Sheridan et al’s book rightfully foregrounds kairos as being
especially important to multimodal composition. The synergies that take place
through multiple modes invigorate traditional forms of writing/speech/thinking.
If those new, invigorated forms are made to interact with other forms, the
synthesis creates new ideas. The computer is the first tool that breaks down
the production time so ideas can be synthesized during the process of creation.
Eisenstein describes the process and material conditions of writing during the
rise of the printing press. She also describes the infrastructures necessary to
transport these texts to locations where they could be synthesized (ahem,
libraries). No single invention allowed the author to draft, synthesize/network,
publish, and disseminate until the computer.
Porter
remarks on the uniqueness of the computer’s contribution to writing as he
dismantles Dennis Baron’s argument that computers are no different really from
pencils. Pencils are a great and revolutionary technology, sure. But Porter
says “Rather the revolution is the networked computer and the social/rhetorical
contexts it creates and the way its use impacts publishing practices” (384-85).
If a pencil could do that, we would have a conference called “Pencils and
Writing” like Baron glibly suggests. Computers remove barriers, eliminate time
lag, and erase spatial differences. I’ll use an example from my IMS 171 class.
I
made a study guide on Google Docs and asked my students to fill it out
collectively. They had a week to do it. So for the first six days the
occasional student logged on, dropped in a few notes and signed out. But then,
on the night before the exam, 8-12 students (depending on the moment) were
chatting, adding notes and editing. (I was in there too, but really being more
of a morale booster than a contributor.) The results were not surprising:
students who participated in creating the page on the night before did better
than the ones who simply dropped in some notes early in the week (or those who only
viewed the page).
[And
here I have to stop and go over the rationale for having an exam. The hope is
that the students pay attention to the concepts and theories presented in class
because the exam will test their knowledge in scary ways. As a teacher I need
them to be familiar with the theories and concepts for the second half of the
course, which is largely project/application-based.]
This
all brings me to the second question addressed in last week’s blogs. How do we
teach multimodal rhetoric? Kathleen I thought really got to the heart of the
matter (and gave me some clarity into my own teaching practices) when she
wrote, “to create appropriate responses is to first create an assignment that
allows students to craft their own responses first.” My study guide was more
effective than the exam because it operated in the public sphere in a kairotic
way. (What if the study guide was the exam?) In the conversation following
Kathleen’s post, the respondents (myself included) discussed what constraints
might hinder/aid in the composition.
In
her post on the same question Keely rightly points out the possible anarchy of
letting students have free reign over all of cyberspace. She states, “ I
think [Sheridan et al] are just asking that teachers offer multiple choices to
their students so that they can weigh the potential effectiveness of the
different methods with respect to their topics and messages.” In effect,
students are being asked to analyze the venue for delivery—since the
constraints are often implicit in the venue. (And that’s even a bit of a
misnomer as my students really stretched what the Google Doc was originally
meant to do.)
Putting
all of these answers together really challenges traditional notions of
teaching. Should we be talking about venues as design choice and audience? Do compressed
time frames lead to better synthesis and communication between students? (If my
experience teaching a compressed summer course is any indication, the answer is
yes.) Should we be providing frameworks that are limiting to the students in
ways that force them to address the platform? (An essay written via twitter? A
public argument made solely through Instagram?) And now I have to turn the
question back on our more conventional teaching moments: When we simply assign
an essay without venue constraints (and only thoughts of the imaginary
audience) are we inviting anarchy in the writing process?
The last question stands out to me: "When we simply assign an essay without venue constraints (and only thoughts of the imaginary audience) are we inviting anarchy in the writing process?"
ReplyDeleteMy reaction is that it is not anarchy (which might actually be exciting, to some degree) but rather utterly boring writing that we're inviting. The imaginary audience or the dreaded "the class" seems (based on my one semester of teaching, ha) to result in the formulaic research paper the students learned how to produce in high school.
Dustin raises this point in his synthesis blog post: "I don’t know how realistic it is to ask students to produce something to a public audience." After this group of readings (esp. Sheridan et al) I think, well geez I have to try. And the way to begin to make the audience more public, more "real," it seems to me, is to invite questions of delivery right up front with invention. And I'm kicking myself for asking the students to do an Annotated Bibliography and then a Research Paper. Next time it's going to be Research Blog --> Synthesis Draft (Lit Review-ish) --> Text that Can Actually Do Something --> Deliver it.
Eh I misread. You're already assuming that the students will aim to effect public venues that are real and beyond the class ... but the question becomes one of how much direction to give them. Yeah, I see. Hmm. So far Erin's online petition wins for innovation ... I'll have to keep thinking about this, though. Used to see constrains as terrible. Now see them as highly generative. Constraints for real audience ... hmm. Something I need to ponder more.
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