ifeelbetter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ifeelbetter) wrote2011-03-29 12:36 am
ifeelbetter) wrote2011-03-29 12:36 am
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“Genius means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way.”
This is the latest installment in How Is That Bromance Class Going, Anyway? for those who are interested. Last episode, we were making the transition between the philosophizing and homo-eroticism of the idea of male camaraderie into a discussion of women, feminism, and how female friendships compare/contrast with all the male-dominated ones.
So I gave them this article by Jennifer Scanlon called "If My Husband Calls I'm Not Here": The Beauty Parlor as Real and Representational Female Space. I also gave them an assignment that should have been familiar since we've done similar things throughout the semester: they had to go find some instance of fashion in the "real world" and bring it into class for a quick close-reading. These presentations/close-readings were supposed to be 2-3 minutes MAX.
It was brilliant. It went EPICALLY over the time but it was so brilliant. The boys who caused a minor ruckus--a planned, calculated, ultimately productive quasi-misogynist ruckus--a week or so ago are still grappling with how "silly" fashion is and how "silly" women are for caring about it, right, BUT. These two boys--oh, this was brilliant--they each thought of presenting their own sneakers for their item of fashion. And they were competing brands of sneaker. The boys actually acted out--without any prompting from me--how heated and contentious fashion can be for men as well, even men who had already identified fashion as "silly" and "just for girls."
ANDANDAND.
When I teach writing courses, I always end with a creative final project where the students have complete liberty and creative license to do anything they want as long as it is (a) worth a concentrated effort and (b) pertinent to the class. I do this for a number of reasons. Among them are such gems as: (1) I really think academic writing is hard enough to grab onto without weighing it down so heavily at the end of the semester with a final, extra-long essay, (2) Grading their essays breaks my heart with every single batch--it takes time to heal and love them again (and, therefore, to be fair on their final grade for the semester) and I don't have that when they've finished class-time and this is my last contact with them, (3) They often think they're not good anymore after all the tossing and turning of the semester of jam-packed critique. They're all always brilliant in their own ways and I want them to walk away from my class aware that I know that and that being brilliant at whatever they do is not necessarily un-assimilable to the skills of critical analysis.....and so many other reasons. I really have so many.
I get fantastic projects, too. They always impress me--even the ones who have routinely hurt my soul over the semester with bad/sloppy/inconsiderate waffle. I once had a student--this was for "Ancient Greek Sexuality and Modern Homosexuality" when I was a TA--write a moleskin full of poems, set it on fire, and then hand in the charred fragments as her imitation of Sappho. How can you not love a student who does that? It would be impossible. I also had a student (for Detective Fiction last semester) write a children's book about the ketchup bottle solving the mystery of who was going to be eaten in the fridge for Thanksgiving dinner. And a fashion shoot. And a 20-minute piece of jazz. And paintings and comic books and stories and novellas....and all sorts of wonderful things.
So I had a student follow me around after class today. I didn't have office hours--they were before class--but he helped me pack my things and carry them back to my office anyway. He wanted to talk about his final project. Mind you, this is the boy who once asked if he would be allowed to be a feminist--prefacing it with, "I know I probably don't have the right"--and on another day came up with third-wave feminism all on his own. He's a Dulcet Darling, is my point. Anyway. So he asks me to help him come up with a couple of ideas so he can go home and contemplate his options thoroughly.
"What are you thinking? And what do you enjoy doing?" I asked--it's important that this final project be fun, I feel. I always emphasize that. They should enjoy doing it so that they do it well so that they know that enjoying their work will always make it better.
So this boy tells me his first interest. "I like computer programming," he said. He tentatively described a final project that would involve writing a program to search social networking sites for the word "bromance" and then compile the data. It sounded brilliant to me. I told him so.
Onwards and upwards, he still wanted some other options to choose between. Fair enough. I asked him what else he was interested in.
"Ballroom dancing, I guess," he said, blushing. I had to ask him to repeat himself because I honestly didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth were the ones I heard. But, no, I had heard correctly. Ballroom dancing.
We brainstormed and came up with an in-depth interview process with his team--yes, he has a TEAM of BALLROOM DANCERS--about how their first year's experience entering into the same-sex division of a competition they'd participated in many times affected/was influenced by their friendship. Another brilliant option.
But the boy wanted a final option. So I asked yet again for an interest.
The third answer is "sports." He plays on multiple teams in various sports. And he wanted to interview a football team about their friendships, maybe conduct a series of interviews with fans as well.
Honestly, I can't believe this student is real. He's the sort of student I sort of want to be able to keep forever, you know? Like some sparkling, beautiful token of what teaching can be like--how wonderful people can be--hanging on my wall for all of time.
In short: I sometimes have glorious days teaching. I sometimes have these moments when I look at a student and I think to myself, "Yeah. I'd leave a planet to you, no problem."
