Fleeting Carrots

Mapping my Academic Identity, Sort of

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 05:01:00 +0000

First Year Composition & Comp Studies
First Year Composition: A concentration within Composition Studies not to be confused with Composition Studies as a whole. Limiting Comp to FYC, i.e. one or two classes of an entire curriculum, would be like limiting Techincal Communication to one introductory TC class. Not inherently a bad limitation to make though, as long as you're clear about the distinction, because not all institutions have dedicated writing/composition/communication programs. Right now, I teach FYC within a Composition program. I haven't figured out how I'm defining FYC yet, though for me the term "composition" emphasizes the process/act(s) of composing more so than communicating... but obviously one considers audience(s), rhetoric, communicating, etc., while composing.

Technical Writing & Communication
Technical Writing: A subfield focused specifically on written Technical Communication (which includes writing, editing, illustrating, speaking, designing, translating, coding, etc.).

Communication Rhetoric & Composition, CCR, RCC
Communication is rhetorical. In order to communicate, one must compose. Composition is rhetorical. Rhetoric is compositional and communicative. All three are valuable and important. Hardline distinctions between the three irritate me, though there are differences in terms of theory, methodology, etc. I'm alright with fuzziness here.

I see these distinctions because I've been learning and understanding the world through a media theory of composition lens, apparently. In brief, "a media-centered theory of composition (hereafter referred to as “media theory”) focuses on the tools used in the composition process, and their opportunities and constraints." I'd argue that the tools are still used in the communication process as well. Furthermore, some might notice that I left out the "new media" part of that quote. I focus on digital media, but in relation to print, electronic, etc., media. "New" is too vague for me right now. So, I study what technologies people use to compose in order to communicate, rhetorically, how they use them for various purposes, what people use them for/to do, who uses them, how technologies influence communication/composition processes, etc., broadly speaking. Consequently, I find the usability of technologies rather interesting. To be able to do anything about usability though, I find a technical understanding (and the ability to communicate, technically, and with rhetorical effectiveness) very helpful. Influencing usability, then, is also a rhetorical (and at some level political and ideological) act.

There. The world temporarily makes sense. This is not, however, an attempt to say that this is how the world is or should be. Rather, it's a helpful map for me to figure out what the heck I'm doing, and there's a whole lotta mapping not on this page. I'm still trying to understand how things are being mapped by others. Tomorrow, if not sooner, I'll probably say FYIAV (F--k you, I'm a vampire [Haraway]), and complicate these labels anyway. But, for the moment, I know where I am. Sort of. Except for all those things I left out.

On Exclamation

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 00:30:00 +0000

"Swhhsh pish wsh shh"

"Say that again a little louder?"

"Oh, I was just saying that was a cool 's.'"

I looked up and stepped back from the chalked wall I was writing at, already halfway through the hour-long class, hoping I'd notice whatever "s" this was about. "Huh. That is kinda cool." I used my left pointer to erase the solid line between the dot of an "i" and the extra curves of an "s" that I had written in a hurry, dusting away the line blurring a distinction between them. In retrospect, I'm not sure if anyone actually asked for me to correct the "error." Regardless, students uttered on cursive and handwriting, another comment about difference. I drew an exclamation mark on the board, said something about a tangent, wondered out loud how many symbols people thought of an exclamation point as (they answered one and two).

The discussion was off topic now, no longer anything related to primary and secondary research, but I felt like going through it anyway. We talked about typewriters and computers and writing; students wondered where the "1" key was, what the backspace key was for, why manufacturers wouldn't simply pay the cost of adding another character to the board. We eventually figured out how to make an exclamation point, but now it was three different keys. We wondered if exclamations existed without printing, if it was handwritten or in Shakespeare at all. I ended up Googling for a history of it after class, wrote a brief post, found some evidence, made an argument, and put it on the course blog. Yeah, I could've let them handle it to learn, but I wanted to find out for myself, and I left some big holes in my argument for them to fill (granted, if I had more time, that would've been a great activity to do in class). Students wondered what was going on today, I had "never been like this in class before." I embodied excitement more than I usually do, and had some fun.

Today was supposed to be a boring review day, probably not even fulfilling an entire hour, a reflection on the unit's close and an awkward transition phase. But then I made a composition "error" without recognizing it, and someone else did. I disregarded my meager lesson plan since, in theory, students knew this all already anyhow, and we were bored. So, a tangent exclamation turned into talking and building and a tie ahead to technologies impacting thinking and writing. I could feel them making connections around the room. In other words, it was a great classroom day. So good, in fact, that a student left a day planner behind. They haven't picked it up.

