Viral videos, or, more broadly, Internet memes, are infectious clips of video, audio, or photos that contaminate the web. Most people probably have a crazy aunt that spams their mailbox with forwarded content whose subject lines bare titles like “LOL, Check this out!!” and contains pictures of lolcats or funny redneck pictures. You’ve probably encountered memes despite not knowing how to label them: think the Christian Bale rant/remix recently, or the dancing baby of years past (yes, the one from Ally McBeal).
Internet memes can serve an important pedagogical purpose: creating common ground with our students. While it takes a firm finger on the pulse of the web to stay current with the latest memes, the commitment can be worth the effort if approached from the proper angle. Not to mention that a bit of lag can’t hurt as to ensure a majority of students are familiar with the clip. Viral videos are, to an extent, like the clips from America’s Funniest Home Videos – they entertain people with short, often comical deviations from ordinary life. And our students watch them.
Outside of a means to connect with students (I can’t believe Mr. Reimer knows about the Techno Viking!) or a bridge to current events (Rick Astley, the “Rick Rolled” guy, appearing at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade because of the resurgence of his solo hit musical career as a meme), ‘net memes provide teachers with a variety of lesson plans. In conjunction with Weezer’s song, “Pork and Beans,” memes become an easily relatable example of intertextuality or the acknowledgement of sources. With a proper selection, viral content can be extrapolated into lessons about details, elaboration, and context—how meaning is made through association (many memes need some level of explication to be understood).
Additionally, the videos allow instructors to engage students on the topic of “engagement,” or what media theorist Henry Jenkins calls “participatory culture.” How are people participating in culture by creating it? How does YouTube change media consumption? How do shifts in consumption affect production? How is production different across mediums? How has technology altered the way we process media?
The mainstream has always lagged behind the frenzied pace of the web. What was viral six months ago is part of tonight’s nine o’clock news roundup. Advertising companies are said to be “going viral” and some even capitalize on previously e-famous videos (Geico just released a viral video with the Numa Numa guy). An episode of the popular animated show South Park shares a showcase similar to the Weezer video.
There is something about these videos that traditional students (and the crazy aunt who keeps spamming your e-mail) are relating to. Below is a list of the content referenced in this post. Watch a few and see what connections there are; think about how this esoteric, yet infectious cultural participation might work in a classroom.
Lolcats: http://www.lolcats.com/
Christian Bale rant (NSFW language): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrvMTv_r8sA
Christian Bale remix (NSWF language): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTihsJQHt48
Dancing Baby: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2W4EBoQmWPs
TechnoViking: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1nzEFMjkI4
RickRoll Original Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHg5SJYRHA0
RickRoll Macy’s Parade: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL-hNMJvcyI
Spider Payment: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/1052395/
Numa Numa guy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60og9gwKh1o&feature=related
Numa Numa Gieco: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/80586862/
Weezer’s “Pork and Beans”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muP9eH2p2PI
Weezer’s “Pork and Beans” contains references to: Chocolate Rain with Tay Zonday, Numa Numa Guy, Dramatic Chipmunk, Afro Ninja, Coke+Mentos, GI Joe dubs, T-Shirt Guiness Record, Chris Crocker, ZeroWing, Miss Carolina, Evolution of Dance, Daft Punk dancers, Star Wars kid, Peanut Butter Jelly Time, Candy Mountain Charlie, to name just a few. YouTube the Weezer song or any of these items to find the viral video.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
MnCUEW, HO!
A group of my colleagues and I submitted a panel proposal to the Minnesota Colleges and Universities English and Writing (MnCUEW) conference at the end of February. We were informed that all the panel positions were filled, but just a few days ago we received e-mails informing us of the time our panel was to present. Yikes! While I regret that I have little time to prepare—the conference is in one week—I am thankful that I already know my topic quite well due to this class and this blog. After all, the panel is called “The Multimodal Classroom: Old Lesson Plans in New Ways.”
