What calls for thinking
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Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
the passage below is from James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, originally published in 1916. In describing the elementary school experience of its protagonist, Stephen Daedelus, it highlights some of the routinized aspects of classroom activity:
Routine and order pervade the time and space of this classroom: A call of "all in" brings the students into the classroom. At a pre-determined time, students are taken from one clearly defined space (the playground) to another (the classroom). The space of the classroom, as Joyce later indicates, is one that is ordered in rows, overseen from the head by the teacher (Mr. Hartford). Once at their places in the classroom, students are expected to engage in a highly focused activity: The work of writing in which students copy down sentences, and in so doing, learn how to form letters and also how to hold their pens. The interface or relational strategy here --the visual and motor space that is opened up for the writing student-- are constituted by page, pen, book and desk.
The body in Joyce's description is foregrounded in a number of significant ways. The arrangement of page, pen, ink and desk requires particular embodied comportment and even discipline: Students are required to sit still in their rows of desks, and to apply themselves to the physical and intellectual task at hand. The reason that the protagonist views this earnest activity as a passive onlooker in the description above is because his glasses had been broken in the playground. It is also in this connection that the dimension of lived body becomes important: Stephen’s experience here is of a person who is largely excluded from the space of the text and of writing because of a significant (albeit temporary) bodily handicap. He can only make out the most obvious letters or shapes when he squints.
A voice from far out on the playground cried:
-All in!
And other voices cried:
-All in! All in!
During the writing lesson he sat with his arms folded, listening to the slow scraping of the pens. Mr Harford went to and fro making little signs in red pencil and sometimes sitting beside the boy to show him how to hold his pen. [Stephen] had tried to spell out the headline for himself though he knew already what it was for it was the last of the book. ZEAL WITHOUT PRUDENCE IS LIKE A SHIP ADRIFT. But the lines of the letters were like fine invisible threads and it was only by closing his right eye tight and staring out of the left eye that he could make out the full curves of the capital. (Joyce, 1997, p. 37)
Routine and order pervade the time and space of this classroom: A call of "all in" brings the students into the classroom. At a pre-determined time, students are taken from one clearly defined space (the playground) to another (the classroom). The space of the classroom, as Joyce later indicates, is one that is ordered in rows, overseen from the head by the teacher (Mr. Hartford). Once at their places in the classroom, students are expected to engage in a highly focused activity: The work of writing in which students copy down sentences, and in so doing, learn how to form letters and also how to hold their pens. The interface or relational strategy here --the visual and motor space that is opened up for the writing student-- are constituted by page, pen, book and desk.
The body in Joyce's description is foregrounded in a number of significant ways. The arrangement of page, pen, ink and desk requires particular embodied comportment and even discipline: Students are required to sit still in their rows of desks, and to apply themselves to the physical and intellectual task at hand. The reason that the protagonist views this earnest activity as a passive onlooker in the description above is because his glasses had been broken in the playground. It is also in this connection that the dimension of lived body becomes important: Stephen’s experience here is of a person who is largely excluded from the space of the text and of writing because of a significant (albeit temporary) bodily handicap. He can only make out the most obvious letters or shapes when he squints.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
CLASS BLOGS
A list, for quick reference.
Brenton: http://hermenwho.blogspot.com/
Judy: http://plarblog.blogspot.com/
Merilee: http://nigglingquestion.blogspot.com
Susan F. http://phenomenologicalinquiry.blogspot.com/
Gloria: http://infoglo.wordpress.com/
Terryl: http://phenomenologicalpresence.blogspot.com/
Iris: http://sednastories.blogspot.com/
Susan S: http://iam4summer.blogspot.com
A list, for quick reference.
Brenton: http://hermenwho.blogspot.com/
Judy: http://plarblog.blogspot.com/
Merilee: http://nigglingquestion.blogspot.com
Susan F. http://phenomenologicalinquiry.blogspot.com/
Gloria: http://infoglo.wordpress.com/
Terryl: http://phenomenologicalpresence.blogspot.com/
Iris: http://sednastories.blogspot.com/
Susan S: http://iam4summer.blogspot.com
The Experience of Pedagogical Openness, by Sandra Wilde
Beyond simply saying that the question of this article is clear from the title (“what is the experience of pedagogical openness?”), it is kind of challenging to be more specific: The focus of this short but thoughtful and provocative article is clearly on younger children, and on pedagogy in a broad sense, as it is practiced by parents, care-givers and teachers. So the question could be expanded to ask more specifically: “what is the experience of pedagogical openness in infants and younger children” (as opposed to youth or “students” generally). Phrasing the question in this way also helps to point to a paradox that the article raises only implicitly: It says that children are particularly “open” in that they can be spontaneous, living in the present, rather than being preoccupied by the past or planning for the future. But at the same time, it also says that children are in a sense closed, concealing a “life unseen, the other side of the world’s wholeness, the world yet to be revealed” (Smith, 1984, as quoted by Wilde). The child, in other words, is open, but also much about the child is hidden, keeping a large part of his/her experience (and what it needed for our own “wholeness”) concealed, to be revealed only at some point in the future. Unfortunately, the author does not seem to notice this tension.
