For about a fortnight I’ve been going through withdrawal. I wake up in cold sweats. My hands shake constantly. Migraines wrack my brainpan. I have no internet. My computer, ancient and overheated, collapsed of exhaustion two weeks back, and the only replacement I have is my fiancé’s old desktop. Her machine won’t connect to the internet. I cannot satisfy my gaming needs. I have clocked over twenty hours of Solitaire and Minesweeper. Some nights, I sleep walk and awake in my computer chair, staring into my beautiful ViewSonic 23 inch. The experience hasn’t been without benefit, though. Biking to campus to check e-mail at least serves as good exercise.
Okay, so most of the above is fabricated. No sleep-walking, no withdrawal symptoms, and not nearly that many hours of Solitaire and Minesweeper (although I’ve still logged an embarrassing amount). But I don’t have internet, and I’m pining for my new machine. The whole ordeal has quite quashed my romantic desire to retreat to a log cabin in the remote north to read and write in solace and comfort, in commune with nature. I’d die or go loony in the first month.
My predicament has enlightened my perspective though. It has given me insight into the inequities of the impoverished. I can empathize with greater compassion their need for networked libraries or community centers; I can appreciate their need to plan days around trips to those places with net-access.
However, the end is in sight. Tomorrow my new computer will arrive, glorious and triumphantly, to rescue me from my squalor. It is a bold, hardy machine, worthy of the cost I paid. When it arrives I shall embrace it lovingly, install my software, and then race to make up for lost time. Pray I don’t die of fatigue.
Friday, May 8, 2009
English Department Luncheon
After talking with my colleagues, I’ve come to the conclusion that the English Department needs more intradepartmental activities, especially at the beginning of the year. The only introduction new students (of both grad and undergrad caliber) get to a faculty member is on the first day of that instructor’s class. There are no mixers, luncheons, picnics, etc. that allow us to mingle, find common interests, or chat. I find it unfortunate that the only instructors in the department I know are those I’ve taken classes with, and that is a sorry fraction of the faculty even after having been here three semesters.
English department GAs receive some modicum of welcome from a portion of the faculty during the first day of orientation. This is not nearly sufficient. For one, only a handful of the faculty are present for the orientation. For two, only the GAs attend that orientation. For three, the greeting, while genuine and warm, introduces rarely more than a name and area of interest of the faculty present. The current means of learning about faculty interests and pedagogical styles is through the percolation of word-of-mouth; I’m sure students would much prefer to have a soirée.
In addition to serving as a basis for introduction between students and faculty, intradepartmental activities are community building. Returning students can meet and chat with new students. At the present, there are few opportunities provided by the department for students to coalesce. I want to sip cocktails and discuss Henry Jenkins. I want to eat chips and ponder Paulo Freire. I want to grill and discuss literature. And I know I am not alone.
**Disclaimer: If there are such intradepartmental gatherings, they are not nearly well publicized enough.
English department GAs receive some modicum of welcome from a portion of the faculty during the first day of orientation. This is not nearly sufficient. For one, only a handful of the faculty are present for the orientation. For two, only the GAs attend that orientation. For three, the greeting, while genuine and warm, introduces rarely more than a name and area of interest of the faculty present. The current means of learning about faculty interests and pedagogical styles is through the percolation of word-of-mouth; I’m sure students would much prefer to have a soirée.
In addition to serving as a basis for introduction between students and faculty, intradepartmental activities are community building. Returning students can meet and chat with new students. At the present, there are few opportunities provided by the department for students to coalesce. I want to sip cocktails and discuss Henry Jenkins. I want to eat chips and ponder Paulo Freire. I want to grill and discuss literature. And I know I am not alone.
**Disclaimer: If there are such intradepartmental gatherings, they are not nearly well publicized enough.
Friday, May 1, 2009
At Semester's End
I found another media fearmongering article—this one about computers in the classroom ruining students’ handwriting. There is a hilarious disconnect between the title of the article—“Computers ‘Will Ruin Handwriting’”—and the actual content. The content discusses much of what our class has been looking at this semester, the need for computers in the classroom to provide digital literacy for students. The ruined handwriting concern makes a brief appearance at the start of the article, and then vaporizes. Readers are left quizzically wondering at the disjunction between headline and content; those familiar with Drew Curtis’ It’s Not News, It’s Fark: How Mass Media Tries to Pass Off Crap as News should be familiar with the ploy. If you’re in want of a laugh or a way to waste a few minutes, here is the link to the article:
http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/98202/Computers-will-ruin-handwriting-
The talking heads that the journalist cites to provide a counterview seem dangerously uninformed, but that is standard at this level of journalism it seems. Let’s move on to more interesting topics.
After writing my previous blog entry about MS Word’s “writing-level,” I began to wonder how the function might benefit my composition class next semester. It might provide some interesting insight into freshmen’s initial perceptions of writing. If I were to show them the function and, after having learned the algorithm that it uses, inform them what criteria it employs, I could question the students on some important aspects of composition. It could provide for a great discussion, or, should that fail, at least a solid segue.
