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:
Monday, October 24, 2011
If I focus on myself hard enough, nobody else exists...
Returning to the focus of my posting, Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Love the Author, is the topic of this week's Critical Encounters' reading: the reader response movement.
In my previous posting, I argued, through the invocation of Roland Barthes, that the text has no meaning to the reader until he or she gives it meaning. Deborah Appleman notes that while the reader response movement began as "a friendly antidote to the tyranny of the text" (2009, 49), where the readers (i.e., the students) were the meaning-makers of the text, the movement has since become "not just a way, but the way, of reading texts..." (2009, 49). Hence, if poorly utilized, it merely replaces one form of authoritarian meaning with another.
The most problematic issue in the abuse of the reader response movement, as brought up in class, is the centralization of all meaning within the reader. This is much different than my Barthian argument that a reader creates meaning. On the one hand, the reader creates his or own meaning upon reading the text (possibly through the influence of another's opinion, while remaining open to other perspectives after the fact). On the other hand, the reader formulates his or her own absolute meaning (rejecting other perspectives).
This sort of reader response abuse is antithetical to the learning I would hope to foster in the future English classroom I hope to teach. It is vitally important to allow students to create their own opinions. But there must be checks and balances. The student who harbours his or her's ideas as being the only ones that matter is an introvert. Without a recognition of diverging ideas, the student would certainly fail to grow... and if they will not grow, can they really learn (especially in the English course setting)?
In my previous posting, I argued, through the invocation of Roland Barthes, that the text has no meaning to the reader until he or she gives it meaning. Deborah Appleman notes that while the reader response movement began as "a friendly antidote to the tyranny of the text" (2009, 49), where the readers (i.e., the students) were the meaning-makers of the text, the movement has since become "not just a way, but the way, of reading texts..." (2009, 49). Hence, if poorly utilized, it merely replaces one form of authoritarian meaning with another.
The most problematic issue in the abuse of the reader response movement, as brought up in class, is the centralization of all meaning within the reader. This is much different than my Barthian argument that a reader creates meaning. On the one hand, the reader creates his or own meaning upon reading the text (possibly through the influence of another's opinion, while remaining open to other perspectives after the fact). On the other hand, the reader formulates his or her own absolute meaning (rejecting other perspectives).
This sort of reader response abuse is antithetical to the learning I would hope to foster in the future English classroom I hope to teach. It is vitally important to allow students to create their own opinions. But there must be checks and balances. The student who harbours his or her's ideas as being the only ones that matter is an introvert. Without a recognition of diverging ideas, the student would certainly fail to grow... and if they will not grow, can they really learn (especially in the English course setting)?
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Spider's Song: Book Talk #1
Spider's Song
By Anita Daher
Toronto: Penguin Books, 2007
213 pages
Recommended Grade: 7-9
Will anybody find me somebody to love? The Anatomy of the Victim in Spider's Song
The Summary:
AJ, the protagonist of Anita Daher's Spider's Song, is a victim. Living in Yellowknife with her grandmother, AJ laments the loss of her parents: her dad seemingly taking off when she was a little girl and her mother pursuing a Bachelor of Education in Edmonton. With no friends, and a crippling sense of lonliness (although she exchanges emails with her mother), AJ, to ease her pain, goes "to her special place, an abandoned shack, and [does] things [cuts herself]" (13). AJ's life starts to turn around when she enters the school division's year-end photo contest. Teaming up with classmate and eventual friend, Mark, AJ initially joins to beat class rival Alex Murdock. While taking photos at a festival in Yellowknife, AJ meets a travelling musician, named Ed, who suggests that he is her long lost father. Overjoyed, AJ shares her thoughts on her blog (Cherry Blossom) and proceeds to take pictures of Ed for the contest, although he is less than enthusiastic. In a dramatic twist, Ed is revealed to be jilted lover from AJ's mother's past, who faked his own death in order to put AJ's father behind bars for murder. Ed, who wanted AJ to go away with him, is eventually caught and AJ is reunited with her father who is released from prison.
The Analysis:
AJ's vulnerability is pronounced throughout the novel. She feels completely alienated and alone. Mark says it best, when winning over AJ's friendship, in proclaiming, "freaks of the world unite" (9). Feeling that she has no one to talk to, AJ begins blogging about her life. Seemingly oblivious to the potential worldwide audience, AJ reveals her lonlieness and her desire to have a closer relationship with her mother and father.
