It felt only fitting to return to Gallagher for my final blog entry. In Chapter 10 of Deeper Reading, Gallagher tackles the notion of backwards planning. He notes that writing the course exam for the class after reading a text is actually poor teaching. On a strictly chronilogical basis it may not seem as such. Having the end in sight, however, helps focus the class. "Instead of trying to assess whether our students understand every layer of a complex work, we would better serve them if we consider the one or two areas within the text we think to be the most important and target those areas for our students' consideration," says Gallagher (2004, 210). This is the approach I am taking in developing my lesson plans for my week of teaching.
My cooperating teacher has asked me to teach a section of the grade ten unit, the Mysteries of Life. At the basis of my lessons is the deeper understanding question, "How do our imaginations carry us far beyond the borders of the everyday world?" As we go through texts, such as Ray Bradbury's The Veldt, students will be able to draw on their personal reflections on the deeper understanding question. Combined with their views of the deeper understanding question, I am also discussing the importance of atmosphere in speculative and horror fiction. Using another Gallagher notion, I am framing the text so as to direct the students reading of The Veldt.
I am not telling the students what to think, rather I am trying to guide their focus.
Remember, everything that has a beginning has a end...
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Trekking Multiple Lenses in the Classroom
"Why teach literary theory to students who aren't going to college" is a question explored by Deborah Appleman in Chapter 8 of Critical Encounters in High School English (2009, 119). This question is rather encompassing of high school in general: Why teach __________ to students who aren't going to college? I have taken other classes where the line of thought was that what teachers teach should remain relevant to their students. I certainly agree that teachers need to make what they teach relevant to their students. However, assuming that literary theory is only useful to students who go to college is guilty of what Kelly Gallagher calls "assumicide" in Deeper Reading (2004, 49).
Gallagher defines assumicide as "the death of a book that occurs when it is assumed that students possess enough prior knowledge, connections, and motivation to make higher-level reading possible" (2004, 49). What Gallagher is describing here is the issue of overestimating your students. I suggest that assumicide also occurs when you underestimate your students. Literary theory does not just apply to literary texts, but to texts of all forms. Therefore, literary theory can have practical applications for students, in and out of the classroom, who may or may not be going to college. Either way, as Appleman shows, theory can provide students the tools neccessary to develop higher-level reading skills and avoid Gallaghers notion of assumicide.
Appleman provides a variety of examples of students integrating theory into their analysis of not only literary texts but magazines and other cultural texts that permeate their everyday lives. You can use gender theory when discussing magazine images of beauty, or postcolonial theory when analyzing issues of race. Theory can help students develop their own deep reading skills. Even if you are not going to college, having a variety of critical lenses to view the world is a tool that can apply to everyday life.
Gallagher defines assumicide as "the death of a book that occurs when it is assumed that students possess enough prior knowledge, connections, and motivation to make higher-level reading possible" (2004, 49). What Gallagher is describing here is the issue of overestimating your students. I suggest that assumicide also occurs when you underestimate your students. Literary theory does not just apply to literary texts, but to texts of all forms. Therefore, literary theory can have practical applications for students, in and out of the classroom, who may or may not be going to college. Either way, as Appleman shows, theory can provide students the tools neccessary to develop higher-level reading skills and avoid Gallaghers notion of assumicide.
Appleman provides a variety of examples of students integrating theory into their analysis of not only literary texts but magazines and other cultural texts that permeate their everyday lives. You can use gender theory when discussing magazine images of beauty, or postcolonial theory when analyzing issues of race. Theory can help students develop their own deep reading skills. Even if you are not going to college, having a variety of critical lenses to view the world is a tool that can apply to everyday life.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Pandora's Postmodern Box: Should We Open It in the Classroom?
Deborah Appleman notes that "Radical rereadings of familiar classics and resistance to what a story says on the surface are consistent with the original aims of deconstruction" (2009, 99). The point of deconstructing a text, or using the postmodern lens to analyze a text, is to see beyond what is said on the surface and to find implied meanings that were likely unnoticed by the author.
I don't remember ever using a postmodern lens during my time in highschool. I was introduced to literary theory predominately during my time as an Arts undergraduate. As far as I have seen during my internship, this is probably the case for many highschool students today.