The semester is nearly at an end and I wonder what will become of my blog. Part of me wants to keep writing in it; part of me thinks I will plan to keep writing in it and, after a sporadic entry or two, it will fade into disuse. Having discussed the potentials of blogs all semester, I know the benefits of continuing: blogging provides me with a creative outlet, the practice of continual writing, and a tentative tendril tickling the tubes, not to mention the fame, fortune, and female groupies—okay, maybe not the last three—but there are strong incentives to encourage me onward.
A colleague and I intend to start up a website similar to Dr. Barton’s Armchair Arcade (http://www.armchairarcade.com/). There, I will publish semi-formal, intelligent (though not always scholastic) articles on a variety of topics, many of which I’ve already dipped into on this blog. I will analyze popular machinima videos, internet memes/viral videos, Hollywood releases, video games, and the like. The URL for the site hasn’t been purchased yet, but I will keep any readers I have here informed.
http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/98202/Computers-will-ruin-handwriting-
The talking heads that the journalist cites to provide a counterview seem dangerously uninformed, but that is standard at this level of journalism it seems. Let’s move on to more interesting topics.
After writing my previous blog entry about MS Word’s “writing-level,” I began to wonder how the function might benefit my composition class next semester. It might provide some interesting insight into freshmen’s initial perceptions of writing. If I were to show them the function and, after having learned the algorithm that it uses, inform them what criteria it employs, I could question the students on some important aspects of composition. It could provide for a great discussion, or, should that fail, at least a solid segue.
The semester is nearly at an end and I wonder what will become of my blog. Part of me wants to keep writing in it; part of me thinks I will plan to keep writing in it and, after a sporadic entry or two, it will fade into disuse. Having discussed the potentials of blogs all semester, I know the benefits of continuing: blogging provides me with a creative outlet, the practice of continual writing, and a tentative tendril tickling the tubes, not to mention the fame, fortune, and female groupies—okay, maybe not the last three—but there are strong incentives to encourage me onward.
A colleague and I intend to start up a website similar to Dr. Barton’s Armchair Arcade (http://www.armchairarcade.com/). There, I will publish semi-formal, intelligent (though not always scholastic) articles on a variety of topics, many of which I’ve already dipped into on this blog. I will analyze popular machinima videos, internet memes/viral videos, Hollywood releases, video games, and the like. The URL for the site hasn’t been purchased yet, but I will keep any readers I have here informed.
Business Writing? Word.
The end of the academic year is a paradox of clichéd metaphors: things are winding down simultaneously with their ramping up. Students scurry to finish their portfolios; teachers exhaust themselves grading megabytes of paper; and we teaching assistants are stuck precariously in between: we scurry and exhaust, finish our work and grade that of our students. In the midst of all this whir and huff, the average conversation on campus consists of itemized lists: “All I have to do is X, Y, and Z before I am done.”
It was during one of these exchanges that I learned about Microsoft Word’s ability to evaluate the level of writing within a document (as in a grade-level akin to reading-level: 12th grade writing level, etc.). The information was coupled with the sigh that the business program at St. Cloud State relies heavily on Word’s writing-level evaluation in their paper grading. I was confused. I was aghast. Having freshly learned about Word’s ability to process data and determine a level of writing—and without having toyed with the software’s application myself—my knowledge of composition immediately made me confident there was something wrong with the business program’s practice.
Software is unable to identify clichés. Software is unable to recognize clever wordplay. Software is unable to appreciate rhetorical, literary, or poetic tropes. Software is unable to assess the accuracy of content. Software is an impractical tool for the grading of writing, even coupled with a business professor’s keen eyes. It can do a number of tasks though, to be sure; I imagine Word can at least recognize syntactic fluency, proper mechanics and spelling, and formatting. But to have any faith in the notion that these last items are all that composes a person’s “writing-level”? Absurdity. Malarkey. Blasphemy. That any business instructor places stock in the feature is disheartening.
Now, I confess the need to find the function and play around before my final assessment. Conversations at semester’s end tend to be brief, and, in the haste of the day, I did not learn or think to ask where the function is located; nor do I have time to dig around overmuch myself. I also confess the level of reliance the business program places on Word’s writing-level is anecdotal only. Nevertheless, the situation is provocative. If any readers want to comment with their experience or reactions, I’d love to read them.
It was during one of these exchanges that I learned about Microsoft Word’s ability to evaluate the level of writing within a document (as in a grade-level akin to reading-level: 12th grade writing level, etc.). The information was coupled with the sigh that the business program at St. Cloud State relies heavily on Word’s writing-level evaluation in their paper grading. I was confused. I was aghast. Having freshly learned about Word’s ability to process data and determine a level of writing—and without having toyed with the software’s application myself—my knowledge of composition immediately made me confident there was something wrong with the business program’s practice.
