Theorizing the Teaching Triad

In this conversation essay, the authors incorporate teaching assistants (TAs) into pedagogical theorizing through what they call the teaching triad, an analytic heuristic to understand faculty-TA-undergraduate interactions. TAs are graduate students who are tasked with running discussion sections, smaller settings where undergraduates interact more directly with the material and one another. Yet, faculty pedagogies enable or constrain the work of TAs and shape classroom climates. We discuss three types of faculty pedagogies and their effects: (1) authoritarian pedagogies, wherein faculty exhibit inflexible, controlling behaviors that create a silencing and distrustful climate; (2) absentee pedagogies, characterized by a lack of faculty presence, which results in additional labor for TAs and confusion and panic for students; and (3) advocate pedagogies, which involve proactively engaged and flexible faculty approaches, cultivating an empowered environment. Understanding these dynamics is important for first-generation and/or working-class students, particularly those of color, who already face barriers to learning.

colleges, in contrast, offer larger-and sometimes extremely large (more than 600 students at our university)-classes because budgets are driven by enrollment. FGWC students are more likely to enroll in the latter type of institution (RTI International 2019).
To address student engagement, and as part of a funding strategy, large classes require one or more teaching assistants (TAs). TAs are graduate students (sometimes undergraduates) who are tasked with running discussion sections, smaller settings where students interact more directly with the material and one another. As such, TAs are a staple of university life. In May 2021, for example, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (2021) estimated that there were 104,070 TAs working across the country.
TAships are also structurally unequal. Graduate students at lower-ranked and less resourced universities-who are themselves more likely to be FGWC and/or of color (e.g., Roscigno et al. 2022)-rely on TAships, rather than fellowships, for funding. Because of this increased frequency of teaching, graduate students are often the instructors with whom undergraduates interact the most and to whom they turn to for academic support, particularly during their first years in college (Raaper 2018). Yet despite their important role, we know little about how TAs-particularly FGWC TAsfit into undergraduate teaching and learning (for exceptions, see Calkins and Kelley 2005;Ridgway et al. 2017;Wahl et al. 2000).
Building upon previous research, we draw from (1) our experiences teaching at a Hispanic-serving institution and an Asian American-Native American-Pacific Islander Institution that predominantly serves students of color and FGWC students and (b) our own backgrounds as FGWC students and/or scholars of color, to incorporate TAs into pedagogical theorizing through what we call the teaching triad, an analytic heuristic to understand faculty-TA-undergraduate interactions. 1 In what follows, we theorize these dynamics and argue that the teaching triad is not equally weighted.
Instead, faculty's pedagogical approaches, and their relation to broader systems of oppression, shape how effective TAs, particularly those who are FGWC and/or of color, can be in the classroom.

TEACHInG TRIAD
The faculty, TAs, and undergraduates of the teaching triad correspond to structural positions. Faculty have the power to decide learning objectives, assessments, readings, and grade distributions, among others. Undergraduates, meanwhile, typically choose their major(s) and many of their courses. Their feedback is often sought through university-wide student evaluations of teaching, and their responsibilities include readings, assignments, attendance, and discussion sections.
TAs, however, occupy an ambiguous, liminal space. Although TAs run discussion sections and are tasked with grading, they are constrained by how the faculty member structures the class. For example, sometimes students do not receive any points toward their grade for discussion sections, and thus, there are no incentives for participation or attendance, constraining what TAs can accomplish. We also know that TAs' work is generally overlooked, and their authority is often questioned (Flora 2007;Raaper 2018).
Faculty and TA positions are also structurally racialized, gendered, classed, and transnational. For example, the National Center for Education Statistics (2022) estimates that in fall 2020, approximately two-thirds (563,609/836,597) of all fulltime faculty in the United States were white, and in 2020, the National Institutes of Health reported that an estimated 61 percent (67,513/111,240) of enrolled graduate students who are U.S. citizens and permanent residents were white. These numbers are not broken down by type of institution. However, previous work shows that while the number of faculty of color is increasing, it is for precarious positions (e.g., Finkelstein, Conley, and Schuster 2016). More than the demographic distribution, however, we know that universities themselves, and the ensuing production of knowledge, is built on a foundation of gendered racism and queerphobia that continues today (e.g., Ferguson 2004;Morris 2015).
Drawing on research on teaching and learning and our own experiences, we identify three ideal types of faculty pedagogies: authoritarian, absentee, and advocate (see Table 1). We then discuss how these pedagogies shape FGWC TA development and student learning. As Weberian ideal types, these categories are useful analytic heuristics, though faculty practices may not be constrained to one type.

