While growing up in the 80's, one of my favorite movies was Red Dawn. When HBO had it on high rotation, you could often find me in the dark of my grandparent’s basement comfortably sprawled, blanketed, and bepillowed on a seventies’ styled Brown on Beige checkered shag of a couch, eyes intently glued to a 13 inch color TV that Pap had rigged with cable. As the basement was adjacent to the garage, smells of oil, gasoline and grease permeated the atmosphere. I did not care (in fact, I came to love those smells). I had one thought and one thought only on my mind: WOLVERINES!
For those of you who have not had the great fortune to have experienced John Milius' opus, here is a brief synopsis (taken from IMDB):
"Red Dawn" envisions a mid-1980's America under siege from invading Russian and Cuban armies. Told at a boiling point of nuclear deterrence between the world's super powers, the threat focuses on a group of high school students who take refuge in the Rockies. First coping with survival and eventually fighting back guerrilla style, the students take the war to the invading armies in the hope that they can help turn the tide. As winter progresses; however, the group is worn down, physically, emotionally and mentally by war's attrition. As only a few remain, they must decide how to reach America's safe zones and see if tomorrow will bring another Red Dawn.
Without spoiling the ending I will say that as a kid, I missed the Cold War / Anti-Soviet propaganda pervasive throughout the film. Back then, I watched movies solely for entertainment value. Now however, I see Red Dawn as an opportunity for mental exercise. The question:
How would you react were the United States actually invaded and then occupied?
From the safety of home, it is easy to say you would react the same way the kids in Red Dawn did. But, experience has shown me that what we say and what we actually do are not always the same. And what if the occupying army was offering shelter, provisions, medical care and so on? Would that make it harder to resist? What if the ideology (if not the practice) of the occupying army matched your own?
While Steven Lynn’s “Den of Error” lacks the panache of a soviet-style communist invasion, the comparison (and subsequent mental exercise) is nonetheless useful. In a word, Lynn’s ultimate goal is to ‘liberate’ the student from “grammar-based pedagogy that generations of students have endured.” Says Lynn, “We’ll know that pedagogy has caught up with expert knowledge when the general public stops thinking that English teacher are grammar fussies, spotting errors wherever we go, clucking self-righteously.” Or, to translate, Lynn is seemingly proffering a giant ‘Cluck You’ to the status quo outmoded approach to writing pedagogy.
What I like about Lynn is his eagerness to embrace an all-of-the-above approach to writing pedagogy. As if to suggest that the best way to 'liberate' students from the regime of pedagogies past requires use of all weapons in the arsenal. But perhaps even more important than this is Lynn's attention to cultural issues in the classroom such as gender,race, and class. And instead of commenting on that portion through more writing, I thought I would get more mileage out of these two YouTube clips I put together back in November for a different class with Julie where I make comments analogous to those in this reading.
And Alice Glarden Brand wrote "The Why of Cognition: Emotion and the Writing Process". A lot has changed since then. Both Michael Jackson and Ronald Reagan have passed. Ellen Page had a baby of her own in the movie Juno. And does anyone under the age of 30 even know who Tom Selleck is anymore? Cognitive Science has changed too.
It has embraced emotion - one of Brand's critique of Cognitive Theory. Says Brand, "We choose. Psychologists tell us that these choices are not random, but the cognitivists come up short when they try to explain why we choose what we choose, and how." This has changed. Cognitive Science now understands the role emotions play in choice (only the fist 11 minutes of the clip are necessary):
Another point of contention I have with Brand's essay is the notion that "The act of writing demands that concepts... be forced into linear patterns of writing". This may hold true of academic writing. But there are other modes of writing - poetry, creative, etc - which do not necessarily fit linear patterns (think Gertrude Stein). Are we to ignore poetry and creative writing? We are not to think of these forms as real writing?
These minor differences aside, Brand was clearly ahead of her time. Before Cognitive Science had a chance to catch up with her, Brand understood the importance of emotion in thinking and writing saying "being both human and impartial is a contradiction." Cognitive Science now agrees.
The implication of such sentiment is staggering. The idea that logic is not a significant agent of human thought or the writing process goes against all that we have been taught for decades if not millenia in the field of writing pedagogy. Process writing - putting together an outline, then producing a rough draft, followed by revision/editiing is, according to this new paradigm, simply makes no sense. It is, in Brand's words, "mechanistic" when humans are not computers. "The model assumes a motivation that does not exist." The question, then, is what would this new approach to writing pedagogy look like in the classroom? And even if we had an answer, how do we convince millions of people that, as Sir Ken Robinson already knows, the current model needs changed?
We've had Witches, Sorcerers, and Vampires. Why not add Gangsters to the mix?