To prevent this entry (and me) from seeming overly optimistic, I should conclude with this lovely piece of literary criticism from the same group of students:
Ah. Right. Life is awful sometimes, too, and students can be the worst humanity has to offer as often as they can be the best. I almost forgot.
So I gave them this article by Jennifer Scanlon called "If My Husband Calls I'm Not Here": The Beauty Parlor as Real and Representational Female Space. I also gave them an assignment that should have been familiar since we've done similar things throughout the semester: they had to go find some instance of fashion in the "real world" and bring it into class for a quick close-reading. These presentations/close-readings were supposed to be 2-3 minutes MAX.
It was brilliant. It went EPICALLY over the time but it was so brilliant. The boys who caused a minor ruckus--a planned, calculated, ultimately productive quasi-misogynist ruckus--a week or so ago are still grappling with how "silly" fashion is and how "silly" women are for caring about it, right, BUT. These two boys--oh, this was brilliant--they each thought of presenting their own sneakers for their item of fashion. And they were competing brands of sneaker. The boys actually acted out--without any prompting from me--how heated and contentious fashion can be for men as well, even men who had already identified fashion as "silly" and "just for girls."
ANDANDAND.
When I teach writing courses, I always end with a creative final project where the students have complete liberty and creative license to do anything they want as long as it is (a) worth a concentrated effort and (b) pertinent to the class. I do this for a number of reasons. Among them are such gems as: (1) I really think academic writing is hard enough to grab onto without weighing it down so heavily at the end of the semester with a final, extra-long essay, (2) Grading their essays breaks my heart with every single batch--it takes time to heal and love them again (and, therefore, to be fair on their final grade for the semester) and I don't have that when they've finished class-time and this is my last contact with them, (3) They often think they're not good anymore after all the tossing and turning of the semester of jam-packed critique. They're all always brilliant in their own ways and I want them to walk away from my class aware that I know that and that being brilliant at whatever they do is not necessarily un-assimilable to the skills of critical analysis.....and so many other reasons. I really have so many.
I get fantastic projects, too. They always impress me--even the ones who have routinely hurt my soul over the semester with bad/sloppy/inconsiderate waffle. I once had a student--this was for "Ancient Greek Sexuality and Modern Homosexuality" when I was a TA--write a moleskin full of poems, set it on fire, and then hand in the charred fragments as her imitation of Sappho. How can you not love a student who does that? It would be impossible. I also had a student (for Detective Fiction last semester) write a children's book about the ketchup bottle solving the mystery of who was going to be eaten in the fridge for Thanksgiving dinner. And a fashion shoot. And a 20-minute piece of jazz. And paintings and comic books and stories and novellas....and all sorts of wonderful things.
So I had a student follow me around after class today. I didn't have office hours--they were before class--but he helped me pack my things and carry them back to my office anyway. He wanted to talk about his final project. Mind you, this is the boy who once asked if he would be allowed to be a feminist--prefacing it with, "I know I probably don't have the right"--and on another day came up with third-wave feminism all on his own. He's a Dulcet Darling, is my point. Anyway. So he asks me to help him come up with a couple of ideas so he can go home and contemplate his options thoroughly.
"What are you thinking? And what do you enjoy doing?" I asked--it's important that this final project be fun, I feel. I always emphasize that. They should enjoy doing it so that they do it well so that they know that enjoying their work will always make it better.
So this boy tells me his first interest. "I like computer programming," he said. He tentatively described a final project that would involve writing a program to search social networking sites for the word "bromance" and then compile the data. It sounded brilliant to me. I told him so.
Onwards and upwards, he still wanted some other options to choose between. Fair enough. I asked him what else he was interested in.
"Ballroom dancing, I guess," he said, blushing. I had to ask him to repeat himself because I honestly didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth were the ones I heard. But, no, I had heard correctly. Ballroom dancing.
We brainstormed and came up with an in-depth interview process with his team--yes, he has a TEAM of BALLROOM DANCERS--about how their first year's experience entering into the same-sex division of a competition they'd participated in many times affected/was influenced by their friendship. Another brilliant option.
But the boy wanted a final option. So I asked yet again for an interest.
The third answer is "sports." He plays on multiple teams in various sports. And he wanted to interview a football team about their friendships, maybe conduct a series of interviews with fans as well.
Honestly, I can't believe this student is real. He's the sort of student I sort of want to be able to keep forever, you know? Like some sparkling, beautiful token of what teaching can be like--how wonderful people can be--hanging on my wall for all of time.
In short: I sometimes have glorious days teaching. I sometimes have these moments when I look at a student and I think to myself, "Yeah. I'd leave a planet to you, no problem."
To prevent this entry (and me) from seeming overly optimistic, I should conclude with this lovely piece of literary criticism from the same group of students:
Taking the violence against women one step further, and much more literally, it is easy to see how Eminem and Dr. Dre approach the line of homosexuality.
Ah. Right. Life is awful sometimes, too, and students can be the worst humanity has to offer as often as they can be the best. I almost forgot.