Higher education has seen better days. Harsh budget cuts, the precarious nature of employment in college teaching, and political hostility to the entire enterprise of education have made for an increasingly fraught landscape. Radical Hope is an ambitious response to this state of affairs, at once political and practical—the work of an activist, teacher, and public intellectual grappling with some of the most pressing topics at the intersection of higher education and social justice.
Kevin Gannon asks that the contemporary university’s manifold problems be approached as opportunities for critical engagement, arguing that, when done effectively, teaching is by definition emancipatory and hopeful. Considering individual pedagogical practice, the students who are the primary audience and beneficiaries of teaching, and the institutions and systems within which teaching occurs, Radical Hope surveys the field, tackling everything from impostor syndrome to cell phones in class to allegations of a campus “free speech crisis.” Throughout, Gannon translates ideals into tangible strategies and practices (including key takeaways at the conclusion of each chapter), with the goal of reclaiming teachers’ essential role in the discourse of higher education.
I think a lot of people are picking this book off of their tbr stacks right now because of the title! Surely, we all feel the need for radical hope right now.
It’s also useful right now, as a lot of us are thinking overtly about pedagogy as we move everything online right now.
There’s a lot to appreciate in this compact book. Each chapter has a highly-researched and yet highly-conversational discussion of a topic, followed by a short “in practice” section, with some questions and suggestions for learning more and putting ideas into practice.
I appreciate the author’s sensitivity to the limits that most faculty have, both in terms of time and in terms of power to effect big sweeping change. This book takes more of a class-by-class, student-by-student approach, with frank discussions about things like universal design and free speech on campus. I’m glad so many people are reading it right now—it’s got me thinking a lot of useful questions about my teaching right now, such as, who am I teaching for? What am I teaching for? These are very helpful questions, especially right now.
The fact that this book was published in 2020 and includes the word radical in it’s title shows me that so many of my higher ed colleagues do not have inclusive, transformative classrooms. And that makes me depressed. But, overall, I appreciated the tone and self awareness of the book. And I particularly appreciated the chapter on the syllabus, which called out the many “it is in the syllabus” jokes seem all over Facebook and on mugs. I hope someone makes T-shirts for students saying “your syllabus wasn’t worth reading.”
"To be an advocate for student learning, I think we have to be advocates for both students and learning."
This book is exactly why I am an educator, and exactly what I think we need to see more of in higher education. The book itself models the commitment to praxis that Gannon advocates for, each chapter marrying action and reflection by combining theoretical discussion of the chapter's theme with suggestions for how we might put that theory into practice in the classroom.
Radical Hope was a great reflection on what it means to teach transformatively, to embrace the full potential of education as liberation. I particularly liked how Gannon complemented more abstract or philosophical points with actionable tips for redesigning assignments and syllabi.
This book was the topic for a graduate student teaching discussion group I was a part of in winter 2021, and we agreed that it did a great job of provoking debate over how best to design for equity and inclusion. Above all, this book made me feel less alone in the struggle to create inclusive learning experiences, and that in itself is tremendously valuable.
Overall, I liked this book. I think he overestimates, sometimes, how popular “traditional” pedagogy is (meaning, lecture, memorization, etc.). A lot of what he talked about in this book is, I think, standard practice. The difference is that he focuses on hope and compassion. This book is in a similar vein to a few I’ve read over the past years, which focuses on thinking through our practices from the student’s perspective. I appreciate his approach and think the book got better as it went on and it was best when it was practical, giving examples of how to implement this “hope” into what we do. I do think he sets up traditional pedagogy as a kind of straw man to attack when, as I said, I found some of the approaches he was attacking as standard to be out-dated and not things that most teachers do. One problem with the approach here (and I think it’s common) is to pit teachers against students. I think he’s trying to encourage a student centered pedagogy, which I support. The problem is that it puts the burden of learning and adaptation squarely on teachers. I agree many of us need to change. But he doesn’t really acknowledge that many students are under resourced and many don’t have adequate time to dedicate to their studies. So I feel like some of his theoretical beliefs, while admirable, aren’t totally accurate or realistic given the current situation in our learning spaces (many of which are digital). Ultimately, I liked much of his outlook (hopeful) but found a lot of the book obvious and/or unnecessarily dualistic.
