At this moment I believe Literacy is Freedom.

At this moment I believe Learning is Passion.

At this moment I believe Teaching is Fate.

For the past few nights, I’ve sat down to write this blog, but it’s been difficult to keep anything on the page.  It’s hard for me to clear my mind, and decide what I have specifically learned from this course.  This semester, my first at Chico State, has been an incredible experience for me.  Not only have I learned new things about literacy, I’ve learned a lot about myself.  Because I’ve been exposed to so many new and interesting concepts, it’s difficult to sort them out, and decide exactly what I’ve taken from this course.  I know that my understanding of literacy and teaching has been drastically altered, in a very positive way, but a central theme seems to elude me now that everything is wrapping up.  One aspect of this course that I can nail down at this moment is the fact that the value of literacy is completely up for interpretation.  Literacy is evolving even as I sit here writing, and consequently my understanding of it is changing as well.

As it applies to me, and my career, literacy is a tool, but it is also a passion.  These two uses may seem to counteract each other, but I believe they can, and must be able to coexist, especially in an academic setting.  I plan on becoming a high school English teacher, so conveying the importance of literacy to my students will be the focal point of my career.  Over the past few years, when asked why I want to be an English teacher, my answer would typically revolve around this idealistic sentiment – that I’d like to instill the same passion I have for reading in a younger generation, that seems to be losing touch with an appreciation for books and language in general.  Although this is still a key concern of mine, this course has taught me that the scope of literacy and learning go beyond a mere understanding and appreciation for The Old Man and the Sea.

I’ve learned that the norms of teaching and learning, established over the centuries, although still valuable to a point, may be used more productively as ancillary to more modern techniques.  Techniques that focus on the skills young people already have in the technologically blessed dynamics of today, and more importantly the future.  This does’t mean the smart-board will be continuously running in my classroom, but it does mean that the already exceptional technological abilities of my students will be accentuated by the resources available to me.  Incorporating the inevitable paradigm shift toward highly regarded movements like making, hacking, and playing, are pivotal to my success as a future educator, and facilitator of the texts and ideals there within, that I hold so dearly.

So, I guess that I have sort of honed in on a argument here.  Although it seems like more of a call to arms to myself.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’d like to focus more on some of the concrete things I’ve learned over the past few months.  First of all my entire concept of literacy has been altered, due mainly to the new ideas expressed by Kim Jaxon.  Even without the enlightening texts we were assigned throughout the first weeks, a new understanding would have undoubtedly emerged from each of us, simply through exposure to your message.  That message, overall, seemed to manifest itself into one resounding truth – that there is value, and something to be learned from the literacy practices of each and every individual, within the each and every culture, and background, and lifestyle.  The concept that students have something meaningful to say, regardless of, actually in spite of the domineering structures that have attempted to stifle their unique voice and style of expression.

Over the semester I spent a couple hours every Monday, Wednesday, and the odd Friday at Pleasant Valley High School, observing and participating with two groups of Juniors.  Both classes were completely unique, and I learned different things from them both.  I would arrive after their lunch period, with my own backpack and pencils and notes, probably more inclined to learn than most of them.  At least that was my initial impression.  After only a couple of sessions I found myself leaving with a sense of disappointment, mainly in the lack of effort displayed by the students.  The young teacher who I interned with seemed to fight tooth and nail just to get a hand raised by one of the uninterested, unmotivated students.  I found myself formulating a supremely negative outlook on their generation, which seemed so far removed from my own, although I knew the difference couldn’t possibly be so drastic.  It seemed that within the social confines of the classroom, the worst possible response a student could give to the begging teacher was an insightful answer, and conversely the best response in this bizarre atmosphere of willing failure was – “I don’t know.”  Translated neatly into – “I don’t care, and even if I did, I don’t want any of my peers to know that I care.”

But, the more time I spent, the more I saw that things were not so different from when I was in their shoes, only a handful of years ago.  They did care, and they were interested, but they required more than the age old conventions of sitting and reading aloud to engage their highly active minds.  Simply reading and discussing texts was not enough.  As my hours increased, so did my understanding of the students that I initially though of as so far removed from myself.  I learned that they did indeed want to learn!  Almost all of them, when given an opportunity to actually engage the text, and discover the themes, and relate to the characters and their struggles, were more than willing to give feedback to the teacher, and myself, and perhaps more importantly, each other.  I was thrilled to see that, not only did they respond positively to the material, but they seemed to be genuinely proud of themselves to be learning something new, even if it seemed foreign to their own life experiences.

