ProfHacker is a multi-author blog, edited by George Williams and I [see the comments before sending a grammar flame, please!–jbj], devoted to pedagogy, productivity, and technology, and the intersection of these, in higher education. It’s super cool. (Don’t believe me? Try a search on Twitter for ProfHacker.)
Give it a read!]]>
Update: Retirement is going to be a major issue, in a variety of different contexts, in higher education over the next decade or so. See this development at Eastern Michigan.]]>
The first poster is innocuous enough, but then someone writes in with the dreaded unintentionally ironic grammar/spelling correction:
” I think she was excepted at Johns Hopkins as I don’t think there is a John Hopkins! “
On the one hand, “Santa” is perfectly correct: There’s a typo in the story, which should refer to Johns Hopkins University. On the other hand, Santa has left herself open on the excepted/accepted flank:
” John Hopkins University is in Baltimore Md. and is one of the best schools for medicine in the USA. Yes, it does exist!! And she was accepted, not excepted which means to be excluded. “
“Bob” is so eager to rush in to pedantically correct the accepted/excepted point that he misses the larger point: “John Hopkins University” does *not* exist, although The Johns Hopkins University, familiarly called Johns Hopkins, certainly does.
All of this subliteracy, mind you, is attached to an article celebrating a local student’s academic achievements!!
(Yes, I’m a little cranky tonight, mostly for reasons I can’t talk about directly. But, hey–it’s just 8 days until Merlin Mann comes to campus. And, after that, just 2 more weeks of class.)]]>
Many thanks to George for his hard work in re-organizing this excellent tradition.
Without further ado, presented for your delectation is Teaching Carnival 3.1:
Some Things Never Change: Course and assignment design, lesson planning, and communicating with students and deans
Some topics are classics for a reason: Alice Pawley explains “how to write clear e-mails to your professor.” (Related: Sybil Vane’s pet peeve: students who open e-mails with “hey.”)
The inimitable Scott Eric Kaufman explains “how to teach film responsibly in a composition class,” using a scene from The Dark Knight. (Possibly related: Michael Faris uses Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” to teach narrative in composition.)
Boone points out that most professors could be more paperless than we are. (This post prompted me to learn how to use my department copier’s magic “scan + e-mail” setting, which is great.)
Chuck Tryon builds a writing assignment around “virginity auctions.”
Nels shares a series of prompts on writing from experience.
At edwired, Mills Kelly reflects on perpetrating a hoax.
Exams fill Chris Vilmar–and not just his students–with regret.
Feministing posed the question, “what’s the worst college advice you’ve been given?” The comment thread is amazing. (Related: Dr. Crazy’s post on being called an asshole by a student, and “honey” by an adjunct.)
Julie Meloni documents why, when done well, first-year experience (FYE) courses take so much effort and how they pay off. (While on her blog, don’t miss her plug-in that auto-generates citations for her various entries.)
Jim Brown talks about an assignment that asks students to use Google Maps to document their lives.
Silvia Straka offers a detailed explanation of using YouTube to increase engagement in a social work course.
Collin Brooke’s graduate course will spend the last ten weeks of the semester reviewing the past 10 years of composition research. The result will be “a database of more than 400 essays over the past decade.”
Even after teaching a course for the “umpteenth” time, David Mazella continues to learn “about incorporating critical theory into literary studies; about the value of groups and groupwork in the undergraduate classroom; about the usefulness of annotated bibliographies for teaching research; about the need for library, electronic database, and ultimately information literacy instruction to improve their research; and about the usefulness of courseblogs.”
Dean Dad has noticed that faculty believe that “administrators in general are worthless, but my dean is obviously necessary.”
Denis Rancourt started giving all his students As. Stanley Fish pontificates, and P.Z. Meyers reflects.
A White Bear reads Kitchen Nightmares as a pedagogical drama. (Also don’t miss the even-more-recent post on students’ mad quest to “relate” to texts.)
The University in A Socially-Networked Age
Alex Reid, who will close the carnival for the semester in May, believes we need to hack the university ourselves before outsiders, possibly adversarial or indifferent, do it for us. (Related: See Pixar’s Randy Nelson on what they’re looking for in new hires.)
Lisa Spiro’s first post recapping the digital humanities in 2008 should be read by everyone in the humanities, whether you think of yourself as “digital” or not. (Related: The HASTAC forum with Brett Bobley, who runs the NEH’s Office of Digital Humanities.)
Jo Guldi explains what an online academic journal *could* look like. Hint: It’s not just PDFs of essay-length things! Meanwhile, Luis von Ahn concludes that academic writing, in its present form, is “basically spam.”
Dan Gillmor argues that, properly understood, journalism education is central to the liberal arts today.
Leslie Inman Jensen points out that at universities “web education is out of date and fragmented.”
Remember: When your students ask if they should go on for doctoral work in the humanities, TELL THEM NO. (Or, at least, as Dr. Crazy says, not if they can possibly avoid it, which is probably fairer.)
