final day in cagli...

I went to the piazza this morning and had a cappuccino with a friend and waited for Father Bruno ....he is painting this morning...and I am anticipating some of his fluid style rubbing off on me. I will post some of his work at a later time...Father Bruno is easy to spot in his loose shorts and pale yellow t-shirt and sunglasses with a black rubber holder around his neck. This morning he arrived with his backpack and a styro plate; on it are three blobs of acrylics: umber, Prussian blue, and a ..maybe ..vermillion (I say ARE because Bruno left before me and told me to just leave his paints there and he would get them later...in Cagli, I am sure they would be there tomorrow...an honest population) My friend left and the Father and I walked to the concrete benches in front of the City Hall. He reached in his backpack and handed me some heavy stock paper and a sharpie...I did not know he was wanting me to work alongside him....We sat sketching/painting for several minutes and Bruno del Medico joined us ( this is the Bruno I profiled in Cagli the past two weeks...more later)...I handed him some of the paper and a brush and marker...and we all painted/sketched for about an hour there on the piazza...drawing the curiosity of the townspeople...fun...memorable.

change...what was wrong with the old one?

Culture is environmental.  It is soaked into every tiny level and interaction possible in a society. As we students are told frequently, it is everything learned.  When we encounter a new culture, some of the things we find different can be so surprising because they were under our radar.  We assumed there was only one way to do them because they were so small we had never thought about it a bit.  This ethnocentrism goes down to the cellular level of life.  It’s invisible; it’s the water we swim in.  I have found a tiny but significant aspect of interaction in Italy that jangles with my American desire to be direct.

In Italy, the custom is to give customers their change from a purchase by placing it on the counter or on a dish designated specially for this purpose—not into the customers’ hand. I realized this after my first couple purchases in Florence, and noted that many merchants will bypass your hand completely and even look distressed if you put your hand out.

To try to alleviate the discomfort of this dissonance, I have tried to adapt by not putting my hand out after purchases, but it seems to have a life of its own. Try as I might, it has been next to impossible for me to adapt to this.

Part of the reason it’s hard is that I don’t understand it.  Then also, I’m a pretty straightforward person, even within the cultural environment of the US.  Plus, it seems like such a small interaction; and it’s so totally automatic for me to put my hand out for my change.  I have now been in Italy for 10 days, and finally I have gotten to the point where I can remember most of the time.  I practically have to strap my hand down.  You know when you’re used to driving stick and you drive an automatic and that left foot starts moving in on the break as if it were a clutch and you have to jam it between the seat and the door to teach it to behave?  Just like that. It’s Pavlovian!

I have heard different theories about the reason for this interesting cultural iota of change presentation: it’s a trust thing; they don’t want to touch you (long history of plagues and iffy personal hygiene opportunities); just because.  In the end, it doesn’t matter what the reason is.  It’s how it is, and how the Italians think it should be.  When in Rome and all that.  So, I just keep slapping my encroaching hand away during transactions, and hope not to offend anyone.  What was wrong with my old way of receiving change?  Nothing, in its context.  But here, it’s getting in the way of smooth interaction with the people, so it needs to be changed.

I should be good and trained just about the time I get back to the States.....

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bruno del medico: holding the gift

 A long, stiff bamboo broom, a slender knife with a red plastic handle, and a blue dust pan are the simple tools Bruno Del Medico uses to groom the walls lining the Via Flaminia around Cagli, Italy. He regularly removes tenacious plant sprouts from the walls to maintain their beauty and prevent deeper fractures. The speeding cars and trucks are no small threat as Bruno works in the narrow margins of the road.

Bruno’s job is a quid-pro-quo arrangement with the city of Cagli for his living space—a small room on Via Lapis.  His colorful journey includes adventures both delightful and devastating, embracing his love of drawing and painting, and the town of Cagli.

