Still not ready. . .set, go!

This class has felt like a contemplative journey; and as we close on the readings, I feel like I am back at the starting line. It was good to end on these articles because they are in many ways a realist stance in the face of the hope for academic awareness of alternate discourse and contact zone rhetoric. Elbow does sum up the sustaining question that always splashes cold water on the fiery passion of those arguing against traditional academic discourse: “how can we change the culture of literacy yet also help all students prosper in the present culture?” (126). When this question continues to arise, I wonder whether the academy really is ready (as the editorial note states on page 175 of Spooner’s article) for alternate discourses (even though it claims to be). I still have this sense that I am some benign actor in the academy attempting to go against established policies that will never truly bend to my wishes (but is more than happy to accommodate my rebellion so that it appears inclusive). I look at these brick buildings on campus and I think of those sturdy structures as the concrete ideologies that I can’t seem to knock down; my thoughts, my rhetoric, are like a tree branch I that keep beating the side of the building with, and (though I am doing nothing but breaking the branch against the building) I keep hearing someone yell out a window of the building, “There you go! You’re doin’ great! You just keep whacking away at the building, you’ll knock it down eventually!” When I graduate, I’ll throw the stick away and get an office on the sixth floor.

That’s how it feels. Jacqueline Jones Royster gets at this when she discusses that we have “naturalized the academy” as a space we must conform to. But, I like what she says about how “current research is compelling us [. . .] to move interpretively (emphasis mine) to alter” preconceived ideologies (Royster 26). In the above paragraph metaphor, I can actually re-interpret the brick building to be a paper building that I can rip through with my baseball bat. That’s why we love ideology—so powerful and so easy to re-imagine!

The response to Elbow’s ubiquitous question is, ‘how then do we see the academy and how can it be re-imagined?’ It can be seen as an exclusive entity that (as Paul says) invites us into it. Hence, why should the academy change? On the other hand, the academy, like language, is dynamic and socially-constructed. New generations of thought and time have and will change the academy. Alternative discourses will find a way; they already have much more than in the past. Paul and I want to discuss this. It’s a good concluding discussion that grounds us in the current constraints that we are dealing with. I’ll let Paul bring up his ideas on this question; I am going to air out my thoughts here (and then in class).

In our discussions this semester, there is a seeming consensus that we in the class agree that alternate discourses should be acknowledged. Further, we want alternate discourses to be practiced in the academy. Bizzell’s article echoes the sentiments of many others we have read over this course: “a diversity of intellectual approaches is exactly what we need. . .we should be welcoming, not resisting, the advent of diverse forms of academic discourse” (9). Nobody said this was an easy transformation, but it is at least comforting to know that some have paved the way for resisting traditional discourse.

On the other hand, I have this weird frustrations that Elbow and Fox are just being academic hypocrites and that argue that alternative discourse is necessary but. . .seriously. . .alt dis cannot be a final product. Fox’s argument for perceiving discourse as an amalgamation of the blurred lines between western and world majority thinking is overshadowed by the fatalistic declaration that “the U.S. university is still based on a powerful, but at the same time, extremely narrow conception of thinking and communicating that has made possible all sorts of scientific explorations and ideas and inventions” (64). Elbow does the same thing when he invites students to play around with alternative discourses in the pre-writing and drafting phase (which I would argue is a phase that the academy doesn’t care about because it is usually not part of the visible final product of writing, it’s just the ‘behind the scenes’), but he still claims that the final product should be in SWE (131). This is the same sort of crap that sometimes academics say about new media composition and texts—that it is all fine and good to screw around with and use for metaphorical purposes, but the final product still needs to be a traditional academic paper. And nothing gets students more excited about reading texts than having to write a paper about it with a minimum of eight sources (internet sources are unacceptable). This is where I get angry: I don’t like it when members of the academy are interested in alternate discourses that they never intent to apply. While alt dis keeps struggling for legitimization, academics will keep these alternative modes of thinking in cages at the academic thinking zoo—where we can look at the specimens through a plate glass window, but we’ll never interact with them. (Alright. . . take a deep breath. Relax, Jim.)

So, Spooner sees this issue in terms of writer v. reader privilege. The privilege of the reader (as Spooner frames it in the context of editing being comparable to writing instruction) maintains the gate keeping function of the writing teacher and the academy as a whole (158). We’ll ask, who is the audience? And the academy will say ‘I am,’ and reinforce that one should write the way the academy wants. The academy wants salience: a thesis, clear points, a conclusion. On the other hand, alternative writing “raises participation to a new level by deliberately disorienting the reader. Alt. style will not be taken for granted, even if that means risking rejection or misunderstanding by its readers” (166). I like when Spooner uses Alexander’s term ‘organic’ to describe how alt dis can facilitate a grasp of context for the reader. Though disorienting, alt dis should be, in a sense, a natural mode of communication; whereas, traditional academic discourse is artificial and, in many ways, not as salient as logic (established by oppressive western ideology) would tell us.

