Book Writing

From the Chronicle of Higher Education: "What Are Book Editors Looking For?"

In short, apparantly they want the same things I want from student papers and my own writing.

Banned Books

In class today, we discussed banned books, and the discussion was led by my very capable apprenctice. I got to participate, and was not surprised to learn that Robert Warren Peck's A Day No Pigs Would Die had made the list of 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books.

I love this book. I taught it when I worked for the Institute for Reading Development, and while it was in many respects alien to my life, the themes of the story and the skill of the storyteller still resonate with me today. The story, intended for the young adult market, is graphic. The scene is the farm, and the father in the story slaughters pigs for a living. The son is given a pig as a reward for assistance to a local farmer. You can see the problem, can't you?

This is a story about the capricious harshness of life, the difficult necessity of growing up, and the beautiful moments in life that happen along the way. It's tough to read at points, but it always makes me laugh and cry and marvel at the persistence of spirit and life. Being reminded of it today was really, really good.

Teaching and Learning and Purpose

Whew! Took me a while to resurface. I'm thinking of moving this blog from Blogger over to my hosting service, but likely won't do that until September. The connection? Well, I didn't want to create a whole bunch of posts here that would need to be moved eventually. But I'll get over that.

As I've been going through my data files on this poetry project, I've been wondering what the purpose of teaching is, at least with regard to teaching literature. I've been saying for years that I think we in English teach writing and reading, not writing and literature, but I must always question what that means when I step into a classroom. I generally think that my role as instructor is to model reading for students, to demonstrate what it can look like to read a document thoroughly, but all too often that turns into giving students a reading instead of training them to read.

When I took courses in various literary topics, I frequently found myself trapped between my own readings of a text and the current tide. At times I felt it necessary to sublimate my reading to the prevailing one so that I could "get along." I didn't really like that feeling. I don't want to transmit that feeling to my students.

But when I think about putting together a course for an undergraduate major or a graduate student, I have to wonder how to get around ME. How do you develop a topical excursion without including your ego?

Much to ponder.

Literary Loners

I recently read Andy Greenwald's Miss Misery, a novel that fits firmly into the Guy Lit genre discussed in Michael Kimmel's Chronicle of Higher Education piece.

Sidebar: I'm amused that this man writing on novels for wussy men shares a last name with Jimmy Kimmel, former host of the tongue-in-cheek-manly Man Show.

I don't agree with Kimmel fully, although I do agree that these boy lit books are not very interesting in general. As a genre, I hope to see fewer and fewer of them in bookstores in years to come.

Sidebar: I read Nick Hornsby when he first arrived. I was amused. I wanted the man/men I was dating at that time to grow up, and the fantasy of a guy who could actually recognize that he needed to grow up but was still fun and daring and a bit juvenile was appealing. Perhaps I'm just getting old.

But I think Kimmel is skirting an issue which can't be ignored. Why are these books being written at all? What do they tell us about our young men? Kimmel writes,

Virtually every writer of guy lit is an almost-thirtysomething graduate of an elite college or university. Their college pedigrees read like the college rankings at a certain national magazine: Brown (Sam Lipsyte), Harvard (Benjamin Kunkel), Stanford (Erik Barmack), Wesleyan (Scott Mebus), Yale (Kyle Smith). Each writer, and their characters, lives in New York City. Each work is written in the first person, by a destabilized, unreliable narrator; these books are like one long run-on sentence of self-justification and rationalization. "I don't want your wholesome values, your reasonably good judgment," says Jeb Braun, protagonist in Erik Barmack's The Virgin. "My goal isn't to please you. So if you're expecting the whole handshake and nod routine, you can stop reading right now."

Elite. Destabilized. Unreliable. Self-justfication. Rationalization.

The long, whiney, boring, unfulfilling, and hyper-selfish "I". These books are the products of a lack of balance. I think I'm going to read Little Women again.

Why Tenure?