Sitting at the caffe with several of his art pieces stacked near his feet, Bruno points to one of the drawings—a female nude with her back to the viewer. The piece is rendered in charcoal on a soft pink paper. He explains the challenge of producing realistic drawings and asserts that “art is painstaking and my work is so real that you might think you could eat a piece of fruit from a still life I paint.” The difficulty of the process is exacerbated by limitations on his time; creating requires focus and making a living encroaches on creative space in his day. Bruno says the nude is one of 15 pieces remaining after an art dealer took his body of work to sell and was not seen again. Bruno’s discouragement over this loss diminished his drive to continue with his art.

In the evenings, Bruno descends the steep cobblestone street stretching from the cathedral to Via Flaminia—his tools in tow. With his knife, he slices the fledgling shoots emerging from the wall’s crevices. The clippings land among the rocks, empty bottles, and crumpled papers. With wide, strong strokes, he aims the sturdy broom at the debris, frequently working within the driving lane, dodging the fast moving traffic.  He moves the growing pile to the end of the wall; the air fills with fine dust. Using the dustpan as a scoop, he transfers the pile into a large plastic bag, moves down the street and repeats the process.

These streets are familiar to Bruno; he says he first came to Cagli in 1972 at 14.  He began life in the southern town of Forga. When he was three, his mother died, and for the next 11 years he lived in a government orphanage. He says of his passion for art, “I was born with a pencil in my hand.” Wanting to develop his drawing and painting skills, he came to Cagli and enrolled in the Iistituto Stata de Artes. After two months, he left, discouraged by the school’s emphasis on sculpture.

At 18, he says, when government assistance ceased, he left Cagli and moved to Rome. There, he painted portraits as a street vendor; he moved on to Genoa and managed a hotel, partnering with a woman from Algeria. The two had a daughter, Monica.  Bruno says he woke one day to find his partner gone; she took all his money and left the child in his care. Penniless, Bruno returned to Cagli to raise Monica. “Coming back to Cagli”, he says, “was like breathing again—especially with the little girl—it was a respite.”

Some mornings Bruno arrives at the piazza carrying an empty wicker basket; it’s a day to pick mushrooms. “Sometimes I get 30 Euros a pound for good mushrooms, but lately it’s been too hot and too dry.” Later in the day he sits at Caffe de Commercio smoking a cigar and drinking an espresso with a basket half full of the delicate funghi. If he finds a buyer, he will sell them fresh; the rest he will freeze.

Reflecting on his life and his place in the community of Cagli, Bruno calls himself “an outsider…most people don’t understand me; I speak my mind.” He stresses that the work he does to sustain his life is “not my work…not my work!” While the boy, Bruno, was born with a pencil in his hand, the man, Bruno, holds the gift inside after so many things got in his way.

paying the bill

Cultural dissonance is often subtle, and our Cagliese hosts are ever gracious with my redundant ignorance.  The purchasing protocol at Starbucks in America is significantly dissonant with the caffes in Italia. A transaction at Mimi’s Caffe on the piazza in Cagli illustrates this sufficiently.  Standing at the chest-high bar, I waited briefly for my turn; when she turned her focus on me, I ordered,  “vorrei expresso, perfavore;” I held out my five euro as a clear intent to pay immediately. In the States, I don’t know that this offering would be refused for a moment, but Mimi went about her preparations, ignoring my obvious faux pas. She set the saucer on the bar with a sugar packet and a napkin followed by the lilliputian cup half-filled with the dark coffee drink. I downed it and the time now seemed right. Again, I held out the euro bill. This time she took it; I opened my hand to receive the change and that dissonance descended on the transaction again as she set the change on the counter, bypassing my hand.

