Literature: Quid Est? (II)

Lately, I’ve been exploring the questions, what is literature? and what does it mean to study literature? There’s so much great stuff to think about.

Another thought-provoking angle comes from a 1994 TIME article “Hurrah for Dead White Males!” by Paul Gray. Gray addresses literary scholar and critic Harold Bloom’s ideas about the purpose of literature.

In his book The Western Canon, Bloom argues “All that the Western Canon can bring one is the proper use of one’s own solitude, that solitude whose final form is one’s confrontation with one’s own mortality.”

The article’s author suggests that “Such guidance was once the province of religion, and it is ultimately the religious experience that Bloom seeks in secular writing.” He quotes Bloom again: “Since I myself am partial to finding the voice of God in Shakespeare or Emerson or Freud, depending on my needs, I have no difficulty in finding Dante’s Comedy to be divine.”

The instinct to seek truth — or, as Bloom says, to seek  meaning and religious experience — in literature is, I think, somehow human. We are granted a glimpse of something bigger, grander, in truly powerful works of literature. (C.S. Lewis might have called it sehnsucht, fulfillment tinged with longing.)

Unfortunately, the nature of literary language (unlike the quality of mercy) is often strained between an attempt to mimic reality and an awareness that language is insufficient for even this task, let alone for describing Truth.

I am repeatedly brought back to the work of French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan and his theories of the Real. Lacan defines the Real as that for which we long, but which we can know only as the lack or gap we experience in the symbolic (language-mediated) world.

I wonder, then, if it is wiser to understand literature not as containing truth (which supposes truth to fit into the human mind and human language and would be a small truth indeed), but as pointing toward truth, truth being always just out of reach of explanation.

If so, it is a problem, unfortunately, that my blog is doomed to share.

Literature: Quid Est?

This weekend, a professor at my university is hosting a discussion group on literature and literary language. The prospect has gotten me thinking even more about literature as literature: what it is, and what it means to study it.

As I’ve read further, I encountered one thoughtful perspective from Andrew Kern of the CiRCE Institute. It starts with this post, What is Literature Anyway?. Kern asks,

“Are there any schools that self-consciously regard themselves as carriers of that tradition, who deliberately set aside the relative trivia of the modern curriulum, and who teach their children deeply to contemplate those few masterpieces that sustain civilization and nourish our souls?

What am I dreaming about? A school that teaches its students only a few books and teaches them how to read them with all their hearts and souls and minds and strength. They read them, they translate them, they discuss them, they imitate them, they write about them, they live in their wisdom.”

Here Kern addresses the question of canon and “Great Books,” about which I have mixed feelings.

To me, setting up a select few works as “great” literature involves claiming an absolute standard that is, in its relationship to literature, vague and imprecise. Like it or not, these definitions are also closely linked to systems of power, and focus almost exclusively on the literature of the western world.

It seems to me that if great literature is based on great truth, that truth will not emerge only in the West, or, to quote the cliche, in the writings of “dead white males.”

On the other hand, without some judgment of what is true and valuable, meaning becomes generic, nothing more than an arbitrary construct; and I find that conclusion no more satisfying than the first.

I wonder if there is a place for acknowledging the presence (and absence) of quality writing, truth, and beauty in literature without categorically eliminating works that range outside the traditional canon.

As usual, my next question is, if so, what would that look like?

Lots of food for thought here. More to come…

A Civic Crisis in Education

Science and math are the keys to global competitiveness.

Science and math are where the jobs are.

Science and math are…

Now you finish the sentence. I’m sure you’ve heard this line of thought before. As an avowed humanities scholar, I sometimes find it frustrating that my field of choice is ignored beyond its connotations for literacy and national standards of reading among young children. Once they can read, start them in science, where they can be useful.

That’s one (albeit selfish) reason I’ve chosen “Dehumanized: When math and science rule the school” from Judy Rabin, based on an article by Mark Souka, for the next ProfoundNet. Here’s a snippet:

[Mark Slouka] argues the emphasis on mathscience and the devaluing of the humanities by those who control education and write and talk about education in the general media have framed the discussion within the context of economic success and competition.

He asks the question, Why is every Crisis in American Education cast as an economic threat and never a civic one?

Take a look at any publication coming out of the department of education or from political pundits debating national standards, or pre-K education, or community colleges. You’ll see a theme: education recovery = economic recovery. Better schools = better economy.

This theme underscores what is, to me, a bigger problem in our way of thinking about education. From the original article by Souka:

It’s about the victory of whatever can be quantified over everything that can’t. It’s about the quiet retooling of American education into an adjunct of business, an instrument of production. [...] only by studying this world can we hope to shape how it shapes us; that only by attempting to understand what used to be called, in a less embarrassed age, “the human condition” can we hope to make our condition more human, not less.