I will be presenting about my incorporation of texting and Twitter in my composition classroom. There being five of us in the panel, I will only have about ten minutes; so the piece will be succinct and svelte. I haven’t finessed all the details yet, but most of them will come from my blogging and my classroom experiences with the lessons. Basically, I will briefly explain my justifications, my goals, the lesson itself, and then share some of the results.
Having never presented at a conference, I have to say I am quite anxious. While I am relatively at ease speaking in front of a crowd, I do get antsy when it comes to big "to-do’s.” From my understanding, conference presentations can sometimes have only a handful—or less—audience members; but despite any unease on my part, I hope we get a good turnout: I’d love to make a grand entrance into the spotlight of discourse in my discipline.
On an unrelated note, today I found the perfect segue for my thesis paper. One of my favorite machinimator’s blogs held the key to linking machinima as a medium to machinima as a rhetorical tool. The journal length paper I wrote for Dr. Moberly’s rhetoric class last fall was heading towards that direction, but I hadn’t found a great way to show the art medium as rhetorical vehicle until this morning. Olibith—the machinimator whose blog I read, coincidentally also referenced in my paper—discussed in his blog how WoW game developers incorporated a character from one of his films into their game. Exciting!
This is exactly the evidence I was looking for to start analyzing machinima as a rhetorical interaction between players of the game and the game makers. It is proof, small as it may be, supporting the position that consumers are also producers (Baudrillard’s System of Objects).
I will be presenting about my incorporation of texting and Twitter in my composition classroom. There being five of us in the panel, I will only have about ten minutes; so the piece will be succinct and svelte. I haven’t finessed all the details yet, but most of them will come from my blogging and my classroom experiences with the lessons. Basically, I will briefly explain my justifications, my goals, the lesson itself, and then share some of the results.
Having never presented at a conference, I have to say I am quite anxious. While I am relatively at ease speaking in front of a crowd, I do get antsy when it comes to big "to-do’s.” From my understanding, conference presentations can sometimes have only a handful—or less—audience members; but despite any unease on my part, I hope we get a good turnout: I’d love to make a grand entrance into the spotlight of discourse in my discipline.
On an unrelated note, today I found the perfect segue for my thesis paper. One of my favorite machinimator’s blogs held the key to linking machinima as a medium to machinima as a rhetorical tool. The journal length paper I wrote for Dr. Moberly’s rhetoric class last fall was heading towards that direction, but I hadn’t found a great way to show the art medium as rhetorical vehicle until this morning. Olibith—the machinimator whose blog I read, coincidentally also referenced in my paper—discussed in his blog how WoW game developers incorporated a character from one of his films into their game. Exciting!
This is exactly the evidence I was looking for to start analyzing machinima as a rhetorical interaction between players of the game and the game makers. It is proof, small as it may be, supporting the position that consumers are also producers (Baudrillard’s System of Objects).
Sunday, March 22, 2009
PowerPoint: A Lesson in Visual Rhetoric
While in the process of creating a PowerPoint (PPT) for Monday night’s class, which Sue, Ryan, and I are hosting, I thought about what I wanted my second weekly blog to be about. Given the amount of PPTs the class has been creating (teachnology, class discussion, class activities, etc.), I figured I may as well blog about a lesson involving PPT – and I don’t mean using PPT to deliver a lecture or information to a class.
Rather, by using PPT as a platform to teach visual rhetoric, composition instructors can incorporate a Writing Across the Curriculum service to students. Teaching how to better manage visuals in a PPT (or similar software) presentation not only imparts the value and impact of rhetoric, but also aids students in other classes where they may be required to create PPTs.
The lesson plan would cover the creation process: Given the students already had an assignment and primary text, they would first cover some basic research sources to find images; second, select context-appropriate visuals from those sources; third, pair the image with adequate and essential text; fourth, arrange the image and text in a meaningful and rhetorically productive way; fifth, learn and exercise proper visual and textual citations. And this list is by no means comprehensive – there are still many other components to creating an academically or professionally appropriate presentation (transitions, animations, etc.).