Software is unable to identify clichés. Software is unable to recognize clever wordplay. Software is unable to appreciate rhetorical, literary, or poetic tropes. Software is unable to assess the accuracy of content. Software is an impractical tool for the grading of writing, even coupled with a business professor’s keen eyes. It can do a number of tasks though, to be sure; I imagine Word can at least recognize syntactic fluency, proper mechanics and spelling, and formatting. But to have any faith in the notion that these last items are all that composes a person’s “writing-level”? Absurdity. Malarkey. Blasphemy. That any business instructor places stock in the feature is disheartening.
Now, I confess the need to find the function and play around before my final assessment. Conversations at semester’s end tend to be brief, and, in the haste of the day, I did not learn or think to ask where the function is located; nor do I have time to dig around overmuch myself. I also confess the level of reliance the business program places on Word’s writing-level is anecdotal only. Nevertheless, the situation is provocative. If any readers want to comment with their experience or reactions, I’d love to read them.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Facebook, Autism, and Media Fearmongering
I came across an article called “Social websites harm children’s brains” awhile back and never got around to reading it till tonight. You can find the article here: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1153583/Social-websites-harm-childrens-brains-Chilling-warning-parents-neuroscientist.html
The rhetoric of this article, of media fearmongers in general, is boggling. I see it with 'text-messaging ruins grammar' news pieces frequently. It almost seem as if there is a template, or formula even, to churn out articles about web 2.0 technologies: take one curmudgeonly authority, one “new” technology, add a lot of qualifiers, and voila—a new cautionary tale of woe, a lot of hot air scented with plausibility and devoid of empirical evidence.
Notice the way Greensfield’s quotes are handled. “Baroness Greenfield, an Oxford University neuroscientist and director of the Royal Institution, believes repeated exposure could effectively ‘rewrite’ the brain.” My emphasis. The next line, however, supplies a semblance of certainty: “Computer games and fast-paced TV shows were also a factor, she said.” A factor in what? The plausibility of her notion? The article references no study, no data, no evidence—only speculation.
Another quote, beginning with “My fear is that…,” confirms the Baroness’ ideas are purely speculative. “Then she argued that exposure to… could leave a generation with poor attention spans.” Again, my emphasis. If this article is the judge, Greenfield has not done any actual research on the topic. She has merely wondered about it. “I often wonder whether real conversation will give way to these sanitized and easier screen dialogues…”
Her picture’s caption is almost comical. “Professor Susan Greenfield: Concerned.” But the real treat is the bit on autism. Correlation does not equal causation. At least the ‘connection’ between autism and computers is tempered by her admission of ignorance.
Fearmongering aside, her credentials are nothing to laugh at (except maybe the royal title, tee-hee). She may very well be right. But who is to say that the changes aren’t for the better? Aren’t necessary given the acceleration of technology? If youths’ brains are being reprogrammed because of the changing environment, perhaps the old stubborn brained folks will be the ones in danger of not being able to communicate. L2Txt, Gramps.
The rhetoric of this article, of media fearmongers in general, is boggling. I see it with 'text-messaging ruins grammar' news pieces frequently. It almost seem as if there is a template, or formula even, to churn out articles about web 2.0 technologies: take one curmudgeonly authority, one “new” technology, add a lot of qualifiers, and voila—a new cautionary tale of woe, a lot of hot air scented with plausibility and devoid of empirical evidence.
Notice the way Greensfield’s quotes are handled. “Baroness Greenfield, an Oxford University neuroscientist and director of the Royal Institution, believes repeated exposure could effectively ‘rewrite’ the brain.” My emphasis. The next line, however, supplies a semblance of certainty: “Computer games and fast-paced TV shows were also a factor, she said.” A factor in what? The plausibility of her notion? The article references no study, no data, no evidence—only speculation.
Another quote, beginning with “My fear is that…,” confirms the Baroness’ ideas are purely speculative. “Then she argued that exposure to… could leave a generation with poor attention spans.” Again, my emphasis. If this article is the judge, Greenfield has not done any actual research on the topic. She has merely wondered about it. “I often wonder whether real conversation will give way to these sanitized and easier screen dialogues…”
Her picture’s caption is almost comical. “Professor Susan Greenfield: Concerned.” But the real treat is the bit on autism. Correlation does not equal causation. At least the ‘connection’ between autism and computers is tempered by her admission of ignorance.
Fearmongering aside, her credentials are nothing to laugh at (except maybe the royal title, tee-hee). She may very well be right. But who is to say that the changes aren’t for the better? Aren’t necessary given the acceleration of technology? If youths’ brains are being reprogrammed because of the changing environment, perhaps the old stubborn brained folks will be the ones in danger of not being able to communicate. L2Txt, Gramps.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Piracy, Ahoy
Pirates: 3,500,000 (Pirate Bay’s registered users) Courts: 4 (Pirate Bay’s hosts)
The Pirate Bay trial verdict is in, and it doesn’t look good for the pirates. If you haven't been following the Pirate Bay trial, allow me to provide you with some background via links:
http://torrentfreak.com/the-pirate-bay-trial-the-verdict-090417/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pirate_Bay
For those “tl;dr” (too long; didn’t read) followers of this blog, here's a brief summary: Filesharing megasite hosts are tried, found guilty.