Appleman notes a series of views on deconstruction. On the one hand, several theorists see deconstruction as naturally appealing for teens. On the other hand, many theorists see deconstruction as either too difficult or no longer relevant (2009, 100).
In my introduction to postmodern theory a concerted effort was made by the professors to clearly analyze and dismantle binary oppositions, a process Appleman notes as important in seeing the limitations of the ideology that one was raised to uphold. It is in this act that I believe the postmodern lenses can facilitate intellectual growth in students.
The idea that deconstruction is irrelevant is a troublesome position, in my opinion. At the same time I do appreciate the dangers of deconstruction seen in the story of Martha Hargrove's class, presented by Appleman. Jessica's concern that the postmodern theory was "destroying" the students is important. Besides the fact that she may have a superficial grasp on her identity (which as a teenager, she is still developing), postmodern theory has a tendency to undercut the legitimacy of ideologies, I find. This is the power of the postmodern lens, and the one reason I would recommend it in the classroom, for it provides a great avenue for students to question and maybe even enact change in the world around them.
Postmodern theory, like any theory, is just that: a theory. It is important to stress to students that postmodern theory, like gender, marxist and other literary criticisms does not provide absolute truths. The idea of absolute truth and postmodern theory seems paradoxical to me. Perhaps the idea of not having a single right answer in a classroom setting seems paradoxical to the students.
Thus far, the modus operandi for the English classrooms I have been in have been to essentially summarize the plot with very little analysis. I plan on asking my cooperating teacher if she would consider introducing literary theory to her students. If properly introduced, I don't see a problem of introducing students with multiple lenses to interpret, and maybe even give life to the literature they are assigned.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Recasting a Male as a Female: Gender Studies in the Classroom
The Front Page by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur was originally performed in 1928. It has been adapted as a film four times since then: The Front Page (1931), His Girl Friday (1940), The Front Page (1974), and Switching Channels (1988). With the exception of Switching Channels, which barely resembles the source material, the preceding three adaptations were fairly faithful to the original play.
The story, in a bubble, follows newspaper editor Walter Burns and newspaper reporter Hildegard Johnson as they cover the upcoming execution of convicted murderer Earl Williams.
What makes looking at either the 1931 or 1974 adaptations of the play in comparison with 1940's His Girl Friday an excellent exercise for a gender studies unit, is the choice of casting. Traditionally, both Walter and Hildegard are men. But for Howard Hawk's 1940 adaptation, Hildegard becomes Hildy, a female reporter and Walter's ex-wife.
What makes the change remarkable is that most of the play's original dialogue is left untouched. Hildy's lines are relatively the same as Hildegard's lines.
Deborah Appleman states that "understanding the role that one's gender plays as one reads is a significant step toward understanding one's gender role in society at large" (82). I think that recasting the male as the female offers opportunities for students to see not only societal stereotypes, but the stereotypes that they themselves may harbour.
As we were discussing in class, in regards to boys speaking more than girls during class discussions, is that gender stereotypes are not always immediately visible. We take things for granted, and when presented with an idea like girls not getting a chance to participate in discussions, we adamantly deny that it is happening.
Making students aware of gender stereotypes, through gender recasting activities, can be both fun and revealing.
The Front Page trailer (1974):
His Girl Friday trailer (1940):
In an age where I hear people complain repeatedly about the prevalence of remakes in current cinema, it is a nice sobering reminder to realize that remakes (and adaptations) have always been a hallmark of Hollywood.
The story, in a bubble, follows newspaper editor Walter Burns and newspaper reporter Hildegard Johnson as they cover the upcoming execution of convicted murderer Earl Williams.
What makes looking at either the 1931 or 1974 adaptations of the play in comparison with 1940's His Girl Friday an excellent exercise for a gender studies unit, is the choice of casting. Traditionally, both Walter and Hildegard are men. But for Howard Hawk's 1940 adaptation, Hildegard becomes Hildy, a female reporter and Walter's ex-wife.
What makes the change remarkable is that most of the play's original dialogue is left untouched. Hildy's lines are relatively the same as Hildegard's lines.
