For one, integrating formatting tips and tools using Microsoft Word, Powerpoint, and even desktop publishing into writing classes, so that they truly become "writing for" media. Considering what visual and verbal rhetorical choices go into making all types of communication more professional.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Reviving Literacy-chic
For anyone who might still venture this way, I wanted to post that I am reviving Literacy-chic, but only on the Booknotes blog. "Words, Words" is too nebulous--if I write about EVERYTHING, I will either write all the time (which would be great, except I have a real job now--one of those 8-5 gigs) or I will write NOTHING. And I had pretty much decided that in order to function in the real world (which is completely overrated, by the way), I would have to opt for nothing. But the real world doesn't always satisfy, which is where books come in. And having been ousted from academia by the secret workings of the academic job market, and hence lacking undergraduates, I need a place to get my literary fix--and send it forth into the world. So I will be posting at Booknotes from Literacy-chic. Here is my reboot. Do drop in!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
A Lenten Intention
I find myself writing again on the eve of Lent, when last year at this time was very nearly the last time I wrote a blog post. I write because my mind is full of thoughts for a very dear friend whom I have known for a very short time, and who has a daughter who is very troubled, and who seems to be making all of the wrong decisions with her life. For some reason, I am drawn to think about this daughter--because my friend seems so little to deserve the treatment she has received, perhaps, but also because there are things that my friend has said about the daughter that draw me to her. She is very creative, and has been her whole life. She imagines herself in scenarios that cause her panic--something with which I can relate, and which I think is also a symptom of that creative, artistic temperament. This daughter is on a very self-destructive path, living away from home in another state with strangers whom she met online; seeking only interracial relationships almost as a way of marking herself--of "Othering" herself, as my academic side would say--because she desires mixed babies. I look at my friend, and I see it tearing her apart.
And I look at myself, and I think about what has put me on my present path. I feel like I want to say to my friend, had things gone differently, I have gone down a path that was not too dissimilar. I was a poet in college and romanticized a bohemian lifestyle. I was what I can only call agnostic, though I wouldn't have called it that since I was always nominally Christian-esque. Sexual experimentation--and I mean more promiscuous and more out of the ordinary--would not have been too far away, had I had someone so inclined whom I felt I could trust (friend or romantic other). I would have pierced *something* hidden had I not been living at home, where such a thing might have been discovered. I was riddled with responsibility for my family, and once escaping that responsibility, there is no telling where I would have wound up.
I see my friend's daughter as not escaping responsibility--she hasn't had much. Rather, I think she is imagining a lifestyle for herself that is opposed to what she has had--sort of like my bohemianism. She is imagining herself being the "Other" with whom she, for whatever reason, is identifying right now. She feels like she wants to be apart. That she is the person oppressed. And so she seeks communion with that oppressed "Other" who, she imagines, is like her. I don't know this, of course. I only suspect.
I think of what happened in my case. Apparently, God saw fit to send me my soulmate--and an unplanned, unwed pregnancy, lest I think about screwing up the best thing that had ever come my way. I may never have been married otherwise, so He sent me what no mother wishes for her child. And we made the best of that curveball. I have made a life for which I am so grateful. It didn't have to work out for the best, but somehow, I managed to cooperate with Grace.
I don't know what to say to my friend. I guess what I am mainly thinking is that her daughter has not strayed far from a path on which I could have seen myself. My self-destruction would have been more literary and educated--grad school was always part of the equation. But it would have still had its self-destructive--and even self-loathing elements, though I never would have seen that. And, well, I survived that inclination, so perhaps there is hope? It may be weak. But perhaps someone or something will step in her daughter's path, and things will work out for her. Good, smart people can make poor choices, and are sometimes saved by what seems like chance. I guess all I can say is that I will be praying for this girl--this young woman who is like the girl I was at 17--during Lent. And also for my friend, who is hurting inside.
