Talking to Myself

You may not have heard me mention this before, but I'm using wikis in my composition classroom.

Sorry, had to say that for the 87th time. Anyway, there're a lot of good reasons for using wikis and (to a lesser extent, blogs) in composition, but the main reason is that I believe that new media is consistent with the goal of first-year composition (FYC) in preparing students for college-level and post-collegiate writing--and I tend to focus a lot on the post-collegiate, as my class might very well be the last writing class some of my students take before their two upper-division "Writing in the Major" courses (or before they drop out, as about 20% of my students will). In other words, I stress digital writing because I'll probably be the first, and may be the last, instructor to introduce students to a form of writing that, while gaining a great presence in composition classrooms as a whole, is not being critically discussed as often as it's being used (Lundin 434); this tells me that assumptions are being made about students' capabilities to compose new media, or their preparation for such, that may be based more on generationalist narratives than on any hard evidence.

And I've made these assumptions too. When I first started teaching English 101 (last semester, but still...) I assumed my students knew how to at least look up information on Google Calendar. Or create a blog on Blogspot.com. Or that they all could (and would) use Microsoft Word. These technologies, especially the third, seemed so rote collegiate material to me that I didn't waste a second thought that anyone might not have encountered them before, or at least gained the literacy to quickly learn them. But I'm not the only one; only two weeks ago we read an article by Stephanie Vie that argued that our students are more technologically literate than us instructors, and that, born to a generation immersed in technology, we needed to incorporate their technological knowledge into the classroom in order to utilize it for composing texts (Vie).

However, my experience has been anything but; too often, I find myself tripping over these assumptions and having to schedule days in the AML to allow students to acclimate to the technology (which reminds me, right after this I need to book the AML for my first few weeks next semester). More importantly, I've encountered an incredible amount of resistance from my students, who often express vocal opposition to wikis, blogs, e-portfolios, and *gasp* reading each others' work. Like most high school graduates (I expect), they come to the university fully expecting to write papers as exercises exclusively for teachers who won't read them (or take them seriously), and the real work doesn't begin until they declare a major.

By incorporating new media and digital writing into my curriculum, I not only get to experience the sheer joy of shattering (and/or dodging) these expectations, but my students also begin to view writing as a public activity, rather than a private one--as Lundin describes it, "wikis can challenge the practice of single authorship and help overcome the spatial and temporal hurdles to produce collaborative writing" (438)--which prepares them for the immense amount of collaborative (group) work and diminished individualism they are certain to encounter in the academy and the workplace.

In my experience, the best way to ease them into this potentially new and frightening dynamic (I may enjoy shattering expectations, but I'm not a sadist!) is to use Gee's 36 learning principles as a guide, but especially #6, which Gee refers to as the Psychosocial Moratorium Principle but I prefer (in less academic cadence) to call "The Newbie Zone Principle." The key is to make sure that students are aware (and perhaps the instructor too) that they are not being graded on their ability to adapt to the new technology (not immediately, anyway; think portfolio-grading), and to provide them opportunity to "play" with new media.

For example, a significant portion of course grades for my classes are peer-reviews, which must be completed in their wikis. Students are prepared for this (admittedly) techno-literacy-required activity by writing other class assignments and exercises in their wikis, including multimodal assignments, and by forming into small peer-review groups rather than being required to peer-review everyone in the class (unlikely) or selecting a few wikis at random (without much in-class interaction with their peers) for comment. I also try to give them a significant amount of time (more than necessary, imho) to complete the peer-reviews, including at least two AML workshop days for the first two peer-reviews (one for each) so that students can play at using the technology while sitting right next to each other in the lab (to discuss any problems they may have). Finally, I also highlight examples of exceptional peer-review work on the overhead projector (in my tech-equipped classrooms) that not only points out what content constitutes great peer-review, but also how the author(s) use the medium of the wiki to offer peer-review in novel ways.

Much of this may be new to you. Much of this may be familiar, especially coming from me. However, I would argue that the most important point you could take away from this week's readings and my blog is this: Remember, your students already enter your classroom knowing how to compose a "paper" paper--albeit with or without knowledge of citation styles or other important things--and if you don't at least introduce them to a new medium, you're playing it safe and letting them compose inside their comfort zone. They may thank you for this now, but I guarantee that in five years we're going to start hearing about a new, academic, Digital Divide--one where college graduates are woefully unprepared for writing in new mediums.

Generating Generationalism

After peeking at my profile for the first time since I entered grad school (when, like many [I think], I went through a massive "cleanup" of my facebook profile), I decided that I'd have to latch on to Stephanie Vie's description of "Generation M" before I could deal with any other issues between my profile and the readings.