Deborah Appleman states that "understanding the role that one's gender plays as one reads is a significant step toward understanding one's gender role in society at large" (82). I think that recasting the male as the female offers opportunities for students to see not only societal stereotypes, but the stereotypes that they themselves may harbour.
As we were discussing in class, in regards to boys speaking more than girls during class discussions, is that gender stereotypes are not always immediately visible. We take things for granted, and when presented with an idea like girls not getting a chance to participate in discussions, we adamantly deny that it is happening.
Making students aware of gender stereotypes, through gender recasting activities, can be both fun and revealing.
The Front Page trailer (1974):
His Girl Friday trailer (1940):
In an age where I hear people complain repeatedly about the prevalence of remakes in current cinema, it is a nice sobering reminder to realize that remakes (and adaptations) have always been a hallmark of Hollywood.
Revolver: Book Talk # 3
RevolverBy Marcus Sedgwick
New York: Roaring Brook Press, 2011
201 pages
Recommended Grade: 9
To Shoot or not to Shoot: Morality in Revolver
The Analysis:
Revolver is a thriller that primarily focuses on one question: will Sig Andersson shoot Wolff, a enormous stranger who claims that Sig's recently deceased father (Einar) swindled him out of a share of gold obtained during the Alaskan gold rush. The central theme to the novel is the often quoted line, "even the dead tell stories" (1). In subsequent flashbacks to Einar's life in Nome (1899 - 1900) the reader is informed not only of why Wolff has tracked the Andersson family to Giron in 1910, but also why Sig, who faces certain death with his sister Anna, faces a profound moral dilemma when presented the opportunity to save himself and his sister with his deceased father's pistol.
At the heart of Sig's dilemma is the moral conflict presented between his father and his mother. Einar would do anything to protect and provide for his family. He proudly displays the revolver he purchased to protect the family in the near lawless gold rush town of Nome. Sig's mother, Maria, on the other hand, is affectionately called the town's church (they do not have one), as she is a strict Christian, always having a Bible verse ready for any occasion. Unlike Einar, Maria is adamantly against gun use.
Through the Nome sequences, we learn that Wolff believes Einar, who works as an assay clerk (he measures gold and pays accordingly), is skimming gold from every prospector that enters his shop and he wants a cut. When Einar denies this, Wolff (who threatened Einar's family) kills Maria. Einar flees with his children soon after.
With Einar's body literally thawing on the kitchen table (he freezes to death at the beginning of the tale), Sig and his sister Anna are left trying to figure out how to appease Wolff. What follows is an extensive period of stalling as both Andersson children try to figure out how to get to their father's old gun. Harboring an extensive knowledge of pistols thanks to his father, Sig eventually discovers that the gun Wolff is threatening him with is missing its firing pin. Finally able to each his father's gun, Sig turns the tables on Wolff. But when provided the opportunity to shoot his assailant, Sig turns the gun over to Wolff proclaiming, "my mother's children are not murderers" (188).
Throughout the novel, references are made to the quality of Einar's gun. It is described as being an old model, worn out, and prone to jamming. Although we are given sequences in the novel that show that the gun does work (target practice), its age and shape become an issue when Wolff fires the gun at Sig. The gun literally blows up in Wolff's hand. Eventually Wolff succumbs to his injuries, and Sig and Anna escape, discovering their father's stash of gold (Wolff was not lying) and living happily ever after.
Revolver contains a basic plot, with its fair share of head scratching moments (Sig handing the gun to Wolff for instance), but one rooted in a legitimate moral discussion of guns. To further complicate the seemingly uncomplicated plot, is the epilogue provided to the tale. While the story is written in the third person, the epilogue, which features Sig as a first person narrator, suggests that Sig just told us a story, opting for the third person, so as to "write the story as if he was writing about someone else" (201).
Recommendation:
Revolver presents a two great topics for discussion: the morality of guns and the reliance of first person narrators (although the book itself is primarily in the third person). Although these topics could be used in a classroom setting, I would not recommend Revolver for use in the classroom (outside of silent reading).