And I look at myself, and I think about what has put me on my present path. I feel like I want to say to my friend, had things gone differently, I have gone down a path that was not too dissimilar. I was a poet in college and romanticized a bohemian lifestyle. I was what I can only call agnostic, though I wouldn't have called it that since I was always nominally Christian-esque. Sexual experimentation--and I mean more promiscuous and more out of the ordinary--would not have been too far away, had I had someone so inclined whom I felt I could trust (friend or romantic other). I would have pierced *something* hidden had I not been living at home, where such a thing might have been discovered. I was riddled with responsibility for my family, and once escaping that responsibility, there is no telling where I would have wound up.
I see my friend's daughter as not escaping responsibility--she hasn't had much. Rather, I think she is imagining a lifestyle for herself that is opposed to what she has had--sort of like my bohemianism. She is imagining herself being the "Other" with whom she, for whatever reason, is identifying right now. She feels like she wants to be apart. That she is the person oppressed. And so she seeks communion with that oppressed "Other" who, she imagines, is like her. I don't know this, of course. I only suspect.
I think of what happened in my case. Apparently, God saw fit to send me my soulmate--and an unplanned, unwed pregnancy, lest I think about screwing up the best thing that had ever come my way. I may never have been married otherwise, so He sent me what no mother wishes for her child. And we made the best of that curveball. I have made a life for which I am so grateful. It didn't have to work out for the best, but somehow, I managed to cooperate with Grace.
I don't know what to say to my friend. I guess what I am mainly thinking is that her daughter has not strayed far from a path on which I could have seen myself. My self-destruction would have been more literary and educated--grad school was always part of the equation. But it would have still had its self-destructive--and even self-loathing elements, though I never would have seen that. And, well, I survived that inclination, so perhaps there is hope? It may be weak. But perhaps someone or something will step in her daughter's path, and things will work out for her. Good, smart people can make poor choices, and are sometimes saved by what seems like chance. I guess all I can say is that I will be praying for this girl--this young woman who is like the girl I was at 17--during Lent. And also for my friend, who is hurting inside.
Monday, May 9, 2011
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Banking Model (Sort of)
I read Paolo Friere as part of my graduate composition pedagogy course that taught me much more about research methodology and writing about pedagogy than it actually taught me about teaching. The idea is that traditional models of education commodify knowledge (go figure) and create a system by which the teacher makes deposits into the student (who is an empty shell), and the students must then provide a return on what has been deposited. There are any number of ways that this metaphor could be modified. The idea is that this is bad because the student is a passive recipient and does not actually process the information (cash?) received (except that the student would have to do something with it in order to make a return, which implies interest, but that's not really the point). Freire is used as one more theorist supporting the student-centered classroom, where the focus is on student engagement and involvement and not so much what the instructor has to offer by way of information. Now, as the student who wanted to sit at the feet of someone wise and learn the ways of the world, the model proposed by my professor in grad school was not one that I would have found appealing as an undergraduate. As someone who lacked confidence in my own persona as a teacher, however, it had a lot of currency (haha) because it shifted the burden from me to the students--I didn't have to give them the knowledge, they had to discover the knowledge, and all I had to do was to set up the right conditions! And that, my friends, is much easier. Ten years later, I'm quite adapt at orchestrating and arranging; I can really impress in a job demo (when everything goes as it should) and I can pedagogy with the best of them, and though I do sometimes give a lecture, they are not my forte by any means, especially in literature courses. Because, in part, I teach required courses--at least for now.
Herein lies the problem. I teach required courses. Some students enter my courses with a real need of the skills in analysis and writing that I offer. Most if not all have not thought of literary genres or rhetorical concepts in the ways in which I present them. All have had some experience with literature and writing--for better or worse. Some have all of the necessary writing and analytical skills, but still seek to learn something from the required course, because they will learn from all available situations. Some have many to most of the necessary writing and analytical skills, and are completely unable to learn from the required course which is, as far as they can see, a waste of their time. In the current model of university education, I can not simply take these students who see my efforts as a waste of their time by the scruff of the neck and shove them down some hallway to a person who is qualified to test or interview them to give them credit for what they already know. I can not reprogram them to think that what I say and do has value--yes, even for them. And while I can not teach them, I at least must put up with them. If my syllabus is designed for maximum student initiative in the creation of knowledge--if their major grades are paper and presentation grades--they may in fact not need me in order to get the grades they desire. Drawing only loosely on half-heard course concepts, they can finesse their major grades--even with a hardass grader like me--and get a "B" pretty easily. Will they learn anything? No. They will merely pair their own preexisting notions with what knowledge they already possess and complete busywork. My course will, quite literally, have been a waste of their time. These students do not so much need to be taught the information; they need to be taught how to learn.