The author DOES give significant attention, however, to the theme or the existential dimension of time, and does so in a way that was revealing for me. She observes how the experience of time in connection with pedagogical openness is one where the present “dilates”, and the past and (particularly) the future shrink in their importance. Quoting the French philosopher Helene Cixous, she says that in this experience of openness “time is not what goes by but what stays, what *opens* itself.” One is not engaged in an attempt to achieve some future outcome for oneself and for the child (e.g. to make an aggressive child less physical, to quickly put a crying baby back to sleep), but to dwell in and share the child’s present situation. In this context, the child is no longer seen as a “pain” or a “problem” --requiring “relief” or a “solution”—in a situation external from the adult. Instead, the adult enters into the present of the child by “suffering-with” him or her, and this allows the adult to approach the child in a rather different way. The author gives an example of how it enabled a teacher to see one child’s aggressive behaviour not as his or her problem seeking a solution, but as something that is effectively beyond the child, much larger than any technique of reinforcement or control would ever allow.
I’ve been studying the question of openness in online and offline pedagogical contexts, and I now see from this article how openness requires a disruption of our usual task-oriented or “future-oriented” time-frames: in which the present is (in a sense) sacrificed to the future, and the eventual realization of a goal (mundane or grandiose) in a few hours or a few months. It requires that we stop, and take the time to become attuned to someone here and now, not to what we want them to be (or to achieve ourselves) in the future.
Let me conclude by quoting a passage from the paper that’s not quite an anecdote, but that (with some more specificity) could be developed in that direction:
Beyond simply saying that the question of this article is clear from the title (“what is the experience of pedagogical openness?”), it is kind of challenging to be more specific: The focus of this short but thoughtful and provocative article is clearly on younger children, and on pedagogy in a broad sense, as it is practiced by parents, care-givers and teachers. So the question could be expanded to ask more specifically: “what is the experience of pedagogical openness in infants and younger children” (as opposed to youth or “students” generally). Phrasing the question in this way also helps to point to a paradox that the article raises only implicitly: It says that children are particularly “open” in that they can be spontaneous, living in the present, rather than being preoccupied by the past or planning for the future. But at the same time, it also says that children are in a sense closed, concealing a “life unseen, the other side of the world’s wholeness, the world yet to be revealed” (Smith, 1984, as quoted by Wilde). The child, in other words, is open, but also much about the child is hidden, keeping a large part of his/her experience (and what it needed for our own “wholeness”) concealed, to be revealed only at some point in the future. Unfortunately, the author does not seem to notice this tension.
The author DOES give significant attention, however, to the theme or the existential dimension of time, and does so in a way that was revealing for me. She observes how the experience of time in connection with pedagogical openness is one where the present “dilates”, and the past and (particularly) the future shrink in their importance. Quoting the French philosopher Helene Cixous, she says that in this experience of openness “time is not what goes by but what stays, what *opens* itself.” One is not engaged in an attempt to achieve some future outcome for oneself and for the child (e.g. to make an aggressive child less physical, to quickly put a crying baby back to sleep), but to dwell in and share the child’s present situation. In this context, the child is no longer seen as a “pain” or a “problem” --requiring “relief” or a “solution”—in a situation external from the adult. Instead, the adult enters into the present of the child by “suffering-with” him or her, and this allows the adult to approach the child in a rather different way. The author gives an example of how it enabled a teacher to see one child’s aggressive behaviour not as his or her problem seeking a solution, but as something that is effectively beyond the child, much larger than any technique of reinforcement or control would ever allow.
I’ve been studying the question of openness in online and offline pedagogical contexts, and I now see from this article how openness requires a disruption of our usual task-oriented or “future-oriented” time-frames: in which the present is (in a sense) sacrificed to the future, and the eventual realization of a goal (mundane or grandiose) in a few hours or a few months. It requires that we stop, and take the time to become attuned to someone here and now, not to what we want them to be (or to achieve ourselves) in the future.