Authoritarian Faculty Pedagogies
Scholars of teaching and learning use the term "authoritarianism" to describe a particular style or practice of teachers who are highly demanding and controlling, score low on warmth and nurturance, and are unresponsive, all of which negatively affect student perceptions, motivations, and outcomes (Bartholomew et al. 2009(Bartholomew et al. , 2011Walker 2008Walker , 2009Wentzel 2002). They also increase what psychologists call "need frustration," or students' feelings when their needs to experience autonomy, competence, and relatedness in the classroom are not met (e.g., Haerens et al. 2015).
We draw and build upon previous work by using authoritarianism to describe faculty approaches that are controlling, inflexible, and defensive (see Table 1). That is, we distinguish faculty who may be unresponsive to students' needs from those who are defensive. Often, instructors who use authoritarian pedagogies treat TAs and undergraduates as lesser, incompetent, and/or not deserving of respect because of their student status. This ideal type also views TAs as pedagogically unimportant (e.g., Robinson and Hope 2013). Authoritarian pedagogies can be seen in syllabi, assignments, lectures, and interactions. For FGWC undergraduate students and TAs, these pedagogies are one more way they are told they are not worthy of trust or respect (e.g., Reyes 2022).
One coauthor recounts her experience as a TA for a faculty member who used authoritarian pedagogies as follows: I was one of two TAs for an elective class. In our regular meetings between the professor, the fellow TA, and me, the professor always assumed the worst of students, saying how they were all trying to cheat and not do any work and that they were taking it easy during the COVID quarantine. The majority of our students are of color and/or FGWC, and controlling images (e.g., Collins 2000) that directly or indirectly label them as lazy or inferior reproduce educational inequities and are rooted in white supremacy and elitism.
The professor also created an us-versus-them mentality among the three of us, with him and the other TA, who are both white men, on one side. I, a FGWC woman of color, was on the other. For example, when seeking our feedback on the exam, the professor always sided with the white TA, dismissing my comments and belittling my contributions. I was also tasked with addressing the majority of FGWC students' concerns about grading and expectations during this first year of the pandemic, which resulted in my taking on the bulk of emotional labor for the class while simultaneously having my intellectual contributions dismissed during our meetings.
The labor for grading was also inequitably distributed. For example, the other TA consistently did not grade. We had over 100 students and I did the bulk of grading, despite the deaths of loved ones that quarter. It was overwhelming. I was not alone. Pirtle and Wright (2021) discuss how the pandemic, particularly pre-vaccine, disproportionately impacted women of color due to structural gendered racism. Communities of color suffered more deaths and were more likely to be essential workers who were more exposed to the virus. These same dynamics affected my own family, and I received zero support or understanding. Instead, structural gendered racism meant that I had a disproportionate amount of laborwith no regard for my and my family's wellbeing-while the white male TA did not fulfill his basic responsibilities and received constant affirmations from our professor.
The professor also went through each assignment after they were graded and said that we were too easy. He wanted to see a standard distribution of grades, so he created an Excel sheet and regraded each assignment. He then directed us to change our comments and grades to reflect his own. He did this for each assignment, stating that the students were used to receiving Cs to justify this practice. Authoritarian pedagogies are a barrier to learning, which can result in TAs and undergraduatesparticularly those who are FGWC and/or of color-feeling withdrawn, shut down, and powerless. These pedagogies cultivated a climate of distrust. For example, practices such as enforcing a standard distribution of grades created distrust not only between the faculty and TAs, as previously discussed. They also created distrust between undergraduates and the TA, because grades did not reflect students' knowledge nor discussion section feedback. The FGWC woman-of-color TA was unable to enact the pedagogies of care that she valued. Instead, the professor's authoritarian pedagogical practices created a high-stress environment. Yet, focusing on performance rather than learning is contrary to what the best teachers do (Bain 2004) and is based on what Nelson (2010) calls the dysfunctional illusions of rigor. These and similar authoritarian pedagogies are emblematic of broader power dynamics within and outside the university where systems of oppression exclude most and reward a select few.

