—an intersectionality that Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory powerfully elucidates.
Crenshaw’s concept of intersectionality helps me recognise that no identity marker—be it faith, gender, ethnicity, or class—exists in isolation. In Jawad’s analysis, Muslim women’s experiences in sports are not simply a matter of religious dress codes or modesty requirements. They are also shaped by broader socio-political dynamics, such as Islamophobia, gendered expectations, and racialised stereotypes. For example, Muslim women who wear the hijab are not only navigating practical challenges in sports attire but also facing scrutiny that combines assumptions about gender, faith, and cultural background. Their visibility renders them vulnerable to exclusion and discrimination.
In my own teaching context, I realise I have rarely worked with visibly Muslim women in my classrooms. Instead, I have often been struck by the number of Chinese international students who identify as Christian—a contrast to the Chinese government’s official stance on religion. This has revealed to me the complexity of how faith operates within individual lives, often resisting or negotiating with state and cultural expectations. While I may have unconsciously assumed that students from certain national or cultural backgrounds might not express strong religious affiliations, my experiences have shown otherwise. Faith, in these cases, operates as a quiet but significant presence in the classroom, one that is easy to overlook.
UAL’s own data on student demographics (2021/22) reveal that a significant proportion of students identify with specific faith traditions, including Islam and Christianity. My classroom experience reflects this diversity in unexpected ways. However, despite this, I have often failed to integrate these perspectives into the resources I use in teaching. Much of the art history and theory I draw on reflects a Eurocentric, secular narrative, privileging rupture and provocation over reverence or spirituality. This, I now see, may implicitly marginalise students for whom faith is central to their identity and creative practice.
Jawad’s call for inclusive policies resonates here. Just as she argues for sports to accommodate both faith and gendered needs, I recognise the importance of ensuring that course resources, scheduling, and expectations in the arts classroom acknowledge and respect students’ religious identities. This might involve creating space for students to discuss how faith informs their creative practice, offering flexible deadlines during religious observances, or incorporating resources from artists whose work engages with faith.
Ultimately, developing a deeper understanding of how faith intersects with other identities, as Crenshaw theorises, requires a shift in both perspective and practice. It challenges me to listen more attentively—to what is said and what remains unsaid—and to actively seek out ways to create a classroom where all aspects of students’ identities are not only acknowledged but celebrated.
References:
Crenshaw, K. (1989) Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: a Black feminist critique of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory and antiracist politics. University of Chicago Legal Forum 1989(1) Article 8. Available at: https://chicagounbound.uchicago.edu/uclf/vol1989/iss1/8 (accessed 26 March 2025).
Intervention: Listening Practice for Inclusive Pedagogies
This intervention offers a recurring drop-in listening workshop for students and staff, inspired by composer and feminist thinker Pauline Oliveros’ proposal to ‘listen to our listening’. Each session provides a space for participants to trial a listening score. Structured reflections follow, where participants discuss not only what they listened to but also how they listened, surfacing dynamics of privilege, voice, and presence.
Diversity considerations: The intervention foregrounds neurodiversity, linguistic diversity, and cultural difference—dimensions that often shape who is ‘heard’ in the classroom. By focusing on listening over speaking, the practice supports participation from students who may be less comfortable with dominant discussion formats, including those for whom English is an additional language or who experience anxiety or sensory sensitivities. Listening is reframed as a productive contribution, rather than a passive state.
Link to practice: As a community artist, my work has long been concerned with group dynamics. My doctoral research explores listening within community-based art making, and I now wish to transpose this learning into a pedagogic setting—asking how listening can reveal hidden structures, whether relational or political. By centering listening as method, this intervention directly challenges hierarchies of voice in the classroom.
Feasibility: The intervention is feasible as it requires minimal resources (a space, simple stationary) and can be offered as an extracurricular resource. One challenge lies in shifting pedagogical norms—valuing silence, slowness, and deep attention. However, this approach aligns with wider shifts in higher education towards inclusive practice and active learning. Recruitment of participants may also be a challenge; I plan to begin by offering the workshops to students in sound and music departments, where listening is already a topic of concern, with the hope that students will value the sessions and invite others to join.
Peers’ feedback: I have not yet had the opportunity to propose this to the course team.
While watching the UAL video The Social Model of Disability, one line stood out to me: ‘Sometimes I feel like I have to tell people my life story just to get what I need’. This brought to mind Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality (1989, 2013)—the idea that identity is complex, and that people often face overlapping forms of discrimination or structural barriers. Access needs are not always straightforward, and may be shaped by multiple, intersecting factors including disability, class, geography, and more.