Armed only with the name of AJ's mother (Cherry James), a "vaguely familiar face" (37), and an old photo of himself, Cherry and another man, Ed utilizes AJ's vulnerability to get close to her. Presented with these three items, AJ proclaims that Ed must be her father and immediately fantasizes a close relationship with the man he thinks his her father.
Clearly the novel highlights the dangers of identity and the internet. Ed fosters in AJ the idea of running away with him. Enthralled with Ed, AJ turns against her mother, writing on her blog that she is "unfair," "not so perfect," and at fault for how AJ's life developed (138). Even when Ed's true identity is revealed, AJ is oblvious to the fact that Ed used her blog to get information and get close to her.
While the novel presents several serious issues: self-mutilation and internet predators, it glosses over them to get to the next plot point. The novel begins with AJ cutting herself, but the scars from her affliction go unnoticed and her habit is hardly mentioned from there on out. The importance of AJ's blog for Ed is also glossed over. Ed uses AJ's blog to get close to her and nearly abduct her. The issue is dropped, however, in favor of nourishing an elaborate plot of a staged murder (which landed AJ's father in prison and out of her life).
Recommendation:
Spider's Song is a suitable read for teens between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. While the plot may be engrossing for teens of this age range, I do not think that the novel offers enough depth to be studied in school.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Love the Author
"Just as much of the emotional power that teddy bears and security blankets have come from their tacitly evoking the caring presence of those who have given them to us, so likewise much of the emotional power of art comes from their tacitly evoking the caring presence of authors" (Wilhelm and Novak, 2011, 96).
Chapter 5 of Teaching Literacy for Love and Wisdom is all about love. The love that we the readers apparently have for the authors who provide us with our literary nourishment.
While I agree that studying the author of any given text may open avenues of interpretation that were unavailable before, I feel that the idea that "the caring presence of authors" is necessary to generate the "emotional power of art" is simply not the case.
In Roland Barthes' seminal 1967 essay, The Death of the Author, it is argued that assigning a text to an author, and restricting interpretation through an analysis of him or her, sets a limit on the text. Barthes goes on to argue that a reader must separate a text from its author in order find meaning. As such, each of us "kills" the author by interpreting his or her text under our own lenses. We become the authors of meaning.
The analogy provided by Wilhelm and Novak, in which the emotional tethers of teddy bears and security blankets are tied to the relationship of author and book to reader, is ripe with error.First, the problem of the analogy itself: The emotional tether created by a loved one giving you a teddy bear or a security blanket does not correspond with the author releasing a text for the world to read. Obviously without the author there is no text, but just because the author created the text does not mean I have an emotional connection to him or her. For instance, if my mother gave me a teddy bear, it is a connection between my mother and I that is being strengthened, not one between myself and the child laborer who stuffed the bear.
Second, any emotional power attributed to art is reliant on one's personal experiences. The words provided by the author have no meaning to me until I give them meaning. I can do this without the tacit knowledge of the author's origins or identity.
All that knowledge of the author can supply me is another perspective - one that may effect my emotional connection to the work, but not one that creates it.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Dropkicking the Canon
I always get a little bit of a raised eyebrow when I tell people that I wrote my Master's project paper on satire in Fallout 3. Having spent a year in a digital literature class ingesting arguments that relegated the videogame form as inferior, I decided to stand up for a form that I knew was capable of far more than it was being given credit for.
What does this have to do with anything?
In class today, we discussed how children's reading habits evolve (from Goosebumps to Stephen King, for example). We discussed how you might use a text that students might find enjoyable to transition them into something out of the Canon, such as King Lear. All important topics.
Popular art, found in its multitude of forms (videogames, film, comics, magazines, etc.) is a great resource to use to "frontload" a class to prepare them for Canonical works of literature. It is important to note, however, that the frontloaded work may be as complicated as the Canonical piece you are trying to open up to them.
During my time as GTL for the Department of English in 2009-2010, I used film quite often to "frontload" a difficult text. In one case, my class and I watched Apocalypse Now before diving into Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. We spent considerable time analyzing Willard's encounter with Kurtz at the end of the movie, as it baired considerable resemblance to Marlow's encounter with Kurtz at the end of Heart of Darkness.