Creativity flourishes under the ideal psychological conditions that result from a self engaged in expanding ever more enriching modes of experience. New forms of experience present new meanings, some offering new values. Values that promote greater harmony between the individual and the environment provide avenues for growth, which fortify the self and foster the unfolding of further potential. This is valuable not only to the growing individual but also to society” (Uffelman, 2011p. 329)

Dewey extols experience as the place of learning—a pedagogy of infinite possibility.  My Cagli experience jump-started early in the morning on the first day of class. I took a hike with a friend on a ridge a mile outside the city walls. He knew the ridge and scaled it goat-like; he did not know about my acrophobia. After 50 feet, he asked if I had problem with heights but by then retreating was a paralyzing option. In the 45 minute 35ish degree assent I was clinging to roots and rocks and mostly crawling, nauseous, dizzy and unconcerned about bleeding, torn clothes, and bruised legs…my guide oblivious to the internal agony, continually urging me upward, cautioning me not to look back or down and deaf to my cursing and claims that I could not go on…”forward facing…always forward facing!” Arriving at the top, I stood with my hands raised in victory…fortified and bursting with metaphor.

travel as a political act

Swiss Alps, 2011

Rick Steves’ discussion of American Empire would have run me off …from Rick Steves and Gonzaga a decade ago. For many years I held fast to a socio-political-spiritual philosophy that quickly tucked those trigger words into a tightly sealed box labeled blind liberals—accompanied by a “feisty response” (Steves, 2009. p. 96) summarily  dismissing the ideas and the people offering them. Steves proposes that a large part of the world holds this perception and will treat us accordingly; this is valuable information for overseas travelers.  I remember after 911 I was jolted to think anyone had a reason to hate America.

Steves describes sources of this perception including the US dismissal of the UN, gregarious “hard power”(Steves, 2009, p. 97) militarism, and the war on terrorism that has multiplied our enemies.  All of these were sanctioned as quasi Holy Writ in my world and were akin to heresy if questioned; whole groups of people were summarily dismissed who held other views.  Many changes have occurred in me over the past few years as I find it more comfortable to let go of a hard line seeking instead to hold conflicting ideas in tension; Steves’ ideas are palatable to me and applicable to my overseas trekking. One element that was missing in my perceptual framework of many years was a simple compassion for others. My rigid doctrine blinded me to this absence.

Steves’ experiences in Iran persuade me that I can effectively diffuse misunderstanding in small ways as I engage the people in my travels in Italy and beyond. He talks about the shock of Iranians when they discover he is American stating, “They seem to be thinking, ‘I thought Americans hate us’"(p. 168). It is particularly easy to make assumptions and hold hatred of people we cannot see and especially those in a part of the world we know nothing about; the distance facilitates this. By traversing the physical gap through travel, we come face to face and find there are no foreigners. "Compassion is the quivering of the pure heart...when we have allowed ourselves to be touched by the pain of life...under this rubric, even the idea of enemy vanishes" (Brussat, 1996, p. 91).

Brussat, F. (1996). Spiritual literacy: Reading the sacred in everyday life. New York, NY: Scribner.

Steves, R. (2009). Travel as a political act. New York, NY: Nation Books.

A Big Picture of Learning

A Big Picture of Learning:  How Do You Educate the Whole Person?

“Jesuit education is a call to human excellence, to the fullest development of all human qualities...a call to develop the whole person.”--Peter Hans Kolvenbach

            Below is a drawing I did for the Visiting Scholar class in Spokane in early 2012. I am using it to facilitate my understanding of how to educate the whole person. I will integrate it with reflections and applications to other resources in order to more fully appreciate the implications of our studies this semester. Visiting Scholar, Dr.Deanna Dannels’ reflection on my application

of the sponge to learning are helpful:

  We appreciate your ability to capture and re-present the world in drawings. It was provocative because the concept of a sponge is typically used to denigrate passive learning but your drawing and paragraph challenged this commonly used trope in productive ways. It made both of us rethink the easy conceptualization of a sponge as a metaphor for passive learning. Thank you for that.

             In their native environment, sponges depend on the constant flow of water through their pores and channels to assimilate food and oxygen and to push out what is not needed. This simple digestion plan works well for these primitive animals. They thrive, and grow for hundreds of years immersed in their marine home in a continuous rhythm of assimilation, intuitive discrimination of what is necessary and helpful, and, finally, pushing out what is unnecessary into the economy of the sea. The sponge is a suitable metaphor of Jesuit pedagogy and the elements critical to inciting and sustaining it. Away from its saltwater home, the sponge is dry and tough, but it is profoundly transformed and reconstituted when given an opportunity to absorb water again. Originally created for continual growth (created to absorb), if it is hindered by environmental deprivation, reconstitution is ever reasonable and possible. When the sponge is saturated once again, it is useful in numerous ways in its new environment; some of those functions require part of the water to be squeezed out. Metaphorically, this necessary squeezing of the excess is illustrative of learner overflow in engagement with others and of the tension of learners’ relational dialectics as they negotiate differences producing a mutual and synergistic learning. It is also illustrative of the Jesuit mission to serve others and seek positive change in the world.  