This resonated with an experience I had while organising a public symposium at UAL. I asked all invited speakers to share any access requirements; one responded with an access rider. I was able to meet all the requests except one: the speaker, who lives outside London and has an invisible disability, asked for a hotel the night before the event. This was of course reasonable, travel at that hour would have been impossible for them. However, our event budget was tiny and already allocated as this was a requirement of the funding application process. I approached the funder to request additional support, but they asked to see the access rider as ‘evidence’. The rider clearly stated it should not be shared without permission, and the speaker declined. I supported this decision—access needs should not be subject to inspection by non-medical gatekeepers. Thankfully, the funder relented and agreed to cover the cost. But it could have gone the other way.
This also reminded me of an artist collague, who lost his disability benefits after refusing to ‘perform’ his disability during a PIP assessment. He was asked to balance on one leg, reach up and down, and demonstrate his limitations in front of a private contractor—not a medical professional. He refused, saying, ‘I’m not a performing monkey’, and left. His benefits were stopped. He later told me that, as someone who identifies strongly as working class, he already felt subject to intense scrutiny from state institutions. The demand to prove his need was one step too far. His story made me wonder how such demands for ‘evidence’ align with Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights—the right to a private life.
Reflecting on the symposium, I regret forwarding the funder’s request to the speaker—I should have refused on principle. I also recognise that I could have asked the speaker about their access requirements before applying for funding, to ensure a more accurate and inclusive budget from the outset. More fundamentally, I see now that I could have done more to challenge a system that treats access as an afterthought. By accepting a structure that prioritises content over care, I inadvertently reinforced it. In future, I want to push back against funding models that require budgets to be fixed before access needs are known, and advocate for approaches that centre accessibility from the very beginning. In a university where 15% of students declared a disability (UAL, 2022), this feels particularly crucial.
References:
Crenshaw, K. (2013) ‘Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’. In The Public Nature of Private Violence (pp. 93-118). Routledge.
UAL (2022) Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Annual report 2021/22. Available at: https://www.arts.ac.uk/?a=389423 (Accessed 19/05/2025)
This term, due to illness, a member of the permanent staff was signed off, and I was invited at short notice to lead a unit for second-year students. The course leader informed me that the unit required revision, as the previous year’s substitute tutor, unfamiliar with the content, had struggled to deliver it effectively, resulting in poor student feedback. Consequently, I was asked to revise the unit guide to ensure I felt confident leading it.
The unit focused on collaboration, and given my experience teaching two other collaborative units, I decided to build on what had worked in those courses. A key lesson was the importance of allowing students autonomy in selecting their collaborators. In previous courses, mandatory group assignments led to dissatisfaction, as students with differing interests and working styles were paired together. This often left some students feeling overburdened by others’ lack of engagement. For this new unit, I felt it was crucial to give students the freedom to choose their collaborators, despite the potential risk that they might not self-organize effectively.
After the initial briefing, I designed four sessions introducing key concepts of collaborative practice, including theory, methods, and group exercises. I also asked students to draft emails to potential collaborators, outlining project details such as deadlines and expectations. To encourage external collaboration, I invited students from other courses within the school to attend the final hour of our sessions to pitch their project ideas. This resulted in a much higher level of interest than anticipated, with 50 students attending to present their ideas. However, only three of my students chose to collaborate with other UAL students, while the majority opted to work with their external networks. This left me disappointed, as it meant the external students who came to present their ideas were not engaged. Reflecting on this, I would reduce the number of sessions dedicated to external collaborations in the future and limit the number of courses I contact.
In the final session before the Spring break, I asked students to present their collaborations and initial ideas for the unit project. However, I became concerned when three students still had not found collaborators. With the next session scheduled after the break, I worried that this delay could hinder the development of their projects. This raised questions about the balance between offering autonomy and ensuring adequate support to keep students engaged.
In his book Together: The Rituals, Pleasures, and Politics of Cooperation (2013), Richard Sennett argues that skillful cooperation requires listening, empathizing, engaging in dialogue, and embracing complexity and uncertainty. Reflecting on this, I hope that in future I could apply these skills as a collaborator in the course myself, by actively listening to students’ preferences on collaborators and initiating dialogue about their needs throughout the course design process.
Looking back on this unit, I recognize that while offering students the freedom to choose collaborators promotes independence and personal responsibility, it also places the burden of organization on them. Moving forward, I aim to strike a better balance between autonomy and structure, offering students clearer guidance while fostering collaborative opportunities that enhance their learning experiences.
Refs:
Sennett, R. (2012) Together: The rituals, pleasures and politics of cooperation. Yale University Press.
I found the text The Importance and Difficulties of Listening Skill: A Description (Gultom, Utari, and Rahmawati, 2023) interesting, as listening is the focus of my PhD research. The text positions listening as a skill, implying that it can be learned, taught, and refined to an expert level (p.9). This does not align well with the scholarship I’ve been engaging with, which moves away from the idea of an ideal listener and instead emphasizes aural diversity (Drever and Hugill, 2022) and barriers to listening—factors that cannot simply be unlearned (Carlyle and Lane, 2013).