I first became aware of this book via a UDL (Universal Design for Learning) podcast. Kevin Gannon seemed to balance the feel-good hopefulness with both pragmatic and practical information, and this proved to be true in this teaching "manifesto." In truth, the "manifesto-ish" parts could use a sharper editorial pen in places, but there are so many worthwhile pull quotes, I can forgive the bits of er...emphatic repetition. The real overarching concept here is that education should be transformational, not transactional. Is that revolutionary thought? No, of course not. But what Gannon so skillfully achieves is helping the interested teacher remember WHY that's important and to help that teacher feel motivated to make it happen--otherwise known as HOPE.
There is a lot of radical hope in this book--for students, for teachers, for education as a field. But it isn't all about inspiration. Gannon substantively brings in pedagogical theory, addresses praxis (a la Paolo Freire, and offers opportunities for reflection (freewriting, journaling) as well as suggestions for real-life application. Chapter 1, dramatically titled "Classrooms of Death" (I may have rolled my eyes), explains that a pedagogy of radical hope includes a "moral imperative to create the type of inclusive and equitable learning spaces in which our students become critically conscious and actively engaged in their own education"(23). I always cringe when I see the words "moral imperative" because as most of us know, that is hardly a monolithic concept for us humans. But I think Gannon's use of such weighty language here serves its purpose--this isn't just headwork, but instead also very much heart-work. This is work that asks for a reinvestment and a revitalization of student-centered pedagogy. Middle chapters provide information about UDL and how to implement it, as well as constructing "a syllabus worth reading" (Chapter 7). Chapter 8, however, is where I really started to connect. Even just the chapter's title -- "Pedagogy is not a weapon"--really grabbed me in some visceral way. It isn't that I should need a reminder of that, but it did drive home how easily weaponized pedagogy can become. The chapter focuses on the purpose and value of the transformative work. Particularly helpful is Gannon's discussion of "Safe Spaces and Trigger Warnings", which he more aptly advocates as brave spaces and content warnings. He invites the reader to consider these things as "pedagogical tools that allow for genuine engagement and confrontation with ideas and material" (113) and posits that they are a necessity in providing the required structure and support for that engagement and confrontation. One of my favorite quotes? "You may think you're being clever by utilizing shock value as a teaching tool, but more likely you're just being an asshole" (113).
We all seem to collectively agree that being an asshole is not sound pedagogy, yet--there's a lot of asshole moves out there in the teaching world. Sometimes it is a lack of recognizing the immense privilege we might hold in teaching spaces. Sometimes it is brought on by the "performative aspect of academic conversations" (133) and severe cases of imposter syndrome. But whatever it is, ultimately Gannon says teachers must see themselves as collaborators, rather than occupying "opposite points of some academic spectrum" (146).
The pandemic has many teachers feeling beaten down after what has inarguably been an extremely challenging and tiring year. Exhaustion rarely leads to active and inspired change. But Gannon manages--in a mere 152 (small) pages--to not only light the spark, but offers ways to take steps forward. "Manifesto" is perhaps a disservice here because what Gannon really provides is a hand, a ready assist for those who may feel a bit lost when charged to "decolonize" or "diversify" or "unlearn". These are valuable aspects of the work, yes, but all too often radicalized to the point of becoming just another academic, performative contest. The real radical idea, it turns out, is in the hope that "eschews despair, but does so in a way that often relies upon the faith that our current thinking and actions will create a better future--even without understanding what that future will look like" (4). Radical hope means we see teaching as a lively, dynamic commitment to the ongoing and sustained work of student-centered praxis, naming and demolishing systems of inequity, and employing an "emancipatory pedagogical vision" (150) in what is routine and mundane, as well as that which is unexpected and extraordinary.
this book is all the good things. rich in theory. useful in practice. . . brief synopsis: Kevin Gannon, historian and prof at a public US university, reflects on pedagogy. . . key takeaways: classrooms are not a vacuum. students have real concerns, need to be taken seriously & treated respectfully, & learn in a supportive environment where they can be agents of their own education. Gannon’s values include accessibility, agency, empathy, equity, failure as a virtue, representation & many more. . . notable quotation: “pedagogy is political” . . another notable quotation: “treating all students equally was not the same thing as treating all students equitably… flexible instead of rigid, adaptable instead of dogmatic.” . . RADICAL HOPE is so freaking quotable: “we cannot blame students for the failures of the systems in which we’ve forced them to operate.”
A strong and inspirational book. Teaching in our universities can be incredibly depressing. Thinking about teaching in our universities can be incredibly depressing. How do we create 'radical hope'? This book provides strategies to create possibilities and opportunities, spaces and creativity. Most poignantly, the book builds relationships between a student's life and a life of learning.