I borrowed a Sharpie after class and exclaimed on my teaching journal, then broke it into Derridaean pieces. It's a permanent reminder of a temporary, unplanned, unreplicable scene. I see the point less now as a deconstruction and ordered step-web than as explosion. A neon yellow nuclear fission of ideas and signs. The snapping of tension between apostrophe and period--a uniter and divider held together, related, but never entirely bridging the gap--used synchronously to exclaim. Shorthand for something to keep in mind.

Later today, we discussed Deleuze and Guattari in a theory class. We talked about networks and rhizomes, a little about optimism and signs. Coincidentally, after class, while waiting on the bus, I was surrounded by a flashmob. They sang and clapped Maroon 5's "Payphone" a cappella, then dispersed.

From these events, I tried to make meaning, find connections, purpose. [PANK] in my morning to handwritten slip; to discussion on type, symbols, and thought, a desertion of the lesson plan, an emergence of exclamation; to a student leaving behind a day planner; then from Deleuze and Guattari to singing student mob. But, I realized I was searching for connections at the end of the day. As I rode the bus, I caught myself predicting and plotting, trying to make sense of it all, wondering a lot of "shoulds" and "what if's" (most of which tied back to the person sitting across from me) instead of riding along enjoying the bus. It makes as much or as little sense as we want, really. The important part is to enjoy the meaning(less)s we make. Matt Seigel's book of poetry came in the mail today.

Theory Jam

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sat, 01 Sep 2012 14:41:00 +0000

This post is a compilation of and in multiple media, although I refuse to label it multi-modal, and even multimedia is a term I tend to dislike. Rather, I prefer to think of it as a groove of thoughts, different instrumental technologies allowing different constructions, flowing between each other. It's a brief jam of ideas, and actual sounds that came together coincidentally when I couldn't sleep. There's no citation here, though I'll say this piece draws from Anderson, Baudrillard, Bitzer, Bogost, Derrida, Lawrence, McLuhan, Schneider, Ong, and other people I don't know the names of but have heard before. It's not all mine, and I don't claim credit for any of the best riffs; I'm just putting them together because I enjoy the play. But, I hope I've left the connections, loopholes, and unexplored potentials messy enough to build upon without too much deconstruction, and with enough room for your own improvisation. This isn't revision or refinement, it's the echo of living play--a re-performed recording--and in this form it's a screenshot of separate pieces. Enjoy. Play.

Equipment info:
8.5 x 11" 20 lb, 92 brightness Hammermill Copy Plus paper
Sears manual typewriter model 268.52100, ribbon unknown
Lamy extra-fine point fountain pen with LZ24 refill converter, Lamy Black T52 ink (LT52BK)
Motorola Razr, Droid OS, recorded using Easy Voice Recorder in wav format, handheld at ~1 ft. from mouth, typewriter, laptop, and pen/paper
Scanned using HP 5500 Photosmart scanner at 300? dpi, TIFF format (Exif should provide accurate specs)
Lenovo T61 Laptop for keyboard sound effect

A Twitterhetorical Situation?

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Fri, 27 Jul 2012 16:36:00 +0000

"This QVC pitch sounds like a drug deal: 'Have you ever purchased 'Diamonique' before? If you've never tried Tacori...'"

"I should tweet this, could be interesting" I thought to myself as I sat inside Midas waiting for snow tires. I had an hour to kill, and I intentionally left the last three chapters of Bogost's How to Do Things with Video Games at home. Everyone else remembered his or her books. The young blond woman sitting next to me was reading a light-covered book, looking up and checking her phone every few minutes. The older gray-haired man opposite was reading a thick cinderblock of a book on and off as well. Neither seemed open to conversation when I sat down though, so I pulled out my phone to respond to a few emails and be semi-productive.

Of course, replying didn't take long, and Facebook dried up before I could even like a post. "Maybe somebody's on Google+..." Nope. And I couldn't tell if anyone was online to FB chat via my phone, so, I half watched QVC for a few minutes... until I felt the urge to tweet. Of course, this was not an ordinary urge for me to experience, because I practically never tweet. "Wait a minute... what's going on here?..." I stopped to contemplate. What had driven me to the verge of tweeting? Is this a Twitterhetorical Situation?