Every undergraduate course must have a bit of the banking model present. Students must have some incentive to pay attention to concepts introduced, and the instructor and student must both acknowledge that the instructor does, indeed, have something to add that is valuable, otherwise, why do requirements exist? Why are Ph.D.s granted and those who have them employed? And why does higher education continue to exist in the age of Wikipedia and Google? Those may be valuable questions in themselves, but I am not the one to answer them. The banking model does have value, though students are not empty shells for the deposit. Perhaps we can think in terms of the building and combination of assets. The funds should be available for withdrawal at any time, but what counts should be the interest from the instructor's--and students'--investment of time, effort, and attention.
Herein lies the problem. I teach required courses. Some students enter my courses with a real need of the skills in analysis and writing that I offer. Most if not all have not thought of literary genres or rhetorical concepts in the ways in which I present them. All have had some experience with literature and writing--for better or worse. Some have all of the necessary writing and analytical skills, but still seek to learn something from the required course, because they will learn from all available situations. Some have many to most of the necessary writing and analytical skills, and are completely unable to learn from the required course which is, as far as they can see, a waste of their time. In the current model of university education, I can not simply take these students who see my efforts as a waste of their time by the scruff of the neck and shove them down some hallway to a person who is qualified to test or interview them to give them credit for what they already know. I can not reprogram them to think that what I say and do has value--yes, even for them. And while I can not teach them, I at least must put up with them. If my syllabus is designed for maximum student initiative in the creation of knowledge--if their major grades are paper and presentation grades--they may in fact not need me in order to get the grades they desire. Drawing only loosely on half-heard course concepts, they can finesse their major grades--even with a hardass grader like me--and get a "B" pretty easily. Will they learn anything? No. They will merely pair their own preexisting notions with what knowledge they already possess and complete busywork. My course will, quite literally, have been a waste of their time. These students do not so much need to be taught the information; they need to be taught how to learn.
Every undergraduate course must have a bit of the banking model present. Students must have some incentive to pay attention to concepts introduced, and the instructor and student must both acknowledge that the instructor does, indeed, have something to add that is valuable, otherwise, why do requirements exist? Why are Ph.D.s granted and those who have them employed? And why does higher education continue to exist in the age of Wikipedia and Google? Those may be valuable questions in themselves, but I am not the one to answer them. The banking model does have value, though students are not empty shells for the deposit. Perhaps we can think in terms of the building and combination of assets. The funds should be available for withdrawal at any time, but what counts should be the interest from the instructor's--and students'--investment of time, effort, and attention.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Why I'm Not Giving Up Dr. Pepper for Lent
I’m stealing a few minutes in the parking garage to write. I has occurred to me lately that I am focusing quite a bit on others’ writing—college student writing and the writing of students that I tutor through an online homeschooling service—to the exclusion of my own. But today I want to write a little something for Lent.
I find myself rather excited today—on Ash Wednesday--and it’s because of what I have decided to “give up”--to put aside. . . I wrote a message to a friend this morning that ended with my asserting that I would not give up Dr. Pepper this year, because it would simply make me think about Dr. Pepper—all the time. I felt a bit shallow for this; Dr. Pepper is something that I really love, and why wouldn’t I give it up for God? But then I wondered why I should give it up for God. Not whether or not God deserved a sacrifice from me, but what sacrifice would it be, really? Not having something I want. So that every time I wanted a Dr. Pepper I could think that I was doing it for God. Uh huh. Really.
This, I think, is why the Church has shifted emphasis from “sacrifice”—decontextualized, “I’m doing it for God because it’s Lent” kind of sacrifice—or “I’m doing it to lose weight and Lent is an excuse” sacrifice—to conversion, re-orienting one’s self toward God and away from those things that distract us from God. Dr. Pepper has never come between me and God. Not ever. So—I’m keeping it.