Let me conclude by quoting a passage from the paper that’s not quite an anecdote, but that (with some more specificity) could be developed in that direction:
I can recall instances of parenting when the children and myself were tired and cranky, when my first impulse was to run from the situation. Sometimes I would desperately pack the children into the car and set off to fill our time with something distracting, like a trip to the zoo. Sometimes, this seemed to work. But if I was running from what really was needed, we would just end up cranky and overtired at the zoo and things would only get worse. Maybe I unknowingly hoped that the zoo activity would take care of them so that I would not have to do the work. (A parent)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Blog Recycling
This blog, which I used the last time I taught EDUC 506 on special topics, is now being put to use for the 2010 version of EDUC 506: "Hermeneutic Phenomenological Research and Writing."
Look here for examples of my own "anecdotal" and reflective writing, and some of my own thoughts on the papers and work we discuss!
This blog, which I used the last time I taught EDUC 506 on special topics, is now being put to use for the 2010 version of EDUC 506: "Hermeneutic Phenomenological Research and Writing."
Look here for examples of my own "anecdotal" and reflective writing, and some of my own thoughts on the papers and work we discuss!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Hi, all
I just read Linda's posting (thanks, Linda!) on the anybody anyplace anytime myth: yes, there definitely is a kind of promotional discourse in e-learning that fits with your characterization.
One of the points of assigning this article was to provide a kind of skeptical warning regarding this kind of writing and thinking --which tends to crop up in different situations. For example, here's an document by an important authority in the "open courseware movement" (of which I am definitely supportive) that unfortunately illustrates this discourse:
1. It starts off with a reference to a recent book in the popular technologist, futurist and/or business literature (Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat). This is only the most recent example in a long line of texts (e.g. Negroponte's Being Digital, Kurzweil's Spiritual Machines, Toffler's the Third Wave) making breathless predictions about the future that simplify complex and contradictory trends and (conservative) ideologies, and present them as inevitabilities or imperatives. It is the language of "inevitability" here and elsewhere that should tip you off that something is afoot.
2. It makes reference to a fourth "e-learning myth" that I didn't include in the chapter you read, but is the myth of the "net-generation." I wrote about this myth (or more accurately, this distortion) in an earlier incarnation of this blog (see also this article on generational differences from Thomas Reeves). This distortion arises from a complex interrelationship between age and technology use that we'll explore in a few weeks.
3. It presents an unequivocal identification of technology (and its particular technological vision) with politicized ideals such as openness, connectedness, personalization, and participation. While opening up course contents is a great idea, there are many things that need to be added to the mix before it results in greater connectedness and personalization in an unqualified sense.
4. The piece talks about education as falling behind business and other institutions and practices. Again, I think the issues have to be seen as more complex. See my post from yesterday for more on this.
so be on the lookout for some of these signs of promotional discourse in writing on e-learning, and don't mistake it for academic writing or the results of research. It has a role to play, of course, but this role should not be confused with more explicitly academic activity.
Cheers,
Norm
I just read Linda's posting (thanks, Linda!) on the anybody anyplace anytime myth: yes, there definitely is a kind of promotional discourse in e-learning that fits with your characterization.
One of the points of assigning this article was to provide a kind of skeptical warning regarding this kind of writing and thinking --which tends to crop up in different situations. For example, here's an document by an important authority in the "open courseware movement" (of which I am definitely supportive) that unfortunately illustrates this discourse:
1. It starts off with a reference to a recent book in the popular technologist, futurist and/or business literature (Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat). This is only the most recent example in a long line of texts (e.g. Negroponte's Being Digital, Kurzweil's Spiritual Machines, Toffler's the Third Wave) making breathless predictions about the future that simplify complex and contradictory trends and (conservative) ideologies, and present them as inevitabilities or imperatives. It is the language of "inevitability" here and elsewhere that should tip you off that something is afoot.
2. It makes reference to a fourth "e-learning myth" that I didn't include in the chapter you read, but is the myth of the "net-generation." I wrote about this myth (or more accurately, this distortion) in an earlier incarnation of this blog (see also this article on generational differences from Thomas Reeves). This distortion arises from a complex interrelationship between age and technology use that we'll explore in a few weeks.
3. It presents an unequivocal identification of technology (and its particular technological vision) with politicized ideals such as openness, connectedness, personalization, and participation. While opening up course contents is a great idea, there are many things that need to be added to the mix before it results in greater connectedness and personalization in an unqualified sense.
4. The piece talks about education as falling behind business and other institutions and practices. Again, I think the issues have to be seen as more complex. See my post from yesterday for more on this.
so be on the lookout for some of these signs of promotional discourse in writing on e-learning, and don't mistake it for academic writing or the results of research. It has a role to play, of course, but this role should not be confused with more explicitly academic activity.
