teaching: December 2006 Archives

"What religion is that?" Alyssa asked. "Oh, it's a complicated answer," I replied. "I usually say pagan, but that label was given by Christians to identify those people who believed in other religions."

"Many different peoples around the world celebrate events associated with the earth, we usually describe them as indigenous or native peoples. But they each had their own beliefs, although most of them recognize the sun in some way."

"And," I continued, "what people who call themselves pagan do now is different than what people did in olden times."

"But what's the point?" Alyssa pressed for a solid answer. :-)

"The earth is at its furthest point away from the sun* - its apogee** - which is why the nights are longest. So we spend the night wishing for the sun to rise, in order for its return to bring longer days again."

"But won't the sun rise anyway?" (Such a smart cookie!)

"Yes, it will. But no one really knows if our belief makes a difference. Maybe, just maybe, us taking one night of the year and wishing wishing wishing for the sun is part of the overall balance that keeps the universe running the way it does."***

"Cool!" (Like I said, such a smart cookie.)

*The usual way is to say the sun is farthest from the earth, which is evidence of the lingering "common sense" that the earth, our planet, is the center of the universe. Not. Even though most of us know this is not true, we still tend to act (and talk!) as if it is. The scientific knowledge - after how many hundreds of years? - is not the gut-rock basis of everyday knowledge. (hmmm...)

**The term, apogee, was originally used only to describe the furthest point of the moon away from the earth, BUT the site, "everything2", where I first read this is some kind of spiritual/scientific mix (astrology-based?) of someone's particular epistemology. See what they say about the Sun representing the ego or persona of an individual.

***Ever heard of a Milankovitch Cycle? Me neither, until today! I was trying to find out more info on the correct term for the earth's distance from the sun - apogee is generalizable if we consider the earth as a satellite around the sun (which it is) - but I'm curious if there's something more precise. Oddly, the perihelion (when the earth's orbit brings us closest to the sun), is only a couple of weeks away! How can that be? What does this mean in terms of my own knowledge (understanding) of the natural events that are known as the Winter Solstice? It gets complicated, and I'm going to need repetition in order to absorb these facts. First, it is the tilt of the earth's axis in combination with the rotational cycle that causes the seasons (i.e., the length of day/night and temperature changes). (Do you know, I have learned this before and even yet it has not fully peirced my everyday consciousness. Am I a slow learner or what?!!)

Then, there's a difference between the tropical year, and the anomalistic year. Each is measured by a different starting point: the tropical year begins/ends at the equinoxes, and the anomalistic year begins/ends at the perihelion. They are not the same! I can't go further with this now, but here's a conversion chart showing the slight difference in length between a tropical year and an anomalous year. It is explained in the article linked above on Milankovitch cycles, which are named "after Milutin Milankovitch, a Serbian scientist who provided a detailed theory of their potential influence over climate in the 1920s."

The course final is a face-to-face oral examination between each student individually and me, the teacher. I ask about the argument they made in their Final Reflection Letter, in which they were to use evidence from this course to answer the question, "What is the relationship between your writing and your thinking?"

I haven't read the actual papers yet, but our conversations have been stellar. I am proud of the poise and integrity each student has brought to these meetings, as much as the actual improvements in their writing. :-)

I've also asked what would have made the course better, eased them through the rougher spots, or otherwise have inspired even more growth. I'm eager to incorporate their feedback into the design of next semester's course.

This conference on pedagogy next April is definitely a place I wish I could be, but instead I'll be in Australia at Critical Link 5: Quality in Interpreting: A Shared Responsibility. I suppose I should not complain? :-/ (But when they finally get transporter technology, Beam Me Over Scottie!)