While I used the film to setup the novel, I found many students much more engrossed with the film. Apocalypse Now opened up a whole barrell of questions. As a result, I gave them the option of writing a comparative essay between the two.
The success of bringing in popular culture raises an important question: should we stick to the Canon? Can a piece of popular art not stand on its own in the classroom? Must it be tied to something in the Canon?
Certainly the human condition is not only tied to works deemed important by the literary elite.
Note: My MA project paper is available at: http://library2.usask.ca/theses/available/etd-09202010-095750/unrestricted/StevensonProjectPaper.pdf
What does this have to do with anything?
In class today, we discussed how children's reading habits evolve (from Goosebumps to Stephen King, for example). We discussed how you might use a text that students might find enjoyable to transition them into something out of the Canon, such as King Lear. All important topics.
Popular art, found in its multitude of forms (videogames, film, comics, magazines, etc.) is a great resource to use to "frontload" a class to prepare them for Canonical works of literature. It is important to note, however, that the frontloaded work may be as complicated as the Canonical piece you are trying to open up to them.
During my time as GTL for the Department of English in 2009-2010, I used film quite often to "frontload" a difficult text. In one case, my class and I watched Apocalypse Now before diving into Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. We spent considerable time analyzing Willard's encounter with Kurtz at the end of the movie, as it baired considerable resemblance to Marlow's encounter with Kurtz at the end of Heart of Darkness.
While I used the film to setup the novel, I found many students much more engrossed with the film. Apocalypse Now opened up a whole barrell of questions. As a result, I gave them the option of writing a comparative essay between the two.
The success of bringing in popular culture raises an important question: should we stick to the Canon? Can a piece of popular art not stand on its own in the classroom? Must it be tied to something in the Canon?
Certainly the human condition is not only tied to works deemed important by the literary elite.
Note: My MA project paper is available at: http://library2.usask.ca/theses/available/etd-09202010-095750/unrestricted/StevensonProjectPaper.pdf
And what exactly just happened...
In chapter seven of Deeper Reading, Kelly Gallagher discusses the importance of using metaphor to deepen comprehension. Gallagher argues that getting students to think metaphorically provides them with two benefits: 1) "students are more readily able to reach deeper levels of comprehension," and 2) "repeated practice recognizing and analyzing metaphor enables students to generate their own metaphorical connections to the text and the world, thus sharpening their higher-level thinking skills" (Gallagher, 2004, 125).
I agree with Gallagher's position.
Imagine, if you would, that you lack the capacity to recognize figurative language. How does that change how you view your world? Do things suddenly became more bland? Does your world suddenly possess a serious dramatic tone? A basic understanding of sarcasm requires a basic understanding / awareness of metaphor (even if you don't quite know the term for it).
Of course, on some level, everyone is aware of figurative language. These levels vary. As such, our understanding of particular texts are directly limited by our understanding of how metaphors are used. Maybe we can recognize that a metaphor is being used, but do we know what it means?
The English language, like all communication, is an elaborate code. As teachers, it is our responsibility to provide our students with the tools necessary to decrypt this code. The greater our comprehension of the code, the greater our ability is to find deeper meaning.
The following is a clip from Pink Floyd's The Wall. What are the metaphors? What do they mean?
Obviously it is important for students to recognize metaphors in the written word, but metaphors obviously transcend the page.
I agree with Gallagher's position.
Imagine, if you would, that you lack the capacity to recognize figurative language. How does that change how you view your world? Do things suddenly became more bland? Does your world suddenly possess a serious dramatic tone? A basic understanding of sarcasm requires a basic understanding / awareness of metaphor (even if you don't quite know the term for it).
Of course, on some level, everyone is aware of figurative language. These levels vary. As such, our understanding of particular texts are directly limited by our understanding of how metaphors are used. Maybe we can recognize that a metaphor is being used, but do we know what it means?
The English language, like all communication, is an elaborate code. As teachers, it is our responsibility to provide our students with the tools necessary to decrypt this code. The greater our comprehension of the code, the greater our ability is to find deeper meaning.
The following is a clip from Pink Floyd's The Wall. What are the metaphors? What do they mean?