"Why do I want to tweet this now?" What drives a person to tweet? In this situation, for me, it was a lack of community. Or, more specifically, a lack of communication. Had either of the two people next to me appeared friendlier, I would've started a conversation. Had any friends clearly been online, I would've started a conversation. Had the channel been different, I might've watched the TV silently. But, instead, I wanted to broadcast my commentary about QVC into the relative void of Twitter. And then I saw a parallel between watching a TV show with friends when you aren't "really" watching and are just commenting on the events as they unfold... but Twitter decentralizes this experience. Or maybe you are paying full attention and have a serious conversation. But how many serious conversations have you had with complete strangers in a waiting area/Twitter? Which would seem more out of place, actually saying, "This QVC pitch sounds like a drug deal..." or "Why are there only women selling jewelry on this channel? What social norms is this reinforcing? (as everyone edges their chairs away from mine)?" Then again, perhaps Twitter creates a space where it's more acceptable to question the latter... but is it practical with a character limit? To be honest, I wouldn't even bother asking the latter question on Twitter for that very reason. I'd post it to Facebook, knowing that it's easier to have in-depth conversations because of what the system allows. Furthermore, because I'm more closely connected to the people I'm friends with on Facebook than the people I follow, or who follow me on Twitter, I assume my friends would be more willing to engage in a serious conversation. So why use Twitter, then?

As I kept thinking about other times that I've tweeted, or been more active than usual on Twitter, it was usually centered on an event. I only started using Twitter after the 2011 Computers & Writing conference, and then I gave up on it about a week after that. However, the STC Summit, combined with my newly acquired smartphone, prompted me to start again. During the conference, Twitter provided a way to get a feel for what people thought about the conference, where good food was, what sessions were interesting, etc., and seemingly everybody else was tweeting. But, for the most part, the #stc12 hashtag seemed like a lot of semi-random chatter that I checked during downtime (or when I needed to distract myself from certain sessions). "Everybody" was talking... about something, in loosely related ways, but with no clear purpose.

Despite the scale of the event, however, it was similar to the waiting area in that most tweets seemed to be broadcasting brief perspectives on similar events. It felt like listening to the radio with an occasional caller to the station. And that's not to say that the meaning of tweets isn't mutually constructed, or that Twitter doesn't afford directed conversations. Perhaps it's the relative speed of updates through Twitter that seems to separate it from Facebook for me... like a stream of expanding bubbles as each post grows with conversations on FB vs. a narrow torrential stream from a nozzled hose on Twitter. Feeds on Twitter feel more like a "live broadcast" or commentary than a post on Facebook does, though I'm not sure exactly why. Maybe it's partially a matter of perception, because the outward expansion of conversations beyond the original poster is relatively invisible, so the stream of conversation just seems narrow. Or maybe it's because I don't know most of the people I follow/who follow me on Twitter very well, so it feels like flipping between unrelated stations on the radio instead of a large conversation in a room full of people I already know. And I can't say that I've made a concerted effort to get to know anyone better on Twitter. Yet, even with the people who I don't know very well on Facebook, I feel more connected to them than I do on Twitter.

Or maybe it's as simple as the invite system. I don't have to "friend" someone/somebot on Twitter, or even follow “it” to converse/comment. There's very little permission or boundary setting involved. It feels more like being in a waiting room with strangers and a few friends, rather than a room full of friends. Granted, friends of friends comment on Facebook posts too, but there's a distinct and at least partially visible relationship then. On Twitter, your handle and tweet identifies you more than your visible relation to anyone else, it seems. As an example for comparison, last fall, I was one of few unofficial photographers who had pictures of Michigan Tech's 2012 Homecoming King throughout the day, because we're good friends and I'm a photographer. When I posted the photos to Facebook, I was overwhelmed with notifications about strangers tagging people in my photos, commenting, liking, sharing, etc. This was a very strange experience, as I didn't share any connection with said strangers other than a mutual friendship with The King (as Facebook pointed out by showing how many mutual friends were shared between us), or more loosely, a connection with the event of Homecoming. Had I tweeted photos from the event, however, with a hashtag such as #mtuhc12, I would've expected strangers to share that connection without any regard to friendships or relationships with other people. I would've expected them to identify as individuals (perhaps slightly objectified individuals as strangers), or even "followers of followers," rather than as "friends of friends."

So, where am I going with this semi-coherent and questionably justified blog post? I'm still trying to figure out why I use Twitter, and what uses I have for it in my life. I don't mean to create the impression that I think Twitter is useless, or a waste of time, or that it doesn't offer anything to the world as a technology. Twitter is a tool, a technology. It affords certain uses and limits others, and is neither good nor bad on its own. I do not claim to know all the ways people use Twitter, and I don't want to condemn or reduce Twitter users to a bunch of DJs or commentators. Rather, I'm attempting to explain why Twitter feels like an isolating medium, to me, as a user, and what led me to want to Tweet in what was an unusual situation/experience for me. But, I recognize that I am not even close to theorizing about a comprehensive understanding of a Twitterhetorical Situation a la Bitzer. The title was more for pun than practical purposes, and I admit that I didn't read How To Do Things with Twitter before writing any of this. Twitter is a powerful medium that I don't entirely understand, so I'm curious as to how other people have interpreted their own use of Twitter. What are other Twitterhetorical situations (aside from those involving social movements or tracking trends)? I'm still trying to figure out what to use it for, and how to do so in a way that feels like it's positively influencing my life more regularly, instead of being an intermediary between blogs, Facebook, and other communication/link-sharing platforms.