Apparently, I first identify myself by my generation, which was a bit of a surprise considering it's become something of a moo point to me over the past year or so. Must've been a passing phase or something. Next, I identify myself as someone fairly involved with political affairs, including a dog-whistle reference to Bill Hicks fans. The last chunk of my "bio" identifies me as a fairly regional, urban person shaped largely by local affairs. My profile picture, leftover from summer, of my dog both identifies me as a dog owner and perhaps as more mainstream or professional than the rest of my profile (including my latest post), but the only other indication of a professional (as opposed to personal) identity is my friends list, composed almost entirely of grad-school friends and acquaintances. The box below my picture is significant because, in the genre of social media profiles, the "caption" box is meant to frame a quotation or phrase that essentializes one's identity; in my case, I've opted for a rather offensive quote that seems to reinforce the abrasive language of my "bio."

The audience for this little performance would, by most observers, appear to be either young adults or adults situated in a non-professional space. While my friends list seems to indicate that my audience is, in fact, composed of professionals, the remainder of my viewable profile seems to indicate to my audience that I view Facebook as a space outside of the office--and my online communication (I'll get into that later) reinforces this perspective.

Anyway, as a self-identified member of Generation X, I do feel that there is a generation gap between myself and "Generation M," or the Millenials as I know them, but not when it comes to technological ability (12). I've been able to engage with computer technology (let's be clear about what Vie's really getting at--Gen X had Walkmans [Walkmen?] and CB radios, those primitive versions of modern distractions; the iPod and the iPhone are only significant because they incorporate computer technology and interfaces) since I was 13, and since I began teaching I find that I'm far more adept at it than the so-called Generation Media that I primarily work with and teach. For example, I thought Wikispaces had an intuitive enough interface that I was able to figure it out in 10 minutes; two weeks into the course, I was still explaining to students how to create an account, get set up, and start posting their profiles and other homework assignments. Far from being one of the instructors who're a generation behind their students in technological and media prowess, one of my greatest complaints is that my students are incapable of using "basic" (to me, of course) technologies and interfaces.

Vie's study is flawed because, aside from being terribly outdated (2006? Facebook and Myspace were barely off the ground), it relies on a very selective and very small sample set for its data--127 instructors and 354 undergraduates responded to a "nationwide survey" (17). So her argument that instructors are a generation behind their students is, at best, unsupported by any credible evidence, and I'm certain that if NCTE were to conduct a similar survey, in 2008 or today, we might see some very different results. Furthermore, far from being the panoptical surveyers of their instructors' private lives, my encounters with students on Facebook (I don't own a Myspace account; long story) have been either quiet (am I lurking in their friend lists, amongst the Farmville players they never talk to either?) or they have engaged with me as they would with a respected family member or older sibling--occasional props and agreement, always with some level of deference (19).

I mentioned earlier that my profile seems to advertise my online identity as existing in a non-professional space, and I believe that this allows me to interact with others--especially my colleagues--in ways that I would never interact with them within professional spheres. For example, I wouldn't just walk into class and announce "I think it's stupid that Rowling's publishing two more Harry Potter novels! What more could she have to say after 'and his scar never hurt again?'" I mentioned once in Dr. Butler's 512 course last year that Dumbledore is gay, which launched a long off-topic class discussion that Dr. Butler had to try very hard to shut down; since then, I don't mention Harry Potter when I'm at school/work unless a professor brings him up first. However, on Facebook, that conversation would likely have gone far further than it ever did in class. In this respect, social media allows me to interact with my colleagues in a way that I certainly wouldn't in-class, and most of us tend to keep that distinction between professional and personal spaces (prompting me to ask Kristin, a few weeks ago, if she minded the intrusion were I to message her on Facebook about my book review).

Also, considering that trying to find time to interact with each other in academia is like trying to lean out of your car window to have a conversation with others stuck in traffic--we're all going different ways, and don't really have a chance to say much more than "Hello," and "I've got to get to class!" or "I've got to finish this paper."--social media seems perfectly suited to the types of asynchronous bursts of conversation that we academics tend to use to stay in touch and socialize. Since we're all familiar with the image of the overworked grad student, surrounded in their home or office by piles of articles and books (and empty energy drink cans or half-filled cups of coffee), the beauty of social media is that it still allows us workaholics to socialize outside of office functions.

I've now been writing this post for three hours, without multitasking (though I've done a bit of daydreaming and made a quick trip to the gas station for another energy drink), and so I think I'm going to leave it here. My last thought: wouldn't it be cool if we could do this with seminar papers too?