What surprises me with the Pirate Bay case is that only the site’s hosts were tried. I’m no tech-xpert, but I imagine there is a way to pursue and prosecute the users of Pirate Bay through the site’s logs or IP history. Now, the penalty the founders face (years in jail, millions of dollars in restitution, etc.) may be enough to discourage other would-be captains of pirate hosting sites; or, bilge rats may see the lack of prosecution of the users as clear waters for further piracy.
My interest is in the particulars. The founders were charged with, according to the first link, “assisting in making copyright content available” by archiving and storing BitTorrent files. It seems to me the real scallywags here are the unprosecuted users: they are the ones consuming and using the files; the founders were just the pirates who sorted the cove’s treasure, not the ones who thieved it. A mobster’s crooked accountant is as guilty as the mobster, I guess.
I’ve always imagined the underground piracy movement was too ethereal, too ubiquitous for any legal action to catch up with the chum buckets involved. Apparently not. While prosecuting four people may seem like a small victory, if doing so sinks the world’s largest BitTorrent tracker, perhaps it is the same as bringing down the flagship of a giant armada. Maybe we ought to do the same with one of the renowned Somali pirate ports: take it down.
The Pirate Bay trial verdict is in, and it doesn’t look good for the pirates. If you haven't been following the Pirate Bay trial, allow me to provide you with some background via links:
http://torrentfreak.com/the-pirate-bay-trial-the-verdict-090417/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pirate_Bay
For those “tl;dr” (too long; didn’t read) followers of this blog, here's a brief summary: Filesharing megasite hosts are tried, found guilty.
What surprises me with the Pirate Bay case is that only the site’s hosts were tried. I’m no tech-xpert, but I imagine there is a way to pursue and prosecute the users of Pirate Bay through the site’s logs or IP history. Now, the penalty the founders face (years in jail, millions of dollars in restitution, etc.) may be enough to discourage other would-be captains of pirate hosting sites; or, bilge rats may see the lack of prosecution of the users as clear waters for further piracy.
My interest is in the particulars. The founders were charged with, according to the first link, “assisting in making copyright content available” by archiving and storing BitTorrent files. It seems to me the real scallywags here are the unprosecuted users: they are the ones consuming and using the files; the founders were just the pirates who sorted the cove’s treasure, not the ones who thieved it. A mobster’s crooked accountant is as guilty as the mobster, I guess.
I’ve always imagined the underground piracy movement was too ethereal, too ubiquitous for any legal action to catch up with the chum buckets involved. Apparently not. While prosecuting four people may seem like a small victory, if doing so sinks the world’s largest BitTorrent tracker, perhaps it is the same as bringing down the flagship of a giant armada. Maybe we ought to do the same with one of the renowned Somali pirate ports: take it down.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Composition's Reach: The Legitimization of a Discipline?
Some questions have been lurking in my brain for awhile now, ethereal and recurring; but before I raise them in this blog I want to issue a disclaimer. What follows is by no means an attempt to undermine, incite, or attack. What follows is an attempt to negotiate what, for me, and I think some of my fellow classmates, have been some difficult issues we’ve struggled with throughout the semester as we discussed the topics of technology and English pedagogy. In reading Wysocki’s Writing New Media, I cannot help but think about the distinction between disciplines.
At which point does English overstep its bounds in teaching technological composition? If a graphics design syllabus was submitted as an English syllabus, bound by ties to composition practices, wouldn’t somebody over in the comp-sci or art building (and I’m not sure which: this uncertainty may be an indication of a greater, underlying issue of obscurity in course/discipline relationships) get upset? I mean, some film studies courses are taught by English instructors: what’s the difference here? Is there one?
Dr. Dorn’s “Bibliographic Strategies” class last spring got me thinking about how others view the English field (how are the humanities valued? Why does our field matter?). Dr. Barton’s “Teaching College English” this past fall got me thinking about how English has tried to legitimize itself (cognitive theory, empirical research, scientific language, etc.). I see the connections between technology and composition; I see the value of teaching certain principles regarding technology; I understand the desire of some English instructors to defy tradition, upset hierarchies, and teach outside the norm; I understand all this, but still wonder.
How far can our discipline extend itself in the quest to teach composition? Does any creative act, when defined as composition, license us to seize the reins? Are there even such boundaries, borders, or bifurcation between fields? Does the academe have those types of politics? I cannot imagine it doesn’t. At what point does a friendly, scholarly interest in a field marginally (and this is a loaded adjective, I realize) related to English overreach? I’m interested to get some comments/replies/feedback/input from my readers. What do you think?
At which point does English overstep its bounds in teaching technological composition? If a graphics design syllabus was submitted as an English syllabus, bound by ties to composition practices, wouldn’t somebody over in the comp-sci or art building (and I’m not sure which: this uncertainty may be an indication of a greater, underlying issue of obscurity in course/discipline relationships) get upset? I mean, some film studies courses are taught by English instructors: what’s the difference here? Is there one?
