Rationale
Heart of Darkness is a text that my students, even the best ones, struggle with each year. It makes them doubt themselves, their intelligence, and for some, even their potential success in college. Many of them are the best and the brightest at Overfelt and so fearless in many other ways, and yet this work makes them afraid to take chances, to explore possible meanings because they do not want to be wrong. They want concrete answers and are unable to accept/maneuver the gray areas, but it is in that gray area that literature comes alive.
Located in the heart of Silicon Valley and the third-largest city in California (and the 10 th largest in the U.S.), William C. Overfelt High School serves East San Jose, or colloquially the "East Side." The student body of approximately 1,470 students (9-12) is working class and predominantly low-income. The community faces tremendous poverty and high crime rates; in fact, the City of San Jose has identified Overfelt's attendance area as a "gang hot spot." The significant economic and social hardships facing the community have a major impact on student achievement as measured by mandated testing.(1) Though our API has steadily increased since 2004, less than a third of our students score proficient or advanced on the English Language portion of the STAR tests.(2) Yet, on the standardized tests given every year in California(3) in April, the month I think of as the harbinger of "testing season," the scores of some of my students rival those of students from schools that consistently score—on a scale that tops out at 900—in the high 800s or better. Their scores, however, are not enough to erase the stigma of a low-performing school and nor lift it above the rising tide of emphasis placed on achievement tests to determine the quality of instruction in the classroom and teacher effectiveness.
Hoping to raise test scores, Overfelt recently adopted a small learning community model school-wide. I belong to Fiat Lux,(4) the "honors" academy. I am one of the lucky few at the school to have a resource period to co-lead a team of six teachers, including myself. We are cognizant that due to the make-up of Overfelt's student body, school-wide resources have focused on improving the achievement of our middle- and lowest-achieving students. Fiat Lux agrees the school must do this, but we also know we cannot ignore the needs of our highest achieving students, often overlooked because "they will do well no matter what." That is neither the case nor is it just. So, our goal is to develop curriculum that engages and challenges students, and to create community among our students who, unlike others, are placed in the academy mostly owing to their test scores and grades rather than their own choice. We want to ensure they are not forgotten in the push to improve instruction among the less gifted students and close the achievement gap. But of course, these are not the only students who take Advanced Placement classes.
In the hopes of shrinking that gap and to ensure no student who wants to take AP is denied access to its challenging curriculum, Overfelt has maintained an open-door policy in regards to AP classes. That means that enrollment in the course is not predicated on any kind of prerequisite with the exception that students must have taken (but need not have passed) AP English Language in the 11 th grade. Received an F in English 3 (college-prep junior English)? Go ahead and take AP. D's in freshman and sophomore English classes? Not a problem. Sign up for AP. Counselor strongly advised against AP? Disregard that. Take AP. I am, however, by no means advocating that students who do not have the "proper credentials" be excluded from enrolling in AP. There are too many factors accounting for why students do not do well in their classes before enrolling in AP English Literature. For example, it is all too common that students must work to help support their families, to care for younger siblings (and/or cousins in multi-family households) while parents (or aunts and uncles) work, or do both. So, while every parent or guardian I have met wants their child to do well in school, often something has to give in order that basic needs are met first; unfortunately, that something is often schoolwork. Another reason some students did not do well in English 3 is because they did not find the course engaging or challenging, and so they did not work for the grade they easily could have earned. These students often thrive in the AP classroom. And then there are those students who know they have not acquired many of the skills students normally have in order to be successful in an AP classroom but are nevertheless willing to challenge themselves; these students are often my most diligent and hard working. Regardless of how my students come to me, I strongly believe that with the right support, with instruction that engages them, they can be successful in my classroom, even with the most challenging of texts, such as Heart of Darkness.
So, again the question: why teach a text as difficult as Heart of Darkness to a class of students, the bulk of whom will struggle even with scaffolding? Simple: There is value in that struggle. This is one of those times when the journey is just as important as the destination.
First, it would not be surprising if Heart of Darkness were one of the required readings they encounter in college. It is what some critics believe to be "'among the half-dozen greatest short novels in the English language.'"(5) That students have a working familiarity with it and have previously spent time analyzing it will work in their favor. They can use the skills they learn analyzing Heart of Darkness to access independently other texts that are just as difficult. They will learn that different types of texts require different approaches, that as readers, they must read Heart of Darkness (and other texts like it) with intent.
Secondly, Heart of Darkness is especially fertile ground for interpretation. One theme students will see immediately has to do with race and the character of Marlow. Several questions arise. Can—as W.K. Wimsatt and Monroe C. Beardsley argue in "The Intentional Fallacy"(6)—we ignore Conrad's intent when we judge Heart of Darkness' success as a literary work? If one believes that Conrad and/or the text is racist, does that negate any value it has as literary art? Or can the work be judged on its own merits, regardless of what Conrad intended? If students come to the conclusion that Conrad and/or Marlow is racist, can the text still be read as an indictment of imperialism, or must it be read as Chinua Achebe did, a warning against the dangers of allowing darkness to overwhelm civilization? These are the text-specific questions students will deal with in their discussions in class, conversations I hope they will continue outside the confines of our classroom walls.
Finally, my students are on the verge of new lives. Many will be on their own for the first time, away at college and making adult decisions for themselves, from the mundane to the serious. They are coming of age in a world in which the use of social media connects us to people on the other side of the globe by simply clicking "Accept Friend Request," where it is more commonplace to text than to call, where we have over a thousand "friends" we've never met and whose voices we've never heard, where strangers follow our 140-character thoughts on issues big and small. This begs the following question: Have we become merely observers of life rather than participants, posting pictures of our lives rather being actively engaged in them? Heart of Darkness is a work fraught with such questions about the nature of humanity, about our responsibilities and obligations to ourselves and to others to act in ways that are humane, and what the consequences are for us as a people when we act in inhumane ways or fail to stop others from doing so.
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