Although the lesson is very time intensive (there is a lot of material to cover), the students will strengthen their analytical, rhetorical, textual, and visual skills. If an instructor assigns a presentation, and uses lesson plans centered on PPT and visual rhetoric leading up to that presentation, the students can follow along in the creation process: after each class they will have the tools to better format their presentation. At the end, the class can be called upon to grade each student’s presentation: they will have the tools necessary to critique and judge and praise and grade.
Rather, by using PPT as a platform to teach visual rhetoric, composition instructors can incorporate a Writing Across the Curriculum service to students. Teaching how to better manage visuals in a PPT (or similar software) presentation not only imparts the value and impact of rhetoric, but also aids students in other classes where they may be required to create PPTs.
The lesson plan would cover the creation process: Given the students already had an assignment and primary text, they would first cover some basic research sources to find images; second, select context-appropriate visuals from those sources; third, pair the image with adequate and essential text; fourth, arrange the image and text in a meaningful and rhetorically productive way; fifth, learn and exercise proper visual and textual citations. And this list is by no means comprehensive – there are still many other components to creating an academically or professionally appropriate presentation (transitions, animations, etc.).
Although the lesson is very time intensive (there is a lot of material to cover), the students will strengthen their analytical, rhetorical, textual, and visual skills. If an instructor assigns a presentation, and uses lesson plans centered on PPT and visual rhetoric leading up to that presentation, the students can follow along in the creation process: after each class they will have the tools to better format their presentation. At the end, the class can be called upon to grade each student’s presentation: they will have the tools necessary to critique and judge and praise and grade.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Text Translation: Pidgin Practices
I used my text-translation activity in class last week and decided I should blog about it, given I did the same for my Twitter exercise. For my rhetorical analysis essay, my students read one of three pre-selected essays (Richard Dawkins’ and Jerry Coyne’s essay “One Side Can Be Wrong,” Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” or Angelina Grimké’s “A Speech in Pennsylvania Hall”). I divided my class into groups based on which of the three essays they chose to read, further subdividing them into groups of two and three.
In preparation for the activity, I selected a number of passages from each essay that posed interesting problems for translation: the use of quotes, multi-syllabic jargon, enormous sentences, complex punctuation, etc. Then, I assigned groups a passage from the essay they read for their rhetorical analysis essay. The task was to, as a group, translate the passage from prose into a text message. I even allowed them to take out their cell phones for assistance (to avoid genre/composition tool disconnect issues).
After the groups translated the prose into text at the top of a sheet of paper, I collected the sheets and gave them to a group that was unfamiliar with the essay. The groups then were tasked with translating the text message back into prose without the contextual knowledge of the essay. This second translation was done on the same sheet of paper just below the first.
I was pleased with the amount of variation in texting practices. The results were extremely diverse. Some students ignored all punctuation, others included all punctuation but clipped consonants or vowels from words, and others still translated nearly verbatim the original. Then, when the groups were done, I read the original passage aloud and projected the two translations on the Elmo for the class to discuss.
Translation procedure was impacted by the type of cell phones people used: phones with more accessible keyboards (where punctuation isn’t seven transition screens away) yielded closer translations to the original. And while texting practices varied, nearly every student could understand others’ text message translations. It was like a pidgin English was forming through the medium of text messages.
Below I’ve copied one example from the exercise:
From “One Side Can Be Wrong”:
“It sounds so reasonable, doesn’t it? Such a modest proposal. Why not teach ‘both sides’ and let the children decide for themselves? As President Bush said, ‘You’re asking me whether or not people ought to be exposed to different ideas, the answer is yes.’ At first hearing, everything about the phrase ‘both sides’ warms the hearts of educators like ourselves” (Dawkins and Coyne 70).