Then again, A Concerned Professor explains that “Your college experience is likely to set back your education, your career, and your creative potential“! (Related: Blackout poet extraordinaire Austin Kleon has been collecting a whole slew of articles under the rubric “you don’t have to go to college.”)
And then there was Twitter
When the teaching carnival started, Twitter wasn’t around; now it’s an unmissable resource for sharing links, quick takes, gossip, and all the other forms of discourse that can extend your network of colleagues around the world. Naturally, people are starting to teach with it. (On Twitter, I’m jbj.)
“Microblogging the MLA” began as a resource for an MLA panel on Twitter, but has expanded into much more.
David Silver teaches his students about thin/thick tweets, and about “aeiou” (already existing information optimally uploaded) tweets, and then asks them to “wow us.” He’s confident they can do this because, he claims, they’re already familiar with the tools. (I have some doubts about this, which suggests that institutional differences still matter.)
Tom Barrett has created an excellent, constantly-updated slideshow on Interesting Ways to Use Twitter in the Classroom. Last Thursday, he was at 6. Tonight, he’s up to 18.
Dave Parry’s post from last year on Twitter in Academia holds up well, but it should be supplemented with his explanation of “Who I Follow on Twitter.”
This Digital Campus podcast also covers the relevant territory.
(Still not convinced? Try Elliott Kosmicki’s post–not just for academics–on how to use Twitter productively. Then again, maybe not.)
This carnival post has been brought to you by the Little Professor’s academic advertisements–as seen on TV!
Thanks for reading! Next up: Kathleen Fitzpatrick on February 23. If you want to nominate entries for inclusion–and you do, you really do–find out how to do so here.]]>
Right now, though, it doesn’t work the way I expect. It’s easy to control:
What I expect to happen is that I will only get e-mail when I have put events into my calendar myself.
What actually happens, though, is that I get e-mail when there’s an event on a webcalendar that I’ve subscribed to–typically, the calendar of events at CCSU.
That’s frustrating, because the two kinds of events aren’t the same. The difference between them is clear enough in the regular 30boxes interface, which only shows events I’ve added–until I mouse over a given day, and then it reveals everything else. My calendar should only e-mail me about events I really can’t miss, not to tell me that a bunch of different clubs have their meetings.
(Apparently I’ve been using 30boxes for almost 3 years–since 2/6/2006. That’s a long time online.)]]>
(d) Provision of ISBN College Textbook Information in Course Schedules- To the maximum extent practicable, each institution of higher education receiving Federal financial assistance shall–
It’s already the case that textbook orders are required to be submitted preposterously early. (As I understand it, this is to facilitate the buyback market, which has complex effects on textbook prices.) If we have to provide all of that online, that deadline will get a lot firmer and a lot earlier.
Which is to say that, in effect, this is a regulation that will hamper creative teaching–or, rather, it will encourage professors to teach the same courses, from the same textbooks, over and over again. It also will create public pressure for conformity in textbook ordering: “Why are *you* using the Broadview Anthology of British Literature, when everyone else is using the Norton?” “Why do you require the Penguin edition of Dickens, when the Dover edition is so much cheaper?”
Textbook pricing is a complicated problem, and this is a fairly blunt instrument. I’m in favor of information and transparency–I usually make my book orders as public as possible, and provide information to the local alternative bookstore and so forth–but this doesn’t sound like it was thought through carefully.
We might also pause a moment and mourn the idea that a student might take a course for a reason other than the professor offered the least expensive version of it.]]>
Favourites such as Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Cinderella and Rapunzel are being dropped by some families who fear children are being emotionally damaged.
A third of parents refused to read Little Red Riding Hood because she walks through woods alone and finds her grandmother eaten by a wolf.
One in 10 said Snow White should be re-named because “the dwarf reference is not PC”.
The mind reels.
As is so frequently the case with modern absurdities, Charles Dickens was on the case 150-odd years ago (I’ve posted this before, but will re-post as events demand):
In an utilitarian age, of all other times, it is a matter of grave importance that Fairy tales should be respected. Our English red tape is too magnificently red ever to be employed in the tying up of such trifles, but every one who has considered the subject knows full well that a nation without fancy, without some romance, never did, never can, never will, hold a great place under the sun. The theatre, having done its worst to destroy these admirable fictions–having in a most exemplary manner destroyed itself, its artists, and its audiences, in that perversion of its duty–it becomes doubly important that the little books themselves, nurseries of fancy as they are, should be preserved. To preserve them in their usefulness, they must be as much preserved in their simplicity, and purity, and innocent extravagance, as if they were actual fact. Whosoever alters them to suit his own opinions, whatever they are, is guilty, to our thinking, of an act of presumption, and appropriates to himself what does not belong to him.
. . .
