Since
I will not be writing an article for this course, I've decided for this week's
blog post to comment on Robert Brooke's article "Underlife and Writing
Instruction".
Before
this last week I was unfamiliar with the idea of underlife. In an abstract way,
though, I have been familiar with the concept for years. I believe that anyone
who has been a student has experienced underlife in the classroom. What started
as occasional note passing, a prodigious amount of doodling, and sneakily
reading novels under the desk in grade school (no surprise that I wound up in
the field of English, I suppose) has in more recent progressed to any number of
possible distractions thanks to the presence of a laptop on my desk.
Of
course there is always the ever-popular witty comment to whoever happens to be
sitting beside me. This type of comment usually has something to do with the
material, and so is perhaps more noble and positive than simple distraction and
escapism. Brooke writes about this behavior in a class he observed, saying “Their
retreat from class participation was a retreat which took a class concept with
it, and which applied that concept in a highly creative and accurate way.”
(725) I agree with Brooke’s optimistic assessment of this type of behavior. If
someone is able to joke about the material, then they clearly understand it and
are processing it in some fashion. It’s kind of the same idea as that which
says that taking handwritten notes helps students to remember material better.
You take in the information and the put it back out into the world in a way
that you can understand.
While
there are any number of reasons for a student to be distracted during class, I
know that at least for me my distraction has in the past been partially an
attempt to preserve my individuality. In high school I was not exactly the picture
of a rebellious youth, but I did have some idea of resisting what I saw as
public school’s desire to indoctrinate me into their system. Everything is more
dramatic when you are fourteen.
In
recent years, having at last the opportunity to study more or less what
interested me, I was much more likely to pay attention and seek to contribute
to class discussions. Doubtless this is also due to my growth in maturity since
I’ve been in high school, but I think it would be foolish to discount the fact
that if a student is interested in the material they are more likely to pay
attention. In my own experience the times I have paid most attention in class
is when I have been actively seeking to comment on something. To a certain
extent this goes back to what Brooke says about information games—we are all
communicating certain information in order to be perceived in a certain way
(722). If I feel I have nothing valuable to contribute, I will generally remain
quiet. Abraham Lincoln famously remarked “Better to remain silent and be
thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.” So I think that it all
goes back to the teaching—ideally the instructor will be able to communicate
the material in such a way that it can be understood by students and lead to a
fruitful class discussion.
Nice thinking here about underlife. It seems to me that there are some realities in teaching, and especially in teaching writing, that will always exist. Students will do the least amount possible, by in large, will be more interested in other things in their lives, won't really read comments carefully in order to improve writing process but rather product, etc. So, we either fight these things, or embrace them, and figure out ways to help students bridge productively to learning outcomes. All goes back to teaching, as you say. So, we have to think about strategies Brooke shares.
ReplyDeleteMary, I like that you have made these ideas so relatable here. Of course we all have (at one time or another) enjoyed quietly sharing witticisms with our classmates, passing notes, browsing the internet, or secretly getting other classwork done during deeper lulls in a classroom. As a student, I am so inclined for side more so on the ideas of underlife, and yet, why--when I imagine myself as a teacher--do I feel inclined to knock these ideas? I think I go back to the idea that, if I have goofed off in classes in the past, I really wasn't gaining anything from the course at the time. Most of my classes in university had the amazing ability to draw me away from any "underlife" I brought into the room with me, truly engaging me in the course material (even though sometimes I actively tried to remain less involved). I know distractions are bound to happen, but I think at the back of my mind, I worry that if these distractions happen, it is because I am not being engaging enough as a teacher (while this may or may not be true). *Whew.* Lots to consider here.
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