Environmental Factors and Instructor Engagement

            A range of environmental influences, both positive and negative, are described in the three resources used for this reflection. Rebecca Nathan (2005) presents an ethnographic study of life as a college freshman in My Freshman Year. The students she studies are constrained by cultural ambivalence, financial pressure, and social conformity.  The Italian film, Ciao, Professore! is a story about a professor among tiny student ruffians caught in an economic and social conundrum. In contrast, is Delderfield’s (1972) To Serve Them all my Days, where students are immersed in a life of active learning, attentive instructors, freedom from financial constraint, ample opportunities, and only occasional hindrances.

            “Cura personalis—personal care and concern for the individual—is a hallmark of Jesuit education and requires that teachers become as conversant as possible with the context or life experience of the learner” (Kolvenbach, 2005, n/a). Professore’s experience in Cosovo presents images of this kind of care for students. He proactively and physically gathers them from their individual contexts to bring them to the classroom; he and chubby Nicola share their mutual weight problem; he inadvertently discovers the legitimate reasons for Gennarino’s dozing in class; he  involves himself in a proactive outrage and concern for Raffaele’s mother. His intuitive  response to the “shit” (Wertmuller, 1992) in his chair and the object lesson emerging from the slapping episode with Raffaele, contribute to the positive forming of these emerging learners. David Powlett Jones embraces the students of Bamflyde. The boys are immersed in an evironment where teachers serve as surrogate parents. He functions as teacher, comforter, counselor, disciplinarian and friend. Nathan’s (2005) year long study asserts instructors have a significant impact, but that largely, “Student teacher relationships play a relatively minor role in the experience of undergraduate life in a large university” (Nathan, 2005, p. 140).  

The Possiblity of Education… “For Others”

“An Ignatian pedagogical paradigm can help teachers and learners to focus their work in a manner that is academically sound and at the same time formative of persons for others.” (Kolvenbach, 2005)

            Reflecting on the sponge as it relates to “educating the whole person”, I see the students of the Professore were clearly beginning to morph from their “dry and tough”condition as they  immersed in his attentive tutelege. The viewer is left hoping the process will continue, but realistically, given administrative controls and other powers-that-be and with Professore gone, it’s difficult to imagine that the nascent learners will experience significant continuity in growth. The Bamflyde boys are in a more fortunate position. The bedrock of their school paradigm is the conviction that information cannot be “hammered into” (Delderfield, 1972, p. 40) students, that discussion promotes original thought, cooperation is supremely important, and  instructors are like potters at the wheel. In a spirit of release, after the the hard nurturing work is done, Algy states,  “All the best of us can do is to teach boys how to educate themselves between their time of leaving here, and their time of crossing the Rubicon” (Delderfield, 1972, p. 142).  In the present-day university, Nathan’s (2005) research offers hope through an active understanding of students, stating, “Student culture has a depth and complexity, which often hold the key to its engagement” (Nathan, 2005, p. 142). Investing time intentionally and actively engaging this student culture in innovative ways is akin to wetting the sponge.    

            Stretching the sponge metaphor further,we find that there must be immersion before there is a possiblity of excess for others. The vision of this explodes in me; I am smitten with the ideals of Jesuit pedagogy. I am also tempered by realism; the task is immense. Professore is gone and replacements are doubtful. Engaging student culture in the university is not so easy as it is at cloistered Bamflyde. My ideals are clouded when I consider my frequent experiences of ambivalent college students. I observe the discouragment of my teacher/husband with his  decades  in BIE schools working with young Native American ruffians. I feel we are fortunate simply to leave a bit of moisture on the “dry and tough”in hopes they will run with it as we imagine the emerging Raffaele could do.