Cheers,
Norm
Saturday, January 17, 2009
E-Learning Myths
One point made in the discussion of technological progress and educational change (on p. 184) that I often think about is this: One can argue that technology and science has radically changed the operation of businesses, the manufacturing of goods, and other areas (e.g. medicine, transportation) have changed. So if someone from the 18th century was being given a tour of institutions and practices in the 21st century, he or she would see real substantial changes in the way that businesses are run, goods are made and transported, and that other activities like communication and leisure activities are undertaken. People on cell phones, watching TV and staring at computer screens would surely be baffling. Arguably, though, if he or she were taken to a school or a university, there would be no surprising changes: with only a few exceptions, the activities would be instantly recognizable. Maybe the only other places that this would be the case would be the church and the courtroom.
I would still maintain that technology has not single-handedly determined the changes that have occurred in these other settings: evolution in the use of computer and other technologies in business, medicine and other areas has been complex, involving many different causes and factors. But that still doesn't explain why there has been so little change in education.
This issue has been a matter of consternation for educational technologists for decades --although I think it should be seen as an opportunity for productive investigation and reflection.
Maybe that is because the school has more in common with the church and the courtroom than it does with the place of business or the hospital? I'm not sure myself, but I welcome thoughts and comments.
One point made in the discussion of technological progress and educational change (on p. 184) that I often think about is this: One can argue that technology and science has radically changed the operation of businesses, the manufacturing of goods, and other areas (e.g. medicine, transportation) have changed. So if someone from the 18th century was being given a tour of institutions and practices in the 21st century, he or she would see real substantial changes in the way that businesses are run, goods are made and transported, and that other activities like communication and leisure activities are undertaken. People on cell phones, watching TV and staring at computer screens would surely be baffling. Arguably, though, if he or she were taken to a school or a university, there would be no surprising changes: with only a few exceptions, the activities would be instantly recognizable. Maybe the only other places that this would be the case would be the church and the courtroom.
I would still maintain that technology has not single-handedly determined the changes that have occurred in these other settings: evolution in the use of computer and other technologies in business, medicine and other areas has been complex, involving many different causes and factors. But that still doesn't explain why there has been so little change in education.
This issue has been a matter of consternation for educational technologists for decades --although I think it should be seen as an opportunity for productive investigation and reflection.
Maybe that is because the school has more in common with the church and the courtroom than it does with the place of business or the hospital? I'm not sure myself, but I welcome thoughts and comments.
Friday, January 16, 2009
I've been reading your posts on blogging and other issues with interest.
Hillary's reflections on her actual and planned use of blogs in the classroom highlights some of the concerns that were also highlighted in the article on Educational Blogging: The fact that blogging often takes place in a kind of uncontrolled environment whereas schools and teachers are expected to provide students with a controlled environment in which they are protected. Also, she raises the question of the "authenticity" of assigning students to write blog posts, and to focus on particular assignments. At the same time, I think that it is a great idea to use blogs as a part of a literature circle: as you say, Hilary, it may provide at least a few students with the chance to be "inspired and to start a 'real blog.'"
Also, the point made in the article that not everyone is a blogger is an important one, and one that Hilary also mentioned. In the article on Educational Blogging, we read:
What happens if that is the case? What happens if, as one blogger quoted in the article puts it, I commit "the ultimate blogging sin of losing interest in myself" (at least as far as blogging about myself goes)?
I look forward to reading your own individual thoughts on blogging on your own blogs!
Hillary's reflections on her actual and planned use of blogs in the classroom highlights some of the concerns that were also highlighted in the article on Educational Blogging: The fact that blogging often takes place in a kind of uncontrolled environment whereas schools and teachers are expected to provide students with a controlled environment in which they are protected. Also, she raises the question of the "authenticity" of assigning students to write blog posts, and to focus on particular assignments. At the same time, I think that it is a great idea to use blogs as a part of a literature circle: as you say, Hilary, it may provide at least a few students with the chance to be "inspired and to start a 'real blog.'"
Also, the point made in the article that not everyone is a blogger is an important one, and one that Hilary also mentioned. In the article on Educational Blogging, we read:
In particular, if you feel no empathy, no twinge of recognition, on reading Pilgrim's words [on writing compusively], then writing a weblog is probably not for you. This does not mean that you are not a part of the weblog world. It merely means that you participate in a different way.
What happens if that is the case? What happens if, as one blogger quoted in the article puts it, I commit "the ultimate blogging sin of losing interest in myself" (at least as far as blogging about myself goes)?
I look forward to reading your own individual thoughts on blogging on your own blogs!
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