Revolver is a thriller that primarily focuses on one question: will Sig Andersson shoot Wolff, a enormous stranger who claims that Sig's recently deceased father (Einar) swindled him out of a share of gold obtained during the Alaskan gold rush. The central theme to the novel is the often quoted line, "even the dead tell stories" (1). In subsequent flashbacks to Einar's life in Nome (1899 - 1900) the reader is informed not only of why Wolff has tracked the Andersson family to Giron in 1910, but also why Sig, who faces certain death with his sister Anna, faces a profound moral dilemma when presented the opportunity to save himself and his sister with his deceased father's pistol.
At the heart of Sig's dilemma is the moral conflict presented between his father and his mother. Einar would do anything to protect and provide for his family. He proudly displays the revolver he purchased to protect the family in the near lawless gold rush town of Nome. Sig's mother, Maria, on the other hand, is affectionately called the town's church (they do not have one), as she is a strict Christian, always having a Bible verse ready for any occasion. Unlike Einar, Maria is adamantly against gun use.
Through the Nome sequences, we learn that Wolff believes Einar, who works as an assay clerk (he measures gold and pays accordingly), is skimming gold from every prospector that enters his shop and he wants a cut. When Einar denies this, Wolff (who threatened Einar's family) kills Maria. Einar flees with his children soon after.
With Einar's body literally thawing on the kitchen table (he freezes to death at the beginning of the tale), Sig and his sister Anna are left trying to figure out how to appease Wolff. What follows is an extensive period of stalling as both Andersson children try to figure out how to get to their father's old gun. Harboring an extensive knowledge of pistols thanks to his father, Sig eventually discovers that the gun Wolff is threatening him with is missing its firing pin. Finally able to each his father's gun, Sig turns the tables on Wolff. But when provided the opportunity to shoot his assailant, Sig turns the gun over to Wolff proclaiming, "my mother's children are not murderers" (188).
Throughout the novel, references are made to the quality of Einar's gun. It is described as being an old model, worn out, and prone to jamming. Although we are given sequences in the novel that show that the gun does work (target practice), its age and shape become an issue when Wolff fires the gun at Sig. The gun literally blows up in Wolff's hand. Eventually Wolff succumbs to his injuries, and Sig and Anna escape, discovering their father's stash of gold (Wolff was not lying) and living happily ever after.
Revolver contains a basic plot, with its fair share of head scratching moments (Sig handing the gun to Wolff for instance), but one rooted in a legitimate moral discussion of guns. To further complicate the seemingly uncomplicated plot, is the epilogue provided to the tale. While the story is written in the third person, the epilogue, which features Sig as a first person narrator, suggests that Sig just told us a story, opting for the third person, so as to "write the story as if he was writing about someone else" (201).
Recommendation:
Revolver presents a two great topics for discussion: the morality of guns and the reliance of first person narrators (although the book itself is primarily in the third person). Although these topics could be used in a classroom setting, I would not recommend Revolver for use in the classroom (outside of silent reading).
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Medicine River: Book Talk # 2
Medicine River
By Thomas King
Toronto: Penguin, 1989
261 pages
Recommended Grade Level: 12
The Quest for Identity in Thomas King's Medicine River
The Analysis:
Medicine River is the story of Will Sampson's homecoming to Medicine River, the town where he grew up. We follow Will as he comes to terms with who he is, in both flashback and present day first person narrative. Through Will's quest, we see varying degrees of what it means to be a brother, a father, and a First Nation's person.
Medicine River is the story of Will Sampson's homecoming to Medicine River, the town where he grew up. We follow Will as he comes to terms with who he is, in both flashback and present day first person narrative. Through Will's quest, we see varying degrees of what it means to be a brother, a father, and a First Nation's person.
Half white and half Blackfoot, the precarious nature of First Nations identity, as restricted by the Canadian government (the flashback sequences occur in the 1950s - 1960s) is problematic for Will's identity. Because of his white father (who Will never knew), Will's mother losses her Indian status (although First Nation's men could marry non-First Nation's women and retain their status, First Nation's women could not marry non-First Nations without losing their status and their children's status).
As a result, Will and his little brother James grow up just outside the Blackfoot reserve in the town of Medicine River. As Will and his brother grow up they move further away from the Blackfoot reserve and their Blackfoot heritage. While James becomes a world traveller, Will ends up working as a photographer in Toronto. Only two things connect Will to Toronto: his job and his lover, Susan.