References

Delderfield, R. (1972). To serve them all my days. Naperville, Ill: Sourcebooks.

Dewey, J. (1938). Experience and education. New York, NY: Touchstone

Jesuit.net (Director). (2012). Competency Assessment in Distance Education [Motion Picture].

Kolvenbach, S. (2005, September). Jesuit education and Ignatian pedagogy. Retrieved April 30, 2012, from Jesuit Distance Education Network: http://www.ajcunet.edu/Jesuit-Education-and-Ignatian-Pedagogy

Nathan, R. (2005). To serve them all my days. New York, NY: Penguin Books.

Wertmuller, L. (Director). (1992). Ciao, Professore! [Motion Picture].

a picture of learning

 COML 501:Communication and Learning: Applied Research

Gonzaga Visiting Scholar Class Spring of 2012

Dr. Ann Darling and Dr. Deanna Dannels

In their native environment, sponges depend on the constant flow of water through their pores and channels to assimilate food and oxygen and to push out waste. This simple digestion plan works well for these primitive animals. They thrive, and grow for hundreds of years immersed in their marine home in a continuous rhythm of assimilation, intuitive discrimination of what is necessary and helpful, and, finally, a pushing out the overflow of what is not needed into the economy of the sea. The sponge is an apt illustration of learning and the needed elements critical to inciting and sustaining it. My drawings portray a domesticated version and context for the sponge. Away from its watery home, it is dry and tough, but profoundly transformed and reconstituted when it is given an opportunity to absorb water again. Originally created for continual growth (created to absorb), if it is hindered by environmental deprivation, reconstitution is ever reasonable and possible. Once again saturated, it is useful in numerous ways in its new environment; some of the functions require part of the water to be squeezed out. Metaphorically, this necessary squeezing of the excess is illustrative of learner overflow in engagement with others; the tension of learners’ relational dialectics as they negotiate differences produces a mutual and synergistic learning environment.

In Defense of Collaborative Learning: Creating New Things Together

The following is a reflection paper for an applied research class, COML 501/513, on campus at Gonzaga in January of 2012. It was led by Dr. Deanna Dannels and Dr. Ann Darling.

“If we examine communication carefully, we can see that what is often actually happening is that the people are negotiating a variety of differences in order to generate something new that they then hold ‘in common.’”

~David Bohm (Bohm, 2009, p. 42)

  It began with a fort. The assignment was on a giant sticky note: “Hello, COM513! Using all possible resources, make a fort!!..15 minutes.” The instructions were for a class of thirteen graduate students—barely acquainted. In my mind I thought, “I could build a fort by myself and do a good job; why must we build one together?” But we worked together regardless of my inner rebellion. With blankets and bedspreads borrowed from a local hotel, chairs, tape, pins, signs, and other found objects,  a fort was birthed. Negotiations were disorganized; ideas were disjointed; leadership ebbed and flowed and the final product was not particularly artful, but it was a genuine group effort. For me, probably the oldest in the group, that few minutes of fort-building was uncomfortable, frustrating, scary—and the beginning of a dismantling of my mental framework about working with others.

For much of my life I held the notion that working with others is a kind of crutch. I have always resisted group work; it seemed counterproductive. I remember telling one of my art professors I would not work on a collaborative mural project because I could not see how I could possibly merge my work with others’. It seemed that my best efforts were always forged alone where I determined the direction of the learning. I loved to paint—alone; I loved to read—alone; if I did work in a group, I wanted to be the one calling the shots.

But Spokane was about collaboration. The discomfort could confirm my unchallenged paradigm or it could be a bridge to learning.  