Bartholomae, pictured left, took quite a bit of heat last night. I was among those eager to criticize - attempting to draw a crude metaphor between Bartholomae, Writing departments all across the country, and the Corleone family of Godfather fame. I want to apologize to Bartholomae. Not because I have had a change of heart, but who wants to be compared to Fredo Corleone? I imagine a scenario where Bartholomae was sitting in on our class, or was sent a videogram of our discussion and I sent him an apology via a music gram. It was Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal", but instead of singing "Annie, are you okay?" The lyrics were changed to "Davy, are you okay?"
Aside from our haranguing of Bartholomae, there was something else that bothered me about last night's discussion. A point I was trying to make was not getting across. There is something I want to put to rest. Not like Luca Brasi swims with the fishes kind of rest. Just something I didn't manage to make clear last night that I wanted to give it a second shot - and the puns just keep on coming!
A Sicilian message
I am not anti-intellectual. And I do think we very much need subject matter experts (in all fields, in all disciplines). Some of my comments - specifically those directed at academics - were said in a heat of passion whose fire was started by Rose. I am sure that most academics publish articles and books, not because they have to in order to achieve tenure or promotion, but because they have a deep desire to contribute to the body of knowledge (that doesn't mean that there aren't those who publish for less noble purposes). But aren't we missing a big picture irony? We will decry language pointed at privilege as arrogant and as exclusive not inclusive. However, we do so safely within the walls of the Academy where the only ones likely to hear some of the good things we have to say will be other academics. If the goal is to change the frame and make a difference in education, then these messages should also be accessible to those outside the Ivory Towers. By excluding the general population, we are applying a Regean-esque trickle down economics of knowledge. And while we are waiting for change to take root good kids are being left behind. And the problem is more serious than we thought.
In his essay, Rose goes to great lengths to explain why the current frame for Writing is in place. He does this by tracing the history of the word remedial. This frame, whose roots are burried deep within the fertile grounds of scientific knowledge, has a staying power that will take a hurculean effort to uproot, and Cognitive Science explains why:
I mentioned elsewhere that all frames and metaphor are tied to emotion. I gave the example of the white and black knights. What I failed to mention was some of the more sciency explanations as to how a frame takes root in the mind. When we make an emotional connection to an image (like light and darkness) a neural pathway is created between receptors in the brain. The more this image is reaffirmed the stronger this pathway becomes - one could almost say it becomes hardwired. Beliefs are established on these hardwired frames. We typically believe our beliefs to be moral, and therefore correct. So, if I made an emotional connection to the value of science, and this image has been reaffirmed in our collective psyche for the past nine decades - as Rose was suggesting - then, you can begin to appreciate the magnitude of the situation. The trickle down approach is not likely to succeed. Mass media needs to be bombarded with a different frame for people to consider. Until that happens, Ken Robinson's dream of shifting the paradigm is not likely to be realized anytime soon.
I imagine a small portion of the history of European imperialism thusly,
Europe: We need to open up a trade route to China. They have spices that dazzle the tongue. They also have a beverage that I quite possibly believe to be nectar from the gods. They call it Tea. It would be a goodly and Christian thing to establish a trade route with the Far East as these savages are not cultured enough to eat with fork and knife, instead preferring a primitive method of food consumption involving two twigs, or sticks.
I can recall mastering the use of chopsticks with the same alacrity that I can recall a reading I stumbled upon on the myth of redemptive violence.
Back in January of 2005, when I came home from a 15 month deployment to Iraq, I wasn't really home. I was in Langley, Virginia. And, the exact date was Sunday January 23, 2005. The day the Steelers lost the AFC Championship to their hated AFC nemesis, the New England Patriots (It is much easier to lose the Super Bowl in a stadium far away to a storied franchise whose legendary coach's name has been immortalized on footballs ultimate trophy than it is to lose at home to the NEPs for the Lamar Trophy). Before the mighty Steelers fell, the Army ordered Chinese. For everyone. You see, the reason we were in Langley and not home has everything to do with the weather. The reason the Army ordered Chinese for all returning troops was also because of weather. We should have been home a few days prior, but a blizzard hit the east coast. The storm was so bad we actually had a 36 hour layover in Frankfurt, Germany. I had a beer at McDonalds. By the time Sunday the 23rd rolled around, Virginia was the closest to home we could get safely. Langley (and the Army) were not prepared for an extra few hundred troops, and Army regs state that troops must be provided meals. Enter the Dragon - I don't really remember the name of the local restaurant that successfully rose to such a Herculean task. What I do remember is that they did not bring forks. They brought chopsticks. Very few soldiers knew how to use chopsticks. I was not one of them. I was simultaneously amused and disgusted at those who decided to eat with their fingers. Some soldiers attempted to skewer the food with the chopsticks as if one stick were the equivalent to a one pronged fork. For me, I felt the best course of action was to try and master the art of chopstickery myself. And, after a few failed attempts, some reflection and observation, I mastered the use of chopsticks right there in a hanger of Langley, Virginia. Of all my accomplishments, it is secretly one of those that I am most proud of. Years later, I would find myself in an upper-level undergrad Anthropology course reading scholarly books and articles on Jedi (yes, these do exist). And there, in the annals of scholarly Star Wars lore, I would stumble upon the myth of redemptive violence.