A Conversation on Games and Improvisation

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sat, 30 Jun 2012 03:50:00 +0000

I talked with Dan Lawrence (a grad student in Tech's RTC program. He's doing an independent study on the rhetoric of music in video games, which I'm unofficially auditing,) this morning about improvisation and video games after we both read DJ Spooky's Sound Unbound. We didn't talk too long about that specifically, in the broader scheme of things, but it made us think for a while. In that brief time, we thought about musical improvisation; then gaming online, hacking, and mods; and finally a connection to teaching and structuring environments that help shape communities. Somewhere in here, there's a logical flow of ideas that's been lost, a progression of thoughts. Somehow this all fit(s) together. Maybe the verses are a little out of order, with a few missed notes here and there. But these are the bits of the piece I remember, and the thoughts I have now on our conversation.

We started talking about improvisation in the sense that a musician improvises a solo. Dan wondered how much anyone ever really improvises when so much of improvisation is already remembered or practiced (for example, the parts that show up as a style or convention when you hear someone play long enough, or that you recognize from another artist). When a guitarist makes up a solo, it's based on existing structures; notes within chords, scales within a key, and the personal riffs and borrowed figures of musicians all structure improv. My interpretation of Dan’s interpretation of improv is that nothing can be purposely spontaneous under the artist's control, if it's thought (because it's automatically structured). A finger slips, a fan whistles, that's about as close as it gets to spontaneity. That is, a human mistake or an unexpected event that creates sound would be spontaneous, truly improvised. I'm not sure how close this is to Dan's original definition though, so don't quote me as quoting him on that. But what about the connection between the unexpected and the thought/planned/structured? The slip that sparks an idea and/or changes thought, which changes the performance/perception. But what inspiration is anticipated?...

Lately, I've been noodling with a related issue in terms of curiosity and critical thinking as well (mostly as I see my nieces grow up and question my own mental filters). That is, we ask questions that influence our experiments with and explorations of the world. The results of our experiments reinforce, challenge, complicate, or restructure our thoughts in some way(s). But, those mental structures then filter our thoughts, which in turn shape our curiosity and further questions. The moment we perceive, we (re)shape our perspective, which (re)shapes our perception, even if things appear to stay the same. We ask a question, the answers to which (re)shape our thoughts, which (re)shape our questions, and so on. As this cyclical reshaping process occurs, even when we identify limitations in our own perspectives/ways of perceiving reality, in shifting our perspectives we create newly unrecognized filters that influence how we perceive the world (I really need to read Burke and better understand terministic screens...). Hence, the importance of learning from other people's perspectives, as well as gaining a meta-awareness of our own, because there's always an invisible filter somewhere we can't see ;) And if that made no sense whatsoever, I sympathize. This really needs a metaphor that I don't have right now. Anyway, the connection here to music and improv: there will always be some structure that excludes certain possibilities and shapes how we think, so improv is predetermined to some extent, even when forms are broken, because breaking one form creates another. Hmmm... and what if we define inspiration as an accidental question? A finger slip that breaks a mental filter? A skip over the step of questioning?...

Anyway, Dan and I were both pretty sure we talked about how forms structure thought a little the last time we met, and that we moved toward something about how breaking forms leads to "evolution" of ideas. It's been a while since we last talked. But, this time around, we gained new perspectives (fittingly enough). Somewhere in the course of our conversation, Dan brought up playing Call of Duty 4 online with his brother. Having played recently (i.e. several years after the game's release, meaning the developers no longer moderate the game servers), Dan said it was an almost unplayable experience because of all the hackers, aimbots, and "people shooting rockets out of their eyes." This raised questions for us about human nature, and I also wondered about the parallels between creativity through modding (i.e. modification) in online games and facilitating creativity in a classroom. What's the role of moderators in preventing hackers from ruining the play experience for others (and what's being "ruined"/created?)? How have the game developers framed modding/hacking the game (developing ideas in the classroom)? What's the wiggle room for exploring creativity, how much opportunity for exploration and creative development exists? Do developers take Bethesda's typical approach and say, "We know you make cool shit, and you think and have the necessary access and literacies, and we support that because it's awesome. We want you to mod this game. Here, have some tools. Have fun?" What type of social environment are the developers promoting? Do they reward creativity, or try to patch it away to preserve a game play experience and devalue ideas? Where's the balance? Or, can the degradation of an abandoned FPS into an absurd chaos be reduced to the competition involved in a game like Call of Duty vs. an RPG such as Skyrim, or a physics puzzler like Portal? Yet, I don't think it's simply a matter of a competitively structured system fostering a competitive community. Bungie included map editing tools in various Halo iterations, but that didn't change the gaming experience into a lobby full of aimbots. Maybe I'm comparing apples with oranges and privileging collaborative environments over competitive. But, what might we learn about facilitating learning and structuring courses from this mix of function, form, and community? What lies along and influences the spectrum of "creatively fun" to "absurd chaos?" Is "absurd chaos" only relative to the original rules of the game? GTA could be considered chaotic by some, though using a Gameshark on older versions added entropy to the system...

