Educational Theories as Play-Doh
So, I've been trying to compose a coherent post for awhile now, and I've come to the conclusion that I'm overwhelmed because I'm trying to talk about too many ideas -- we read so many different articles in the Roen et al. that I find it difficult to focus my energy for the sake of electronic discussion. Thus, here's what I'm thinking right now:
I can see the purpose in having us read every article in the chapter about designing assignments, because it's when we read such a variety of ideas and methodologies that we start to shape our own ideas and develop our own methodologies. Unlike Faith, I never felt as though I was reading theory, although I guess we were; to me, theory is the stuff by Said and Bhabha that I read for my Postcolonial Middle Ages course, not different people's thoughts about how to teach. And I think that seeing these articles as just that -- ideas, opinions, and views about teaching composition by people who've done it before -- is key. If we think of them as theories, which is what Faith seems to be doing, we tend to get bogged down by their contradictions and shortcomings, but if we think of them as teachers discussing how they teach, I feel as though we're apt to find them more useful. Can we learn from them? Yes. Can we argue with them? Heck yeah. I think we're supposed to, actually. Do we need a theory to justify everything we do? I don't think so. Sometimes it's good enough to say, "I do it because it works for ________ (fill in blank: "my students," "me," "the curriculum," etc.)." Isn't it?
Bear with me as I try to be more articulate (yet dangerously dorky) with a metaphor. I'm thinking that all of these theories that we're learning about and discussing are all different colors of Play-Doh. To construct my Play-Doh elephant (or whatever), maybe I'll use some orange Play-Doh for the ears, some pink for the tail, and make its body green; maybe for my English 1000 class, I'll draw on Freire to prevent myself from acting like a banker, on Flower to remember her useful ideas about writer-based prose, and on Salibrici's role-playing ideas (171-175) to help my students understand audience and angle of vision. Maybe I don't think my elephant should have any brown on it; maybe I don't think Bartholomae's ideas work for my teaching goals. Maybe I'll shun the Play-Doh and make my elephant's eyes out of rocks I find in my driveway; maybe part of my English 1000 class is based on practical needs or prior experience rather than on theory. We survey the plethora of Play-Doh colors and, upon careful scrutinzation of color, texture, malleability, etc., we choose what colors suit our needs. We're all going to make good elephants if we put thought into our Play-Doh selections and effort into creating our pachyderms.
That was exhausting. I'm interested in hearing others' thoughts on the various articles in Roen et al.; briefly, I found the excerpt from the Penn State University Composition Program Handbook (134-136) to be vague, unrealistic, and kinda crappy while I found some great ideas to steal in Salibrici (171-175) and the article about defining rhetorical terms (145-150). Also, the Braun and Prineas article in Ch. 14 was a highlight -- thorough, smart, and accessible with great explanations of their concepts. I could easily picture myself adapting parts of it to use in class.
Also, question to all, including you, Dr. Strickland: do we have the Phillip Levine "What Work Is" article somewhere? Is it on the web? Did you hand it out and I'm just an idiot? Just wondering where I'm supposed to get it in order to read it for Wednesday. Thanks.
I can see the purpose in having us read every article in the chapter about designing assignments, because it's when we read such a variety of ideas and methodologies that we start to shape our own ideas and develop our own methodologies. Unlike Faith, I never felt as though I was reading theory, although I guess we were; to me, theory is the stuff by Said and Bhabha that I read for my Postcolonial Middle Ages course, not different people's thoughts about how to teach. And I think that seeing these articles as just that -- ideas, opinions, and views about teaching composition by people who've done it before -- is key. If we think of them as theories, which is what Faith seems to be doing, we tend to get bogged down by their contradictions and shortcomings, but if we think of them as teachers discussing how they teach, I feel as though we're apt to find them more useful. Can we learn from them? Yes. Can we argue with them? Heck yeah. I think we're supposed to, actually. Do we need a theory to justify everything we do? I don't think so. Sometimes it's good enough to say, "I do it because it works for ________ (fill in blank: "my students," "me," "the curriculum," etc.)." Isn't it?
Bear with me as I try to be more articulate (yet dangerously dorky) with a metaphor. I'm thinking that all of these theories that we're learning about and discussing are all different colors of Play-Doh. To construct my Play-Doh elephant (or whatever), maybe I'll use some orange Play-Doh for the ears, some pink for the tail, and make its body green; maybe for my English 1000 class, I'll draw on Freire to prevent myself from acting like a banker, on Flower to remember her useful ideas about writer-based prose, and on Salibrici's role-playing ideas (171-175) to help my students understand audience and angle of vision. Maybe I don't think my elephant should have any brown on it; maybe I don't think Bartholomae's ideas work for my teaching goals. Maybe I'll shun the Play-Doh and make my elephant's eyes out of rocks I find in my driveway; maybe part of my English 1000 class is based on practical needs or prior experience rather than on theory. We survey the plethora of Play-Doh colors and, upon careful scrutinzation of color, texture, malleability, etc., we choose what colors suit our needs. We're all going to make good elephants if we put thought into our Play-Doh selections and effort into creating our pachyderms.
That was exhausting. I'm interested in hearing others' thoughts on the various articles in Roen et al.; briefly, I found the excerpt from the Penn State University Composition Program Handbook (134-136) to be vague, unrealistic, and kinda crappy while I found some great ideas to steal in Salibrici (171-175) and the article about defining rhetorical terms (145-150). Also, the Braun and Prineas article in Ch. 14 was a highlight -- thorough, smart, and accessible with great explanations of their concepts. I could easily picture myself adapting parts of it to use in class.
Also, question to all, including you, Dr. Strickland: do we have the Phillip Levine "What Work Is" article somewhere? Is it on the web? Did you hand it out and I'm just an idiot? Just wondering where I'm supposed to get it in order to read it for Wednesday. Thanks.
posted by K. | 8:46 PM
1 Comments:
I got my Levine poem from an email from Dr. Strickland. I agree with you, Kristen. I like to read it all and take it in, even the people who I initially think I disagree with. I don't know if you can be a good teacher if you aren't changing every day and every year. I think it is very easy to look at some of these articles and say "this is right--that's wrong," but even if we disagree, there might be something to learn.
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