I submitted two proposals, they accepted one called "Interpreters: Guardians of Social Justice?" Meanwhile, the selected papers from Critical Link IV (held in Stockholm, 2004) are actually being printed (finally!) I don't know where my piece is placed in the dang thing, but it is my first attempt at the kind of combination of theory-generating research and practical intervention that I hope might become "my thing." :-)

Learning implies change. Intellectual growth exchanges what is already known for new knowledge. Even when understanding builds on the familiar, advanced thinking replaces simplified generalization with complex specificity. To learn, by definition, is to transgress. Transgression implies violation, but its generic sense is simply to "pass beyond." One passes a limit to a place, notion, or practice that is unfamiliar. Crossing into the unknown is risky. Boundaries (seem to) exist for a reason. The reason may not be known, but it is common to assume that the reason has a legitimate cause. Strategically, taboos and rules of politeness often combine to prevent questioning, thereby leaving reasons, causes, and assumptions of legitimacy free from scrutiny.

The sources of human social behavior can only be molded through open conversation about passions and ideals. Struggling to explain reasons gives visibility to causes, creating the possibility for thoughtful consideration of present and future effects. Queries about the relationship between cause and reason play on the boundary of etiquette. Asking “Why?” flirts with individual rationality and personal justification. To question the relationship between intention and outcome is to dance with the significance of existence. I believe it is only when we inquire into everyday choices and decisions that we approach the potentials of social justice.

I believe we believe too much, and question too little. Asking questions is difficult; casting doubt challenges the security of predictable social order. Belief is comfortable, a strategy for securing identity. Contrarily, I believe that when I am afraid, I am on the boundary that matters. When I consciously act into fear with an attitude of exploration, I am as alive as I will ever be. What I have noticed is that my own fears are most prominent when I question myself, the friends and family members I love, and those with some semblance of power over me.

When I am the person with authority, asking questions is not frightening. I may feel anxious, but I am not afraid. When I - as an "at will" worker - ask questions of colleagues and supervisors, I experience a range of visceral symptoms: sweaty palms, increased heart rate, butterflies in my stomach, wobbly legs. I know I am on the verge of learning. Something will be different as a result of my question; asking is an act of transgression. The response – in words and action – will inform and influence my relationships: at best by inspiring a reciprocal curiosity, at worst by invoking an oppositional foe. Most intimately, close attention to the responsiveness or reactivity of others teaches me. I transgress myself.

This essay was written according to the assignment for students in "Freshmen Writing" to write a statement of belief, following guidelines outlined by National Public Radio. Thanks to all the members of Section 68 for feedback and suggestions which improved my writing.

I have been grading student's rewrites of an assignment called Adding to the Conversation. Each student selected an issue of concern, identified a target audience (with the power to actually DO something), and attempted to persuade this audience of a certain strategy. While all of the students are passionate about their topics, few have done the necessary research to present themselves as credible experts. Their ethos is weak. :-( Most of them rely on pathos, or on logic (logos) that assumes the main points of their argument are obvious and undebatable.

I resemble this. :-/ Critical thinking means learning to recognize and question one's own assumptions in addition to doubting the assumptions of those who disagree or have a different understanding.

What is neat about the second and third drafts of these students' essays is the way their ideas come more clearly into view. Even if the writing isn't yet at a level where it might sway someone with an open mind, you can see the sharp awareness and insight these young adults have about the world in which we live. I wish I could have them for another semester! (As if they are a kind of property. (She sighs.)

It has been some time since I made an error in judgment (while interpreting) that sent a deaf and non-deaf person into a spin of communicative confusion. I hope I can explain this clearly, as I realized immediately what I had done ‘wrong’ but could not un-do. Perhaps, by putting this in writing, I’ll be able to catch myself before making this faux paux again. It is familiar, if not common.

It is a classroom setting with the typical many-to-one ratio: one deaf student, a non-deaf teacher, and several non-deaf students. This deaf student has solid verbalization and strong lipreading skills, so it is one of those situations where I only work from spoken English into American Sign Language; the deaf person speaks for herself and occasionally does not even watch my interpretation. The teacher was explaining the difference between compound and complex sentences. One of the non-deaf students asked how a complex sentence is different than a comma splice. The deaf student was taking notes when the question was asked, and by the time she looked up at me I was interpreting the middle of the teacher’s explanation.

