Friday, February 6, 2015
Reading the World
Reading Dana Gioia's “On the Importance of Reading,” I found myself muttering a confession – “Guilty!”
She indicts young people (but her point could apply to my generation as well) for their obsession with entertainment and sports celebrities, and turning their backs on literature. At best, she says, they're Webmongers who “pull something from here and there,” (p. 21) a bit like people at an all-you-can-eat buffet who want a taste of everything, but never really focus on much of anything. As a culture, she laments, we've lost the ability to savor our food, so to speak, since reading for pleasure has all but bitten the dust.
I say I'm guilty because, though I love literature and majored in it as an undergrad, my interests have been, though I can't say why, more in creative expression – songwriting, fiction writing – than in reading. When I do read, it's often psychological or spiritual self-help or a biography. Where's my thirst for the next Gatsby? I look around for someone to blame, but I come up empty-handed.
Like Gioia, I weep for the loss of national interest in the arts. As a lover of the arts – especially songwriting and films – I've often felt a misfit in a mass of sports and reality TV devotees. As a (backsliding) lover of literature, I've often felt like a leper in a nation that seems to despise books – unless they're made into blockbuster films. Certainly this national disdain for the arts is the most significant headwind we face in helping students learn to embrace reading.
Perhaps the NEA's pro-reading campaign, “The Big Read,” is moving in the right direction. Jolliffe and Harl's artcle, “Studying the 'Reading Transition' from High School to College” resonates with Gioia's emphasis on modeling reading for our students, as does Gee's “What is Literacy?” Gee points out that students learn valuable meta-cognitive skills from teaching, but that the most practical education comes from giving students exposure to material and letting them practice on their own.
According to this philosophy, reading classes, insofar as their attempts to impart reading skills, only take time away from allowing students to truly immerse themselves in reading for pleasure – the best way to promote acquisition, as opposed to learning. Aside from guiding young primary school readers in the fundamentals, Gee makes a compelling point that such discourse is best acquired without any instruction. Personally speaking, my love for books came from my high school's outside reading requirement. Coerced to choose books I liked, I was amazed that reading was fun.
Jolliffe and Harl suggest a major obstacle blocking high school and college students from deeper engagement with reading, especially course texts, is their inability to see the practical benefits. Wherever possible, the authors recommend teachers make explicit the connections between course readings and future applications. In a world where students are increasingly driven by financial concerns, these applications need to be clear. (I can relate. Keen to understand the payoff, I was always the lone student in my algebra class asking, “But when are going to use this?” Stumped, the teacher stalled and stammered but could only offer, “It's required for trig.”)
As English teachers, to the extent that it's possible, we need to show students how improved reading and writing is vital to their success in the workplace, in critical thinking (to defend themselves against less than scrupulous marketeers and politicians), and to, as Gioia reminds us, pursue beauty in the arts, including literature, as a “necessary component of a life of self-realization.” (p. 19)
In finding common ground with our students, using electronic media in the classroom seems the most obvious place to start, whether we're hoping to ignite their interest in course readings or help them develop a love for pleasure reading, much as Jolliffe and Harl posit. Blessed as we are at State with iLearn, we might assume that all colleges are on the same (web)page, but a bit of research suggests other institutions may have a ways to go. For my money, blogging is the essential component of any course aimed at promoting an expansion of student consciousness into the realm of the academic discourse community.
It just makes sense to meet students on their own terms – which echoes Paolo Freire's piece, “The Importance of the Act of Reading.” He emphasizes (again and again!) the necessity of beginning instruction with students' reading of the world around them, and that the act of reading books is then just a logical expansion of that healthy curiosity. It's essential to present reading and writing as tools for students to discover their own voices, express themselves and speak out against injustice wherever they find it.
A question: Gee says that, generally speaking, a discourse is mastered through acquisition, not learning, and that school exposes students mostly to learning, not acquisition. How true is this? What of the lessons students learn from teachers' own modeling of attitudes and of discourse?
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Troy, You bring up interesting distinctions between mastery and control and acquisition and learning that I'm sure we will discuss in class; allow me to begin that discussion here.
ReplyDeleteYou question the truth about Gee's principle of discourse mastery vis-a-vis acquisition, and I see a need for placing his principle in some form of a classroom context before I go further. We can discuss contexts on multiple levels, such as undergraduate studies, graduate studies, FYC, upper-division critical reading and writing, etc. Because I am currently most interested in becoming a better community college instructor at the pre-transfer and lower-division levels, I will use such courses as my context.
Once we place Gee in my context, an immediate question arises for me: Do we want to help students "master" or "control" their discourses (Gee 542)? Personally, I strive to help students "control" (i.e. to use, to function with, as Gee defines), a college discourse with the understanding that mastery takes not only a theoretical term "acquisition" and "learning," but a great deal of time--as in years. With my focus on control over mastery, I believe students need both lessons that explore the meta-level aspects of their secondary discourse and practice that allows for acquisition of that discourse. I think your point about modeling serves as a wonderful example of how we can concentrate on both meta and performance in ways that lead to control of a discourse.