There are plenty of unknown perspectives to explore. These are only some of them. I'm not sure what this part of our conversation had to do with the rhetoric of music in video games. But it's what happened when our host went AFK ;)

Mozilla Webmaker

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sun, 03 Jun 2012 16:24:00 +0000

Mozilla reminded me again this morning why I love them. On May 22nd, Mozilla announced the Mozilla Webmaker project. But, it's still awesome news now. Mozilla has developed a few fantastic tools to promote web literacies, is facilitating the creation of educational events, and helping build a knowledgeable support community. According to the official announcement, the goal of the project is to "help millions of people move from using the web to making the web." This is awesome, ideally. Come on, transformational literacy! But, it looks as if that is only an ideal, considering "tools, projects, and community" don't necessarily facilitate ethical or critical literacies. However, the technologies below are still valuable, and make me tingle with geeky glee.

The apps

Thimble App --Similar to the W3C's TryIt editor on steroids, Thimble lets users type HTML and CSS code in one panel, and displays the rendered web page in the other. It's like Dreamweaver's split view (i.e. split between code and design views) without the WYSIWYG controls. However, it's free, open, and offers coding hints, as well as undo and redo functions. It also includes an option to publish pages to the web, which is neat, but overlooks how web publishing actually works. It's a tradeoff between the "Whoa, I just made a web page!" moment without frustration, and being able to apply knowledge of HTML and CSS more broadly. However, as an initial learning tool and/or debugger, it's extremely useful.

Hackasaurus --Similar to the "inspect element" feature of Chrome and Firebug, Hackasaurus allows users to hover over page elements and view source code, visualize the area an element actually covers, and "remix" elements on a page. It's cool, but for me, it's a gimmicky version of Firebug and EditCSS. That said, I'm guessing it would have been extremely helpful for students in Introduction to Web Design to help them visualize elements before we moved into Dreamweaver, and to deconstruct web pages other people produced.

Popcorn--I'll admit, I'm a little confused as to what Popcorn does, but it sounds powerful. I've heard of it, but since I don't work with video much, I've never tried it out. Once I get back to a broadband connection, I'll have to see what I can do with it.

How can I use these educational technologies effectively?
Overall, I think Mozilla has created some useful tools for educators interested in web literacies, and are helping make coding more accessible to new users. However, it's not an end-all solution to education any more than open courses are. It's heavily skill focused as well. That said, because of Mozilla's efforts, and the Summer Code Party in particular, I'm considering leading a local course on foundational web literacies next summer. I'm hesitant to put together something quickly this summer, because I'm not sure how I would justify a skill-based workshop to myself. To me, developing a web page and learning the hard skill of coding HTML and CSS doesn't benefit people and communities as much as a balance of theory and practice. Without understanding the rhetoric involved in design choices, how those design choices shape realities, issues of access and literacy, and how the web works as a technology, having a skill only goes so far. But, it's a summer course too, so how much theory and practice can you cram in? I think I'll see what opportunities exist through Purdue, NMC, or even MTU's Summer Youth Programs for next summer. If anyone has other suggestions, I would greatly appreciate your advice.

"... you, I'm a Vampire!"
Also, holy wah, this video from the announcement! Lisa Nakamura and Donna Haraway visualized. Menu Driven Identities and Race: Universal Donors in a Vampire Culture much?

STC Summit Chicago Adventure Wrap-up

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sun, 27 May 2012 14:57:00 +0000

As a member of Michigan Technological University's Society for Technical Communication Student Chapter, I recently went to the annual STC Summit in Chicago with four friends. Chicago and I have a cursed history of crazy cabbies, malevolent bus drivers, and food poisoning that resulted in me nearly dying, among other things. So, I was a little nervous about what horrors might afflict the people around me this time through. Fortunately, my Chicago experience brightened soon after the trip started. Thanks, Marika, Rhyne, and everyone else who helped fund and plan the trip. I'm glad we could roam, enjoy Chicago, and attend the summit. It turns out that Chicago isn't such a bad city after all. In fact, it's pretty cool when it's not trying to kill me.