Prose-to-Text Translation:
“its resonbl rght? Sch modst prpsl. Y nt teach Both n lt da kids dcide 4 demself? Bush say – ppl shuld b xposed 2 dif ? – 1st time hearin warms <3 o teachas lik me.”
Text-to-Prose Translation:
“It’s reasonable, right? Such modest proposal. Why not teach both and let the children decide for themselves? President Bush says people should be exposed to different questions – first time hearing warms hearts of teachers like me.”
Works Cited:
Dawkins, Richard and Jerry Coyne. “One Side Can Be Wrong.” Seagull Reader: Essays 2nd Edition, Ed. Joseph Kelly, W.W. Norton: New York.
In preparation for the activity, I selected a number of passages from each essay that posed interesting problems for translation: the use of quotes, multi-syllabic jargon, enormous sentences, complex punctuation, etc. Then, I assigned groups a passage from the essay they read for their rhetorical analysis essay. The task was to, as a group, translate the passage from prose into a text message. I even allowed them to take out their cell phones for assistance (to avoid genre/composition tool disconnect issues).
After the groups translated the prose into text at the top of a sheet of paper, I collected the sheets and gave them to a group that was unfamiliar with the essay. The groups then were tasked with translating the text message back into prose without the contextual knowledge of the essay. This second translation was done on the same sheet of paper just below the first.
I was pleased with the amount of variation in texting practices. The results were extremely diverse. Some students ignored all punctuation, others included all punctuation but clipped consonants or vowels from words, and others still translated nearly verbatim the original. Then, when the groups were done, I read the original passage aloud and projected the two translations on the Elmo for the class to discuss.
Translation procedure was impacted by the type of cell phones people used: phones with more accessible keyboards (where punctuation isn’t seven transition screens away) yielded closer translations to the original. And while texting practices varied, nearly every student could understand others’ text message translations. It was like a pidgin English was forming through the medium of text messages.
Below I’ve copied one example from the exercise:
From “One Side Can Be Wrong”:
“It sounds so reasonable, doesn’t it? Such a modest proposal. Why not teach ‘both sides’ and let the children decide for themselves? As President Bush said, ‘You’re asking me whether or not people ought to be exposed to different ideas, the answer is yes.’ At first hearing, everything about the phrase ‘both sides’ warms the hearts of educators like ourselves” (Dawkins and Coyne 70).
Prose-to-Text Translation:
“its resonbl rght? Sch modst prpsl. Y nt teach Both n lt da kids dcide 4 demself? Bush say – ppl shuld b xposed 2 dif ? – 1st time hearin warms <3 o teachas lik me.”
Text-to-Prose Translation:
“It’s reasonable, right? Such modest proposal. Why not teach both and let the children decide for themselves? President Bush says people should be exposed to different questions – first time hearing warms hearts of teachers like me.”
Works Cited:
Dawkins, Richard and Jerry Coyne. “One Side Can Be Wrong.” Seagull Reader: Essays 2nd Edition, Ed. Joseph Kelly, W.W. Norton: New York.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Twitter in Retrospect
Friday I used Twitter in my freshman composition class. The results were surprising. Being that my class is at 3:00 p.m., and it was the day before spring break, I figured my students might enjoy something a bit out of the ordinary. I gave them a brief background on Twitter and had them watch the short introductory movie on the website. Three of my eighteen attending students had heard of Twitter; of those three, none had used it.
My assignment was quite simple: use the constrictions of Twitter to craft a thesis (or research question, topic idea) for the up coming argumentative essay. The class had been working on brainstorming their topics, heuristic questions, etc. for several days and had a loose idea on what they’d be writing about. (I gave them the freedom to choose what they wanted to argue, but maintained veto power over certain fruitless topics).
I emphasized the attention to word choice, the exercise’s arbitrary (arbitrary when writing an actual thesis) character count, and the need for preciseness in a thesis. After ten minutes of working, I asked some students to put their thesis on the doc cam and walk us through why they stated the thesis the way they did – if they found the task difficult, if they had to change some words to fit the count, if they were comfortable with that thesis.