The first section outlines various models of listening, citing scholars who propose four, seven, or even twelve different types. My own research has identified 120 distinct listening types, as articulated by both artists and researchers. These definitions are often discipline-specific, with listening explored in fields such as film studies, decolonial discourse, and music theory. In contrast, this paper limits its discussion to pedagogical frameworks.
The authors reference a study on second language acquisition by Nabiyev and Idiyev (2022), which identifies three causes of listening difficulties: lack of effort, laziness, and misunderstanding pronunciation (p.30). This struck me as particularly harsh language, and I wondered how a teacher within the field of critical pedagogy might respond. Rather than blaming students, I would argue that a lack of motivation often stems from complex, context-dependent factors—both long-term (such as an inability to envision a future where the language skill is useful) and short-term (such as stress or hunger, which can distract from learning).
This discussion also made me reflect on the role of listening in the classroom. The focus is often on students as listeners, but how much space is there for teachers to listen? Sara Ahmed’s concept of feminist ears (2022) suggests that listening is not a passive act—it is a precursor to action. Listening without action may retraumatize the speaker. As an associate lecturer with limited power beyond the classroom, I might question whether creating space for listening is meaningful. However, even when immediate action isn’t possible, listening can still foster solidarity. Simply hearing a student and responding with empathy can, in itself, be a form of support.
Carlyle, A. & Lane, C. eds. (2013) On Listening. London: Uniformbooks.
Drever, J. L. & Hugill, A. eds. (2022) Aural Diversity. New York: Routledge
Gultom, Q., Utari, P. & Rahmawati, W. (2023). THE IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTIES OF LISTENING SKILL: A DESCRIPTION. EXCELLENCE: Journal of English and English Education. 3. 28-31. 10.47662/ejeee.v3i1.584.
Nabiyev, A. I., & Idiyev, A. R. (2022) The importance of listening in learning English. Innovative Developments in Sciences, Education and Humanities, 12-13.
During a PgCert session, we had an extensive discussion about the challenges of ‘group crit’. My own experiences from a teaching perspective had been mixed. In a recent undergraduate session, only five students attended—one arrived extremely late, another didn’t speak at all, and the discussion was dominated by two male students who focused on technical aspects while avoiding conceptual discussions.
Other tutors shared similar struggles. Shockingly, one course had to implement security measures due to fears of student aggression in crits. Others noted how students often felt defensive rather than receptive to feedback, creating a barrier to learning. I shared my own frustration: students rarely attended – I suspect because they didn’t find the feedback useful.
One PgCert colleague introduced me to Das Theatre’s feedback method, which she had used successfully. She shared slides and a video explaining how this approach:
Empowers the artist receiving feedback.
Moves beyond judgment to constructive discussion.
Encourages shared responsibility in crits.
Prevents dominant voices from controlling the conversation.
Allows the presenter to relax, rather than defend their work.
Shifts focus from evaluation to exploring universal themes.
A key feature is that presenters choose from ten feedback options, giving them agency in the process. Inspired, I decided to try it in my own class.
I introduced the feedback options to my students and modelled the process by offering my own work-in-progress for critique—a practice inspired by bell hooks’ idea of teacher vulnerability.
The method I chose was called ‘concept reflection’. Students listened to my work without context and wrote key themes on post-it notes. They stuck their post it notes on a board, where I wrote the words ‘The Work’ in the centre and put the post-it notes that I thought strongly related to the work nearest the words, and the concepts that did not relate so strongly further away. I read them as I curated, and honestly found this process so useful! I was astonished that ‘intimacy’ appeared on five different post-it notes—something I hadn’t consciously considered in my piece.
Next, I invited a student to select one concept close to the work and one that was more distant. I then spoke for two minutes on each, reflecting on their relevance. This exercise prompted deep thinking about my artistic intentions and how the work communicated.
This approach transformed the crit into a meaningful dialogue rather than a defensive exercise. The students engaged generously, and their insights were invaluable. Even more gratifying, one student stayed behind to say how much they had gained from the session, while another simply said ‘Great session!’ as they left.
I look forward to the next session, where students will bring their own work for critique. This experience has reshaped my method of delivering group crits—turning it into a collaborative process that fosters deeper artistic and conceptual reflection.
As a teacher in the Sound Art department, the brief to create a session centered around an ‘object’ initially mystified me. After reading Engaging the Senses: Object-Based Learning in Higher Education (Chatterjee & Hannan, 2015), I understood that object-based learning enhances sensory, cognitive, and emotional connections through physical engagement with objects. This approach can promote critical thinking, observational skills, and interdisciplinary learning while fostering inclusivity by catering to diverse learning styles.