The Ward Churchill situation leads me to question the entire practice of tenure itself. What is its purpose and why do we fight so mightily to keep it? A few thoughts:

On the What and the Purpose:

As I understand it, tenure exists to provide job security. A tenured professor cannot be dismissed for arbitrary reasons (or budgetary). Rather, the tenured professor is guaranteed a job unless said professor commits some horrid infraction that gives a committee cause to release them from their post. Some other thoughts on tenure and its purpose can be found in this brief Wikipedia article*.

Of course, many would point to the tenure job protection as being related to academic freedom. A professor cannot (and should not) be fired for research that runs counter to authoritarian interests, for speaking and studying that which is considered protected. In the interest of free inquiry, we do our best to make those who teach and research in our universities safe from punishment by those who may disagree with the work that they do. That's a good thing.

Why Fight to Keep Tenure?

Because it protects professors. That's the oft-cited and general rationale for keeping the system. But I would be naive to assume that there aren't other motivations at work, the greatest being job security, not merely as a protection for unpopular sentiment-weilding, but just for the human need to feel secure in one's employment.

Why Am I Thinking About This?

Because I'm deciding what to do with my career. Do I pursue a tenure-track position, thereby putting my 36 year old self on a 6-7 year post-doctoral proving of worth that may end with me out on the street if I don't suceed?** Or do I pursue other avenues of employment in academia, relegating myself to more service-oriented activities, thereby shutting myself away from the faculty realm?***

Thinking continues.

Oh, and Ward Churchill--I just think they should let him go. If he has been found to have conducted his academic work in an irresponsible manner, then he shouldn't be entitled to maintain his tenured status.

* Yes, I am aware that Wikipedia isn't the most reliable of sources. I encourage you to help build its accuracy.
** If you don't get tenure, you don't stay at that university. Really, what would be the point? It would be like continuing to date someone who left you at the altar.
*** While this is an attractive option, my sense of this path is that it can curtail your ability to advance, since you kind of operate in more of a support role for the faculty. I could be wrong about that. ETA: I'm probably not wrong.

Teaching

I'm currently reading Shari Stenberg's Professing and Pedagogy. Stenberg "reads" the major metaphors that define the professoriate (teacher as scholar, teacher as trainee, etc.) and calls out for a professoriate that focuses not on the transmission of mastered knowledge, but the learning of that knowledge by teacher and student.

A few random thoughts in this vein.

I've spent the last year as part of a mentoring program at my university, working alongside other TAs as we prepared to enter the academic workforce as tenure-track professors. I often question whether the track is for me and this book has focused in on much of what I fear about the professoriate.

I know that I don't know everything. I'm a much better teacher when my students know that as well, but trust me as a knowledgable guide. I learn every time I teach, and if I feel as though the material is stale for me, I shake it up and use something else, something new and fresh.

I have long struggled against disciplinarity and love my discipline (English) because it encompasses so very much. I hope that as I continue to grow professionally that I never lose sight of my teaching mission.

Why It's Good to Be In Loco

I just read a request on a LiveJournal community that has me puzzled. The poster is a student at a large land-grant university. This student lives in a residence hall. This student has injured him/herself and suspects a broken foot. The student wants to know how to get to the campus health center.

My first thought was "Call your RA". This didn't seem too crazy of a thought.

But apparantly it is. An RA in that particular dormitory replied and suggested that the student get some friends to help them downstairs. Apparantly, we've gotten to the point where RAs aren't allowed to take injured students to the campus health center.

I call shenanigans.

Sittin' in Kinko's

I'm waiting for my sweetie to pick me up and I'm paying for
the privilege to use Kinko's workstations, so I figure I'd
better get some posting that's productive out of it. If only
I'd brought along my diss work.

But I can write a bit about it. I'm studying student written
responses to poems they've read. Students were asked to
interact with 5 different poems over a series of assignments.
They could mark a particular poetic device, insert thoughts
and comments into the poem's text, and write a few paragraphs
to discuss the poem in relation to a prompt. I hope to find
out a bit about what types of things students will do when
reading a poem. What do they gravitate toward?