One student had a thesis that was half the character-limit. The class decided hers was overly broad and not precise: she should have spent more characters clarifying and focusing. Another student had to change the word “enthusiasm” to “work” in his thesis: the class talked about the word choice, the reasons for such a drastic change, and possible alternatives. Of those that presented, a majority of them found the task difficult to manage (those who didn’t fell quite short of the limit and their theses were unfocused).
Overall, the exercise was a bit rough. I wish I had done a lot more with it, but the students seemed extremely apathetic (probably because spring break was nigh), which made me despondent. Perhaps my expectations were overly high, but I was taken aback by how few of the class knew about the microblogging tool; given the statistics, a number more should have at least heard of it. I think, however, that with more polish and experience, the exercise could be even more productive. A look at some of the TwitLit created with the application, checking out a famous person’s feed, or more time spent discussing the application before jumping into working with it may help.
If you’ve used Twitter in your classroom (composition or other; successfully or unsuccessfully), let me know.
My assignment was quite simple: use the constrictions of Twitter to craft a thesis (or research question, topic idea) for the up coming argumentative essay. The class had been working on brainstorming their topics, heuristic questions, etc. for several days and had a loose idea on what they’d be writing about. (I gave them the freedom to choose what they wanted to argue, but maintained veto power over certain fruitless topics).
I emphasized the attention to word choice, the exercise’s arbitrary (arbitrary when writing an actual thesis) character count, and the need for preciseness in a thesis. After ten minutes of working, I asked some students to put their thesis on the doc cam and walk us through why they stated the thesis the way they did – if they found the task difficult, if they had to change some words to fit the count, if they were comfortable with that thesis.
One student had a thesis that was half the character-limit. The class decided hers was overly broad and not precise: she should have spent more characters clarifying and focusing. Another student had to change the word “enthusiasm” to “work” in his thesis: the class talked about the word choice, the reasons for such a drastic change, and possible alternatives. Of those that presented, a majority of them found the task difficult to manage (those who didn’t fell quite short of the limit and their theses were unfocused).
Overall, the exercise was a bit rough. I wish I had done a lot more with it, but the students seemed extremely apathetic (probably because spring break was nigh), which made me despondent. Perhaps my expectations were overly high, but I was taken aback by how few of the class knew about the microblogging tool; given the statistics, a number more should have at least heard of it. I think, however, that with more polish and experience, the exercise could be even more productive. A look at some of the TwitLit created with the application, checking out a famous person’s feed, or more time spent discussing the application before jumping into working with it may help.
If you’ve used Twitter in your classroom (composition or other; successfully or unsuccessfully), let me know.
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Battle for Brevity: "ur"
As indicated by the word “brevity” in the title, I am referring to “ur” as the symbol, not the prefix. I don’t mean “ur” as it is meant in “ur-text,” where it denotes origin; rather, “ur” as the acronym/abbreviation. Playing WoW tonight got me thinking about language, and given the chapter by Selfe we just read for class, I raised some points about digital literacy and its value in-game.
In the general chat channel two people were arguing. Let me preface by saying that arguments in most video games are by no means logical, civil, or intelligent. Usually they devolve into flame wars, and tonight was no exception. Once “ur mom” was given as the retort by one party, the grammar Nazis surfaced from the u-boats. Godwin’s law knows no enforcer in video games, only on message boards.
He-whose-mother-had-been-insulted (for ease of reference, “ur-ee”) critiqued his attacker (“ur-er”) and was in turn critiqued by party number three (ur-ee didn’t use a period, after all; and how dare he flame ur-er for using net slang when ur-ee can’t bother to use punctuation!). I donned my fire-resistant breast plate (figuratively; I don’t own any fire resist gear in game), and joined the conversation.