Absentee Faculty Pedagogies
Whereas authoritarian pedagogies require faculty presence to control the classroom, absentee pedagogical approaches are characterized by a general lack of communication and unresponsiveness to students, with faculty often abdicating most teaching responsibilities to TAs (Flora 2007;Raaper 2018). In other words, there is a lack of faculty presence (see Table 1). Here, we draw on Garrison, Anderson, and Archer (2000:89), who identify three types of presence: (1) cognitive presence, or the ability "to construct meaning through sustained communication" (89); (2) social presence, the socioemotional aspect of learning; and (3) teaching presence, which is about facilitation and course design (see also Garrison and Arbaugh 2007).
Absentee faculty lack one or more types of presence. For example, a professor may fail to communicate with TAs and undergraduates and/or critically engage neither with students nor with readings during lectures. Yet, such engagement is important, particularly for FGWC students (Mekolichick and Gibbs 2012;Próspero and Vohra-Gupta 2007). When TAs are FGWC and/or of color, the additional responsibilities and stress they take on when faced with absentee faculty, combined with ongoing systems of oppression that graduate students face in their PhD programs, contribute to mental health challenges (e.g., Brunsma, Embrick, and Shin 2017).
Two coauthors, one FGWC white woman and one working-class woman of color, shares their experiences with absentee pedagogies as follows: During the first year of the pandemic, we served as TAs for an elective course that included substantive discussion around race and ethnicity. Although the professor posted one asynchronous weekly video lecture, which ranged from 20 minutes to over one hour, we were required to hold live online discussion sections. While this structure may have been common during remote learning, the absentee professor's lack of communication, passive dissemination of class material, and failure to link the readings to contemporary events meant that we took on additional mental and emotional labor for one another and the students. For example, the professor posted the syllabus and introductory video after the date of the first class. When the syllabus was posted, it was missing critical information, such as office hours and exam dates. Weeks into the term, and after many inquiries from us and the students, the professor set his office hours. However, he also stipulated that if no one showed up within the first 20 minutes, the rest of his office hours would be canceled. This left the students feeling frustrated and often unable to meet with the professor.
Faculty-student interactions are essential to student development and are particularly important for FGWC students (Keibler and Stewart 2022; Kim and Lundberg 2016). When these opportunities are taken away, students are left feeling alienated and are at risk of not completing their courses (Próspero and Vohra-Gupta 2007). While the turn to emergency remote instruction in 2020 may have made absentee pedagogies more visible and easier to enact since classes were online, one of us has subsequently been a TA for this professor, and he continues to use absentee pedagogies. We have also experienced faculty who maintained cognitive, social, and teaching presence during emergency remote instruction. Pedagogical approaches are not tied to instructional form (virtual, in person).
The professor's late syllabus and lack of engagement set the tone for the class. Many students panicked about their grades and constantly reached out to us, while others stopped engaging altogether. Adding to the stress, the students' grades were assessed solely on their weekly quizzes based on memorization of the readings. The faculty's lectures were difficult to follow and did not tie the readings to the themes he was discussing, nor did they provide insight into expectations around which materials students would be assessed on. We originally planned to facilitate small-group discussions and student engagement in our sections because when we were FGWC undergraduates, our most meaningful classroom experiences involved active learning (e.g., Nuñez, Ramalho, and Cuero 2010). However, because of these absentee pedagogies, we felt compelled to meet student needs by creating additional lectures on the readings and holding optional review sessions. As first-time FGWC TAs, we felt pressured to take on this additional labor because our institution's policy states that TAs with poor teaching evaluations can be subject to disciplinary action and months of retraining (University of California-Riverside 2022). This policy made us fear for our job security, and we were unaware of institutional resources for which we could turn to for assistance.
Unfortunately, it is common for FGWC students to struggle in these ways, as they lack the cultural and social capital to navigate university bureaucracies, experience isolation in their departments, and lack mentoring (e.g., Lundberg and Schreiner 2004;Roscigno et al. 2022;Warnock and Appel 2012). Our class was also held during a tumultuous year. The murder of George Floyd, among many other unarmed Black people, by the police increased already high rates of racialized stress and psychological trauma for Black students and professionals (e.g., Helm, Kelly, and Allen 2020). The rise in anti-Asian hate during the COVID-19 pandemic led to Asian American and Pacific Islander students being blamed for the virus, heightening psychological distress (Cheng et al. 2021;Tausen et al. 2020). Even before the pandemic, students of color suffered. For example, immigration laws are also a form of legal violence (Menjívar and Abrego 2012), and the antiimmigrant and anti-Mexican rhetoric during the Trump administration increased the stress and worsened the health and well-being of Mexicanorigin university students (e.g., Chavez et al. 2019). We also know that contemporary global and national rhetoric about population control and replacement theory-the decline in number of white births and rise in number of nonwhite birthsis rooted in white supremacy and fuels hate crimes, as are the national attacks on critical race theory and governmental interference across K-12 and higher education (Cineas 2022;Ray 2022;Sasser 2018). Despite that the course was about race, none of the above were raised in class, nor were they addressed by the professor. Instead, this emotional labor fell to us. We were ill prepared for these responsibilities and felt overwhelmed and lost, especially since there was no system in place to support our own work and struggles as graduate students.
Students and faculty are affected by all these events, and it is important to address what is happening, even when it is painful, because treating these sociological topics as separate from lived experiences can be traumatic for vulnerable student populations, such as those who are FGWC and/or of color (Martinez-Cola et al. 2018). This was the case for the working-class woman-of-color TA. This stressful TA experience was just one of many negative and unsupportive faculty interactions. This, combined with the lack of faculty mentorship and lack of direction for the class, exacerbated the already stressful and harmful department climate.