I have decided, instead, to “give up” two things for Lent: Worry, and about 4 hours of computer and internet time a night, from 4-8 P.M. or 5-9 P.M. The second is easier to explain. These are key family hours, and I spend them glued to the computer for one reason or another (ostensibly, for work) most of the time. If I remove this distraction, I will do all of the things that I need to do to make the household run more efficiently between school/work time and bed time, which will be serving my family in the way that I should, and seeing God present in our time together. Theoretically. It could work!
The more radical of the two “sacrifices” is worry. If you have read this blog in the past, you will know that worry was my primary source of creativity—or my primary use for my creative energy, depending on your perspective. Worry is, on the one hand, a response to practical concerns. On the other hand, it is a turning away from God that I have struggled with—a refusal to trust and let go of myself in moments of stress and frustration. And I do have some cause for worry right now—about jobs. There are some possibilities for my future that were not there previously. The very presence of these possibilities makes me think that, you know, maybe God is looking out for me after all--that maybe He knows how low I was feeling and that some part of me—something that He created that makes me distinctly me—was in danger of dying. And so an opportunity that I thought I lost came back. Maybe. I admit that seeing God in all of the events in my life as they are happening is very alien to me. I am not one to think that God found that job or apartment for me, or helped me get that loan. But something is telling me that I should give up worry for Lent, and not indulge in that particular bit of narcissism. And you know what? I have noticed what a phenomenally beautiful day it is today, on this lovely Ash Wednesday.
Have a Blessed Lenten Season!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Literacy-Chic is Incapable of Keeping Her Mouth Shut About NFP *sigh*
And not always to defend. So in response to this post by the recognized authority on the subject, Janet Smith:
I abandoned hormonal contraceptives long before converting to Catholicism because it just didn't feel right to be doing such unnatural things to my body. There are several points here that should be addressed, because while I agree with most of the points made about the pill, there *are* hormonal contraceptives (depo-provera) that can increase sex drive, though that one has several unpleasant possible side effects in addition to making your uterus "like a desert," as my OB said. Also, while some pregnant women certainly experience decreased libido, I believe there are almost as many who experience a heightened desire--not for any evolutionary purpose, but certainly for bonding with the father of their child(ren), a closeness that prepares for birth.
I do agree that there are many career decisions that interfere with couple intimacy, but to set up the dichotomy of career woman and earthy, holy, domestic mother-type is to commit an error that is perpetuated in a lot of the literature geared toward Catholic women, and to potentially alienate those of us who are doing our best to fulfill our vocation as mothers and wives while using the other talents God has given us to pursue careers--sometimes careers we chose before conversion. There doesn't have to be a contradiction, though of course our dignity as women does not depend on work, and there may be some confusion about that on an unconscious level because of the messages that society sends to women. I take comfort in something that was told to me in RCIA and echoes other things I've read: That God only wants us to be, to the fully extent possible, the people that we are meant to be. And for some, our trials might involve navigating multiple difficult pursuits simultaneously.
I resemble the "fifth couple" of Smith's anecdote in my marriage, except for only having 3 children, but I disagree that the reproductive capability that we share is a source of joy for my husband and I, who are navigating a difficult sibling dynamic with very strong personalities in our current parenting. I *have* felt that thrill in being a parent with my husband, but usually when I was newly pregnant, when the awe of it all was fresh. I take issue with the "baby-making power of the sexual act" as energizing, etc. When one is already a parent, x1, x2, x3, etc., there are times when the sexual act is a refuge for the parents--an affirmation that, for the moment, does not include children, which is why humans, unlike other animals, do engage in intercourse when they are not fertile, or when the woman has already conceived. Theology of the Body allows that sexual act, performed during infertile periods, does not necessarily mark an exclusion of God from the relationship.
This statement in Smith's article is also deeply flawed in how it is articulated, though it may be theologically sound on some levels: "While couples who use contraception may in fact love one another deeply, contracepted sex expresses a willingness only to engage in a momentary physical pleasure and thus expresses neither love nor commitment." And yet, this is a given, an important element of persuasion, a rallying cry, in most discussions of NFP. However that may be, the argument denies the potential of humans to cultivate an emotional bond in spite of physiology. By the same rationale that informs this statement, barren couples should not be able to affirm commitment to one another in the sexual act because their bodies are not joined in a potentially fruitful act during intercourse. While it is true that the psychology and physiology of contracepted sex is different, it is possible to overstate this in a way that diminishes the dignity of the individuals involved.