Susan is one of the two complex relationships that Will has with women (excluding his mother) in the novel. The other relationship is with Louise, with whom Will assumes the father role with her daughter, South Wing. With Susan, Will is the other man in an affair. With Louise (back in Medicine River), Will is a consumate companion and surrogate father to her daughter, although neither title is formalized through marriage.
Will's return to Medicine River is sparked by a number of events. The first is the death of his mother. On returning for her funeral, Will meets Harlan Big Bear who sells him on the prospects of opening a photography shop in Medicine River. Harlan, throughout the novel, acts like a brother to Will, by offering him advice and support over a plethora of events and relationships as they come up. Will's decision to return to Medicine River is solidified by the dissolution of his relationship with Susan (she returns to her husband) and the loss of his photography job in Toronto.
With the help of Harlan Big Bear, Will reintegrates himself into the community of Medicine River, finding a new brother (Harlan), a daughter (South Wing), and deep connection to the Blackfoot community.
Recommendation:
I highly recommend Medicine River for Grade 12 students. The book covers a number of subjects that are ripe for discussion and further inquiry: First Nations rights, cultural identity, and gender rights. On top of this, the structure of the novel (juxtaposing past and present scenes) allows students the opportunity to experiment with comparison arguments (there is an essay just waiting to be written)!
Resistance is futile, or to quote an old television commericial, "why be you, when you could be me?"
"Even though Timmy didn't know it at the time, he had little choice but to fit in."
To me, Jeffery D. Wilhelm and Bruce Novak's discussion of the True Self and the False Self drew immediate comparisons to Jacques Lacan's theory of the mirror stage. In a nut a shell, the mirror stage is a process of objectification initiated by an infant, wherein the infant creates an ideal image of him or her self (subsequently ratified by those around us). Effectively we have two selves: the outer and the inner. For the purpose of this blog entry, I am connecting the Outer Self to the False Self and the Inner Self to the True Self.
In Wilhelm and Novak (chapter 7), the point is made that the False Self is the product of an individual trying to comply with the rules and expectations of a parent or a teacher figure. Under the guise of the False Self we either are slaves to the Other's wishes, or we pretend to be slaves in order to manipulate the Other to do what we want (see 152). Either way, it is not a very healthy relationship.
What Wilhelm and Novak recommend is for students to find a balance where they can manipulate the tools they are given in a way that does not make them carbon copies (or clones) of their instructor. Hopefully, as teachers, if we can effectively engage our students to develop their own opinions and positions, we can help them recognize the things in their life that are trying to manipulate them (such as television advertisements). I know this must all sound rather idealistic, but the better equipped they are in truly expressing themselves, perhaps the better able they will be in recognizing the importance of being who they are and not what others want them to be.
We can all recognize the consequences of idealizing the False Self. Self image is a particularly troubling subject for many teens. Clearly there are objectives that must be meet in the classroom. Even so, on top of all the other pressures they are facing, teens should not feel ashamed to be who they are in class.
In Wilhelm and Novak (chapter 7), the point is made that the False Self is the product of an individual trying to comply with the rules and expectations of a parent or a teacher figure. Under the guise of the False Self we either are slaves to the Other's wishes, or we pretend to be slaves in order to manipulate the Other to do what we want (see 152). Either way, it is not a very healthy relationship.
What Wilhelm and Novak recommend is for students to find a balance where they can manipulate the tools they are given in a way that does not make them carbon copies (or clones) of their instructor. Hopefully, as teachers, if we can effectively engage our students to develop their own opinions and positions, we can help them recognize the things in their life that are trying to manipulate them (such as television advertisements). I know this must all sound rather idealistic, but the better equipped they are in truly expressing themselves, perhaps the better able they will be in recognizing the importance of being who they are and not what others want them to be.
We can all recognize the consequences of idealizing the False Self. Self image is a particularly troubling subject for many teens. Clearly there are objectives that must be meet in the classroom. Even so, on top of all the other pressures they are facing, teens should not feel ashamed to be who they are in class.
Remarkably I found the old Concerned Children's Advertiser Ad on YouTube:
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