My goal for the session was to facilitate a 20-minute hands-on activity where participants would build a simple radio transmitter. I aimed to introduce the concept of ‘radio art’ by combining theory with practical application. The session encouraged interactive, exploratory learning and demonstrated the value of object-based learning, especially for an adult audience unfamiliar with this subject.
I carefully planned the session to ensure it was achievable within the short timeframe, considering participants’ limited technical knowledge. I created a visual aid with instructions and prepared the circuit components for the hands-on activity. I also considered different learning styles, knowing some learners would benefit more from visual aids, while others would respond better to direct interaction with the material.
The session began with an introduction to radio transmission, where I demonstrated the difference between AM and FM by having participants turn on a radio. I then distributed a short text on radio art, reading aloud and pausing to discuss terminology. The text laid the foundation for the hands-on activity, where I handed out a diagram and circuit components, explaining each part’s role. Participants were encouraged to work at their own pace, with me providing troubleshooting support as needed.
The most rewarding part of the session was observing the participants’ enthusiasm. Some were initially hesitant about the technical aspects but gained confidence as they progressed through the activity. Despite thorough planning, the radio transmission proved unpredictable, and we needed an extra two minutes to successfully transmit a signal. I took a risk by proposing such an ambitious activity, but I’m not sure it fully paid off.
Feedback from my peers highlighted areas for improvement, such as clearer instructions, better pacing, and additional resources for further exploration. One tutor suggested including step-by-step instructions in the diagram, while another felt the theoretical text was too long. They also recommended staggering the information to improve comprehension, though everyone successfully built the transmitter.
Reflecting on this feedback, I realized the importance of refining my teaching materials to better support learners. Staggering information would allow for deeper processing, and shorter, more focused theoretical content would make it easier to digest. Moving forward, I will aim to balance the level of detail in my materials, ensuring they are both informative and accessible.
This experience deepened my understanding of how to support learners through clear instructions, thoughtful pacing, and adaptable teaching methods. These insights will guide me in creating more effective, engaging learning experiences in the future.
Reference: Chatterjee, H. & Hannan, L. (eds.) (2015). Engaging the Senses: Object-Based Learning in Higher Education. Farnham: Ashgate.
Kogawa, T. (2014) ‘On radioart’ In Thurmann-Jajes, A., Frohne, U., Kim, J., Peters, M., Rauh, F. & Schönewald, S. (2019). Radio as Art: Concepts, Spaces, Practices. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag.
For this exercise, I opted to write a detailed plan for a class, and to ask for feedback on this document from my tutor Linda Aloysius. We had an online meeting on 27th February, where Linda provided verbal feedback on my plan, sharing valuable advice on fostering effective learning environments and ensuring students gain the most from my classes. I was pleased that our discussion began with Linda saying that the activities I’d proposed sounded intriguing, and that the plan made sense to her as a whole.
One of the key insights Linda shared was the importance of setting clear intentions for activities. While I initially assumed that experiential learning might naturally guide students, Linda emphasized that explicitly stating the purpose of activities can help create a sense of continuity and maintain a safe, structured space for exploration. She pointed out that while some activities might seem self-explanatory, others require framing to ensure students understand their significance. Her perspective encouraged me to state why activities were taking place, their aims, and how they were scaffolding towards a certain aim.
Linda also spoke about the complex nature of group dynamics, cautioning against the idealization of harmonious learning communities. She reminded me that while collaboration is valuable, it is equally important to acknowledge that group interactions do not always function smoothly. Her advice encouraged me to be adaptable, reading the room and adjusting my approach based on the students’ responses rather than assuming a universally applicable method.
We also discussed ways to extend the impact of the workshop beyond the session itself. Linda suggested that temporary learning communities often dissolve quickly unless supported by a means of continued engagement. She recommended setting up a digital space where students could share thoughts, images, and documents relevant to the course. Given course restrictions on informal group chats, she proposed alternatives and I remembered a platform I’d used before called Framapad, which might not only facilitate ongoing discussion but also serve as a reflective tool for evaluating a session’s effectiveness.
Reflecting on this conversation, I feel more confident having planned a session and reviewed it with another practitioner. Linda’s advice helped me consider the balance between structure and flexibility, the realities of group learning, and the value of sustaining dialogue beyond the class. Moving forward, I aim to apply these insights, in the hope that my sessions can provide meaningful and lasting benefits to students.
Chuck kindly came to observe a session on radio art that I ran as a one-off class with MA Sound Arts students at LCC on 18th January. Chuck wrote me a valuable letter outlining their feedback, which is inculded in the ROT form.
I came to observe a class by Chuck for MA Performance: Screen on the 6th March. I provided written feedback in an ROT form and Chuck responded with their reflections.