Dr. Dorn’s “Bibliographic Strategies” class last spring got me thinking about how others view the English field (how are the humanities valued? Why does our field matter?). Dr. Barton’s “Teaching College English” this past fall got me thinking about how English has tried to legitimize itself (cognitive theory, empirical research, scientific language, etc.). I see the connections between technology and composition; I see the value of teaching certain principles regarding technology; I understand the desire of some English instructors to defy tradition, upset hierarchies, and teach outside the norm; I understand all this, but still wonder.
How far can our discipline extend itself in the quest to teach composition? Does any creative act, when defined as composition, license us to seize the reins? Are there even such boundaries, borders, or bifurcation between fields? Does the academe have those types of politics? I cannot imagine it doesn’t. At what point does a friendly, scholarly interest in a field marginally (and this is a loaded adjective, I realize) related to English overreach? I’m interested to get some comments/replies/feedback/input from my readers. What do you think?
Friday, April 10, 2009
IP Freely
Modern day pirates aren’t solely from Somalia; they can be found anywhere there is Internet access. Intellectual Property, copyright concerns, and P2P piracy are growing problems. Years ago, Lester Faigley made the analogy that finding information online is like drinking from a fire hose; when information is so bountiful, comes from so many different streams, washes over us in waves, we take it for granted. The drink has numbed our senses to IP issues. Walter Benjamin’s influential “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” is an important article to read when pondering ownership; I wonder if the text would be too difficult for my freshmen to read to get them thinking about IP: it would be a great discussion piece.
Most of my students know Napster only from its infamy, not from having actually used it; but that is not to say they don’t use other P2P file sharing software. When it comes to the argument essay assignment, I always have at least one student who wants to write about P2P downloads and the RIAA. They are familiar with the issue, but not knowledgeable about it. The segue would be great: we would talk about the popular “pirates versus ninja” debates which would transition neatly into the movie anti-piracy ads and on to a site like http://www.ninjavideo.net/ where the class could see thievery in action. (I wonder, would showing such a site—not necessarily any of its content, just the site itself—cause legal problems?)
Youku.com, the Japanese YouTube, has far fewer restrictions as to its content: viewers can find shows that have been removed from YouTube for copyright. I don’t know much about international copyright law, but it would be an interesting case study for students to look at. How do different cultures view IP matters? How can IP laws in the states be enforced across the globe? Can they be? What are the ramifications of that enforcement? Intellectual property provides delicious food for thought.
Most of my students know Napster only from its infamy, not from having actually used it; but that is not to say they don’t use other P2P file sharing software. When it comes to the argument essay assignment, I always have at least one student who wants to write about P2P downloads and the RIAA. They are familiar with the issue, but not knowledgeable about it. The segue would be great: we would talk about the popular “pirates versus ninja” debates which would transition neatly into the movie anti-piracy ads and on to a site like http://www.ninjavideo.net/ where the class could see thievery in action. (I wonder, would showing such a site—not necessarily any of its content, just the site itself—cause legal problems?)
Youku.com, the Japanese YouTube, has far fewer restrictions as to its content: viewers can find shows that have been removed from YouTube for copyright. I don’t know much about international copyright law, but it would be an interesting case study for students to look at. How do different cultures view IP matters? How can IP laws in the states be enforced across the globe? Can they be? What are the ramifications of that enforcement? Intellectual property provides delicious food for thought.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
MnCUEW Redux
As stated in a previous blog, this past Friday I and several of my colleagues presented on a panel at the Minnesota Colleges Universities English and Writing conference on “The Multimodal Classroom: Old Lesson Plans in New Ways.” This was my first conference. I don’t mean to build any anticipation or suspense, so I will just say right now: I didn’t vomit. The entire experience was actually quite enjoyable. I was a bit nervous, slightly tense—but everything was peachy.
The panel consisted of five SCSU TA’s (including me); we presented on our experiences renovating classroom lesson plans through the use of various modes (technology, literature, etc.). We had one hour to present, which gave us each about ten minutes. Unfortunately, we all went over by a minute or two and resulted in having very little time for questions.
I was surprised by how many people attended our panel; from what I’ve heard from other conferences, some presenters speak to only five or so guests. We had eighteen. I didn’t have enough handouts: what a great problem. It was alright though; some of the folks in the crowd were from SCSU, so we cheated them out of theirs and told them if they wanted a handout to e-mail us after the conference.
The food was average. As we approached the doors, I swore I smelled fish. Then the realization hit me. Lent. Friday. I hate fish. Oh no. But much to my stomach’s delight, there was no fish dish. An oriental entrée, salad bar, and deli bar fortified by desserts-a-plenty made the lunch rather enjoyable (even though it was catered, I believe, by the food service from the U of MN). And to complement the culinary reception, there were soda fountains around every corner and an ice cream bar freezer (all free) that we found after our panel was over. Jackpot!
Overall, I’d have to say that the experience was great. Aside from the short notice on our acceptance, the conference was a success (for me, anyways; and probably my colleagues): ten minute presentations were quite relaxed to prepare for—especially since mine was based off my blogs here—and the drive was just down to the cities. It’s difficult to ask for more when trying to build a CV.