Now, it makes not the least difference to our objection whether we agree or disagree with our worthy friend, Mr. Cruikshank, in the opinions he interpolates upon an old fairy story. Whether good or bad in themselves, they are, in that relation, like the famous definition of a weed; a thing growing up in a wrong place. He has no greater moral justification in altering the harmless little books than we should have in altering his best etchings. If such a precedent were followed we must soon become disgusted with the old stories into which modern personages so obtruded themselves, and the stories themselves must soon be lost. With seven Blue Beards in the field, each coming at a gallop from his own platform mounted on a foaming hobby a generation or two hence would not know which was which, and the great original Blue Beard would be confounded with the counterfeits. Imagine a Total abstinence edition of Robinson Crusoe, with the rum left out. Imagine a Peace edition, with the [97/98] gunpowder left out, and the rum left in. Imagine a Vegetarian edition, with the goat’s flesh left out. Imagine a Kentucky edition, to introduce a flogging of that ‘tarnal old nigger Friday, twice a week. Imagine an Aborigines Protection Society edition, to deny cannibalism and make Robinson embrace the amiable savages whenever they landed. Robinson Crusoe would be “edited” out of his island in a hundred years, and the island would be swallowed up in the editorial ocean.
Nobody likes it when a kid has nightmares–but it happens. Just two nights ago, our 5-yr-old dreamed of a talking female statue who kept telling him, “BELIEVE IN GOD OR YOU WILL DIE.” Believe me, he’d not read anything with that sort of imagery anytime recently . . . it was just a nightmare. Dickens is right: The imaginative space of fairy tales, and of art in general, is worth defending against the suffocating desire of parents to protect their children from untoward thoughts.]]>
As I look through iTunes, these are the top five albums that I bought this year, irrespective of release date:
I also bought most of The National’s back catalog, and picked up a huge amount of uncollected KRS-ONE tracks. Oh, and the soundtrack to Juno was fun, and led me to Jeffrey Lewis’s It’s the Ones Who’ve Cracked That the Light Shines Through. The Counting Crows album was, I thought, better than its reception, but I am pretty old. The DBT’s newest album, Brighter Than Creation’s Dark, is also terrific. (And they’re playing in CT in 3 weeks!)
My favorites from this year include Dear Science, Brighter Than Creation’s Dark, and The ’59 Sound, but, really, the album of the year in our house was Stay Positive, a CD we wore out playing in the car. “Ask Her For Some Adderall” will always be the song of 2008 for us. (And, as I’ve written elsewhere, there’s nothing quite like hearing your 5-yr-old belt it out at maximum volume, nor developing a tradition of pulling up to kindergarten in the morning just as the final section of “Constructive Summer” kicks in: “I went to your schools / and did my detention / but the walls were so gray / I couldn’t pay attention.” A. liked the line about “Saint Joe Strummer” so much she bought me the 4-hour documentary about him, The Future Is Unwritten, for Christmas.)
Beyond The Hold Steady, the 5-yr-old also enjoyed the Barenaked Ladies’ kid-friendly release, Snacktime, as well as Justin Roberts’s Pop Fly, and Kimya Dawson’s Alphabutt. Favorite tracks: “Ask Her for Some Adderall”; DBT’s “Bob“; Beefy’s “I’m No Superman“; Ozzy Ozbourne, “Iron Man“; and Dawson, “Alphabutt.”
Movies are expensive when you factor in baby sitting. I suspect the best movie we saw at a theater was Tell No One, and we probably had the best time at Iron Man. (I’ll give you that The Dark Knight is a better movie, but it seems inarguable that Iron Man is more fun.)
It looks like the best movies we rented were United 93 and No Country for Old Men.
Like everyone else, we thought Wall-E and Kung-Fu Panda were the best children’s movies, with Bolt right below that. I suspect that if the 5-yr-old were typing this, he’d rate Star Wars: The Clone Wars pretty highly. I fell asleep during the Horton movie, and refused to see the Madagascar one, since I’d fallen asleep during the original.
The best book I read this year that I was neither teaching nor writing about was Ciaran Carson’s translation of The Tain, followed by Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home.
The best book I read to the 5-yr-old this year was Simon Armitage’s Sir Gawain & The Green Knight, followed by H. G. Wells’s The War of the Worlds. 20K Leagues under the Sea wasn’t as successful, because we had a bad translation.
The worst things I read him: The novelizations of the Star Wars & Indiana Jones universes are just astonishingly bad–and they’re badly copyedited, to boot. Here’s hoping that the H. G. Wells helps the boy improve his taste, or I might have to start reading him Neuromancer or something, and he might be a little young.
Tomorrow I’ll round up the things I read more or less professionally.]]>
We are schizophrenic about shit. On the one hand, we laugh at it in grossout films and in elementary school. We revel in strange details, such as Martin Luther reportedly eating a spoonful of his own excrement each day for medicinal purposes. On the other hand, we tend to think of the bathroom as an intensely private space, so much so that many of us will flatly refuse to do anything that makes a noise while another person’s within earshot. Both perspectives imagine excretion as shameful or abnormal even though, as children’s book author Taro Gomi taught us long ago, everyone poops.
As ever, read the whole thing!]]>