Good or bad in the past, Chicago was big and easy to lose yourself in. I've only recently begun to learn how to let go, give up a little control, and enjoy the ride, so being somewhere with room to explore was a good thing in this case. This time around, I enjoyed Chicago much more than on my last visit because I relaxed. Heck, I even went to a Korean karaoke bar that looked more like a sketchy brothel than a place for conference goers to belt out Bob Seger (think smoke, dimly lit black hallways, private side rooms, wood floors, and a door at the back that opens to karaoke...all in a secluded plaza around midnight)... And although I don't see myself repeating that particular karaoke adventure, it was a new and memorable experience (and free. Thanks again, Rhyne!).

One-Time Opportunities
Overall, "one-time adventure" summarizes most of my experience because of the circumstances, and the events that took place. We, in various groupings, stayed at the Aloft O'Hare hotel with black lights in the elevators, gelled elevator floors, and suggestive room keys. We bought some cheap sunglasses, took the blue line into the city, roamed the streets, saw a few silently anonymous protestors, saw more police officers than we knew a city could have, acted like tourists at the bean, and conferenced, then found Brenda the Benevolent Bartender at Aloft. And conferenced. We searched for a Polish restaurant that was permanently closed, tried to act casual while walking through a part of town in which we seemed anything but casual, and had some fried dough and an excellent beef & sausage sandwich. We went to a gathering partially facilitated by Twitter (i.e. a "Tweetup"), met some MTU alumni, went to a karaoke bar, and conferenced. We had lunch with a fellow incoming Purdue student and friends, had pizza at Giordano's while ninjas sliced elastic cheese, received a free blue line pass from a considerate stranger, checked out the view from the Hancock building, were kindly asked to leave the dining area of the Hancock building for having no reservations, revisited Brenda, had the most fun playing pool that I've had in a long time, gained some confidence and youthful optimism... and conferenced.

Conferencing
To be honest, the experience of the official conference part was different than I expected. However, I was attending practically for free, so I can't complain in the slightest. For someone interested in broadening his or her skill set and understanding what technical communicators generally do, the STC Summit has a lot to offer. For example, I heard the term "DITA" thrown around several times during the conference, but had no idea what it referred to. So, going to a session on that might've been extremely interesting, and would've kept me updated on practices in the field that I'm unfamiliar with (btw, here's a brief summary of DITA). Overall, I felt the conference wasn't as much about advancement as it was keeping people in the loop, which I hadn't anticipated. The tech comm "loop" is pretty large though, so I don't see the broadness of the conference as a bad thing. If I did it over, I would go to a different pack of sessions though, and take advantage of sessions on topics I wasn't familiar with. I did have one unfamiliar experience at the actual conference though: volunteering at a conference for the first time.

Being a student volunteer at a conference is totally the way to go, especially if volunteering will offset any expense or nets you free food. Plus, it gives you an opportunity to hang out with other students, which always makes conferences more fun as a student. Thanks for making that possible, Rhyne. Being able to talk with other students made the conference immeasurably more valuable for me, and having the registration cost waived was fantastic. Between doing head counts and catching up with other students, I took a few notes at sessions, started using Twitter again briefly, got some free swag from the exhibit hall, and did usual conference things. For me, the larger benefit of going was communicating with students in other programs, meeting people in industry, and learning off-site.

New Adventures
Above all else, this trip pushed me to let go. I still calculate and analyze before leaping, but a little less so than before. And although I would like to repeat and/or extend some parts of the trip, it was full of opportunities that won't present themselves again. I'll get to hang out with Dan at Purdue, I'm sure, and probably a few other people at future conferences (Dan and I are going into the same MA program in the fall and happened to both be at this conference). Some have even predicted that Dan and I will be swarmed by cougars in West Lafayette. Apparently, because we're cute and, well, us... I digress... But, I'll likely never see some awesome friends face-to-face again. Other experiences lie ahead for all of us though. It just takes introductions and miscellaneous adventures to start them. From now on, I think I'll try to find adventures that involve trains too. The sound of rushing full bore through tunnels gives me goose bumps every time. The sound that can only be generated by a train elegantly floating along at full speed in whatever direction the tracks lead. Whoa... I could even end this with a cheesy line about trains, boilermakers, and Purdue... or not ;)

Best part of the trip: This tweet from Sara:

GREAT session: Create Meaningful Online Experiences, thanks to @z4ndyr and @jtsherri for having taught me so much in web design! #stc12
— Sara (@saraschram) May 23, 2012

Second best part of the trip: Tuesday night, because every person there from the MTU STC Student Chapter grew markedly when he or she broke personally limiting walls at some point. It's pretty cool to watch people learn and grow in a matter of days. Brenda the Benevolent plus a few rounds of billiards with Eric, Kim, Dan, and Abby helped make my Tuesday night especially enjoyable too. And pizza. There was deep-dish pizza on Tuesday night.