As coincidence would have it, when I got back to New Mexico from my class in Spokane I read an article by quantum physicist, David Bohm (2009). His contribution to my emerging collaboration revelation expanded my appreciation of the practical outcomes of working together well. He states, “If people are to cooperate, they have to be able to create something in common, something that takes shape in their mutual discussions and actions, rather than something that is conveyed from one person who acts as an authority to the others” (Bohm, p. 44). He articulates an expansive picture of working together when he extends cooperative meaning-making to the learner’s engagement with inanimate objects and nature much like the experience of the scientist researching cures or the artist painting a flower, “The continual emergence of something new that is common” (Bohm, p. 44) to both the thought and the thing observed; this embodies the extension of my reflection on learning in Spokane: in collaborative learning, everything matters: fellow students, instructors, interviews, focus groups, contributions after the ftf class, and all the nuances associated with these events and engagements. It is an alliance with all the “available resources”—a holistic collaboration.

 These ideas need to find a place in my world and my passion. I teach online and face-to-face undergraduate art classes and want to implement application of what I have learned about learning in these places.

Practices of Collaboration in Live Art Classes

In my live classes I want to investigate ways that creating art and understanding the process of art-making can be enhanced through the experience of effective collaboration. Making art is an especially solitary activity. Most of the assignments are designed to require honing of right brain skills. Genuine right brain engagement and simultaneous peer engagement are, in my experience, distracting and possibly mutually exclusive and I usually discourage conversation. In right brain function, as applied to drawing or painting, engagement with the object is primary; whether it is a human form, a paper bag, or imaginary images, the goal is to transcend the rational mode and move into a creative right brain flow. This does not preclude energizing collaborative learning. The introduction of collaboration is a healthy, albeit novel, balance for the art student and one where creative borders can be expanded and new ways of thinking and doing engendered. There are three areas where I am planning to integrate collaboration in a classroom of solo creators: critiques, group work, and student teaching.

Critiques.

A cardinal rule in classroom critiques is the avoidance of negative comments. Many of my students are not art majors and it is important they feel good about their art—but not at the expense of learning. Charlan Nemeth (2012)) in her work with groups states, “Dissent stimulates new ideas because it encourages us to engage more fully with the work of others (Lehrer, 2012). The four critiques in the semester are required and usually are a fairly insipid learning experience mostly because of the fear of stepping on or being stepped on or not knowing what to look for in the art being critiqued.  I plan to change this by modeling the kind of engagement I think will benefit the students. They need to see a good sample and have specific means of looking at work. I will divide the class into small groups to collaboratively work with one piece and then come together in the class to report their results. The safety in the smaller group will allow for greater engagement with the piece and more thoughtful ways of communicating. Another critique approach I tried this past week was to do a mid-project viewing of assignments with two fellow students input to redirect or tweak the work before naming it as finished. Critiques possess potential to reinforce aspects of “imaginative learning” (Liu, & Noppe-Brandon,2011 p. 37) mentioned in the book, Imagination First  of “noticing deeply… embodying…questioning..indentifying patterns…making connections…exhibiting empathy…creating meaning…taking action…reflecting and assessing” (Liu & Noppe-Brandon, 2011, p. 37-38).

Group projects.

            I will integrate one group project into the syllabus in the next semester in each of my three live classes. Some of the ideas I have include:

·         In Drawing I: A mural that is a kind of glossary of textures that are created with a fine tip marker. This glossary mural can be displayed with an explanation of texture from class readings and lectures and will serve as a way to expand the students’ repertoire and educate non-art students. Ethnographic interviews with local artists which include a description of art methods and daily routines would explore what it means to be an artist. These could be group efforts with a summary presented before the class.

·         In Design I: A class book will give students a place to collaboratively describe and illustrate the principles and elements of good design. The illustrations will be both original and also highlight famous works of art. The book will be bound and credited to the particular class and made available as a learning tool for future classes.

·         Human Figure: The collaborative development of a life-size human skeleton on a two-dimensional surface will inform the student of the skeletal structure while developing their drawing skills. The collaboration will bring more eyes into the accurate representation as each one contributes his part to the whole. Collective decisions on poses and mediums are small ways that will give them ownership of their learning.

Students teaching students.

