Tom Liam Lynch :: New Literacies, New Literatures

A recent piece in Education Week makes the case that the second round Race to the Top winners all made hefty promises to flesh out online learning in their states.  The piece begins:

While public education experts have for weeks debated which priorities weighed most heavily in the second round of the federal Race to the Top grant competition applications, a review by an online education organization shows most of the 10 winning states submitted strong online learning proposals.

Read the full article here (paid subscription)…

According to education scholar Larry Cuban, what we are experiencing currently–innovation grant money, chart school-cap-lifting, and teacher evaluation blitzes–is yet another way policymakers and “reformers” oversimplify educational needs in order to make a buck, feel good, get re-elected or a combination of all three.  He writes:

National curriculum standards, charters, and evaluating and paying teachers on the basis of student test scores are fashionable now. Why? Because of the underlying popular idea—“wisdom of the moment”–that the nation’s economic crisis is an educational problem in cities (not affluent suburbs, however) that must be solved.

I’ve not looked up the word “wisdomlessness,” but I imagine Cuban was tempted to use it, if the word existed.  There is little arguing with the notion that educational reform often has its rhetorical roots deeply dug into economic soil.  The link between economy and literacy, for instance, has been growing strong since the States were colonies.  Cities, as economic hubs of industry, seem the natural target for the kind of wisdomless reform Cuban describes.  I pause here though with his dichotomizing of poor cities vs. affluent suburbs.  There are pockets of rich and poor in most cities; there are horribly underserved suburban communities as well.  The dichotomy here serves as little more than an intellectual ottoman.

Professor Cuban’s blog posts are well worth a read.  Read the entirety of this post here.

TechCrunch culled this infographic from Newsweek.  When speaking with a friend this weekend, I expressed my own hope that it doesn’t come down to an either/or.  Surely the reading public won’t have to choose one over the other.  (I say that, of course, as someone who carries an iPad in his bag, an iPhone in his pocket, a BlackBerry on his belt, and a book in his hand when commuting in the morning.)

Online learning needs to go social.  So says the founder of Einztein.com, a free course search engine, which is well worth a visit and a browse.  In his piece on Mashable! recently, Marco Masoni writes:

What’s required are innovative approaches to course design that set aside old models of instruction where theory often trumps actuality. Online course providers must embrace the web’s potential to match students with the kinds of timely knowledge and skills that address current issues head-on, and enable them to thrive in the global marketplace.

Yes, the web’s potential to make learning experiences dynamic and real-time is seemingly limitless.  And exciting.  Still, when I search through what’s out there using Einztein’s site, I’m disappointed.  Like iTunes U, Einztein allows users to connect with myriad courses and online instructional videos.  I did a search for Milton, for instance, and it linked me to Yale’s Open Course on the poet.  That’s not what disappoints me.  In fact, it’s incredible that these kinds of courses are available for free to anyone with internet access.  What does disappoint me is that for Masoni (and Apple, for that matter) learning still resembles one-way communication from an expert to unknowing students.  Students are empty vessels whose minds are to be filled with factoids and figures.  He skips scrutinizing this point and jumps eagerly to the use of “real-time” lessons:

It’s not enough for a course to be accessible online, it must also be designed in a way that keys into the digital pulse of current events, trending topics and insider knowledge endemic to the web.

No.  It’s not enough for a course to be accessible online if it used as a way to perpetuate the kinds of monolithic teaching that are iconic of traditional means of instruction.  I think the merits of real-time learning are not talked about enough.  Still, it is what students do with the information they learn that matters.  If all a student does is watch a professor lecture on Milton for nine hours and take an exam (which I myself might enjoy immensely) have we really innovated teaching and learning?  The medium is not enough, not without equal attention paid to pedagogy.

In her piece on college textbook costs, MoneyWatch’s Lynn O’Shaughnessy not only lists a $1,215 communications encyclopedia, but also adds this quick insight:

One reasons why more students don’t turn to the Internet for cheap college textbooks is because many college bookstores, which are more expensive, don’t release the names of required college textbooks for classes until the last minute. To get the cheapest textbooks possible, contact professors this summer so you’ll have plenty of time to find the best textbook deals.

As I’ve described elsewhere, this might be another reason to work toward students writing their own textbooks with the teacher’s expert guidance.  Certainly in this age of free and shareable media, these kinds of prices will remain a distant superlative.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about what is happening to the reading the books over the past few days as I’ve been carting my new iPad around with me like a gloating schoolboy.  I found two texts that might be worth a look for other bookish types.  They are:

This video about the history of books from the Wall Street Journal:

And this infographic that gives a long visual history of the book.  Only problem, it ends its history right before the advent of the iPad.

(Thanks to Larry Ferlazzo for the links.)

David Brooks wrote a piece called “The Medium is the Medium” in the NY Times recently about a study that shows giving “disadvantaged students” books to take home to read improves test scores.  Brooks is quick to point out that other studies suggest that Internet-reading and activity is linked to slumps in test scores. A dichotomy, Mr. Brooks? Really? The Big Bad Computer against the Tried and True Book?