Advocate Faculty Pedagogies
Existing scholarship documents supportive practices that improve student learning, particularly FGWC students and/or students of color. These include contemplative practices (Ross and Rocha Beardall 2022), approaching students as partners in the classroom (Cook-Sather 2018), postexam reflective exercises (Hatteberg 2022), digital storytelling (Abderrahim and Gutiérrez-Colón Plana 2021), and using art, music, and film to teach theory (Hunter and Frawley 2022). Faculty characteristics, such as being approachable (Cox et al. 2010), being responsive (Walker 2009;Wentzel 2002), and showing consideration for TAs (Flora 2007;Fong et al. 2019), also support learning.
We draw and build upon this work by using the term "advocate" to describe faculty approaches that are responsive, flexible, and engaged (see Table 1). More than being responsive to concerns, advocate faculty are proactive in soliciting participation and feedback from TAs and undergraduates. They see each person in class as bringing valuable insights and as part of a team. As such, advocate faculty actively combat systems of oppression and enact a pedagogy of care, one based on the humanity of all (Freire [1970] 2005; hooks 1994; see Sweet [1998] on institutional constraints). This approach can be seen in syllabi that explicitly address events outside the classroom and the politics of citation as well as how the course itself is structured (e.g., Fillingim and Rucks-Ahidiana 2021; Reyes and Johnson 2020). Advocate faculty may also seek TAs' feedback when creating assignments and rubrics. They provide enough structure to support TAs while respecting their autonomy in how to run sections. Care for well-being comes before any other goal (e.g., Nodding 2005).
One coauthor shares his experience of working with an advocate faculty as follows: During the COVID-19 pandemic, I was a TA for a required sociology course. The faculty member reached out to the TAs before class started to touch base. However, she was also cognizant that our TA contract did not start until the first day of classes. She just wanted to keep us informed of the plan and did not request any work from us. Even though this was an asynchronous class, the first meeting was synchronous (which she communicated beforehand) to introduce herself, go over the syllabus, explain the format of the class, and answer questions. To facilitate learning, the faculty member created short video lectures and provided multiple ways to actively participate, such as online bulletinstyle discussions and creative options where students could produce podcasts or storyboards to demonstrate knowledge and application of material (e.g., Online Learning Consortium 2019).
The professor was also aware of the continued effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, mass mobilizations against anti-Black racism, and ongoing stress for students of color in particular. To address this, and to emphasize learning, she granted extensions and allowed students to revise and resubmit assignments. She graded these revised and resubmitted assignments to not add to our labor. Offering chances to revise assignments for an improved grade emphasized learning over memorization and did not punish students (particularly FGWC students) who lacked the cultural capital in regard to how to address open-ended assignments.
When designing assignments, the professor asked for TA feedback and implemented most suggestions. As an FGWC graduate student, I felt these conversations with the professor provided muchneeded mentorship on how to respond to our students, our own lives, and events outside our classroom, which is crucial for those of us who are FGWC and stretched thin with additional employment or family responsibilities. When grading assignments, we were able to serve as mentors rather than authority figures. The professor saw her job, and our jobs, as giving students the tools they needed to succeed and mentioned how she would be happy if everyone earned an A in the class.
At the end of the course, the professor offered "incompletes" to students who could not complete assignments, enabling them to finish their work the following term. This is particularly an important practice for FGWC and students of color, who are among the most affected by COVID-19, especially prior to the vaccine. Students expressed appreciation for the course and for things they learned from each other, their TA, the professor, and the readings. This was made possible by course design that proactively considered structural disadvantages FGWC students and/or students of color often face.
In advocate pedagogies, faculty take seriously that every quarter brings with it a new set of students, TAs, and circumstances outside the classroom, even for classes they teach regularly (e.g., Sweet 1998). Advocate pedagogies infuse the entire course with a pedagogy of care (Martinez-Cola et al. 2018) and actively spur students' sociological imagination, connecting their experiences to class material (e.g., Mills 1959;Shor 1992). Such approaches create a learning environment where all students may thrive, particularly FGWC students and/or students of color.

