Emily Nussbaum’s story in today’s NYT magazine, “My
So-Called Blog,” sizes up the social significance of blogs for
teenagers. Reactions have already posted here
and here; I agree with craniac
at Kariosnews that the article has a few good bits. One of those bits, in
my reading of the story, involves the allure of cheaply controlling an
extrabodily image of oneself, one’s space, even devising ideological signposts
to create a meaning-filled site.
At heart, an online journal is like a hyperflexible adolescent body — but better, because in real life, it takes money and physical effort to add a piercing, or to switch from zip-jacketed mod to Abercrombie prepster. A LiveJournal or Blurty offers a creative outlet with a hundred moving parts. And unlike a real journal, with a blog, your friends are all around, invisible voyeurs — at least until they chime in with a comment.
Since my teenage years have passed and I have no need for new piercings
(although a haircut would be nice, maybe later today), this aspect of Nussbaum’s feature has me thinking about the implications of inexpensive control and image management in teaching. I have been working on a blog for a class I’m teaching this semester, the second in our FY composition sequence, so notions of switching up, of designing an “outlet with a hundred moving parts”
resonate the utility of blogs in higher ed. This is especially true for
many institutions where room assignments change from semester to semester or where adjunct faculty share plain offices with one phone line, if they have any
office space at all. The class blog–with its dialogic nature, design and
content–extends the course beyond the sanitized, often neutral meeting place of
the classroom by enabling it with a sustainable, personalized ideological
decor. What’s more, the decor is, by and large, participatory–shaped by
all members of the class. Through design and use, the blog can affect the identity crises that encroach on our work-space and status in higher ed, esp. in cases where work-space and status are, at times, unfair, ill-conceived and subject to gross fluctuation. It doesn’t fully absolve these issues, but, as it did
for the subjects in Nussbaum’s story, blogging can provide relief. Cheaply.
While I was catching up on reading and responding to student introductions in
my online section of HU211 (Intro to Humanities) this
morning, our guest visited the back porch and set out with his ritual morning
mewl. Through the crying, which, without any change in pitch or volume,
seemed to escalate into a blaring feline yawp over time, I read about one
student who is mid-way through his USMC career and just two courses from a BA in
Emergency Management. His introduction (a brief, paragraph-or-so sketch)
was comparatively candid when read alongside those of peers. He mentioned
living in an inherited house in a sluggish Pennsylvania town, while waiting for
FEMA to start hiring again.
When teaching online courses, I find that early term interactions
significantly condition the level of engagement throughout the accelerated eight
week term. No surprising discovery here. I’ve been at it for two
years now, experimenting with my role in these courses, and when I jump in early
with frequent and substantive posts–as instructor–the course reflects the
stimulus and the threaded discussions are considerably more vibrant. In
comparable f2f courses, I have found the class benefits from a solid starts, but
it’s possible for the course take off even if I moderate my presence, my role as
“teacher,” into something less visible, less assertively
authoritative. This has me thinking about the relation of physicality and body
language to teaching presence in f2f courses and how those issues compare for
online courses (where the teaching is variously present through photos,
biographical blurbs, threaded interactions, and rigid curricular content).
In other words, where is the teacher’s “body” in online education; is
it an imagined corpus extending from the factors listed here? Stamped by
the discipline or the institution?
Continue reading →
[R.E.M. Green in the headphones.]
Yesterday, at lunch, Andy said this about my new blog (without having read
it): "You probably want to avoid building a general blog. The day of the
all-knowing pundit who trails off on this and that is passing. Themed blogs
are probably more successful at attracting and keeping an audience." Okay,
so I didn’t keep notes, but he said something close to this.
And this: "You should add a subtitle explaining Earth Wide Moth."
To wit, I’ve been thinking about genre and audience. I know, I know, others
have thought about it more than me and many good folks at CCCC and C&W will
complicate matters with their presentations on this subject. But it’s with me
now because I’m devising this new blog–without an explicit plan.
The other blog, the one for EN106 this spring, is more clearly in-line with
a purpose I can articulate: pedagogical utility. I understand its aims and ambitions.
I know how it will be used to fray the boundaries of the course, to disarm the
usual restrictions on space and time in f2f courses, and to get students to
write. Audience? Initially, that’s easy. Initially, it will be the students
in the course and me, followed by something more, maybe.
I took time out this morning to read the rant of a
blog-hating student at Indiana State. Mike posted the link at vitia.org.
It’s not easy to understand why the ISU student is so angry about blogging.
I’ve visited blogs that I didn’t find inviting or interesting, but it didn’t
make me mad. It’s kind of like being invited to dinner in a house with brown
shag carpeting…on the walls. As a guest, it’s not decorous to spout off about
the host’s poor taste. Could be that the medium convolutes manners, as in shared
senses of decency.
Gotta get to work. Course-prepping and other admin stuff. Ack!