I still struggle with NFP--failing more often than not to be faithful to the spirit of Church teaching--and I think I always will. Discourses on NFP do not satisfy, because however sophisticated my understanding of theology, there are elements that seem to me to be expressed without understanding, and that certainly do not fit with my experience. I will never return to artificial contraception, and I think that the culture of contraception is a dangerous thing, but I think generalizing about couples who contracept is ungenerous. And sometimes, restating how the couple that is willing to conceive is superior in their lovemaking because it is so much more meaningful is off-putting.
I abandoned hormonal contraceptives long before converting to Catholicism because it just didn't feel right to be doing such unnatural things to my body. There are several points here that should be addressed, because while I agree with most of the points made about the pill, there *are* hormonal contraceptives (depo-provera) that can increase sex drive, though that one has several unpleasant possible side effects in addition to making your uterus "like a desert," as my OB said. Also, while some pregnant women certainly experience decreased libido, I believe there are almost as many who experience a heightened desire--not for any evolutionary purpose, but certainly for bonding with the father of their child(ren), a closeness that prepares for birth.
I do agree that there are many career decisions that interfere with couple intimacy, but to set up the dichotomy of career woman and earthy, holy, domestic mother-type is to commit an error that is perpetuated in a lot of the literature geared toward Catholic women, and to potentially alienate those of us who are doing our best to fulfill our vocation as mothers and wives while using the other talents God has given us to pursue careers--sometimes careers we chose before conversion. There doesn't have to be a contradiction, though of course our dignity as women does not depend on work, and there may be some confusion about that on an unconscious level because of the messages that society sends to women. I take comfort in something that was told to me in RCIA and echoes other things I've read: That God only wants us to be, to the fully extent possible, the people that we are meant to be. And for some, our trials might involve navigating multiple difficult pursuits simultaneously.
I resemble the "fifth couple" of Smith's anecdote in my marriage, except for only having 3 children, but I disagree that the reproductive capability that we share is a source of joy for my husband and I, who are navigating a difficult sibling dynamic with very strong personalities in our current parenting. I *have* felt that thrill in being a parent with my husband, but usually when I was newly pregnant, when the awe of it all was fresh. I take issue with the "baby-making power of the sexual act" as energizing, etc. When one is already a parent, x1, x2, x3, etc., there are times when the sexual act is a refuge for the parents--an affirmation that, for the moment, does not include children, which is why humans, unlike other animals, do engage in intercourse when they are not fertile, or when the woman has already conceived. Theology of the Body allows that sexual act, performed during infertile periods, does not necessarily mark an exclusion of God from the relationship.
This statement in Smith's article is also deeply flawed in how it is articulated, though it may be theologically sound on some levels: "While couples who use contraception may in fact love one another deeply, contracepted sex expresses a willingness only to engage in a momentary physical pleasure and thus expresses neither love nor commitment." And yet, this is a given, an important element of persuasion, a rallying cry, in most discussions of NFP. However that may be, the argument denies the potential of humans to cultivate an emotional bond in spite of physiology. By the same rationale that informs this statement, barren couples should not be able to affirm commitment to one another in the sexual act because their bodies are not joined in a potentially fruitful act during intercourse. While it is true that the psychology and physiology of contracepted sex is different, it is possible to overstate this in a way that diminishes the dignity of the individuals involved.
I still struggle with NFP--failing more often than not to be faithful to the spirit of Church teaching--and I think I always will. Discourses on NFP do not satisfy, because however sophisticated my understanding of theology, there are elements that seem to me to be expressed without understanding, and that certainly do not fit with my experience. I will never return to artificial contraception, and I think that the culture of contraception is a dangerous thing, but I think generalizing about couples who contracept is ungenerous. And sometimes, restating how the couple that is willing to conceive is superior in their lovemaking because it is so much more meaningful is off-putting.
Monday, February 8, 2010
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