As the semester progressed the teacher used more and more exercises that asked the students to apply the text to their own lives, and this seemed to capture their interest far more than just understanding the themes present in The Great Gatsby.  The teacher, seemingly in conjunction with our own course, incorporated a Vine project that required the students to use their smartphones – each group of about four had at least a couple of these useful gadgets between them – to explore a theme of the novel.  The variety, and creativity of these short recordings were astounding.  Given the creative platform to delve into the text, the students showcased a truly remarkable understanding of the characters, symbols, and themes, and more importantly had an opportunity to make a personal connection with them.  I thought that this example of creativity, which required each group to make, hack, and play with the text, was a perfect amalgam of all the things we learned this semester.  In just a few hours these students taught me a lesson that I’ll never forget, solidifying all of the various sentiments expressed by Kim Jaxon regarding literacy, learning and teaching.

I’m going to walk away from this course, and the corresponding time spent at a local high school, having learned more about myself and my future than I could have ever hoped or imagined.  My entire concept of the values of literacy have been stretched and widened, bringing even more unique and useful conventions into my reach.  Now the scope of my goal, which was once encapsulated by trying to get my future students to love reading as I have, has gained in so much.  Perhaps most importantly I’ve learned from this course that every day I spend with my students, is not only an opportunity for me to teach them something that will ignite a lasting interest, but that they in fact can teach me something equally profound.  And, that I have to make them understand this fact!  I have to give them the resources and the confidence to know that they have within them the ability to teach their teacher, and potentially the world.  I have to show them that their voice is their power, and through literacy they can lift themselves to the greatest of heights.  And, that they already have the ability to do this with the literacy which seems second nature to them.

 

 

 

 

 

http://makernation.wikispaces.com/

Examining these two films through my newly acquired literacy frame of reference, reveals countless insights into literacy practices as explained by Sylvia Scribner in “Literacy in Three Metaphors.”

With this blog I will use the three metaphors Scribner attributes to literacy as a means of discussing the exceptional literacy practices of the “Hobart Shakespeareans” and the “Spellbound” students, focusing mainly on the last metaphor because I think it has the most interesting connection to these kid’s literacy functions.

The first metaphor Scribner presents is “Literacy as Adaptation,” concerning the functionality of literacy in terms of everyday life.  A common example is reading traffic symbols.  Scribner suggests that this seemingly straightforward concept is exceedingly difficult to gauge across cultural barriers, even within a small community where pragmatic literacy varies from person to person based on various factors.

“Literacy as Adaptation” is interesting to consider when discussing the students from both of these movies, because it does not seem to apply.  In fact, there is nothing functional about their literacy functions.

Yes, their is value in learning to read, perform, and more importantly understand Hamlet, but these skills do not represent a necessary function in the everyday life of the students.  They go way beyond adaptation.  This is an example of literacy as passion!

The “Spellbound” students too, are not spelling their tails off for their survival.  Undoubtedly the practice and sense of achievement they gain from the competitive spelling is an important outlet for them, like any other sport, but this goes way beyond adaptation as well.  This is an example of literacy as competition.

The next of Scribner’s metaphors is “Literacy as Power,”  a concept that represents the relationship between literacy and power in a given society, and the world as a whole.  An important theme is the conceived power struggle, and the question: Does literacy dictate who is powerful, or does power dictate who is literate?

This metaphor applies to the children of both of these movies, because one of the main issues of literacy as power is whether or not literacy actually translates to power if concerted efforts are made to make it available to the powerless.  Most research suggests that it does not, and these films do not refute the research.

The “Hobart Shakespeareans” are primarily inner city minorities (although not in this class) from Hispanic and Asian decent.  They are exposed to literacy in a fascinating and heartwarming way.  In terms of power, the exposure to Shakespeare is probably not changing the power dynamics of the United States, but their are some definite power dynamics within the class which are directly affected by literacy ability.  Although I do not anticipate the lessons of Mr. Hobart to translate into political power for these students, as individuals the values gained are undeniable.  Power through literacy was represented on a smaller scale within the classroom through the use of a monetary system.

Scribner applies these metaphors to a broad spectrum of analysis, mainly considering the conceivable global impact of the literacy functions, while using examples from everyday situations.  “Literacy as Power” especially seems to apply to a larger scale, even the global impact of literacy.

The last of Scribner’s three metaphors, “Literacy as a State of Grace”  seems to directly coincide with these two films.  This metaphor describes how people are held in higher esteem when their literacy skills are known to exceed others within a community, or they have more access to literacy than others.

The “Spellbound” kids were all revered by their peers, teacher’s, and family because of their ability to master spelling at such a young age.  Sometimes this extra attention was manifested in admiration and adoration.  The little girl who won the competition had a teacher who may have been a little too invested.  She seemed kinda kooky. Regardless, they also felt a great sense of accomplishment in themselves, which ties into the children from L.A.

The “Hobart Shakespeareans” are a perfect example of “Literacy as a State of Grace” in action.  These children seem to be thriving off the literature they read.  Not only do they genuinely understand the themes, they passionately interact with the text and each other.  The parents of these kids were sometimes speechless when trying to describe the benefits of their son’s or daughter’s literacy skills, and even attributed a general sense of increased inquisitiveness to this literacy experience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The Brothers and Sisters Learn to Write” by Anne Haas Dyson is a fascinating ethnography.  Although our book club decided to break up the reading into sections, I found myself wanting to learn even more about the elementary school classroom that Dyson studied for the book.  The dynamics of the children’s relationship with each other and literacy were all framed, in my understanding, by the texts we have read and conversations we have shared in our own class this semester.