Foremost in concerns about education are not the familiarity of individuals with the U.S. constitution, understanding of the  judicial system, or intelligent dialogue about foreign policy, scientific ethics, or personal responsibility.

Science and math are important, certainly. But such a single-minded focus comes with the risk of ignoring the civic, as well as economic, value of education.

Don’t forget: what made the United States different (or has set it apart) from its inception was the way its civic society, not its economic system, was established.

Thanks, Judy, for a thought-provoking post.

“The very spring and root of virtue and honesty lie in good education”
- Plutarch

Teachers / Tools

Bullets-Charts-Graphs – click
Bullets-Charts-Graphs – click

If you went to college, even for a semester, you know what I’m talking about. It’s used in presentations. Professors use it in lectures. It’s not a bird, a plane, or superman (though some treat it as though it were) — it’s PowerPoint!

If students too often take shortcuts in their work, the lessons they have learned about “productivity” and “time management’ are no less relevant or applicable for professors. The Freakonomics blog even calls PowerPoint Another Form of Teacher Cheating.

The key, as with all technology, is for the teacher to use the tool, not to become a tool of the technology. Jeffrey R. Young writes this for The Chronicle of Higher Education, in When Computers Leave Classrooms, So Does Boredom:

José A. Bowen, dean of the Meadows School of the Arts, has challenged his colleagues to “teach naked”—by which he means, sans machines.

More than any thing else, Mr. Bowen wants to discourage professors from using PowerPoint, because they often lean on the slide-display program as a crutch rather using it as a creative tool.

At the small liberal arts college I attended, teachers discouraged the use of PowerPoint for student presentations for the same reason Mr. Bowen cites. He’s correct when he says, “When students reflect on their college years later in life, they’re going to remember challenging debates and talks with their professors [instead of a moving PowerPoint].”

That’s not to say challenging debates and a moving PowerPoint can’t both be in the classroom, but if one must take priority, it should be the former. Like watching television, viewing a PowerPoint is an essentially passive activity. It lacks the engagement that assists with deep learning and memory.

No single group is to blame. Lest we place an unfair burden solely on the shoulders of teachers, it is necessary to remember that there is student complicity in techno-rich, interaction-poor education. Young points out,

The biggest resistance to Mr. Bowen’s ideas has come from students, some of whom have groused about taking a more active role during those 50-minute class periods. The lecture model is pretty comfortable for both students and professors, after all, and so fundamental change may be even harder than it initially seems…

The roots are there: we watch the movie instead of reading the book (or the Cliff’s Notes). We Tweet instead of writing letters; we text instead of making phone calls.

Abbreviation may be simpler, but that simplicity comes at the risk of divorcing communication from thought, discussion, and contemplation; and with them, wisdom.

Isn’t that the goal of higher education in the first place?

Easy Button for the Bard

Bt w8, wuz dat lyt n d wndw ovr der?
Itz d east, n Juliet S d sun.

Shakespeare in Text-Speak.

That day has come.

Shakespeare in text-speak may be funny. It may be a clever nod to pop culture. It may be a reminder that 16th century language is no stranger than 21st century language. But it is not Shakespeare.

Don’t get me wrong. I am all in favor of new ways to get students interested in great literature.  And as I’ve written before, I thoroughly enjoy a good parody or clever application of new technology to literature.

I do…as long as the point is still to draw students in to the original literature, to spark interest and encourage them to delve deeper. You might start a prospective chef-in-training with a boxed cake mix, but you certainly don’t stop there.

The subtitle of the original article is, “Bard’s language poses challenge for teachers.” Though I agree with some of the article’s points, I have to ask, when did “challenge” become a dirty word?

Yes, the language is unfamiliar and can be difficult. Yes, Shakespeare wrote for performance, not reading (another false step in the way the Bard is often taught). But is it impossible for a ninth or tenth grader to understand Romeo and Juliet as written? No. Is it hard work? Yes.

The easy button has become a familiar icon since its appearance in commercials for Staples. Perhaps too familiar. Though we laugh at the ad, we also act as though its logic is true. In doing so, we forget that there is no easy button for learning.

In the midst of widespread emphasis on self-esteem and self-help, we treat students as if they are helpless and incapable of meeting high expectations.

The same problem holds true in other subjects, not just literature, but when Shakespeare is reduced to “bt w8, wuz dat lyt n d wndw ovr der,” the effects of reductionism in education become a little clearer.

Must be all the light coming in d wndw.

Academic Journals in Old Age

Literary scholarship has come a long way in the past 200 years. In preparation for the masters program I’m starting this fall, I am currently reading Eagleton’s Literary Theory, which traces the movements of literary criticism and theory since the early 1900s.

Consistently, academic journals have fostered (and fomented) those developments.