Three Cheerleaders in the Tomes vs. Technology Battle

Brooks then uses these two studies to set up Nicholas Carr’s new book about the dangerous effects the Internet is having on our brains.  Brooks writes:

These two studies feed into the debate that is now surrounding Nicholas Carr’s book, “The Shallows.” Carr argues that the Internet is leading to a short-attention-span culture. He cites a pile of research showing that the multidistraction, hyperlink world degrades people’s abilities to engage in deep thought or serious contemplation. Carr’s argument has been challenged. His critics point to evidence that suggests that playing computer games and performing Internet searches actually improves a person’s ability to process information and focus attention. The Internet, they say, is a boon to schooling, not a threat.

Carr and Brooks might have in mind here the work of scholars like James Paul Gee, whose writings on the positive effects of video games on literacy have been widely cited.  So to review up to this point: Brooks is cheering for the victory of books, Carr is warning of the dangers of digital literacy, and Gee et al. are championing video games and online media as the new literacy that seems to transcend traditional approaches to reading and writing.

Teach the Battle, the Argument

Dichotomies are of little use if they aren’t used to dig into the nuances of issues.  This is no different.  While I respect the work of Brooks, Carr, and Gee, I can’t understand why such smart people get so comfortable in their either/or positions.  Wouldn’t we all benefit from a discussion about when we read digitally and when we read on paper?  Wouldn’t our students benefit from the conversation concerning how they read for different purposes at different times rather than the pontification that “Books are better for you!” or “The Internet is rotting your mind!” or “Video games are inherently educational”?  The only reason I can think of that such thoughtful men would become so comfortable slinging their ideas to one side of a dichotomy is this: it sells and the media eats it up.

The Validity of Heaviness

A few years ago I had a student who was clearly not reading for class.  I asked to speak with her after class.  When I posed the question to her–”It seems like you haven’t been reading the assignments. Is that true?”–she didn’t hesitate to say that she hadn’t read a page.  “Why haven’t you read?” I asked.  She looked down at the floor where her book bag was resting.  She pulled out the book.  “I can’t carry this home with me,” she added, “it’s too heavy.” It’s easy to say that she was making up silly excuses for not wanting to read and that I should have told her exactly that right there and then.  I did.  And she apologized, promised to read, and left. She didn’t read the next assignment.  Or the one after that. What did I gain by ignoring her complaint–that the physicality, the texture, and the weight of a book was too much for her to manage?  I wished I had engaged her further–do you read online? do you find other books more readable?  do you need glasses? I didn’t ask these questions, though.  I found a comfortable corner in a two-sided room and I ensconced myself there.  Quite happily.

Get Beyond the Dichotomy

Surely there is more to be learned by probing into initial dichotomies than by stubbornly claiming a side of one.  For instance, what would the above authors think about the fact that I read their texts online?  Or, to phrase it as one of my favorite question types, What was lost and what was gained when I read their pieces online rather than on paper?  Think about that.  By asking that question–a question that uses a dichotomy and pushes through it–I’m left asking about my own relationship to reading and encouraged to question, not to make staunch and flashy claims. It’s worth noting a small and significant moment in David Brooks’ opening.  He writes:

Recently, book publishers got some good news. Researchers gave 852 disadvantaged students 12 books (of their own choosing) to take home at the end of the school year. They did this for three successive years.

Notice the parentheses.  Perhaps there is significance in students’ choosing.  Perhaps we, as adults in their lives, should guide them in better understanding their choices–to read or not to read, to read online or to read on paper, to read a serious text or to read a humorous one.  (Perhaps the medium is not the medium. Perhaps the reader is.)

I came across this advertisement in my research.  It’s easy to forget that the interplay between teaching and technology, education and businesses, is not as new or novel as it seems.  This ad is from a 1894 education magazine:

A product development group’s study recently found that readers read more quickly on paper than on e-readers, the iPad in particular.  Ian Paul, of PC World, writes

So it appears technology hasn’t quite figured out yet how to replicate the experience of the printed page. That said this study leaves a lot to be desired owing to its small test group size, but it would be interesting to see a similar study on a much larger scale. I’d be curious to find out, for example, if there’s any big difference in reading speeds based on age groups.

Paul is right to point out that the test group leaves much to be desired (only 24 people who already read with frequency) and I agree that a larger study would be intriguing.   Do reluctant readers, for instance, find the device on which they read to make a difference in a text’s readability?  Or, are some works better read on some devices (this study uses Hemingway’s short stories). There are other considerations raised by this study, too.