In conclusion, changing the academy is not just a matter of re-interpreting the building, it is also a matter of pushing the limits until modes become legitimized. Today, I will try a tree branch. Tomorrow, I will try baseball bat. The next day I will try something else. Eventually, I will knock that building down.

Another Bad Sports Metaphor

I was watching the NCAA march madness games this week while I was writing a conference paper. There is this urgency that you can see in basketball players when the final seconds tick away, and I felt somewhat the same as the deadline for my paper crept forward. The players start fumbling with the ball, missing easy shots, making stupid mistakes because it seems like they can’t keep up with the pace. In the final seconds of one game, I saw a player drive to the basket and just trip out of bounds. I felt bad for that guy, and I also felt like that guy. My game is rhetoric and composition: trying to understand language and keep up with language. I am always behind, and every paper seems to be some sort of stumble out of bounds at the deadline. I just can’t keep track of language’s evolution, and that’s why I love this game.

In accordance with Bakhtin’s ideas regarding evolution of discourse and Bizzell’s notions of hybrid/mixed discourse, language is not static. Even between Bizzell’s two articles, she noticed that she was not fully comprehending how contact zones are operate in discourses and that “academic discourse has continuously evolved over time” (215). Bizzell was on the right track in referring Lyon’s “Contact Heteroglossia” in that discourse is an explosive intersection of texts & experiences that are constantly mixing and reforming. But Bizzell first article (“Hybrid Academic Discourse”) is right in pursuing the change that is occurring in the academy. Academic language ain’t just some old dead white guy’s language anymore; it is changing because the social dynamics of our world are changing. My question for Bizzell is whether she is making a space in mixed discourses for visuals and online/digital virtual spaces. She seems focus on linguistic text, and part of mixing discourses is mixing modalities.

What interested me with Gee’s chapter 7 is his discussion on the new capitalism and the millennial generation. I always thought shape-shifters were weird superhero folk, and apparently we are teaching these creepy shifters. I do feel immersed in a superficial, new capitalist generation. As I have been reading Rebekah Nathan’s "My Freshman Year: what a professor learned by becoming a student" (a sociologist’s ethnography of undergraduate life as she enrolls as a college freshmen and notes current transitional issues that arise in this generation of undergraduates), she has claimed that the academy is a place where students perform but do not feel they necessarily deem as a hub of learn. Nathan says:

"The undergraduate worldview [. . .] linked intellectual matters with in-class domains and other formal areas of college life, including organized clubs and official dorm programs. ‘real’ college culture remained beyond the reach of university institutions and personnel, and centered on the small, ego-based networks of friends that defined one’s personal and social world. Academic and intellectual life thus had a curiously distant relation to college life [. . .] While most students [she] interviewed readily admitted that they were in college to learn, they also made clear that classes, and work related to classes, were a minor part of what they were learning [. . .] the great majority of students saw elective social activities and interpersonal relationships as the main context for learning.” (100-101)

So if the academy has become a superficial world, does the academy then become a more pedagogically friendly place—allowing for more virtual social spaces and less rigorous gatekeeping—or is the academy becoming such a certification-centered place that it is quickly becoming obsolete. I mean, we can already get degrees over the internet; is a new form of the academy on the horizon?

Despite all my big talk on how I want non-discursive forms in the composition classroom and how I want technology as a central mainframe for pedagogy, I do fear that English composition will become so technologized that the English department will become the Technical Writing department (and technical writing will just be offered as minor or a certification). All I got to say is keep those kids reading Harry Potter and promote strong literate models for narratives in video games.

I am Bitter that We Ignore the Game Aspect of Learning!

(Left: snippet from an article featured in this month’s Real Simple magazine by Adam Bluestein called “Go ahead and. . .” This article discusses several rules that parents should ‘lighten up’ on, including letting their kids play video games.)

Jim’s Academic Memoir, Volume 1:

I didn’t really care about school until my first semester of college. Up until then, nothing really sparked my interest. I enjoyed writing, but only to document my own escapist fantasies of places far from educational systems. I look back on most of my K-12, and the most lucid times for me were moments of sheer emotional acceleration (oh god, my girlfriend dumped me!) and the moments of ‘recess’ where I was given time to ‘play’: to depart from the orderly classroom and depart from skills and drills that only seemed to frustrate me, separate me from my peers. I got decent grades only because my parents wanted me to, and because every once in a while I would get rewarded (ice cream party for those who completed their multiplication tables in less than 15 minutes!).