Interested in the food Chicago had to offer or Brenda's sage advice? I blogged about all the deliciousness here.

a collection of contextualizing prefaces

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Thu, 10 May 2012 22:52:00 +0000

Text version for mobile users

CCCC Reflection

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sat, 24 Mar 2012 18:35:00 +0000

As I sit here on a deep, brown, felt-padded chair in Starbucks, surrounded by Apple products and lattes, the smell of coffee gradually working its way into my skull and then pounding its way out (like some 9-pound fly flailing itself against a clear glass window when there's an open door to the outside world just inches away), I know that I will finish no homework until I've reflected on the last several days. I can only imagine what the others stationed here are thinking of the guy on a black, unlabeled, clearly non-Apple laptop in the AC/DC cap. Probably "he's waiting on a flight," much like the others engulfing this hotspot. There's a sea of held baggage corralled on the opposite side of the wall, submerging the lush leather couches where I used to sit, now deserted islands among waves of handles and luggage tags, guarded by a uniformed navy recruits. Oh wait, there's a woman here now with a circa 2000 Dell. An electronic brick tether immediately providing life support for the machine's dying battery, surely one that already expired years ago. Discussions of "college English," "awkward humor," and some phrases about "rhetoric" are flapping lazily through the coffee-poisoned air between orders for foreign measurements and deliveries of goods. And here I wait, typing out thoughts on the events of the days before. Trying not to think about the portfolio and production I must complete, but that I know I won't develop without clearing my brain of these thoughts.

The 4Cs convention was different this year, an experience on top of experience enfleshed with experiences of others made before. I didn't make the usual conference videos, no "brief" 20-minute summaries of my daily adventures, and no pictures of my delicious meals (though mostly because I didn't bring a camera that isn't attached to a tabular device). I recorded one video and uploaded it, while the second would not go online at 23 Kbps (an incredible speed for $15, I must say). But it was then that I realized I've become a member of the community here, and that much of my experience is limited to myself and those who I experienced things with. To share bits and pieces is inevitable and desired, but there really is a secluded world of academia that most will never see. Not in the sense of an ivory tower or gated community, however. Rather, an invisible network of communications and control, power structures and politics, experiential learning, and discussion of pedagogy. Discussion of who gets included and excluded, about our limitations and affordances, about things that are simply going on. And food. Lots of food and drink, with discussion.

Things were different this year, to say the least. No full days without lunch, catching every session each day. The interesting sessions were those that I ventured to, doing homework and spending time with people otherwise. Fewer introductions, but more familiar bodies and minds who became more familiar and new again all at the same time. New stories about seemingly familiar people, and new perceptions of fleetingly familiar minds. But let me clarify "newly familiar bodies" with all the possible conclusions one could make. I met people face-to-face. There were several individuals who I had spoken with via Skype or phone, identities represented by photos on the screen, a disembodied head or voice. I even mistook one voice for another "IRL," but then their mind and body corrected me before I met the "real" individual later. Yet, a display in America's Convention Center re-digitized all bodies passing by via Kinect. "We're all temporarily abled," a reminder from Cindy Selfe. But we assume "the digital" is inherently temporal, easily editable, fluid and (re)shaping. Impermanence is what makes some things interesting, the impermanence of not recording events, of remembering from notes and pics and laughs, of reshaping. The impermanence of not having video record, of which half the fear is editability.

I suppose I should craft a scholarly reflection on the sessions I attended, the ideas to which I was introduced, the names I remember, and the work I will produce. Something for HASTAC, which I thought I might create after Cs. There was some of that. I had interesting, and sometimes heated conversations about Bogost, procedural rhetoric, the Digital Humanities (and whatever the hell that can mean), and the state of scholarship in various areas, among other things. I learned about Lafayette and Purdue, the history of departments, the fallouts and connections between people. I learned of a beverage that tastes like fruit loops, and experienced clapping without making any sounds. I was reminded of things I've heard over and over again, for better and worse. But, in keeping with this year's CCCC's opening address, I heard a lot of stories. Shared stories that will only make sense in the contexts that they were told, those that simply aren't shareable by their nature. They were not open source or lo-fi, but highly proprietary codes specific to devices and locations. And, to build upon what one speaker noted, the value of the stories are often valuable to us alone. So, in brief, I went to sessions where I heard several people speak about code, hacktivism, DIY, power, collaboration, and institutional structures. I learned a bit more about evaluation practices, fairness, and linguistic plurality in relation to systems of control... several times, actually. I saw a horrifying presentation on digital media and what some people "accomplish" with good intentions. I gave a presentation, had discussions, and learned through osmosis while taking notes on ideas. I went to sessions that reframed my teaching philosophy and how I approach my work, while others gave me perspective on how truly amazing some people are at what they do. To put it bluntly, some sessions showed me that I'm good at what I do, but that I'll always have room for improvement. That I still never want to reach a point where I feel comfortable saying, "No, I really don't want to learn about that." So, as the time to fly approaches, I'll say that I re-learned that I have an endless amount to learn, and that surrounding ourselves with people who are supportive and equally willing to say, "Huh. That sounds interesting. I wonder..." is just as important as meeting new people. I'm happy to explain technically what I gained, but overall, I have renewed energy to pursue academic adventures and a head full of ideas again. And there was good food and people. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

