dear blog. i’m sorry i abandoned you.

being in AL 860: Visual Rhetoric, as well as being linked from the Hayden’s Ferry Review blog, have caused me to think deeply about leaving abandoned blogs and crap all over the net like so many ice-cream sandwich wrappers. i think it’s time to really brand myself and secure a presence for myself on the web before i go on the job market.

oh yeah.

stay tuned. or not. i’ll let you know one way or the other.

Wrong kind of inquiry

Today I began a new unit with my students focused on remixing the research essay. I threw out the old unit, which called for a complicated collaboration that would be awful considering how little time we have left. Instead, I chose to go with a messy hybrid of a number of assignments and ideas that have interested me over the years. I keep thinking about Geoff Sirc’s “Box-Logic” essay, Brenda Miller’s braided essay, Joseph Cornell boxes, the lyric essays I teach to my summer students, the idea of remix…and now, I’m adding some stuff I got from the Ballenger workshop a week ago.

I played the question game with my students today, passing around my iPod shuffle and asking them to ask questions about it. They were doing pretty well, it seemed, but to get them to give any meta commentary was difficult. I asked them to find a question to open up an article general interest magazine, and they seemed not to get it. They instead seemed concerned with questions that would influence consumers to buy the iPod, and nothing that would be considered critical: “A magazine doesn’t want to negatively portray the iPod.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because no one will read it.”

I tried to keep the conversation moving, and eventually we located a few qualities of good research questions. I started turning the attention of the class to ideas of what research is, and about inquiry and redefining research as searching for ideas and not knowing the answer when you start. That was met with a decent enough response.

I put up an image of a Joseph Cornell box and was surprised at how well the class responded. First, they seemed confused, but then started interpreting the box. I asked what the difference was between this and a regular story, and instantly got these answers:

“In a regular story, all the connections are already there, but in this you make them yourself.”

“It makes you use your imagination.”

Yay!

They seemed confused by the assignment sheet, but we’ll go over that tomorrow. I told them that it would be a “big interesting mess,” and I am not kidding. This is going to be a huge mess. Hopefully something interesting will come of it.

Schedulefail

Teaching four days a week in two classrooms with 25 students…is killing me. And killing my schedule.

Working wrong

I haven’t posted in a while. That’s an epicfail everyone can expect. And accept, I suppose.

I got home from a day-long outing at around 8pm. From 8:30pm to 12:30am, my boyfriend was able to do the following: write three emails, skim two books for points to incorporate into a paper, write a three page paper, write a proposal for access to a gaming lab, start skimming another book.

I was able to do the following: write an assignment sheet.

Why can’t I be more productive?

Your Monday Shipment of Fail

On Mondays, my students are always a little “off.” They have trouble paying attention. It doesn’t help that we’re in the non-computer classroom, which means that I can’t give them any decent group work or online assignments. I usually end up talking at them and trying to keep the class from falling apart. I know I should be a stricter disciplinarian, but I just don’t have the motivation. I hate being hard on my students when I know that I’m to blame for most of the problems in the course. I will have to think of something better for next Monday, though. I might have them examine paragraphs in a sample student essay. Anything to keep me from talking at them while they roll their heads back exhaustedly.

I like to think the lessons I’m creating are scaffolding the larger assignments, but it’s hard to tell when so many things seem out of order. There’s never enough time to get done. Today, my students voted to stop doing freewriting, because they feel like we’re scrambling for time to get to the important stuff. I don’t think I’ll have students do daily freewrites in comp classes again. Every time I’ve tried, it failed. Unless it’s graded and/or directed at some long-term goal, the students don’t want to do it. To this class, it seems like busy work–especially since they’re writing in their blogs every week.

Who am I kidding? I don’t even freewrite every day. I’m a poor excuse for a writer. I need to lead by example.

At least I got most of my grading done today. I need to keep up with that. Next time for blogs, I’ll use a system that lets me subscribe to a comments feed.

I think that most days, in my classroom, I look like this:

Inventing it wrong

On Thursday, I gave my students a very quick-n-dirty lecture about the C.R.A.P. visual design heuristic. When I put up my examples–especially the examples about Alignment and Repetition–they fought me on which examples were “good” and “bad.” I know that I need to give more clean-cut examples next time, examples that leave little room for debate. That’s manipulative, I know, but this is a lesson. Sigh.

My students then finished their PowerPoint activities, which they had started on Tuesday. When I interrogated them about the choices they were making about composing and interpreting their slides, many of them said “uh, it’s just random.” I said to one group of students, “You know, you all are the Random Generation.”

Why is “random” so common in the discourse of adolescents? Is it fallout from postmodernism? Is it a lack of critical thinking skills? I purposefully try to avoid using the word “random,” because I know that using it requires an explanation I can’t give. But my students seem to be using it to free themselves from accountability, from having to give an explanation. Odd.

Now is the time where I remind myself that a writing course is about writing, and that a writing digital identity course is about WRITING digital identity. Everything has to go back to writing.

I also need to teach classical rhetoric and IAR with much gusto and bravado and whatever. How does one invent identity? How does one arrange it? Interesting questions that I’m sure it’s too late to ask now.

I’m noticing how difficult it is for me to keep things organized when constantly switching between classrooms (I have the lab two days a week, and a traditional classroom two days a week).

If teaching is writing, how does anyone become a good teacher if they are constantly stuck in the invention stage? That’s where I’ve been for…almost five years now. No time to arrange or revise. Invent, invent, invent. Invent some more.

Fuck.

Another day in student-led discussion paradise

Today I listened and tried to hang back while two of my students led a discussion based on a text they selected. Their focus was on the rhetoric of political identities in digital spaces. They put together an interesting PowerPoint presentation, and analyzed the visual rhetoric of the campaign websites of the current front-runners for the presidential election, and they put forth the most interesting question that I had when I started designing the class: who writes identity?

Conversation went well, again, though I think a few students were intimidated by the topic. The two students who were leading are well-versed in politics, and frequently participate in class. However, as time went on, more people seemed comfortable talking. I tried to add a few things to the conversation, but it was clear to me that students were more interested in talking to each other. I wish every conversation was like this. When I talk, it’s like pulling teeth some of the time. Should I have more discussion groups, other than the once-per-week? They seem to like group work quite a bit.

I am worried about a few students who I have not heard say a word yet. There’s an issue of difference with them, and I’m not sure how to approach the issue.

You’re doing it wrong

I love teaching. I hate teaching.

Mostly, I hate the fact that I’m not a good teacher. And I’m in love with the idea that I could be a good teacher.

I’ve been teaching college writing for about five years, which is as long as I’ve been in graduate school (I have three years left until I finish my Ph.D., if all goes well). During that time, I have had some wonderful moments in the classroom. However, most of the time, my teaching is an utter disaster. There’s just something about it that I don’t get. And my students, most unfortunately, suffer the consequences of having a rotten pedagogue.

The joy and satisfaction that I’ve felt when seeing a student make a new discovery have sustained me through the bad times. However, it seems like most times are bad times. I have more than once felt like giving up, and have frequently wondered whether or not I am suited for teaching, or for the academy, for that matter.

Since I teach year-round, I feel like I haven’t had any time to do serious and productive reflection on my teaching. This is what this blog is for. Every day that I teach (MTWTh), I will write a blog entry talking about how the day went, what I learned, what I need to do for next time.

So maybe I won’t be a complete failure at this.