TOWARD THE TEACHInG TRIAD AS A PARTnERSHIP
How can we incorporate TAs into our understanding of teaching and learning? In this essay, we argue that the teaching triad is a useful analytic heuristic that allows us to theorize classroom dynamics among faculty, TAs, and undergraduates. It reminds us that these are structural positions shaped by power.
Drawing on the rich tradition of research on teaching and learning, we discuss three faculty pedagogies and how they constrain or enable the effectiveness of TAs: authoritarian, absentee, and advocate. In authoritarian pedagogies, faculty exhibit inflexible, controlling behaviors that create a silencing and distrustful classroom climate, while absentee pedagogies are characterized by a lack of faculty presence, which results in additional labor for TAs and confusion and panic for FGWC undergraduates. In contrast, advocate pedagogies involve proactively engaged and flexible approaches, cultivating an empowered environment where TAs, undergraduates, and faculty are all partners in learning. This emphasis on faculty pedagogies highlights how faculty exert power through particular sets of practices, which has consequences for classroom climates and the work and professional development of TAs.
The teaching triad does not occur in isolation. Instead, it is shaped by broader systems of oppression (Freire [1970(Freire [ ] 2005hooks 1994;Shor 1992). One way such systems manifest is through the devaluing of teaching at universities and colleges.
Many institutions lack required pedagogical training for faculty and graduate students. Those that do tend to offer limited, rather than sustained, training. For graduate student TAs, there is often a lack of opportunity to read or implement pedagogical research, and at research universities, TAs are often confronted with the cultural devaluing of teaching as getting in the way of research. Future research should examine the teaching triad from the viewpoint of undergraduates and faculty.
To reimagine the classroom as one of freedom, empowerment, and critical thinking (Braa and Callero 2006;Freire [1970Freire [ ] 2005hooks 1994, 2009Shor 1992) requires intentionality and discipline. Mariame Kaba (2021), an activist and grassroots organizer, says that hope is a discipline that must be practiced every day. So, too, is freedom in the classroom.

ACKnOWlEDGmEnTS
We thank Alina Robello for thoughtful contributions at the early stages of this project and Tanya Nieri for inviting us to present our work as part of a special session on healthy pedagogies at the 2021 Pacific Sociological Association. We also thank Ghassan Moussawi for his encouragement of the paper.

EDITORS' nOTE
Reviewers for this manuscript were, in alphabetical order, Marisela Martinez-Cola, Myron T. Strong, and Taura Taylor nOTE 1. Although our institution is identifiable, we do not name which graduate student coauthor discusses which experience or the class or professor involved. We do this to mask specific identities and provide plausible deniability because of fears of retaliation (e.g., Reyes 2018).

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHIES
Victoria Reyes is an associate professor in the Department of Gender and Sexuality Studies at the University of California-Riverside. She is author of