            Invariably in a class of 10-15 students, several will grasp the assignment with greater clarity and be ready to move on. As students work, I am always working with them individually and seldom have adequate time to get to all of them. I would like to use my learners as a teaching resource to benefit the class as a whole. Using students to help other students will give them an opportunity to mutually articulate the project and generate ideas for improvement.

Practices of Collaboration in Online Learning

“No matter when and how it takes place, if used effectively, collaboration causes a synergistic transformation that enhances the value of the thoughts, activities, and discussions of a group of people working toward a common goal. It creates a final result that is greater than the sum of its parts.”

~Patricia Comeaux (Comeaux, 2002, p.xvii)

Online learning is large in my world. My graduate work at Gonzaga is mostly online with the exception of a couple of excursions to classes in Europe and this class in Spokane. When I began the COML program in 2011, I had great hopes that somehow there would be some real communication in this communication program—I don’t see that happening much. There is collaborative work in some of the classes accomplished mostly through asynchronous messages on the discussion board or email. The discussion board is a tool for engagement and students frequently learn more from their peers than the professor (Light, 2001). The online learning experience is essentially collaborative but reminds me of the weakness of collaboration in learning. I brought these concerns to my two professors in the Italy COML program over coffee in Rome and Florence last summer; I also heard one of them address this after the Visiting Scholar public lecture in Spokane stating, “Something needs to change.”

In the online classroom, collaboration and accountability are different from a live class. One of my students was three weeks behind in his assignments and emailed me stating that he forgot about the class because he did not have to report bodily. Though part of the motivation behind online learning is the freedom to come to class at midnight or midday, the lack of a sense of community can be a hindrance to involvement. Engagement is notoriously asynchronous and isolated. Some of the ideas I want to implement to facilitate more effective collaboration include:

·         Begin the semester with a synchronous introductory session, preferably with video. This introduction will include information promoting the primacy of learning collaboratively.

·         A Wimba classroom will be scheduled at least twice during the semester.

·         Each module will be introduced with a video orientation and difficult concepts will be addressed with video lectures as the semester proceeds.

·         Establish small groups of three to four who will stay together as groups through the semester. They will engage synchronously on some kind of regular basis and will work together on group projects. This does not eliminate engaging the entire class on the Discussion Board, but affords a place of more personal connection. Skype kinds of connections are useful.

·         Encourage the class to connect with one another on a social media site. I invite my students to “friend” me on Facebook. I understand the potential problems, but thus far it has been a good experience. After the Spokane class, I created a special page for one of my classes on Facebook as another place to connect.

·          Wikis can be used as a creative and helpful collaborative tool that are easily accessed on Blackboard (Palfrey& Gasser, 2008)

Final Words

In concluding my reflection, I can see the value in reflecting; it appends to the learning about learning already in progress. This class was far more than I anticipated and I appreciate the fearless presentation of new ideas and methods provided by our instructors. It seems they went out on a limb to facilitate an experience that will impact beyond this semester.

References

Bohm, D. (2009). On communication. In J. Stewart, Bridges not walls (pp. 42-46). New York,NY: McGraw-Hill.

Comeaux, P. (2002). Communication and collaboration in the online classroom. Bolton, MA: Anker Publishing.

Lehrer, J. (2012, January 30). Groupthink: The brainstorming myth. The New Yorker, pp. 22-27.

Light, R. (2001). Making the most of college: Students speak their minds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Liu, E. & Noppe-Brandon, S. (2011). Imagination first. New York: Jossey-Bass.

Palfrey, J. & Gasser, U. (2008). Born digital. New York, NY: Basic Books.



Cultural Readymades: "The trains will run on time.."

The following is a post from a class discussion board in Interpersonal Communication 515. It is a response to an article by John Ramage on cultural readymades.  

One of the memories I have of my father is in his office upstairs in our home. He was a mathema-tician/meteorologist.  I was in the fourth grade and had come to ask for help with some long division. He was busy translating some meteorological data into Russian. I don’t remember the sequence of events, but I do remember vividly his impatient sharp criticism of my difficulty in comprehending math by slamming his hand on his desk shouting, “You are so damn dumb.” This was typical of his attitude toward me. He had high expectations and was always quick to inform me of my deficiencies. My worth was defined by my performance. His father was a German immigrant engineer, who also held these paradigms that seem to have been born of a kind of German perfectionism.