So far, it seems that they are most comfortable identifying
rhyme (big surprise) and are fairly clueless about how to
count meter (cause there aren't that many poems that utilize
heptameter). They love the iamb and are pretty sure when
something's being personified. They tend to think about poems
as stories or narratives unfolding and rarely will critical
theory pop into the discussion. When they try to place items
historically, they tend to gravitate toward the Renaissance,
even though none of the poems they were asked to read were
remotely related to the Bard.

They are more likely to mark and tag a word or phrase than
comment on their reading intertextually. They are relatively
good at responding to prompts, although they will often go
off on their own tangents. They can see that something is
being personified (or identify some other poetic device), but
don't often incorporate that device into their assessment of
the work.

In short--they are reading, and they have some skill with
reading, but they aren't really reading the way (I think) we
want them to read a poem. Knowing about the narrative impulse
gives, I think, a place to start with instruction. But how to
get students to identify their own emotional reaction to the
poem and to use that as a springboard for connection?

Mail Post

How cool that I can post via email. What silliness will this produce, I wonder?

The King. The I.

I'm watching The King and I on one of those cable channels. First I thought "Fairy Tale of Conquest", since to some extent that's what it is. The king dies in the end, having brought in this Western influence (mother and son) which will transform his country.

The scene between King and firstborn son, a scene following on the heels of that business about young lovers, made me think that perhaps the tale is of easy conquest--how easy it is/was to supplant non-literate cultural beliefs with literate ones. And how quickly the King tosses off the idea that he must Know all and becomes comfortable with ambiguity and Not Knowing. How very pomo.

And then I think...well, how hard it must be, then, to throw off/supplant/eradicate that which is founded in literacy, in the book.

And then I thought about My Fair Lady, which Steve and I chatted about last night. He thinks it's the perfect mucical, and I'm inclined to agree. But talk about conquest...

The New

Here's a new post for a new day...and maybe for a new life for this blog. With a new name and a new theme (or a continuation of the old one) I can get a new outlook on the new challenges that face me.

Or this can just be a (re)new(ed) way for me to not follow through. Tune in next week...

My Hometown!

Nothing. Nada. A day of unproductive productivity. I've emptied out an entire room, so now I have two messy rooms. It's hard to shove stuff back in--it expands.

Ugh. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Emerging from the end of semester cocoon is always a rush.

First, you feel this immense sense of sadness, of emptiness. It's as if someone has vacuumed out your heart and your gut. The anxiety that you've been living with is gone.

A good night's sleep (or two) and you're bouncing off the walls, itching to get your hands on a book, your brain on a problem, your mind working. You start looking for students to correct, for papers to grade, for people to teach.

You shop to fill the void. You sign up for classes to learn something new.

Today I found myself wandering around a fabric store, touching satins and brocades, twills and tweeds, trying to convince myself that I would, indeed, make a tafetta party skirt this summer to maybe wear to some party that may exist so that I may be invited to it in the fall. I made it out of the store with nothing more than a couple of yarn needles.

I can't wait for classes to start in June.

I feel the earth move...

I was awakened at 5 a.m. to the sensation of a swiftly moving bed. Groggily, I wondered if I was alone. I quickly realized that the house was shaking, assumed it was weather related, and went back to sleep.

There was an earthquake last night, and while it wasn't anywhere near dangerous, it was certainly different enough to have the media folks chattering away on the tele this morning. Nothing harmed, nothing broken, not even a picture hanging in the wrong way. That was enough excitement for me.

And as for the rest, Emily Dickinson said it best, I think:

#254 ("'Hope' is the thing with feathers –")
by Emily Dickinson

"Hope" is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I've heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.

On Mondays I tend to look at the week ahead, the week behind, and the week to come and think "now, what the hell have I been doing with my time?" Of course, it doesn't help that I also look at the To Do list and realize that I've done little to none of the weekend's tasks, opting instead for movies and knitting (I watched A Streetcar Named Desire this weekend...what took me so long?).

