Sunday, February 24, 2008
As I mentioned in a response to one of Kendra's blog posts, Jarret irks me. He seems to spend a large portion of each chapter establishing his knowledge (both of arcane literary/cultural theory and jazz). Improvisation is a social construction, as is everything in the realm of semiotics, and as such, all signifiers are unstable, uncertain. Fine, I get it, can we please move past this idea without dropping the names of 40 French literary theorists?
As for the section on the "signature" I actually felt physically ill while reading it. Even with inclusion of the "message to skeptics" on page 90, I was unconvinced of the relevance of this section. Perhaps the excercise could have been summed up, and I might have bought it, but to share hisresponse to this writing prompt for nearly ten pages? Unacceptable.
As Stephen Colbert might say, "Jarret, you're on notice."
Sunday, February 17, 2008
In the second chapter of Gaining Ground in College Writing, Haswell provides three examples of “interpretive tales” that have historically guided practices in the teaching of writing in recent times and at various institutions. In reading this chapter, I was impressed by Haswell’s keen observation and clear portrayal of an issue that I see at work in the academy and particularly in the writing classroom: the inexorable link between politics and pedagogy. Haswell expertly demonstrates the role of the political in the writing classroom through 3 concrete examples of different interpretations of student work. He further develops his discussion through an analysis of the ideological assumptions underlying these interpretations.
While the three “interpretive tales” that Haswell discusses, “the ungrounded English teacher assessment”,” the legend of deterioration”, and “the tale of growth” are clearly common within the academy, I think that Haswell’s discussion goes beyond the particular concerns of these three specific tales. In other words, I think he makes a larger point in this chapter than mere criticism of some prevalent assumptions in the college writing classroom. Ultimately, I think the most useful thing I will take away from Haswell’s discussion of “interpretive tales” may be stated as a warning: be aware of the politics that shape your practice, and do not doubt that your practice is indeed shaped by the political. The practice that claims to be “ungrounded” (that is free from political concerns) is in fact guided by unexamined political assumptions. As Burke suggests, it is vital that we interpret our interpretations, lest we mistake abstractions for reality. It is only fair, for those of us who seek to become teachers as well as for our future students, that we approach teaching with our eyes wide open to the biases that undoubtedly underlie our practice.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
This week I’m keeping my post a bit shorter and discussing a chapter from a book by Richard H. Haswell. I was exceptionally busy this last week planning a workshop for a tutoring program at Humboldt State University. The workshop was yesterday, Saturday the 9th, and I administered and attended the workshop in spite of an awful cold, which has, incidentally, gotten much worse.
This introduction, I hope, explains the brevity of what follows.
In Haswell’s discussion of alientation and growth in Gaining Ground in College Writing the author brings up some provocative questions and offers some useful, if tentative, approaches to answering them. Haswell’s three “primitive” concepts, standard, status, and change, provide a method of dealing with some of the difficult problems that teachers of writing face. When we question, as Haswell suggests we should, our assumptions about a student’s status, the standards by which student’s should be judged, and the change a student’s writing undergoes through his or her college career, we interpret out interpretations of student writing. The positive effect of this meta- interpretive act is twofold: it forces teachers to constantly evaluate and reevaluate their practices, and it prevents habitual practices of instruction from calcifying.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Reading Burke, Thinking about Eco-criticism
The first two chapters of Blakesley’s The Elements of Dramatism are my first encounter with the work of David Burke. Although I certainly do not feel qualified, after reading only two chapters written about Burke’s work by another author to comment on Burkean thought as a whole, I do foresee limitations of Burke’s approach in regard to my own creative and scholarly pursuits. That said, I also see the depth of thought and insight in Burke that I find admirable, worthwhile, and also fairly difficult to grasp in a single read through. I’ll try to clarify some of my initial concerns here first and then explain what I appreciate and identify with in Burke’s line of thinking as presented by Blakesley in the first two chapters of his book.
The possible limitations that I foresee in Burke’s work arise because of the types of symbols or symbols systems he is concerned with in A Grammar of Motives. For although Burke states that “All Living Things Are Critics” a phrase that suggests an all-inclusiveness to his approach, it seems to me that the emphasis in his work (and in all probability its only practical application) is upon very highly developed symbol systems. In other words, the heightened capacity for abstract thought that, according to Walter Ong, accompanies literacy seems in Burke (at least “in Burke” as his ideas are represented in the first two chapters of Blakesley’s work) to exist as the unquestioned and unchallenged situation for critical discussion. The ubiquity of cultural values from highly literate culture in the world today makes the emphasis in Burke upon highly developed systems of symbols almost forgivable. It certainly makes this emphasis understandable, and the critical tools gained from such an approach undeniably useful. Nevertheless, the importance of symbols in Burke assumes that the symbols under discussion are recognizable and comprehensible to those concerned. Inasmuch as this is true, a Burkean approach strikes me as wholly anthropocentric and even more than that centered on literate civilization to the exclusion of non-literate, oral traditions.
That said, Burke has already proved the validity of his approach within a complex, highly literate situation. His rhetorical analysis of Mein Kampf is chillingly astute, even vaguely prophetic, as Blakesley suggests. The “five keys of dramatism” and the four types of form of which Burke conceived strike me as valuable tools of critical analysis for works produced within a literate society. It will require further reading and reflection to comprehend the degree to which Burkes approach is compatible with an eco-critical approach, and I shall withhold further comment for now.