That’s one reason I’ve chosen “Academic Journals in the ‘Network’ Economy” by Jordan Ballor for the next ProfoundNet. Here’s a snippet:

John Hartley, the founder and editor of the International Journal of Cultural Studies [...] takes his experience as an editor to reflect on the current state of the scholarly journal amid the challenges and opportunities in the digital age.

Hartley opens his study, “Lament for a Lost Running Order? Obsolescence and Academic Journals,” by concluding that “the academic journal is obsolete,” at least as regards to its “form– especially the print journal.”

One could say the same about any timely, community-based writing. However, one feature of the “ivory tower syndrome” that afflicts literary scholarship is a dependence on academic journals for self-propagation. Like it or not, the future of print will have a profound impact on the way we read and teach literature and scholarship.

Hartley’s article comments further on this idea:

For now that it is available online, ‘users’ (no longer ‘readers’!) can search for what they want and ignore the journal as such altogether. This is presumably how most active researchers experience any journal – they are looking for articles (or less: quotations; data; references) relevant to a given topic, literature review, thesis etc. They encounter a journal online through its ‘content’ rather than its ‘form.’ The latter is irrelevant to them, and may as well not exist.

What is lost when form is shattered?

• Order. The editorial process of organizing articles in a logical pattern is ignored.
• Unity. The impact of cover, design, and image is separated from text.
• Context. Individual articles are skewered from the associated–either complementary or contrary–viewpoints in the field.
• Contemplation. The act of reading is no longer set apart from checking email, reading the news, or watching a video clip. Room for critical thought becomes scant.

Ballor concludes that “the complete digitization of journals and casting off the printed form ‘may reduce collegiate trust and fellow-feeling, increase individualist competitiveness, and inhibit innovation.’”

He doubts that journals will become entirely obsolete, and I tend to agree, but I do think we will see the gulf widen between academia and well-read, educated members of the non-academic community. That, in my mind, is one of the biggest losses of all.

Thanks, Jordan, for a thought-provoking post.

Literati versus the CEO

Last month, columnist David Brooks wrote an op-ed run by the Salt Lake Tribune called “Why people in literature, media, don’t understand business.” Unfortunately, the full text of the article is no longer available.

I’m a fan of Brooks’ writing, but the article bothered me a little. Brooks’ point was that the skills required of a CEO do not call for a well-rounded person, but rather someone with the ability to focus singly on the job.

He has a point. (The unwillingness of the literati to let go of the Oxford comma may also be a factor.)

This admission made me take a step back to reconsider my own views on the subject of literature and the workforce. I’ve always been a strong believer in the practical value of the liberal arts. But look where I am: working part time, getting ready to return to academia in pursuit of a job that will require me to divide my attention between those who love literature and those who just want to pass the class.

So is that it? Should academia and corporate America go their separate ways, each graciously conceding the theoretical significance of the other sector, but remaining largely disparate from it?

I have to say no.

At the risk of shooting myself in the foot, I’ll concede: reading Jane Eyre may do little for your day-to-day leadership skills. And yet learning has to start somewhere.

I was browing the Internet a few days ago when I found a blog post from the Acton Institute. The author begins by admitting, “I don’t read very fast.” He goes on:

…it’s amazing to me that with all the hope and change being discussed and voted on in Congress these days, that the laws being proposed and voted on — laws, some of which we can down load in massive pdf files — have been read and inwardly digested by the elected representatives who will vote on our behalf. [...] some of these proposed laws are over a thousand pages long.

He then asks the challenging question,

…how did the Founders manage to get a country going with a document we can still read over a cup of coffee?

More words doesn’t mean better ideas. It does, however, make mindlessness easier, particularly if one has little experience decoding complex texts.

Reading, like any other skill, requires practice. Critical thinking requires even more. In “An Examination Into the Leading Principles of the Federal Constitution” (1787), Noah Webster wrote this:

In the formation of our constitution the wisdom of all ages is collected–the legislators of antiquity are consulted, as well as the opinions and interests of the millions who are concerned. It short, it is an empire of reason.

David Brooks may be right when he concludes that today’s CEO does not need literature. He may be right that people in literature fail to understand business. (I’ll be the first to raise my hand.)

Perhaps, though, the problem lies in the fact that both sides need to redefine their priorities. For the literati, that may involve a descent from the ivory tower. For the CEOs, that may involve an occasional step away from the bottom line. I dare say both parties, myself included, would find themselves better off for the experience.

The Stats Don’t Lie…

School must be out.

The Ethics Mill

I recently read an article that frustrated me, made me think, and then made me think again about the way Americans view education. The article is “Cheating Goes Global as Essay Mills Multiply: From Virginia to Manila: on the trail of papers for cash,” written by Thomas Bartlett for the Chronicle of Higher Education, March 20, 2009.