I raised a point about digital literacy having greater value in WoW, and indeed most similar games, than traditional literacy. In fact, the measure of somebody’s intelligence in the game is in no way calculable based upon their control of grammar. The comment prompted some rather intriguing discussion, and I lament not screen-capturing some of it. However, one player replied something to this effect (and I paraphrase): not all smart people have good grammar, and not all stupid people have poor grammar, but those with poor grammar are typically lazy, and lazy people are typically stupid.
Intriguing. In WoW, grammar is by no means significant. In fact, I would go so far as to say that its importance in in-game communication is near the bottom of the list. Before it come brevity, conciseness, alacrity, and all the other traits that piggyback on a medium non-conducive to the technology of writing. In-game, communication needs to be fast and effective—that’s why most players use VOIP. A fine attention to grammar does not bode well for textual chat here.
Punctuation is replaced with a shotgun comma approach, or, more often, the use of “Enter” as spacing for thoughts, ideas, and clauses. Hitting the Enter key puts each typed comment on a separate line, dividing them into individual messages. Capitalization is eliminated as well: complete sentences are unnecessary; fragments rule; and proper nouns are easily distinguishable enough without it in most cases. Apostrophes? Again, not necessary. Everything is abbreviated or converted into an acronym; if each shortcut were catalogued, the list would be immense.
Which brings me back to “ur”: it isn’t so much that the acronym/abbreviation stands for “you are” or its conjunction equivalent and, when used in a situation that calls for the possessive version, is grammatically incorrect, though that is the most common flame in WoW arguments when the symbol is used; instead, I like to think of “ur” and its kin as symbols to be interpreted in context. It is a doppelganger that shifts to meet the demands of the sentence (or fragment, whatever the case may be) it is found in—its meaning easily identifiable by the context. “ur” doesn’t equate to one usage: it is always already both “you’re” and “your.”
Composition values in WoW are being mirrored in real life (or perhaps vice versa); and in the battle for brevity, teachers of composition and linguistics need to recognize that the symbols are changing. A study in semiotics may help direct research with the task of understanding how these changes are complicating our usage, our language, and our communication.
In the general chat channel two people were arguing. Let me preface by saying that arguments in most video games are by no means logical, civil, or intelligent. Usually they devolve into flame wars, and tonight was no exception. Once “ur mom” was given as the retort by one party, the grammar Nazis surfaced from the u-boats. Godwin’s law knows no enforcer in video games, only on message boards.
He-whose-mother-had-been-insulted (for ease of reference, “ur-ee”) critiqued his attacker (“ur-er”) and was in turn critiqued by party number three (ur-ee didn’t use a period, after all; and how dare he flame ur-er for using net slang when ur-ee can’t bother to use punctuation!). I donned my fire-resistant breast plate (figuratively; I don’t own any fire resist gear in game), and joined the conversation.
I raised a point about digital literacy having greater value in WoW, and indeed most similar games, than traditional literacy. In fact, the measure of somebody’s intelligence in the game is in no way calculable based upon their control of grammar. The comment prompted some rather intriguing discussion, and I lament not screen-capturing some of it. However, one player replied something to this effect (and I paraphrase): not all smart people have good grammar, and not all stupid people have poor grammar, but those with poor grammar are typically lazy, and lazy people are typically stupid.
Intriguing. In WoW, grammar is by no means significant. In fact, I would go so far as to say that its importance in in-game communication is near the bottom of the list. Before it come brevity, conciseness, alacrity, and all the other traits that piggyback on a medium non-conducive to the technology of writing. In-game, communication needs to be fast and effective—that’s why most players use VOIP. A fine attention to grammar does not bode well for textual chat here.
Punctuation is replaced with a shotgun comma approach, or, more often, the use of “Enter” as spacing for thoughts, ideas, and clauses. Hitting the Enter key puts each typed comment on a separate line, dividing them into individual messages. Capitalization is eliminated as well: complete sentences are unnecessary; fragments rule; and proper nouns are easily distinguishable enough without it in most cases. Apostrophes? Again, not necessary. Everything is abbreviated or converted into an acronym; if each shortcut were catalogued, the list would be immense.