On a side note: while at the gym Saturday, watching the History Channel, I saw a preview for a new show "Deadly Weapons" that quoted World of Warcraft! I have to believe the quote was intentional, it would be far too coincidental otherwise. I'm not sure I'd call the History Channel mainstream, but there definitely seems to be a lot more popular exposure to niche culture gaming recently.
The panel consisted of five SCSU TA’s (including me); we presented on our experiences renovating classroom lesson plans through the use of various modes (technology, literature, etc.). We had one hour to present, which gave us each about ten minutes. Unfortunately, we all went over by a minute or two and resulted in having very little time for questions.
I was surprised by how many people attended our panel; from what I’ve heard from other conferences, some presenters speak to only five or so guests. We had eighteen. I didn’t have enough handouts: what a great problem. It was alright though; some of the folks in the crowd were from SCSU, so we cheated them out of theirs and told them if they wanted a handout to e-mail us after the conference.
The food was average. As we approached the doors, I swore I smelled fish. Then the realization hit me. Lent. Friday. I hate fish. Oh no. But much to my stomach’s delight, there was no fish dish. An oriental entrée, salad bar, and deli bar fortified by desserts-a-plenty made the lunch rather enjoyable (even though it was catered, I believe, by the food service from the U of MN). And to complement the culinary reception, there were soda fountains around every corner and an ice cream bar freezer (all free) that we found after our panel was over. Jackpot!
Overall, I’d have to say that the experience was great. Aside from the short notice on our acceptance, the conference was a success (for me, anyways; and probably my colleagues): ten minute presentations were quite relaxed to prepare for—especially since mine was based off my blogs here—and the drive was just down to the cities. It’s difficult to ask for more when trying to build a CV.
On a side note: while at the gym Saturday, watching the History Channel, I saw a preview for a new show "Deadly Weapons" that quoted World of Warcraft! I have to believe the quote was intentional, it would be far too coincidental otherwise. I'm not sure I'd call the History Channel mainstream, but there definitely seems to be a lot more popular exposure to niche culture gaming recently.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Web Design Musings
Short blog today. I am working on getting everything together for the MnCUEW conference tomorrow, so I am going to just write through some of my ideas and quandaries relating to the website design project. Feel free to comment with ideas or suggestions.
As I compiled a list of possible links, documents, pictures, etc. for my website, I began to think about how I wanted to organize the information. I wanted something that represented my persona, but also something navigable and user-friendly. The website’s audience will cater to both students and potential employers, so the layout decision has been difficult. That being said, I considered using a WoW game interface as the main page. If you’re unfamiliar with how the game’s classic interface looks, here is a link (note that I did try to find a pic with arrows and labels for what the items are--for those non-gamers out there--but was unable to find any):
http://images.tentonhammer.com/aoc/images/wowui.jpg
The image is overly busy. Mine would be vastly reduced. The icons present would be links. But with more consideration, I’m not sure the idea is feasible, for a number of reasons. One, I don’t know that any non-WoW players would “get it;” two, I think it may be a bit too unprofessional for hiring committees (even though it would speak volumes about my style/personality); three, I’m not sure the action bar icons are emphasized enough to act as links (which is my entire premise with this idea, but unfortunately the action bar icons are de-emphasized for game play); and four, I’m not even sure my vision could be achieved through the software we’ll be using.
So I am still hunting. While I’d love to have a practical project result at the end of the class to use for both my possible audiences, I’m not sure how I can fit everything together to reach them without a disjointed feeling. Ideally, potential employers would visit the site and get a sense of how I manage my classroom through technology; the trick, though, will be doing so without alienating my students: I want them to feel like the website is their resource and not just a self-promotional tool of mine.
As I compiled a list of possible links, documents, pictures, etc. for my website, I began to think about how I wanted to organize the information. I wanted something that represented my persona, but also something navigable and user-friendly. The website’s audience will cater to both students and potential employers, so the layout decision has been difficult. That being said, I considered using a WoW game interface as the main page. If you’re unfamiliar with how the game’s classic interface looks, here is a link (note that I did try to find a pic with arrows and labels for what the items are--for those non-gamers out there--but was unable to find any):
http://images.tentonhammer.com/aoc/images/wowui.jpg
The image is overly busy. Mine would be vastly reduced. The icons present would be links. But with more consideration, I’m not sure the idea is feasible, for a number of reasons. One, I don’t know that any non-WoW players would “get it;” two, I think it may be a bit too unprofessional for hiring committees (even though it would speak volumes about my style/personality); three, I’m not sure the action bar icons are emphasized enough to act as links (which is my entire premise with this idea, but unfortunately the action bar icons are de-emphasized for game play); and four, I’m not even sure my vision could be achieved through the software we’ll be using.
So I am still hunting. While I’d love to have a practical project result at the end of the class to use for both my possible audiences, I’m not sure how I can fit everything together to reach them without a disjointed feeling. Ideally, potential employers would visit the site and get a sense of how I manage my classroom through technology; the trick, though, will be doing so without alienating my students: I want them to feel like the website is their resource and not just a self-promotional tool of mine.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Viral Videos: Lesson Plans A-Plenty
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.