I cared about school in college when I felt motivated to excel at the game of life. The game became ‘how can I get an A in this class?’ Sometimes I was engaged in the class; sometimes I could care less. Still, it was a game: show up to the class every time, do the work, ask the instructor what you can do to improve your work, show a consistent and strong effort, and make sure to always show that you are concerned about your grade (whether you are or not). Gee would say that I was acting out a certain identity, and was playing within the academic space. I excelled at the academic game. (I assume we all did to get this far)

But I got tired of playing the game. To me, it was (and still is) tiresome at times to play the academic game in graduate school: playing the game doesn’t matter if you don’t actually feel invested in what you want to study. Honestly, I felt like I could go through the motions, get my PhD, and still not have any real purpose or direction in what I am doing. This terrified me, so I turned to the only solace that I had during my K-12 days: games. I went to football games, basketball games, watched games on TV, played video games, played card games—games, games, games. What I thought was leading me away from my academic study led me straight towards what I needed to pursue: games. And then I found James Paul Gee.

A Response to Gee

Games work for me. I am a kid that Gee is talking about in this book. I didn’t grow up in a household that that was highly academic. My dad was a plumber and my mom did the books for the business. I wasn’t a very good reader, but I could kick ass at Super Mario Bros. I found a way to pass my classes by being afraid of what my parents would do to me if I failed a class. But I saw other kids, the kids typically from lower income homes, that resisted any display of intelligence to authority figures in school. I can see now that they were resisting this identity the school was trying to impose on them or the school was trying to separate them from the mediums they best learned through. As Gee states, “children will not identify with—they will even disidentify wth—teachers and schools that they perceive as hostile, alien, or oppressive to their home-based identities” (36-37). As I stated in an earlier blog, I was pretty bitter when my junior high teachers confiscated my basketball cards. Even then, I was angry that schools devalued my true home-based identity as a sports playing, baseball trading, video gaming kid. It only mattered whether I could memorize terms that I was not invested in. At least rebellion against the system made kids feel like they had some sort of power, control, action in their education. Hence, we will reject what seems unreal, inauthentic to our identity and our preferences to learning. To detention, young man!

Sadly, because of the hegemonic forces at work socially and economically, we will forfeit engagement with learning to get a degree in order to get a job. And on graduation day, you will hear people mutter, ‘I never want to read another book again.’ And why would many of those low income students want to keep participating in this game?

Academics were on the right track with multiple literacies that appeal to more than one sensory mode. But Gee takes it further: that the process of learning needs to be embodied (“academic language[. . .] is not really lucid or meaningful if one has no embodied experiences within which to situate its meanings in specific ways 44). Students need simulator spaces which to engage and make learning applicable (“knowing the general meaning [of words] is nearly worthless, unless you can recognize the word’s applications in specific cases” 41). He argues against types of education that is not only alien to students’ sensory modes, but to the experiential world of those students. To me, Gee makes sense. Yet, many academics still don’t get it.

A Brief Note Written in Anger

After reading this book and thinking about my experiences in academics, my theory is that instructors don’t want to learn the embodied discourses that students bring to the classroom because they spent so damn long learning the traditional modes of learning that they can’t handle the fact that some kid can show principles of literacy in a video game. Especially in an English department, stale academics are so hesitant to change or deconstruct the canon because they spent so damn long studying Milton. Just now, academics are sort of warming up to the idea that graphic novels can be considered ‘literate’ reading; but video games are still scoffed at. Its that power differential that we (the liberal and socialist academics) perpetrate by not seeing the popular tools students engage everyday (television, movies, comics, digital media, video games, internet sites, etc.) as spaces where critical thinking and learning are taking place. If teachers are using these popular modes as tools, I think they are going to connect with students and experience embodied learning. If they are not, perhaps they are afraid of being uncomfortable with the material (just as students have had to endure years and years of uncomfortability with Shakespeare).

Questions (because I haven’t asked many)

-How do we realistically bring video games into the classroom? Systems and games are expensive, and many games are time consuming? Will video games just remain a good metaphor for learning and will be encouraged as a supplemental activity (see above article)?

-Do students even want these home-identities to cross over into the educational system? I wanted simulatory activities to become more part of learning, but some just want school to be school and stay the hell away from home life. Then, how do issues of sovereignty play into the polemic between traditional education and embodied literacy? Do students want their education to be separated from cultural processes, do they just want the skill and drill (ex: international students who just want a degree to work a certain vocation in their home countries)?

-(This one is for Paul) What does Gee do to our notions of discursive knowledge? If he says that meaning is born from the experienced, this seems to imply that meaning is born from the non-discursive and our understanding of symbols are then non-discursive.

(Supplementary note: Two educational events that I remember most in my K-12 years were 1) when I played the Oregon Trail game on the Apple IIe lab we had at our elementary school, and 2) when my sophomore high school History teacher simulated a stock market trade to teach the class about stock trade and the great depression. That’s it. Those simple simulatory activities have stuck with me for several years—way more than any grammatical workbook ever did.)
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