Two different ‘realities’ co-occurred. The teacher saw the deaf student appear puzzled, and asked if she was confused. The deaf student asked a question by voice and lipread the teacher’s answer. As I listened to the teacher’s answer, I thought she was answering a different question than the deaf student had asked. I assumed this was because the question the deaf student asked did not make sense in relation to the previous student’s question about comma splices. I said directly to the teacher, “but I was just interpreting the conversation about comma splices.” I thought this would clarify the context for the deaf student’s question. For the next few minutes confusion reigned as each of them tried to figure out what the other one wanted to know.

Interestingly – perhaps you’ve noticed? – I do not recall the deaf student’s question, even though all the other details of the interaction are clear! This is because I was confused about the difference between grammatically incorrect comma splices and grammatically correct complex sentences! My attention was on the other student’s question and the teacher’s answer, hence, I did not make the mental shift to the fact that the deaf student’s question was on another topic altogether! The teacher, not aware of my need to process the distinction, heard the deaf student’s question accurately, and responded appropriately. My “intervention” un-did the meaning the two of them had mutually constructed without me.

Eventually, the student inquired, “What question did you ask me?” to which the teacher replied, “I didn’t ask you a question. I thought you looked confused and asked if you had a question.” “I’ll let you know if I’m confused,” responded the deaf student. What I realized is that when the teacher asked about the deaf student’s puzzled expression, the student was working over some issue in her mind. Whatever it was (since I don’t remember what the deaf student asked), it had nothing to do with the question about comma splices. Being assertive, the student accepted the teacher’s invitation to ask a question and did so – about what was important to her in that moment. It was my inability to let go of the other student’s question that inspired me to intervene.

I can rationalize my decision, as I did in the moment, that the other student’s question was important and the answer included information that the deaf student needed to know and might otherwise miss. However, the student is the one who is learning, and the student chose to pursue the question that was most immediate in her own mind in that moment instead of being curious about someone else’s issue. Normally, I would go with this flow, adapting to the deaf person’s change in topic instead of holding on to a non-deaf person’s topic. What got in the way of my judgment this time? I wanted to understand the differences among a comma splice, a complex sentence, and a compound sentence! Conveniently then (I am embarrassed to admit), the teacher’s invitation to the student to ask a question opened up a window for me to ask my question – all under the guise of clarification for the deaf student.

Yep. I have been in this situation before. This is the first time I have been able to perceive the subtleties so well. The ‘reality’ I acted from my ‘best instincts’ as an interpreter was actually a mask for my own desire in the communicative situation. The ‘reality’ that the two primary interlocutors experienced (the deaf student and non-deaf teacher) did not even include me. Based upon my role, however, and the expertise assumed to accompany it, the teacher tried to incorporate my intervention into her conversation with the student. She believed that my saying I had just been interpreting something different than what the deaf student asked was meaningful and responded accordingly. In other words, the teacher privileged my information as the communication professional over her own immediate experience of direct conversation.

Now this is power.

"...each word must fit in the sentence like a stone in a bridge; using the thesaurus can help me find the keystone word that holds the sentence together." ~ Spike

"I started to notice a lot of the structural problems more because it wasn't very motivated writing in the first place. Powerful writing can have lots of errors, for example, I'm reading a book written in the Civil Rights Era, and the author uses common vernacular of the Deep South. It's not necessarily grammatically correct, but it's powerful. What I have here is not powerful writing." ~ Elise

"I had never been instructed to develop the transitions in my writing. Since this writing course has begun, there has been quite an emphasis on making transitions between paragraphs and ideas. I know that these transitions are what glues ideas and themes together to make one concrete precise idea. This is one of the newly identified parts of the writing world that I have been able to understand better now." ~ Jake

"I need to focus on writing for the audience at hand. If large words and a dismissive tone best serve my goal, then that is how I should write. If choppy sentences and a friendly tone best serve my goal, then that is how I should write. If a meandering, diary-style discourse best fulfills the assignment, then that is how I should write. If a rigid format and cohesive narrative best fulfills the assignment, then that is how I should write. I need to learn to be come a multifaceted writer, able to change tone and diction to meet varying tasks." ~ Dave