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.
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.
Friday, February 27, 2009
What's up with Worlde?
Lately I’ve blogged a lot on technology applications in the classroom. From texts to Twitter, YouTube to machinima, I have focused on a variety of applications that have potential in pedagogy. One web application I would love to incorporate into a lesson plan is Wordle. You can find it here:
http://www.wordle.net/
Visit the site; play around; use a paper written for a class to see what the results are. Wordle creates word clouds based on the text users input. The clouds are based on the frequency with which the data uses certain words. Words that are used often are made to stand out more; users of Wordle can alter the style of the word clouds: changing fonts, colors, layout, etc. Besides a really fancy tech-savvy way to bolster a PowerPoint, this application can help visual learners map their key ideas.
Instead of rereading a paper, outlining a thesis and topic sentences, graphing the trajectory of the paper, students can copy-paste their essays into Wordle and see what words they’re using most often. The implications of this are numerous: students can see which words they are repeating most often. If non-key terms appear large, the student may want to consider revising the essay with the notion to whittle those repetitions down; if key terms come up big, the student can compare which of those terms seem most important based on frequency and see if it aligns with the important words they wanted to use.
But those are just a couple examples; the benefits don’t end at editing. Students can analyze the rhetoric of a popular essay by using the essay as the data for Wordle’s word clouds. Instead of asking them to write an essay based on Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” imagine what fun results pedagogues and students would come up with when they analyzed Wordle’s interpretation of Swift’s famous essay.
Viewing language as an art can be a difficult concept to convey, and Worlde can help. Students can step outside what they feel is stagnant text while staying within the confines of the course goals and aims of the discipline.
http://www.wordle.net/
Visit the site; play around; use a paper written for a class to see what the results are. Wordle creates word clouds based on the text users input. The clouds are based on the frequency with which the data uses certain words. Words that are used often are made to stand out more; users of Wordle can alter the style of the word clouds: changing fonts, colors, layout, etc. Besides a really fancy tech-savvy way to bolster a PowerPoint, this application can help visual learners map their key ideas.
Instead of rereading a paper, outlining a thesis and topic sentences, graphing the trajectory of the paper, students can copy-paste their essays into Wordle and see what words they’re using most often. The implications of this are numerous: students can see which words they are repeating most often. If non-key terms appear large, the student may want to consider revising the essay with the notion to whittle those repetitions down; if key terms come up big, the student can compare which of those terms seem most important based on frequency and see if it aligns with the important words they wanted to use.
But those are just a couple examples; the benefits don’t end at editing. Students can analyze the rhetoric of a popular essay by using the essay as the data for Wordle’s word clouds. Instead of asking them to write an essay based on Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” imagine what fun results pedagogues and students would come up with when they analyzed Wordle’s interpretation of Swift’s famous essay.
Viewing language as an art can be a difficult concept to convey, and Worlde can help. Students can step outside what they feel is stagnant text while staying within the confines of the course goals and aims of the discipline.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Utilitarianism in the Classroom
Last Friday I taught one of my favorite articles: Sirlin’s “Play to Win.” The class was learning arguments for position and had read the corresponding chapter in our Faigley rhetoric. The essay, which I found years ago, argues that when playing competitive games, players should be competitive. Sounds difficult, right? Well in gaming circles it can be difficult to convince players to “play to win” -- a lot more difficult than it sounds; but Sirlin handles the matter effectively. His article became so popular amongst the niche gaming culture that he was given a book deal. Before going further, here is the link to the first part of his argument (the only part we read in class):
http://www.sirlin.net/articles/playing-to-win-part-1.html
I preface the article with brief information on the world of competitive gaming (big LAN tournaments, cash prizes, team sponsors, etc.) and also show them this YouTube clip to get them whet:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7cW2nMf1gk
The clip shows a full parry (trust me, it is more impressive than most people realize) in a 2004 Street Fighter tournament. A packed crowd that erupts to the outcome of a video game helps alleviate any doubt about the veracity of my preface for students unfamiliar with the world of competitive gaming. Sirlin’s position is relevant even to non-gamers. I draw parallels to sports and board games; and because nearly everyone, at some point or another in their lives, has undertaken some competitive venture, they can relate.
Now, I could talk at length about why I like the article and how it matches suitably with teaching argument, but that is not what today’s particular blog entry is about. As the title indicates, utilitarianism is the focus here. My readers have probably gleaned my direction already: the article is not too popular amongst the females in the class. However, the males absolutely love it. I get more discussion out of the guys in the class period I teach this article than the entire rest of the year combined.
So that brings me to my question: Is it wise to practice utilitarianism in the classroom? Is alienating the females to entice the other gender to discuss the topic conscionable? Will men only participate when they’ve been given something they’re intimate with? Don’t misunderstand: in my mind, there is no reason for the women not to discuss Sirlin’s position; and this is not to say no females do discuss (or that males never discuss other topics), because they do; but rather, for the most part, the women remain silent while their counterparts come alive.