Inspirational. Not squishy. Not hugging it out. Learning with a gateway to the future.
I don’t agree with all of it. But I think that’s actually why it’s a five star book - because despite my disagreements everything in there is worth engaging.
Very good read for veteran and new teachers alike working towards improvement of their teaching and classes. I have been working institute similar concepts but it can be a work in progress. I recommend this as a starting place for contemporary pedagogy.
This was such a helpful and inspiring book. I am a few months out from finishing a masters in education and this was such a good reminder of the importance and potential of education.
In many ways, this is a companion piece to Cate Denial's Pedagogy of Kindness. It argues for teaching in ways that cultivate hope in our students and in ourselves by foregrounding accessibility, engagement, and kindness in the way that Denial defines it.
Book 8 of 2025 The first book l've read this year for my doctoral work from cover to cover, so it's going on this year's BOOKS READ list! Obviously, this is quite a niche book, so not for everyone, but the themes are applicable across education. It's time for change! And I'm here for it!!
This is an exceptionally thoughtful book, well-theorized and eminently practical. Moreover, it pays good attention to how faculty identities and status (white or not, male or not, tenure-track or not) affect the kind of teaching that we're able to do productively and well. This is an argument for collaborative, dynamic, student-centered pedagogy that manages to avoid the rhetorical position of accusing faculty of not doing enough, or caring enough. He knows we're overworked, exhausted, and anxious. But he also argues that it is possible to implement practical changes that will lead to better classroom experiences for students and instructors alike.
This book is a great starter for getting into critical pedagogy. It has nods to all of the foundational people and points you in the direction of others to read. But, this book doesn’t really seem to add anything new to the conversation and doesn’t go into much depth on a lot of the points.
I think this would be an excellent book to assign at the beginning of a teaching seminar.
Thought provoking chapters. I benefited from the discussion of the “agreements” we unthinkingly accept in higher Ed. Loved the small reflection assignments at the end of each chapter. Inspiring book that re-energizes my sense of the possibilities of education.
Gannon seems like an impressive educator but his book feels like a book report on Paolo Freire mixed with the basics of social justice on campus. His anecdotes are sparse and easily the best part of the book which is a shame.
My favorite part of this book is definitely the specific tips/advice Gannon offers to enact critical pedagogy in the everyday classroom. I particularly liked the suggestions for syllabi, assignments/grading, and universal design for learning (UDL).
As someone who takes every chance she can get to hate on neoliberalism, I loved the anti-neoliberal framework Gannon used throughout the book. I do think that sometimes his own suggestions came a little close to reifying this framework (for example, telling students what skills they'll get out of a course does make it relevant to them, but how do you frame skills in a way that's not just about neoliberal marketability?). But I loved the reframing of students from adversaries to allies (comrades?), because students and teachers are both marginalized by the same neoliberal forces that have coopted the university.
I'm not sure if Gannon would classify students and instructors as comrades, though, because he generally lacks a material framework, which is my biggest critique of this book. He does understand that neoliberalism is an economic system, one enmeshed in racism, sexism, homophobia, and ableism, as he frequently talks about precarity and austerity politics. But there's a disconnect between this awareness and his pedagogy, which seems contained to the classroom. To be more precise, I am of the belief that critical pedagogy that seeks to resist capitalism must make an effort to change students' and instructors' material circumstances. Instead of just recognizing that students work more than ever to afford college and more and more instructors are contingent labor, how can we work to change that from the classroom? All of our universities and colleges are built on stolen land and with the use of exploited labor. How do we enact reparations? How do we redirect the university's resources toward anti-capitalist, decolonial ends? Maybe these questions exceed the scope of this book, but I personally think that radical hope loses something when it doesn't have a material analysis.
This is a proper teaching manifesto, providing a rally point for all instructors who want to believe that education can be more compassionate and transformative. In a clear voice, Gannon stakes a flag in the ground and declares that there is room in the professoriate for instructors who care about their students and want to foster inclusive and accessible learning spaces.
This book is important now more than ever as neo-conservative forces look to forcibly reshape the state of higher education by making inclusivity illegal and accessibility optional. There is a concerted push by these same neo-cons to shift the zeitgeist away from college degrees as a sign transformational growth to the college degree as a certification of skills learned. Now, more than ever, teachers need to stand up and say, “What we do is more than impart skills. The value of higher education is in the formative growth of the students and not the ‘career-readiness’ of the graduates.”
This book is for those people.