With corporate headquarters in Ukraine; employees in the Philippines, Nigeria, and India; and “headquarters” in Virginia, Essay Writers is truly global in scope. Although the stated purpose of many essay-for-sale websites is to provide examples, in reality, most purchased essays (at a rate of $20-40 per page) are handed in verbatim.

When college students (*note* Essay Writers also offers theses and dissertations) are busy with clubs, service organizations, sports, internships, and student government, why should they waste their time researching for a general education paper?

“Maybe your school assignments are too complicated,” says BestEssays.com, one of the websites under the umbrella of Essay Writers. “Maybe your interests have nothing in common with literature and creative writing.” Forget the possibility that you might have something to learn from tasks outside your comfort zone. Instead of re-prioritizing, why not pay someone else to do it?

Just as many American companies are outsourcing their administrative tasks, many American students are perfectly willing to outsource their academic work.

Here’s how one customer of Essay Writers described his reasoning:

Mickey Tomar [...] defends the idea of paying someone else to do your academic work, comparing it to companies that outsource labor. “Like most people in college, you don’t have time to do research on some of these things,” he says. “I was hoping to find a guy to do some good quality writing.”

The phrase, “Like most people in college…” really catches my attention. Why not? I want to ask. What’s the underlying problem? Is it the presence of too much pressure to succeed? Is it laziness? Some of the writers for Essay Writers seem to think so. One told The Chronicle,

Although he takes pride in the writing he’s done over the years, he doesn’t have much respect for the students who use the service. “These are kids whose parents pay for college,” he says. “I’ll take their money. It’s not like they’re going to learn anything anyway.”

Is he right? Is it time just to “give up” and allow college to become a Citizen Mill that turns out individuals gifted at manipulating time, money, data, and other individuals in pursuit of their aims? 

If nothing else, students have learned that the end justifies the means. A college degree doesn’t have to represent thinking skills, knowledge, and practice to be valuable. When applying for a job, someone who is self-taught, who has read the Great Conversations and pursued knowledge from today’s brightest minds, still is not on equal footing with someone who has a Bachelors degree, even if that person floated through and learned nothing.  

There’s something wrong with this thinking.

It is ironic to me that the exposure of white-collar crime still shocks and angers, when it is a natural continuation of the logic developed in the education system. Consider this phrase from BestEssays.com: “Non-plagiarized custom essays.” It’s not plagiarism; it belongs to you. It doesn’t matter that it’s not your own work.

Once learned, subjective ethics can be twisted or redefined so easily, like pouring a trickle of water over a still-wet black-and-white painting and watching gray spread over it.

Thinkers in all fields, not just literature and not just academia, need to take a step back and consider the values that are shaping our education system. Knowledge and content are important. But intentionally or not, we also are sending value messages to the leaders of the next generation.

It takes a great deal of idealism or, I think, blindness, to imagine that the habits learned in the classroom will not carry over to life.

Reading Sentences

Can literature transform lives not just in the classroom, but in the “real world”? According to one innovative sentencing program called Changing Lives Through Literature, the answer is a resounding ‘yes.’ CLTL was founded in Massachusetts in 1991 by Professor Robert Waxler and Judge Robert Kane. 

That’s why I’ve chosen “Jail Time or Jane Eyre” by Zoe Sandvig as the next ProfoundNet. Here’s a snippet:

Would you rather go to jail or join a book club? No, it’s not a trick question.

Changing Lives Through Literature, an alternative sentencing program, gives low-level offenders the option of skipping out of jail if they take a literature course with other offenders, a judge, and their probation officer. [...]

As participants read John Steinbeck, Frederick Douglass, and Toni Morrison, they begin to find themselves within the stories, inside a character. For those who have felt marginalized or alienated, this sense of “not being the only one” offers them hope. And getting to speak their opinions before a judge or probation officer makes them feel listened to and gives them confidence to take a job interview or apply to school.

Literature can give perspective. It can give a voice. It can give an outlet. The great characters and themes in literature resonate with real people; that’s part of what makes them classics. But while literature is an important component and complement of the program’s conceptual basis, I think another, perhaps even more important theme emerges. From the program’s website, here’s what one student participant had to say:

“After giving this some thought, I also realize there was another important aspect to this group. The judge, probation officer, and teacher – all authority figures to us – they were all there for us – to listen to us, guide us, and direct us. It was their belief in the program and us that helped me deal with a lot of shame. They respected me until I could learn to respect myself.”

Literature plays a role, certainly, but even more important are the individuals who believe in and respect the students in the program, telling them “you have worth; we care about you.” 

I especially like one article on the CLTL website called “Literacy and Individual Development” by Janet Hale. She says, “The lives that can be changed through literature belong to all of us.  When one is lost, we are all poorer.  When one is rescued, we all prosper.”

And in the end, it is the human touch that invites others to belong.

Thanks, Zoe, for a thought-provoking post!