In a way, I'm happy. But in other ways, I'm very sad today. I realized that I've never really "settled" into a place where I intended to live for a long time. It's starting to wear on me. My landlord asked to put a "For Rent" sign in my yard so that she could get some sniffs on another house she's got on the market. And I said yes because that's what I do. And for some reason it's just got me thinking about moving. Again.

Heavy sigh. I'd better run outta here before I get too maudlin.

Today I finished my first sweater.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Don't you have 2 papers to write?"

And yes, I do. But I really wanted to finish this sweater before I started. Now I feel like I've accomplished something that I thought would be impossible. And I did it on my own, with no outside help. After learning that new skill, writing two papers (which I've done many times) should be a piece of cake.

If only I knew what I was writing about. :-)

Otherwise, things are going swimmingly. No more Regent's Exams to grade, so I can anticipate the nice little honorarium that comes at the end of the semester. My break is already looking like it's going to be busy, and I won't be leaving Athens at all.

Maybe I'll teach myself how to make socks.

Still grading Regent's Exams. Mind is swimming in bad essays, dreaming of new and creative ways to answer the questions that are asked. I think one of the most under-answered questions is "Should prostitution be legalized?"

I really want to read an essay that argues for prostitution's legalization on the grounds that sometimes you just want to get laid. Not that I necessarily agree with that argument--I just think it would be fun to read an essay like that. Yesterday I read one where a girl said she wouldn't want to be a man because she wouldn't like the feeling of a penis dangling between her legs. That refreshing level of honesty can really break up the monotony of grading these essays.

I will be glad when this grading is done. The money is good, but reading bad essays saps my will to write.

I believe in love.

True Confession time: For the last month and a half I've spent every Monday night watching "Married by America" on FOX. When the show was first announced, I was certain that it would be the most vile thing I'd ever seen.

I was somewhat surprised.

If anything, the show really reinforced the importance of knowing your mate before getting married and of not letting your idealistic, romantic feelings overrule your good sense and intuition. The significant role that family and friends play in the success of a marriage was also underscored. And while the whole thing was WAY over the top with the melodrama, I think in the end it restored my faith in commitment.

And in the efficacy of conducting your private life in private.

Catching up on the ranting...ashamed to be so far behind.

More Regent's Essays yesterday. I've come across what I believe is the worst question ever:

What makes one college course more enjoyable than another? Explain.

I hate this question because it assumes that to valuable a course must be "enjoyable." And the consideration of enjoyment casts us into the realm of the entertaining, not the edifying. The assumption that this question makes is that the most valuable aspect of a course is its ability to entertain, to create a "fun" atmosphere, to engage students in "playtime."

Most of the answers to this question center on the instructor's ability to make the class "fun." While some students, admittedly, write about their "joy in learning" because of sound and engaging teaching practices, far too many focus on arbitrary factors, such as the dryness of subject matter, the presentation style of an instructor, or the grading practices employed in evaluating performance. But I have so far been able to live with this, because the focus was at least on the teacher-student-material relationship, which at the very least implied that student "enjoyment" of a course was tied to the actual content of the course and their relationship to that content.

And then, yesterday, I read the worst one of all. The criteria for the "enjoyability" of the class revolved around personal, physical comfort. A class was deemed more enjoyable if it was in proximity, physically, to the other classes a student was taking. So, the student had to take a bus to get from one side of campus to another for a class, thereby making the class unenjoyable.

I was speechless. Shocked.

Vile. Absolutely vile.

I'm grading another round of these this weekend. I'm praying that I don't read any more essays about the "enjoyment" of college courses. Why couldn't the question have been framed in a way that was academically meaningful, like "What makes one college course more educationally successful than another?" I know these are just exercises to gauge student ability in timed, structured writing, but this question reveals a tendency in the academic world toward increased consumer orientation. And that is inevitable, I know, but something we should constantly be aware of.

Enough of a ramble for the day. Off to read something "entertaining."