This particular text opened my eyes to some entirely new aspects of literacy, especially in the context of children’s literacy, and the various contemporary mediums that influence their development .  The section of the book I payed particular attention to focused on one of the boys, Noah.  Although Dyson attempts to convey a sense of objectivity, and typically succeeds in this endeavor by using scientifically exacting diction throughout, her affection for the students is clear.

Noah seems like the type of youngster it would be impossible not to like.  She uses Noah as a means of chronicling the short term of development of written literacy.  Although Noah, like all children, is unique in his progress toward writing intelligibly, he provides an interesting case study of children’s understanding and implementation of symbols at an age when these practices are first being expected of children in school.

Noah was especially fascinating (probably why Dyson chose to focus on him for this chapter) because his written stories manifested themselves as intricate hybrids of art and written language.  Dyson’s analysis of his stories revealed a multitude of valuable insights into a child’s conception of literacy as a means of creating a personal universe with symbols on paper.  Dyson shows how improved literacy over time impacts the stories, particularly the cohesiveness of events within the story.

The purpose of Dyson’s book is ethnographic awareness of a specific academic setting, specifically a kindergarten class in the Bay Area, CA.  Dyson successfully shines a light on arguably the most important and interesting stage in literacy development by examining children at the source, and analyzing the factors that contribute to their development, paying particular attention to the various contributors outside the classroom.

Because our group divided the book into a few chapters for each of us to read, most of conversations revolved around filling each other in on what the we had read.  It was interesting to here about the other children Dyson studied, and see the parallels between her research of each student.  Although the focus of each chapter was different, all of them seemed to hit on similar notions of literacy and how it is heavily influenced by the culture outside the classroom.

We talked a lot about our own experiences with literacy at the age of the class Dyson studied, and how we related to most of Dyson’s analysis.

Inspiring blog by Keri Franklin.  I hopped right onto twitter after reading her post, and started following a bunch of incredible people including Dr. J (the amazing professor, not the classic NBA star).  I also learned a few important things right away.

Conan O’Brien is hosting an unprecedented episode tonight featuring Mel Brooks in celebration of Sid Caesar’s life.

Also Lady Gaga is performing on Jimmy Fallon’s new show a little later.  Looks my relaxing time is booked.

I would have let both of those events pass me by without twitter, so now I’m forever in debt and have pledged my literacy loyalty.  I also laughed at three different tweets by Stephen Colbert, a high wizard of literacy.

Back to Kim Franklin.

I think of sponsorship in terms of literacy in a variety of ways.  Obviously the main mediums including: twitter, Facebook, Instagram, tumbler, etc. offer not only examples of literacy in a broad sense, but also enable people to showcase their personal literacy practices within specific forms of communication.

Although each of these websites/literacy-hives has the capability to encompass a wide range of writing, textual art, and other literacy manifestations, their are certain purposes associated with each, which identify with specific people and expressions of literacy.  This shows how sponsorship not only works to guide the form of digital literacies (specifically the social networking variety in this example), but the function as well.

Obviously, there is a great multitude of examples of literacy its sponsorship (that may be the other way around) available through the internet, and other digital technologies.  Using computers in general seems to rely primarily in understanding text.  The page on my screen right now is bursting with headings and menus and lists; all of which represent some new page full of texts, that must be read to understand, and potentially interact with like I do now.  It’s assumed that if I have this laptop in front of me, I’ll probably know that the word ‘post’ with a thumb tack next to eat means ‘write right here.’

If I understand these symbols, and have the skills to navigate through the textual online labyrinths of links and icons, I can potentially use the templates provided by a particular social networking cite, or many (presumably of my choice) to express my own literacy.  Sponsorship through online avenues today are considerably less constrained than most of the literacy conventions of the past, allowing people to not only interact with a wealth of texts by reading them, but by responding to them as well, for possibly millions to read (or just friends).

Print-based literacies are completely different because somebody usually reviews everything that is printed.  It’s typically not straight from the source, often lacking authenticity while exuding a since of credibility.  Sponsorship has a direct influence on what is produced in print-based media, beyond the subtle formatting differences, and specific lingo used in digital literacy sites like twitter and Facebook which define them.  Sponsorship in print-based literacies are subject to the government regulations, and longstanding social codes imposed by whoever is in control of producing the paper, or magazine, or book.

As technological temperatures rise in today’s cultural climate, the emphasis on unrestrained access to and production of literacy, old and new, is becoming a topic that people care more about as it pertains to their own lives.  Literacy sponsorship is diminishing in terms of dictating the content, but flourishes as inventive and unique websites rooted in the expansion of literacy as a global conversation.