Which brings me back to “ur”: it isn’t so much that the acronym/abbreviation stands for “you are” or its conjunction equivalent and, when used in a situation that calls for the possessive version, is grammatically incorrect, though that is the most common flame in WoW arguments when the symbol is used; instead, I like to think of “ur” and its kin as symbols to be interpreted in context. It is a doppelganger that shifts to meet the demands of the sentence (or fragment, whatever the case may be) it is found in—its meaning easily identifiable by the context. “ur” doesn’t equate to one usage: it is always already both “you’re” and “your.”
Composition values in WoW are being mirrored in real life (or perhaps vice versa); and in the battle for brevity, teachers of composition and linguistics need to recognize that the symbols are changing. A study in semiotics may help direct research with the task of understanding how these changes are complicating our usage, our language, and our communication.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Can I Teach Without Technology?
I have a recurring dream, or rather a nightmare: I arrive to my classroom for the first day of the semester only to find I am in a “dumb” classroom. I look around. There are blackboards crowding every wall, lined by nubs of chalk. The room is already filled with students; they stare expectantly as I fumble around. No computer. No projector. No overhead. No idea what I’m going to do. Reluctantly, I pick up a piece of chalk and begin to write something illegible on the board. The chalk screeches like a harpy and I wake.
Ok, so I just made that up; I don’t really have that nightmare. But I do think about those unfortunate souls lost to the rooms whose contents contain only enough wiring to turn the lights on. I mourn for them and pray for myself – pray that I’ll never be in their situation.
The TAs from Dr. Barton’s 656 (Teaching College English) course last semester talked at length about the divide between tech-enabled and tech-disabled classrooms. My colleagues’ consensus seemed to be that teaching in a tech-disabled environment was doable; the instructor only needs to prepare more: have more copies made, prepare more transparencies, find hard copies of pictures to show, et cetera. But not me.
I hate to be pessimistic, but I’m not sure I could enjoy teaching in that environment. I’m sure I could teach in that environment, of that I’m positive. However, the thought of not being able to employ the technologies my students are intimate with, which I use to engage them in productive ways, makes me cower in terror. Of course, there are the sayings: “every obstacle is an opportunity in disguise”; and “nothing breeds creativity like necessity.”
I suppose these sayings should comfort me and uplift my soul. And were I actually in the predicament of having to teach without technology, they might. Unfortunately for me, I am an excessive worrywart; and I cannot let sleeping dragons go un-prodded. So the question remains until a situation arises that forces me to an answer. Inevitably, that time will be when I am looking for jobs and unable to own any preference.
Ok, so I just made that up; I don’t really have that nightmare. But I do think about those unfortunate souls lost to the rooms whose contents contain only enough wiring to turn the lights on. I mourn for them and pray for myself – pray that I’ll never be in their situation.
The TAs from Dr. Barton’s 656 (Teaching College English) course last semester talked at length about the divide between tech-enabled and tech-disabled classrooms. My colleagues’ consensus seemed to be that teaching in a tech-disabled environment was doable; the instructor only needs to prepare more: have more copies made, prepare more transparencies, find hard copies of pictures to show, et cetera. But not me.
I hate to be pessimistic, but I’m not sure I could enjoy teaching in that environment. I’m sure I could teach in that environment, of that I’m positive. However, the thought of not being able to employ the technologies my students are intimate with, which I use to engage them in productive ways, makes me cower in terror. Of course, there are the sayings: “every obstacle is an opportunity in disguise”; and “nothing breeds creativity like necessity.”
I suppose these sayings should comfort me and uplift my soul. And were I actually in the predicament of having to teach without technology, they might. Unfortunately for me, I am an excessive worrywart; and I cannot let sleeping dragons go un-prodded. So the question remains until a situation arises that forces me to an answer. Inevitably, that time will be when I am looking for jobs and unable to own any preference.
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