The cultural myth that self-worth is related to accomplishment is woven into my psyche and serves me and those around me in polar ways. I don’t know its general history, but in my world it came, first of all, through my father in “the cultural place I occupied” (Ramage, 2006, p. 42) and in much the same way (though not as severe a way) as Plath experienced. In fact, as I read her poem I found myself strangely empathetic and sensed a comfortable space created in the “I’m through” (Ramage, 2006, p. 67). If we are able to think about identity formation as a “succession of acts” or a “work in progress” (Ramage, 2006, p. 36) these histories have less power to keep us hooked to them or crippled by them. One of the balancing resources to help “maintain a critical attitude” (Ramage, 2006, p. 55) to the blinding power of this readymade is the proliferation of literature and websites that offer alternatives. One that I enjoy and refer to frequently is www.zenhabits.com .

My husband teases me about my German heritage and passion (possibly obsession) for accomplishment. In the middle of what he calls one of my “charges” he will insert a comment in a German accent (which he does convincingly) saying, “Da trains vill run on time else you vill be shot.” Normally, I don’t receive this corrective dig in a good way and continue on in an unrepentant determination.

Typical behaviors connected with this cultural readymade are evident throughout my day and touch all kinds of activities. Last week I was in Spokane taking the 501 visiting scholar class. We had class time as well as field work—a reasonable but challenging workload for such a short time together. In addition, I had the constant call of this class and an online class I am teaching; preparation for three other classes that I teach this week also pressed in.  To top it, I had my Station Agent paper about 80% complete and discovered that I left my Bridges not Walls book at home in New Mexico and could not finish the paper on time. I could not get the book quickly enough from Amazon and could not rent it. In my frustration, I contacted David and his generous response set me at ease: I could turn the paper in when I got home…no penalty. I was relieved ….for about 12 hours. I got up on Monday and called the Gonzaga bookstore (a predictable action typical of my cultural readymade) and found a copy for $38 (a difficult purchase since I bought mine off Amazon for 1 cent). I got the book and was determined to turn the paper in on time. Events pressed in and I submitted it on the third instead of the first, accompanied by a mental state of inordinate frustration. This is a downside.

I see many good things about the influence of this readymade, though admittedly, I feel bound to it in inescapable ways. There is something, though, to be said for seeking mastery and excellence and “mastery is painful” (Pink, 2009, p. 122). I don’t think I am driven so much by extrinsic ends as intrinsic enjoyment and find great satisfaction most of the time, even in my often frenetic charging. Those around me don’t always share in my joy as relationships tend to be shoved aside in favor of doing.

“Out of numberless acts of understanding ourselves in terms of other people, ideas, beliefs, etc. comes a sense of who we are and who we are not.” (Ramage, 2006, p. 40)

The variety present in the group soup can serve to deepen the understanding of our own identities.  I was in a face-to-face group of 13 last week. Each of us, influenced by various cultural readymades, came to the table embracing these colorful and potentially conflicting identity paradigms. In addition to these were our responses to the multiple readymades we were bumping into.  I think that the challenge of any group is productive empathy. My own experience of the tangible grip of these cultural perceptual frameworks is sufficient to supply me with ample empathy and acceptance of the other. Cultural readymades are as deeply invested in me as they are in others and, at least in theory, your readymade compatibility with my affinities is not the ground for our conversation, but serves to enhance. Differences are not “a problem to be eliminated” but more “contributions to a collaborative mix” (Stewart, 2006, p. 42). In the group experience, my identification with this readymade can be objectified and input through dialogue can promote balance.

References

Pink, D. (2009). Drive. New York, NY: Riverhead.

Ramage, J. (2006). Rhetoric: A user's guide. New York, NY: Pearson-Longman.

Stewart, J. (2006). Bridges not walls:A book about interpersonal communication. Boston: McGraw-Hill.