Obviously it is important for students to recognize metaphors in the written word, but metaphors obviously transcend the page.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Teaching is about relationships, not subject matter!
Where to start?
The first sentence written in my noteback seems apt: "Teaching is about relationships, not subject matter." Albiet, knowing the subject matter doesn't hurt.
Last Friday was my first day at Allan Composite School. The K to 12 facility offered me a variety of classroom perspectives. I assisted exceptional students, sat in on a English 20 class and took part in the excitement of a Grade 1 classroom.
The hands-on experience with the exceptional students, however, was the highlight of my day.
The first exceptional student that I assisted was learning about the arms races of the twentieth century. As we sat down together to look through the notes his teacher had prepared with him, he looked at me and said, "man, this stuff is so boring." In the space of fifteen seconds, the student was pulling his i-pod and cellphone from his pockets, seemlessly switching from one device to the other.
Try as I might, and even when he had put his phone and i-pod away, maintaining his attention was a difficult task.
Noticing that reading was not one of his favorite activities, I used copies of two maps to highlight the hostilities between the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War.
Not unlike the computer screen from the 1983 movie War Games, lines were drawn from the U.S. to the U.S.S.R. symbolizing rocket strikes. I found that the activity really peaked his interest in a subject he found really unbearable beforehand.
"They really have rockets that could go that far?" and "Why would they build so many nuclear weapons?" were among the questions he sought answers to. While he still had problems maintaining his concentration, I noticed that when I implemented more hands-on activities he generated more interest in the content he was to study.
I helped another student with his reading. The teacher I was working with had made a series of flashcards for the student to read before they dived into a book on whales. Several times the student and the teacher went back and forth with the flashcards, as to allow the student to grow familiarity with words he had difficulty with. We went through the flashcards, read the book on whales and helped him make a chart that outlined its major points. I made sure to compliment the student when he made certain achievements, like pronouncing a word correctly in the book that he had a hard time recognizing on the flashcards.
All of this happened on a day where teachers and students wore pajamas, collected and ate egg mcmuffins before class and completed a bus emergency drill. Although I stuck out like a sore thumb in my shirt and tie, I certainly felt the sense of community and belonging that made Allan Composite School a joy to attend.
The first sentence written in my noteback seems apt: "Teaching is about relationships, not subject matter." Albiet, knowing the subject matter doesn't hurt.
Last Friday was my first day at Allan Composite School. The K to 12 facility offered me a variety of classroom perspectives. I assisted exceptional students, sat in on a English 20 class and took part in the excitement of a Grade 1 classroom.
The hands-on experience with the exceptional students, however, was the highlight of my day.
The first exceptional student that I assisted was learning about the arms races of the twentieth century. As we sat down together to look through the notes his teacher had prepared with him, he looked at me and said, "man, this stuff is so boring." In the space of fifteen seconds, the student was pulling his i-pod and cellphone from his pockets, seemlessly switching from one device to the other.
Try as I might, and even when he had put his phone and i-pod away, maintaining his attention was a difficult task.
Noticing that reading was not one of his favorite activities, I used copies of two maps to highlight the hostilities between the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War.
Not unlike the computer screen from the 1983 movie War Games, lines were drawn from the U.S. to the U.S.S.R. symbolizing rocket strikes. I found that the activity really peaked his interest in a subject he found really unbearable beforehand."They really have rockets that could go that far?" and "Why would they build so many nuclear weapons?" were among the questions he sought answers to. While he still had problems maintaining his concentration, I noticed that when I implemented more hands-on activities he generated more interest in the content he was to study.
I helped another student with his reading. The teacher I was working with had made a series of flashcards for the student to read before they dived into a book on whales. Several times the student and the teacher went back and forth with the flashcards, as to allow the student to grow familiarity with words he had difficulty with. We went through the flashcards, read the book on whales and helped him make a chart that outlined its major points. I made sure to compliment the student when he made certain achievements, like pronouncing a word correctly in the book that he had a hard time recognizing on the flashcards.
All of this happened on a day where teachers and students wore pajamas, collected and ate egg mcmuffins before class and completed a bus emergency drill. Although I stuck out like a sore thumb in my shirt and tie, I certainly felt the sense of community and belonging that made Allan Composite School a joy to attend.
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