That said, and not for the first time with a pedagogical book, I find myself wondering if it would sway someone who was hesitant to adopt the stance. I liked the book, but I was already leaning in this direction. The book told me it was okay to think this way. If you had questions about rigor or concerns about academic integrity, this book doesn’t do much to suggest that pedagogy of radical hope does a better job of helping the students learn than any other.
But that wasn’t who the book was for. As the title says: this is a manifesto. This is not carefully researched examination of the ways humans learn (though there is reference to some of that research being done). This book is a statement of moral clarity and guiding principles. And in that way, the book was quite good.
This was a really meaningful read for the summer, especially given the challenges we’re facing in teaching during covid....which is why it was chosen for a faculty book club. I appreciate Gannon’s ideas and also his humility and recognition that his methods work for him in part because he is a white man, and he acknowledges the invisible hurdles instructors from marginalized backgrounds must jump. I especially appreciated the chapter on how “pedagogy is not a weapon.” It has great talk on trigger warnings and safe spaces, it says fuck, and it actually offers a good framework for thinking about things other than teaching, such as....my dissertation topic, so that’s extra cool! But seriously, it got me reflecting on my own relative power in the classroom and the ways I’ve failed to create a productive classroom environment in the past. Humility is important, imposter syndrome is real, being a woman of color under the age of 50 in charge of a bunch of white kids is tough.....but this book really has given me a lot to chew on.
It’s fine. It’s vastly overrated. There is nothing radical about it: it is an unnecessarily wordy explication of the Platinum Rule. It’s unnecessarily political on issues that most people of both parties would agree about—making the author ironically non-inclusive. Perhaps my graduate training was better than the author’s, but I found very few groundbreaking ideas here. It’s long on anecdote and short on evidence. It has few actionable suggestions, other than self-reflection via journaling prompts. The author sets up a lot of straw men, just to mis-characterize his imagined opponents, and knocks them down. I can’t imagine this book is transforming education or winning over new believers. At best, it is a self-congratulatory tome for those who are already familiar with “groundbreaking” ideas such as generating enthusiasm, using alternatives to lecture, and sometimes saying “I don’t know.”
Finished this book over the holidays, and I highly recommend it to anyone in education, especially higher ed. I did have some frustration with some of it, however, as it is definitely geared towards those teaching in 4 year colleges and universities. There were times when I wished some of the questions Gannon was asking us to consider actually applied to someone teaching in a program where I have no choice about what classes I am teaching or much control over how they are taught, since they are taught by a team of instructors and must closely match how content is taught across three campuses. My students also do not have a choice of classes/professors, at least not within the program (they have some choice with electives and pre-reqs).
Overall, however, this is an excellent book, part of a series on radical pedagogy from West Virginia University Press.
It is written for college and university instructors, which I left behind to go teach high school (couldn’t pay my bills as an adjunct). Still, I found much to appreciate about Gannon’s thoughts on learning as transformative and not a transaction, new ways to consider grading (definitely going to look into the un-essay), and creating safe spaces for failure. We can all benefit for asking ourselves why we are teaching a specific course or subject, even if we “volunteered.”
His writing is conversational and to the point, yet well-researched. I appreciate the notes in the back, too, which are a good resource for further reading. I recommend this for any educator who is interested in not just the development of their students, but their own.
Although I felt much affirmation in many of my classroom practices, I was still shocked at how much natural cynicism regarding student abilities I perpetuate. Gannon unwaveringly reminds us that we must believe in our students as active agents of their learning and treat them as such, not just as empty-headed phone-addicted children who have nothing to contribute to their own education. Every professor was once an undergrad and radical hope requires that type of empathy and constant reflection. This higher education teaching manifesto was an excellent reminder that I what I put into the class, is what students will take from it--and it must be for the better.
Read this a few pages each day and it provided some inspiration for course changes that I'm excited about. I'm pretty familiar with Freire, Giroux, and hooks, so many of the ideas in the text were good reminders. What did feel new was the way Gannon addressed the idiotic acquiescence of higher education with respect to inviting speakers with messages that demean or belittle the humanity of different groups (groups our students belong to). Idiots gonna idiot, but we don't need to give them a platform to idiot.
Gannon’s book is a manifesto in the best sense of the word. Part teaching guide, part call to action, Gannon skillfully offers an energetic vision of what might be possible in the college classroom. He advocates from an ethic of care for students and the complexity of their lives, and offers a view grounded in the experience that comes with working at a teaching-intensive institution. Highly recommended.