I wish I could recall the author's name, or even the book's title that bore this insightful treasure. I could probably try and dig up my paper and check the bib, but…
This is a brief paraphrasing of the argument:
At the end of the movie Star Wars, when the Death Star has been blown up and the Rebel Alliance secured its first major victory against the Empire, the audience probably cheered right along. Good triumphed over Evil in a very Jungian (who George Lucas studied) archetypal sense. But they (the Rebel Alliance) did so in a very violent fashion that eliminated the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. Now most would probably be okay – citing justice. An abstract concept to cover the very real loss of life. We know from world history that violence is not the only way to overcome oppression and injustice. Gandhi proved as much. So did Martin Luther King Jr. But our stories, from the beginning of time (Shiva the Destroyer and the creation of the world) to Star Wars have been telling us otherwise. The only solution to force is force. The only solution to violence is violence.
Bullpucky. But what does this have to do with chopsticks and writing?
If you were to do a comparative analysis between the nature of the Fork and the nature of Chopsticks, any reasonable person would have to conclude that of the two, Chopsticks are the less violent method of food consumption. A fork stabs. A fork penetrates. Its metallic composition is cold and detached. To eat with a fork is to commit an act of violence. Conversely, to master Chopsticks is to master cooperation between two separate entities. It is an act of balance and union. To eat with Chopsticks is to commit an act of harmony. Is it this class that we discussed how we think what we think (through frames and metaphor)? So for example, I know that the white knight typically represents "good" and the black knight "bad" in an archetypal sense because growing up I was afraid of the dark and comforted by light. This is only one of literally thousands of metaphors our mind constantly frames our world through. Thus, though we realize it or no, a frame was established at a very young age when we learned how to eat. This frame is rooted in a metaphor of violence (the act of stabbing). So, now you know why I prefer chopsticks to forks, but what does this have to do with writing?
When reading the Covino reading, as well as most of our other readings, I've detected the slightest trace of violence – this need to stab at power. Their voices say, "This is what has been said, this is why what has been said is wrong, and this is why I am right". We see this in the Covino article when he seemingly decries expressivism while lauding the triangles of rhetoric:
…and are intended to suggest that rules for writing are antiexpressivist, that they pale in comparison with the varieties of language play that can develop the imagination, and that a prescriptive approach to writing is dull and unnatural…[however,] Kinneavy presents what has become an often-adapted 'communication triangle,' which stands for the relationship that he argues attends all language use, among an encoder (writer), decoder (audience), and a reality (context). In this connection, we might say that a rhetorical pedagogy consists in encouraging writing that is NOT RESTRICTED TO [emphasis added] self-expression… but instead keeps in view the skills and contingencies that attend a variety of situations and circumstances (36-37).
Covino wants to tear down the walls of one structure so that he can put in place one that he feels to be more pleasing to the eye. If he can convince a community large enough that his design is better, he will be admired until someone else comes along who has a different way of looking at things and wants to tear down Covino's structure and put in place her own edifice, and so on – ad infinitum. Covino, to his credit, recognizes this and hedges his bet by suggesting that, "The question, now as always it seems, is whether a rich conception of rhetorical pedagogy can be sustained…"
For my purposes, I find value in both expressivism and triangles. I think both contribute something positive to the discourse on writing pedagogy. I view both as separate pieces to a greater puzzle. You permitted me to recreate a brief history of Europe imperialism, allow me to create a brief glimpse into the future of writing pedagogy.
I see a world where academics, instead of vying for pedagogical superiority, work in collaboration with one another. Instead of tearing down walls and building new ones, decorate the view that is already in place. You may need to knock a wall or two down, but do so in a way that enhances the core structure. If I were to put the puzzle pieces in place I would say that students, before ever learning how to write, must first learn how to think. Freewriting or expressivist writing is a great start; it helps lead to a discovery of voice. Once that voice is discovered, then students should learn to put that voice to use - that is to say they must learn to express their beliefs and opinions in a convincing fashion and that rhetoric is a tool that can get them there. Once students have been taught how to first think and then express (in terms of audience and context recognition). Expose the students to new and different cultures and critical theories that might challenge preconceived notions. The goal is to build upon each piece - grammar, usage, and writing formulas are advanced matters, the last pieces of the puzzle - until a picture of literacy is achieved. After all, is that not the ultimate goal of writing pedagogy?
While growing up in the 80's, one of my favorite movies was Red Dawn. When HBO had it on high rotation, you could often find me in the dark of my grandparent’s basement comfortably sprawled, blanketed, and bepillowed on a seventies’ styled Brown on Beige checkered shag of a couch, eyes intently glued to a 13 inch color TV that Pap had rigged with cable. As the basement was adjacent to the garage, smells of oil, gasoline and grease permeated the atmosphere. I did not care (in fact, I came to love those smells). I had one thought and one thought only on my mind: WOLVERINES! 
