Posts with the tag 'Criticism'

Comments on Graff, Part 2

My thoughts this week are a bit more disjointed and scattered than my past posts have been. I have been sick, so this may have something to do with it. On the other hand, I found the last chapters of Clueless in Academe much more of a hodgepodge than the first seven. That being said, I found these chapters much more engaging and practical than those we read last week. (I previously commented that Graff identified problems, and even suggested some solutions, but offered no practical way to implement them). Although these last chapters seemed more of a grab-bag, Graff does suggest some practical approaches to engaging students and bridging the gap between academic and student life.

As Graff points out, students are steeped in their own culture of argumentation. Students argue passionately with their friends about any number of issues (as Graff points out in his anecdotes about sports, nerds, and tough kids). This argument culture starts much earlier, though. As anyone who has ever stood in line behind a four year-old and his mom at the grocery store knows, kids learn how to make claims, counterclaims, and pre-emptive arguments almost as soon as they know how to talk. Young kids (and the students they become) simply don’t recognize that what they’re doing is in any way “academic.”

According to Graff: “schools should be tapping far more than they do into students’ youthful argument cultures, which are not as far removed as they seem from public forms of argument” (155). When I first read this suggestion, I was a bit skeptical. Sure, some students argue passionately and articulately about things that matter to them; however, there are just as many students who “argue” with adjectives, i.e. “that sucks,” or “that’s cool.”

The key, as Graff points out, it isn’t enough to simply teach a unit on popular music and expect students to jump into an academic conversation. (Additionally, if it’s not done right, students might react negatively to teachers “being fake” or “trying to look cool.” Teachers need to give students the vocabulary of argumentation, which they can then apply to classroom conversations about any number of issues. As teachers and educational scholars, we are steeped in academic lingo. We forget that even if students have the skills to articulate their position on an issue, they may not have the right vocabulary. Graff identifies modeling basic argumentative structure and clarifying key terms (such as “claim,” “counter,” “maintain”) as two relatively simple things teachers can do to help imrove students’ argumentative skills.

Another great suggestion comes from Chapters 10, “Outing Criticism.” Although criticism is often confusing (even alienating), Graff makes a great argument for introducing students to it sooner and more frequently. Of course, teachers need to pre-select articles that are written clearly and are not steeped in excessive jargon. Bearing that in mind, if used properly, critical writing could radically alter the way students think about literature. In addition to demystifying the academic world, it could demonstrate that literature is relevant outside of the classroom, expose students to the larger “intellectual conversation,” and provide them with a potential “naysayer” for future essays they may write.

As I finish this post, I am realizing that I have to retract (or at least qualify) some of my earlier comments. I initially said that I felt this half of the book was not as cohesive as the first. While the topics were more varied, there is a common thread running through the last seven chapters: taking students seriously. If we take students seriously, we recognize that their interests are valid. We acknowledge their pre-existing conversational and argumentative skills. This type of validation, from a student perspective, is priceless. It creates a classroom environment in which students feel at ease, and are thus more likely to fully engage and participate in the learning experience.

Add comment April 8th, 2008

So can I even criticize anything now? Am I textually empowered?

I have impatiently waited for 2 months to see The Other Boleyn Girl movie (and I know that I’ve blogged about it before - sorry to bring this up again) and it was very disappointing.  (The book is always better.  Right?)  There were two types of people in the theatre - those who read the book (me and my two friends) and those who didn’t (about 80% of the audience).  Ok, there were three types - also the annoyed boyfriends.  During the scene where Anne suggests incest to her own brother (so she can produce a male heir) the whole theatre gasped out loud, and there were even a few “ewww”s to be heard.  My friend and I quickly exchanged looks, and mentally told each other, “Somebody here didn’t read the book.”  Now fast-forward to Monday night, when my friend and I tried to convince a coworker that the movie was awful and it butchered the novel.  This coworker enjoyed the movie, but didn’t read the book.  After my friend and I badgered her for about 45 minutes while also feeling like snooty film critics, the coworker gave up and said,  “Well, I just really liked it anyways…geez you guys. I was entertained!  I know the accents were bad, and I didn’t know all my Tudor history, but gimme a break - it’s a fiction drama anyway.” 

Now fast-forward to the Scholes part and more criticism.  After reading some Textual Power, I felt really bad for badgering my friend.  How many movies have I seen without reading the book? - Plenty.  Who am I to be a critic when Scholes feels like the critic of all critics?  Here I am trying to explain everything my coworker friend missed in the film, when Scholes is telling me, “You won’t be able to define yourself against reading Hemmingway if you don’t understand Mantegna.” (not in those exact words).  The sad part is that I understand Mantegna and Italian Renaissance art really well, especially after studying abroad in Florence, but I don’t get Hemmingway.  Plus, I can go on about how Scholes’ argument does not make sense because of the radical perspective and radically grotesque detail that Mantegna used for the time period. (And that greenish decayed hue on Jesus’ body is actually ruined paint pigments - so he wasn’t made to look like a zombie with dirty holes to begin with, but I digress…) Even then, Mantegna was taught to me - I had to be told how to interpret him and read different criticisms about his masterpieces.  The only way I can think of art history (and this iconography and allusion to Christ’s wounds) helping us take a critical stance towards Hemingway is that I know taking art history courses teaches you to analyze things to death, and it teaches us common themes that symbolisms that show us who we were and what our society evolved.  With Scholes, I felt like I was only reading unconsciously - “Reading is a largely unconscious activity” (Pg. 21) - and I was missing out on the whole “critical thinking” part.  I started to resonate a little bit with Scholes only in the first two chapters.  I got the warm fuzzy Pollyanna feeling, and I thought, “oh, hey this won’t be so bad,” but then I started feeling more confused at chapter 3.  How will this help students become textually empowered?  No, I feel like the high school students you’ve described.  “Just tell me the answer!”  And how is he going to teach me to teach using his theories when I don’t understand what he’s teaching?  Hmmm…

Add comment March 4th, 2008


ENGL 610:002 // Spring 2008

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