FoolsCap

Instincts are misleading: You shouldn’t think what you’re feeling.

22 September, 2006

Jit. . .Ut. . .What th’. . .flippin’ Crowley? Again!?

::Woebegone sigh::

p. 151: "[. . .] scholastic [. . . .]"

I’d forgotten abuot this word, I confess.  I just want to highlight it as a possible contender for my replacement for "academic," which, loyal readers know, I want to repurpose in my discourse.

p. 157: "[. . .][If] ‘ideas’ can be represented on paper by ‘topics’ then the externally imposed structure afforded by the outline will insure that random or unconnected ideas are worked out into an orderly progression.  That minds, let alone discourse, sometimes flow into other channels, seems never to occur to authors of current-traditional composition textbooks."

While I hold this to be true, I have some reservations.

  1. One of the things us new GTAs have had drilled into our ever-lovin’ heads is that freshman writing is often unorganized, and that one of our responsibilities as new comp instructors is to help the froshes learn how to organize their work.  But here comes Crowley seemingly undermining that notion (as, I find, Harris seems to at points).  How do we reconcile the assertion that discourse can be enriched by not slavishly following formulae while at the same time filling the expectations set for us (by the dep’t and the university) which might (superficially?) be at odds?
  2. A sidebar that might prove relevant: In a recent class (I won’t name names, but the instructor’s name rhymes with "Barflack") we discussed how an argument is constructed not through its content but through its "meta-discourse": those words which signal relationships between ideas and allow the reader to tie figures together: but, however, contrary, et cetera.  [I think that’s how meta-discourse works.]
  3. What we might see as our goal then, is to help student’s both think critically and generate ideas, even those that might not seem directly related to the subject at hand (see #2) above, and then using the meta-discursive apparatus available, contruct something resembling a sensible argument.
  4. Which leads me, once more, to my rudimentary essay model in the previous post.

Top of the World, Ma!

Why did I quote Cody Jarrett for this post’s title?  I don’t know.

Some thoughts on Jimmy Corder:

p. 4: "[. . .] I am [. . .] interested [. . .] in how studying rhetoric changes a student who had started off in another direction."

I knew this was all a plot for you rhet/comp to co-opt me out of the lit/cult concentration. . . .

All kidding aside: As much as I bitch about reading rhetoric and associated theory, I think it’s starting to have some effect on me.  Not that I’m being lured to what we in cultural studies call "the dark side," but I am getting a clearer idea on what I want to achieve in my comp classes.  It’s not a fully formed idea yet, but it’s taking shape.

p. 13: "[. . .] [I]f an essay is truly meditative and exploratory, it can’t possibly have a thesis sentence early in the paper."  [Italics mine–MLM]

Hm.  So, a "good" essay could (should?) have a thesis, but it should form a conclusive pose rather than an introductory one?  I sort of like this idea, even though it is maybe modeled a little too heavily on dialectical approaches (just choose one. . .I think at least Socratic and Hegelian fit here).  So an essay would sort of work like this:

  • Question/problem/observation
  • answer/solution/ramification
  • question/problem/observation
  • answer/solution/ramification [repeat as necessary]
  • (Syn)thesis/conclusion/sum

Again, we should all acknowledge the faults and dangers of any model, but I admit I do sort of like this (tentative) structure–it opens room for more insight than the 3-Facts-and-you’re-done 5 paragraph theme does, and it suggests a good way to trace a student’s thought processes.  I’d be interested in any feedback y’all wish to share.

p. 18: "If we acknowledge and name the anxieties, fears, difficulties, and problems that are out there waiting for us [. . .] they’re not quite so scary."

I hereby claim this as my absolution for whining all over the place the first week or so of the blog.

p. 25: "[. . .] [T]here was once a core of knowledge, a canon, a set of letters, if you will, that was steady, dependable, and shared by all, generation after generation."

I freakin’ love this guy! 

I think Corder here puts his finger on why I find the (ir)relevance of the canon so important.  As he notes on the following page: "[. . .] the gap between speakers and hearers now may seem or be far wider than ever before."  I think by losing a canon, or, at the risk of sounding reactionary, revising it for the sake of meeting an agenda (personal, critical, political,or otherwise), I think we create an increasing disconnect between ourselves.  Not primarily as individuals, but between teacher/students, between disciplines, between apprentices in the field and tenured role models.  I quoted Hamlet in an e-mail to a friend the other day, and she, despite being enrolled in a major research university’s English dep’t, didn’t recognize the line.  Now please don’t read this as me calling her out on it: she knows buckets and buckets more about rhetoric and New Media stuff than I do (for which I envy her immensely), the point I wish to make is this: If the (generally acknowledged) greatest literary work in our tongue cannot be thought to be universal, well. . .what the hell are we doing studying literature?  (I suppose that quandary doesn’t apply to you rhet/comp people.)

p. 27: "We’re a little afraid that the community, or at least a growing part of it, has repudiated the academy and will burn our books."

And now for Mike’s Half-Baked Political Rambling Show:

Now that the neocon agenda has labeled "liberal" as something evil, is it time to change the name of "Liberal Arts?"  To what, I don’t know, but although I have no problem being called liberal (since in most matters political I am), I’m afraid that the continuing trend of anti-intellectualism (see: the reelection of G. W. Bush) in the U.S. will only be exacerbated by this nomenclature.  I think many people (red-staters) look at academia as a conspiratorial cabal secretly trying to undermine all "normal" Americans hold dear: Mom, apple pie, the right to hunt deer with assault weapons, the right to tie a gay youth to a fence in Wyoming and beat him to death. . . .I’m not ignorant of the fact that, yes, most members of the academy tend to lean more left than other occupations.  Yes, I understand the fear that a subtle act of indoctrination is taking place in our nation’s classrooms–a somewhat more reasonable fear, perhaps, than the ones that have made gay marriage illegal.  But Jesus, people, come on: If you’ve taught your brats anything about critical thinking and self-reliance (we can’t do all the work) they’re not at risk of being brainwashed by our liberal propaganda!  I think that’s what’s so frustrating about these folks: the fact that they have so little faith in their own children’s faculties.  Grr!  Gnash!  Rend!

p. 30: "Style is the revelation of identity, the syndrome of character, open to diagnosis."

  • I read this and thought of Joe Harris’s use of "voice," as being that which uniquely identifies the author of a text.  No further observation, just a comment.
  • Although. . .I resist this definition of style because I don’t want it confused with other uses of style in popular discourses.  For example: I don’t really think buying a certain designer’s jeans counts as a "revelation of identity."  At least, I hope it would not.
  • On second thought, maybe this definition works precisely because of its discursive entanglements.  If someone does buy, say Ralph Lauren jeans, doesn’t that reveal something about his personality, or at least, how he conceives his personality?
  • What troubles me further is the suggestion that style/personality must be "diagnosed."  I think Corder treads dangerously close to the judgemental models we discussed when reading Connors.
  • "Diagnosis" to me also suggests that–even if we restrict the "diagnosis" to the confines of a student’s written work–we are judging it against an abstract standard, from which any deviation must be "cured."  As Corder himself notes,and as we’ve seen reiterated repeatedly, there is no absolute standard for good writing.  I think we risk limiting a student’s growth both analytically and stylistically if we take it upon ourselves to "cure" stylistic deficiencies.
  • Anyway, most of our students probably will not have had enough writing experience to have what I would call "style."

Peace out.

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