I’m inclined to respond to your post because I feel similar sentiments in regards to your statements about loving literature and observing changes in technological advances surrounding academia. I do think there is a correlation between an advancing technological presence in society and the lack of importance of literature. I too find myself baffled by obsession with film’s adaptations of novels while simultaneously disregarding the source from whence it came (I haven’t seen the new version of The Great Gatsby, but I know that many people like the film without having read the book). In this context, I find myself occupying a subjectivity many (my loved ones included) regard as a “book snob” which is a title I proudly hold. Yet, this subjectivity becomes muddled when considering films I do like based on books I haven’t read (I swear The Godfather is next on my reading to-do list). This brings me to a conclusion, although a bit muddled one: Films based on books can help audiences realize that these great or “novel” ideas (pun intended) have stemmed from great works of art. I think the reason people are more inclined to consume films instead of books is because it’s easier. This correlation can be further exemplified in technology overall, how it makes communication easier, research easier, and our lives, overall, easier.
ReplyDeleteBut, how does this effect students? Like you mentioned, I too found myself dumbfounded and frustrated and wondering “When am I going to use this?” while in math and science classes. This frustration only furthered itself when I started college, knowing I was going to major in the Humanities (I’ve oscillated between Creative Writing and English). I started to view these classes as mere requirements for the greater good, knowing I would reach a point when I would only be reading literature and not trying to remember equations. I, too, now rely on technology to work through these problems (in the math sense) rather than refer to a time in my academic “career” when I learned them—implying that I, in fact, learned these things (in the time it was required) and did not acquire them.
Which brings me to your final question. I do believe that teachers should try to meet students on their own terms. However, it seems that with models of curriculum, this may not always be possible. It seems that teachers may not have the space allowed to reach beyond what is required for them to help individual students realize the importance of not only literacy, but the importance of literature. When I was a counselor for an after-school program for East Bay high school students (mainly Berkeley High), I had a conversation with a teacher whose classroom I used to facilitate our own curriculum. I was indecisive as to whether I wanted to teach high school or college and she adamantly stated that I should choose the latter. She said that teaching high school didn’t include these freedoms, that, in her experiences, there was a growing inclination to do execute her curriculums in a certain format which did not allow her freedoms she wish she had. In my own experiences, however, I would say that my preexisting love for literature was only aided and nurtured by teachers who cared about literature as well. To the same extent, my disinterest in math and science was also nurtured by teachers who didn’t seem that passionate about the subject itself. Yet, thinking back to how I was in high school and my earlier years of college, I may have sought characteristics in teachers that exemplified this, so as to not hinder my predisposed notions of apathy. I would say that, although seemingly an obvious observation, teachers’ attitudes reflect students’ desires to do the work and their interest in the subject. Although a generalizing claim, I would say that this rings true to my own experiences. Now, this is not to say I haven’t had fun teachers in subjects I didn’t like, and conversely, not fun teachers in subjects I did like.
DeleteBut, overall, I think a more democratic curriculum (or, more specifically, a democratic reading list) could help students become more engaged in the material. I think that if students were able to participate in the material they’re going to read for the term, it would take away the notion that they’re reading for a class and instead portray that they are reading for themselves. My honors English class in high school did this, we chose from a list of books what we wanted to read and it opened up my own experiences of reading and allowed me freedom in my academic choices. This notion of choice, I would say, is important to help students realize different purposes for reading and may help them open their own views into worlds they may have not been inclined to enter.
OK, first I must say this is a nicely integrated view of the readings. Perhaps I have more of linguist’s view of acquisition and learning of languages, but I view these two perceptions of language learning in this way: I define acquisition with being able to express one’s ideas or feelings without conscious effort and in a way that is a natural extension of language usage from being immersed in a discourse community. Learning, on the other hand, I define as gaining the knowledge of formalized or unfamiliar forms of discourse in such a way that requires the knowledge of structure, register, etc.,–a list of almost anything that can be or has been defined, codified, analyzed, or assessed within a discourse (sort of like what happened to Latin when it was declared a “dead” language and no longer spoken in medieval universities).
ReplyDeleteSo what does this mean, particularly in defining literacy and the teaching of literacy? Well, I think that first, literacy is relative. Secondly, in opposition to a reductionist viewpoint–which claims if an idea cannot be expressed simply, then perhaps the speaker or writer does not have an adequate understanding of the idea–in opposition to this, I think that some ideas are rooted within a discourse and that speakers or writers have difficulty in expressing their ideas in other discourses (e.g. I still am not sure what “string theory” is or what it means even though I have listened to simplistic explanations).
So the question is do we change our media to match the media of our students? What can this accomplish when we are trying to open their minds to the awareness that different discourses exist and any one of them may have significance to their lives? I’m sure that McLuhan would remind us that the “media is the message,” and I do not entirely disagree with this, but I also am not in complete agreement. You introduce the idea that “reading” is becoming a lost practice and that art in the form of literature when subtracted from our lives leaves us less fulfilled and somehow incomplete. Well, but aren’t you referring to literature in English or translated into English, and thought about in academic English? I know that English is the lingua franca of the contemporary world, but if ideas can be equally expressed in other discourses, languages, or dialects, then the promotion of academic English discourse becomes a political act. Equally, if ideas are truly rooted in their discourses, then couldn’t the learning and acquisition of another form of literacy constitute the displacement of those non-transferable ideas–yet another form of political domination?