The teaching of an introductory course in American Government can be a difficult and frustrating endeavor under even the best of circumstances. Given the general level of cynicism and/or lack of interest by large numbers of Americans regarding politics and politicians, the task of generating student enthusiasm, or even mild interest, toward the subject matter can indeed be an arduous one. When the teaching of such a course takes place in a business college, and when the student audience is “captive” to a college requirement that all students must take the course, the task can be rendered considerably more formidable.

For the past six years I have been teaching such courses at business colleges — one year at Bryant College in Rhode Island, and the following five years at Bentley College in Massachusetts.

The teaching of an introductory course in American Government can be a difficult and frustrating endeavor under even the best of circumstances. Given the general level of cynicism and/or lack of interest by large numbers of Americans regarding politics and politicians, the task of generating student enthusiasm, or even mild interest, toward the subject matter can indeed be an arduous one. When the teaching of such a course takes place in a business college, and when the student audience is “captive” to a college requirement that all students must take the course, the task can be rendered considerably more formidable.

For the past six years I have been teaching such courses at business colleges — one year at Bryant College in Rhode Island, and the following five years at Bentley College in Massachusetts.

One of the major disadvantages of teaching in a small, liberal-arts college with no political science major is that it is very difficult to move any course above the introductory level. Even courses which are intended for juniors and seniors must include an introductory element since a significant number of the students are not likely to have taken the introductory level classes. It does no good to establish prerequisites since this would only produce some combination of three unpalatable consequences: too many juniors and seniors taking freshman level courses; good students looking for an upper-division elective might be discouraged from taking a political science course; or, a discouragingly small enrollment in the upper-level political science courses.

A way to avoid this problem is to combine basic concepts of political science with advanced material.

In the spring of 1981 I designed and taught what I considered, at the time, a "high risk" seminar for seventeen junior and senior political science majors. There were to be no textbooks, no lectures, no examinations and no term papers, those hallmarks of the traditional college course. Nevertheless, when the thirteen week course was over, the students were exhausted and claimed that they had never worked so hard in their college careers.

The adventure that my students (and I) undertook was a semester long simulation of the United States National Security Council (NSC), dealing with actual global events as they happened. As Washington dealt with a problem, we dealt with the same problem. The simulation was initially offered during the deteriorating situation in Iran and instability in the Gulf region.

Simulation is an increasingly popular pedagogical device; much of the recent literature on the theory and practice of political science instruction attests to this. Probably the most popular simulation device is called model United Nations. In recent articles in Teaching Political Science and NEWS for Teachers of Political Science, William Hazelton and James Jacob have described Model United Nations in glowing terms, focusing on one particular conference and completely ignoring the rest of the 200 or more conferences held annually across the United States.

Like Jacob and Hazelton, we recognize the great potential value of United Nations simulations in trying to illuminate the often confusing politics of international organizations. As former participants and directors of these programs, however, we are keenly aware of the shortcomings and difficulties associated with the existing structure of model U.N. programs.

This essay offers a clear, nontechnical framework for introducing students to the strategic and moral dilemmas surrounding nuclear weapons technology. The acute importance of these issues appears selfevident, and the disheartening confidence exhibited by both presidential candidates in the relative ignorance of the public in these matters amply illustrates the urgent need for more accessible information.

A strict rule has governed the elaboration of this framework: avoid both the dominant modes of discourse on the nuclear question —the new scholasticism of technological complexity and the new millenialism of technological doom. Both perplexity and panic paralyze. Accordingly, no claim whatsoever is made to offer new information or new prophecies: addressing political scientists merely seems the best way to reach students. It is the latter's frightening lack of understanding of this crucial issue, which I have personally experienced, that prompted this effort.

Some thirty years ago, Alfred Cobban irreverently defined political science as "a device, invented by university teachers, for avoiding that dangerous subject politics without achieving science." Irrespective of philosophical predispositions, few students of politics can easily remain aloof from the long standing debate between the so-called traditional and behavioral schools in political, science. Even the most cynical observer would be forced to admit that this academic exchange occasionally has raised some enduring—if not fruitful— questions with respect to the essence and study of political reality.

One of these enduring issues revolves around the separation of political facts from political values, a distinction which is often as nebulous as it is convenient. The development of the behavioral movement over the last four decades has brought with it a heated debate over the ability of scholars to achieve an objective understanding of political reality.

Real satisfaction in teaching comes from former students who find the value of a course in the world of work. I have experienced this satisfaction many times since I began teaching a course on the politics of aging three years ago.

The course targets two audiences: political science students who want to learn about aging and gerontology students who want to learn about politics. The course is the only cross-listed course in the gerontology curriculum at Wichita State University and attracts a variety of graduate and undergraduate students from diverse departments. By the end of the semester, all of them have learned something practical about the politics of aging. The elements of success in the course include the text, the format of each class, and the five assignments.

Going to alumni cocktail parties is a great idea. Not only are the drinks cheap, but you find out more about your teaching than the "Student Evaluation of Instruction" forms will ever tell you. When students are still talking enthusiastically about a class two to five years later, you know you did something right. When they explicitly mention it as the experience from which they learned most in their degree program, you may be inspired even to write it up for NEWS.

What was this experience? It was a class project in which the students were divided into teams and required to investigate major policies that the University had under consideration or had recently enacted.

What professor in his right mind would argue with himself in front of a class? The lead author of this article has done just that and found the use of the two-hat debating technique an exciting way to teach. The professor plays the role of two or more people presenting different points of view wearing a different hat for each character. The characters portrayed could be Plato and Aristotle discussing the best form of government or could be an environmentalist, rancher, and timber company executive debating the use of Forest Service land. In each case, the instructor needs to research the positions that each speaker would be likely to take, prepare a brief script, select an appropriate hat, and throw him- or herself into the part.