Reading Faster is Better

Or so one would think based on this study.  Why is reading speed so important?  Speed is important, perhaps, if one’s job requires them to sift through piles of information in search of only useful data.  Sure, then speed matters.  But, does speed help or hinder one’s experience of reading for pleasure?  Is speed pleasurable?  Or, what if you are reading to think more deeply about yourself as a person (a kind of reading we could all do more of… our young adult students are no exception)?  Is rapid reading a positive attribute in that case?  The emphasis on quick reading suggests to me that the study does privilege a certain kind of reading: reading for specific uses.  This kind of reading runs the risk of ignoring other reasons for reading… readings that aren’t easily aligned with the work-place or with data-gathering.

There Must Be a BEST Way to Read

This study makes you think there is a best way to read out there.  One would think reading more quickly or with clearest comprehension is necessarily a good thing.  And yet, reading slowly in order to enjoy a story or reading a story that defies comprehension can be convincingly argued to have a place and value (consider the kind of confusion, for instance, Italo Calvino masters or that Milton creates through his convoluted Latinate style).  And why choose one over the other?  I would argue that it is much more valuable to teach students to ask themselves what kind of reading experiences they wish or want to have with a particular text.  A student who chooses to read an article on an iPad or a novel on paper (or vice versa) is making a choice that can rightly be ascribed to a maturing reader.  And likely a lifelong one, too.

Who Reads, Not What is Read (or What it’s Read On)

Our attention is misguided if we find so interesting the reading pace of a small study group on iPads while neglecting the more important question: why do these readers read at all.  And equally, why don’t some readers read at all?  The real subject of study is NOT the text that is read or the machine that presents it.  The real subject is the reader.  It is the reader who reads and without whom there is not text or text-presenter.  And all readers CHOOSE to read; they cannot be forced to.  Why readers do and don’t read is–in my mind–a central question in this age of new literacies and technologies.  How they read is also essential.  But, on what they read?  That is only of interest if it helps answer the former questions. We must always come back to who reads and why.  Without that, studies like this one are of only fleeting interest at best and will be quick to go the way of yesterday’s iPad.

A piece in The New Republic by Jed Perl beautifully describes the complicated relationship between writer and reader.  He is especially concerned with the effect that speedy technology is having on this relationship.  He writes:

…the speed with which words, once written, are now being read—a speed shaped by technological innovations long before the Internet turned the quick turnaround into the virtually instantaneous turnaround—has set me to thinking about the extent to which writing, for the writer, ought to have a freestanding value, a value apart from the reader.

Writers’ Right to Remain Silent

He starts to tease out this idea: writers do themselves a disservice when they write in order to be read by some imagined reader.  (For the record, this is a point that conflicts with my own view on the matter. Or did, at least.)  Perl thinks that the thinking process is an intimate one, a messy one, a drippy one.  Writers make sense of things by writing and sometimes forgetting or rereading.  It’s that

most writing worth reading is the product, at least to some degree, of this extraordinarily intimate confrontation between the disorderly impressions in the writer’s mind and the more or less orderly procession of words that the writer manages to produce on the page.

Writers have a right to be left unread.  To be read is to be drawn into a relationship, a commitment, that etches one’s thoughts into some textual stone.  There is value, Perl argues, in simply writing and in NOT being read:

Nobody understands the extent to which, even for the widely acclaimed author with ready access to publication, the process of writing can sometimes necessitate a rejection or at least an avoidance of one’s own readers.

That avoidance of readers gives writers a sort of right to remain silent.  What’s more,

That silence is a part of writing—that the work of this day or this week or even this year might for good reason be withheld—is becoming harder and harder to comprehend.

Forcing Students to Publish

I agree that recently it has become a new industry to publish one’s ideas quickly and quirkily.  I say this, of course, while doing exactly that. (Have you checked my Twitter feeds or clicked on the suggested links below?!)  Still, there is something to be said here for what we do as educators as well.  Aren’t we in the business of making students publish there ideas, no matter how premature those ideas might be?

The Intimacy of Literacy

I’m thinking about this age of accountability and assessment in education when if it isn’t made public and quantified, it doesn’t count.  And yet, there is much to be gained, Perl says, in exactly that: not counting, not sharing.   What would it mean for us as educators to NOT assess students’ work until they are ready to publish it to us?  Are we, as a profession, guilty of disrespecting the intimacy of literacy?

Teaching What We Don’t Know

I’ve asked a similar question before with regard to students’ reading.  Teachers don’t know–for certain–that students read for class.  They know how well they read quizzes, perhaps, but reading itself is a private act and we only know as much as students wish to share with us.  We fight it, perhaps, or trick ourselves into thinking we “can tell” when a student reads for class.  But we don’t know.  Perhaps there’s a lesson to learn about writing too.  Perhaps writing merits its own distance and silence.  In these days of Tweets and Facebooking and blogging, making one’s ideas public is gaining uncritical acceptance.  For Perl,

But if there are risks involved in resisting the public, there are also dangers involved in running after the public. Nobody talks about those dangers anymore.

Someone should be discussing those dangers with students.  Teachers should.

A quick and fantastic collection of links on the topic here.