My female students are generally more talkative (in the interactive, discussion, good way) than my males, so I don’t feel too sore about serving a dish suited mainly to the menfolk once a semester. But I’m curious to hear feedback from my readers.
http://www.sirlin.net/articles/playing-to-win-part-1.html
I preface the article with brief information on the world of competitive gaming (big LAN tournaments, cash prizes, team sponsors, etc.) and also show them this YouTube clip to get them whet:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7cW2nMf1gk
The clip shows a full parry (trust me, it is more impressive than most people realize) in a 2004 Street Fighter tournament. A packed crowd that erupts to the outcome of a video game helps alleviate any doubt about the veracity of my preface for students unfamiliar with the world of competitive gaming. Sirlin’s position is relevant even to non-gamers. I draw parallels to sports and board games; and because nearly everyone, at some point or another in their lives, has undertaken some competitive venture, they can relate.
Now, I could talk at length about why I like the article and how it matches suitably with teaching argument, but that is not what today’s particular blog entry is about. As the title indicates, utilitarianism is the focus here. My readers have probably gleaned my direction already: the article is not too popular amongst the females in the class. However, the males absolutely love it. I get more discussion out of the guys in the class period I teach this article than the entire rest of the year combined.
So that brings me to my question: Is it wise to practice utilitarianism in the classroom? Is alienating the females to entice the other gender to discuss the topic conscionable? Will men only participate when they’ve been given something they’re intimate with? Don’t misunderstand: in my mind, there is no reason for the women not to discuss Sirlin’s position; and this is not to say no females do discuss (or that males never discuss other topics), because they do; but rather, for the most part, the women remain silent while their counterparts come alive.
My female students are generally more talkative (in the interactive, discussion, good way) than my males, so I don’t feel too sore about serving a dish suited mainly to the menfolk once a semester. But I’m curious to hear feedback from my readers.
Friday, February 20, 2009
An Analogy for the Academe
As technology advances, the world turns flat and time becomes a coveted commodity. Acronyms and abbreviations become the norm world-round, but only certain ones have any commonality within the niche communities that use them. This is problematic. I noticed this first, years ago, when I saw a PSA concerning parental awareness about children chatting online. The commercial informed parents to get educated about their children’s e-activities and the danger of online predators. It listed a number of acronyms and their meaning: LOL (laugh out loud), other commonly known ones; but the final acronym was POS (parents over shoulder).
Woah, I thought. Since when did POS get turned into some covert signal to online friends to be on alert? I’m pretty positive everyone still thinks it means “piece of sh*t” and that no child has ever warned some predator to censor himself because the parents are looking over the kid’s shoulder. But like I said, it got me thinking.
Being active online for well over a decade has given me insight into niche community language. In order to keep afloat in the raging torrent of time sinks, every online community resorts to using acronyms or abbreviations unique to their topic matter; the brevity of communication is a life preserver. The subject matter of an MMORPG, for example, demands hundreds of acronyms/abbreviations: from the typically recognizable conversational to the esoteric and game-related. It is not uncommon to see entire conversational exchanges made in acronyms and abbreviations: “LF2M lock war 25man VoA” is a clear, concise meaning to somebody who plays World of Warcraft. To others, it is coded jibberish.
But the academe has a parallel, not in acronyms and abbreviations necessarily, but in scholarly discourse. To somebody outside the field of English, hearing two intellectuals discussing postmodernism versus poststructuralism as it pertains to Foucault would be as alien as reading the trade channel in WoW (assuming they didn’t play the game). As teachers, if we can create this analogy and utilize it effectively for our students, using whatever niche communities they may be familiar with, we can demystify some of the intrigue surrounding academic discourse and make them comfortable with approaching it. The secret to understanding is in the language.
Woah, I thought. Since when did POS get turned into some covert signal to online friends to be on alert? I’m pretty positive everyone still thinks it means “piece of sh*t” and that no child has ever warned some predator to censor himself because the parents are looking over the kid’s shoulder. But like I said, it got me thinking.
Being active online for well over a decade has given me insight into niche community language. In order to keep afloat in the raging torrent of time sinks, every online community resorts to using acronyms or abbreviations unique to their topic matter; the brevity of communication is a life preserver. The subject matter of an MMORPG, for example, demands hundreds of acronyms/abbreviations: from the typically recognizable conversational to the esoteric and game-related. It is not uncommon to see entire conversational exchanges made in acronyms and abbreviations: “LF2M lock war 25man VoA” is a clear, concise meaning to somebody who plays World of Warcraft. To others, it is coded jibberish.
But the academe has a parallel, not in acronyms and abbreviations necessarily, but in scholarly discourse. To somebody outside the field of English, hearing two intellectuals discussing postmodernism versus poststructuralism as it pertains to Foucault would be as alien as reading the trade channel in WoW (assuming they didn’t play the game). As teachers, if we can create this analogy and utilize it effectively for our students, using whatever niche communities they may be familiar with, we can demystify some of the intrigue surrounding academic discourse and make them comfortable with approaching it. The secret to understanding is in the language.
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