All My Lifio

Leading the way among my web platform crushes for 2008 is drop.io, simple private sharing. My fondness for this app grows deeper every day. I have an account set up for the section of WRT195 I’m teaching right now, and it couldn’t be much better for uploading and sharing PDFs, slide shows, documents, and audio clips. I simply password protected the account (one of the options when you set up an account), and presto. Students only need the URL and the password. Plus, when students log on to drop.io, they can easily glance the contents of any file by clicking on it. They don’t have to download the files to view the contents. I’m hooked.

Already I can tell that I will be using more slideshow stuff this semester than I have in years past. For one, I am in a cramped space. It wasn’t looking too bad when there were just twelve students enrolled, but within the past week eight more students have added, pushing us to the upper threshold of twenty. On Tuesday, there were a total of nineteen chairs in the room, counting the one my teacherly can was parked on (first come, first served, I say). Really there were only nineteen (counting me) in class that day, and no empty seats; two more have added since, and I had to put in an email request so we will be sure to have enough chairs tomorrow. My point: It’s a cramped space. And rather than shimmy pardon me, excuse me, sorry over to the marker board, I think I will use the projector as a temporary solution. Plus, I can refine my slideshow style with this practice.

Nice about drop.io is that I can drop the slidshow into the quick-drop plugin in Firefox, and there it is: viewable online. It’s slick.

Another thing: drop.io is founded on the idea of limited shelf life: after a year of inactivity, the drop evaporates and with it all of the content uploaded to it. A good match for certain course materials in that it doesn’t flirt with all the niceties (and idealisms) of permanent archivization.

Adobe Agitation

Without extensive qualification, this is a working-through-hang-ups kind of entry. 
Warning: check.

Increasingly, I find myself annoyed by PDFs.  One or two PDFs, I can
handle.  When they come in lesser installments, I’m fine. But more than
that, and I bristle, fume.  In a graduate seminar, for example, I
understand that we might read widely from an assortment of sources.  I
think of PDFs as supplements, add-on, and because they’re harder to scale to the
screen’s dimensions, unlike fluid web texts with which I can enlarge the font, I
struggle to read them on the screen.  I can read scalable web texts on the
screen; even when the font is wonky, it’s easy enough to enlarge it or otherwise
alter it for readability.  Plus, I’ve been using Scrapbook for annotations,
highlighting, and tabbed browsing in Firefox keeps all of it manageable. 

PDFs, depending on how they’re laid out, can be nearly impossible to read on
the screen.  And so I print them out.  And I don’t mind printing them
out, especially when they come in the range of 1-3 per week, let’s say. 
But let’s just say they come in a wave of more than that–say 10 or 15,
hypothetically, of course.  If that were to happen, now I become a
book-making friggin print-house manager.  I have to print, collate,
arrange, run to the store for more printer cartridges, etcetera.  It bumps
the needle on my "busy work" dial into "Pain in the Ass" range.  Warning
lights start to blink.

I printed out 300 pages of PDFs last evening.  The docs were copied one
codex page to one PDF page, so gobs of white space make margin around a 5×7
peninsula of text.  Room for notations, I guess.  But I can only print
the PDFs single-sided, rather than double-sided, as I might do with a
photocopier.  Late Wednesday night, when I drove over to Kinko’s thinking
they’d have a way of helping me switch 15 PDF files from my USB drive to a
photocopier, through which I could churn them out back-front for under a dime a
page, it was another zinger to learn "Um, no, we can’t do that.  Print them
from the computers for 25 cents per page, but only if you’ve fewer than three
files."  I didn’t even try to talk about it, just thanked him and walked on
out.

These intermediary forms leave a lot to be desired, and yet I get the feeling
that lots of folks see PDFs as the wondrous saving grace of print in a digitized
world.  PDF it, that’s easy. Easier even than pre-determined course packs. In fact, the department photocopier is set up
to PDF with amazing efficiency, even emailing it to you when the conversion of copy is complete. As I think through this, I guess I see it as a convenience to
teachers and an inconvenience to students.  It’s a kind of relocation of
the photocopier burden or paper chase from one to the other.  And I’ll be
using three PDFed chapters/essays with 205 students this spring.  It’s as much a matter of threshold, especially when variforms of text are criss-crossing
in all these different spaces, the result of confusion among incommensurable
mediations.  This morning when I opened yet another PDF–reading for a
Monday meeting–and found it, like to oh so many others to be a 1:1 scan, one
page per, and copied with huge smears of black toner-noise filling half of the
lower margin, I had an attack of PDF agitation.  Since both print and
digital texts are with us–all around us–and both necessary and pertinent, I’ll
continue to work on my hang-ups about PDFs, roll my neck until it pops, take a
deep breath, and carry on reading.