On Hand-Writing (Thank Yous)

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 05:33:00 +0000

For the last several weeks, I've been retraining myself how to write with a pen and paper, mostly so I can write letters of thanks. In the process of typing about writing, I've realized that I'm learning to do more than that. I'm relearning to explore, to question questions and the tools we use to do so. How technologies structure our lives and vice versa in a way related, yet somehow different to the ways I've been doing the same thing in HU6112. I'm speaking abstractly, but in essence, I'm learning how to make letters again literally and metaphorically. I'm learning how to experience living, again. To open up my desk drawer and become wide-eyed with curiosity and excitement. This is what I've paid attention to and remembered so far in relation to relearning how to write by hand:

The way I hold the pen shapes my technique and the letters and vice versa. (What type of pen am I using? Why? What am I holding the pen with? How? Where? Using what language?)
I now have a use for cursive and understand why it's useful after changing my pen holding style. (Are there multiple styles of cursive? Why?)
I understand that a Hallmark gold seal is not even close to the experience of creating a wax seal (Why wax? What type? What techniques exist?). One cannot burn oneself with a sticker, nor does it take a little practice to get the sticker to apply the way one wants it (Why not wax stickers?). There is no uniqueness to each sticker. Even though the stamping tool facilitates duplication, each seal is slightly different, slightly inconsistent. Also, as a side note, the wax stick stays painfully hot for longer than it takes the seal to cool (Why not use a liquid that dries solid instead of melting a solid to liquid and letting it solidfy?)
When I type or print, I am not aware of the individual letters I write. However, I am now painfully aware of how many "t's" and "i's" are in "that" and "this," as well as how often I use those words (What languages require the least muscle control to write by hand?). Attitude, accessibility, invisible, and potential are all words that are much less fun to write in cursive than type. Writing by hand changes my vocabulary, and sometimes I'll make up a new structure for a sentence when I make an error. Rather than hitting backspace, I play jazz with words. No going back. Jazz would not be a particularly fun word to write. Writing to insult, criticize, or throw words at anyone's face in anger becomes much harder, and less worthy of the effort when it takes a cognitive effort to write legibly. In the same respect, one might expect authors to choose their words with greater care.
Three paragraphs can mean a half-hour's work.
A tongue-out emoticon looks different when written with a cursive "p," while ;)ing looks much the same.
When the interface is not "immediate" or "invisible," it becomes very obvious how writing technologies shape how we think through our thoughts. I would not write the last three words of that sentence by hand. It also becomes apparent that we learn to use even seemingly intuitive technologies in some ways. How do you position your fingers on a keyboard or when using an iPhone? How else might you move them through space? Do your arms ever move while you're typing?
Ink is not necessarily easy to contain (What type of ink am I using? How am I containing it?).
Ink is not necessarily easy to write with (How/why not?).
Ink labeled "waterproof" is not necessarily waterproof... until it reaches your hands and magically transforms into a tattoo (How the hell does that work?).
Writing legibly, in straight lines with consistent kerning, leading, and margins takes practice. We don't have to think about any of this when we're composing on the computer, it's done automatically, leaving us to focus on the words, spelling, etc. Without taking a design class or studying typography, most people probably aren't even familiar with the terms "kerning" and "leading," though they interact with these mechanics nearly every day. Maintaining consistent x-height is surprisingly challenging as well. Ironically, I'm describing the challenges of handwriting using typesetting terms.
Having a desk with an incline would be useful, particularly one with enough room to "scroll" a page while writing.
Having multiple weights/qualities of paper would seem normal for drafting and writing to certain audiences. Email doesn't allow this. One size fits all. The closest equivalent I can think of is a highly compressed pdf compared with a higher quality pdf.
No matter how many features a program or a computer strips out, it will always be more complex, more distracting, than even a typewriter or single blank page with a pen on an otherwise empty desk. How many additional features does your computer have that serve no purpose while you write? How many writing features does your computer have that you've never used? (Am I overlooking the inherent complexities of writing and have become desensitized to the additional features I already use?)
Is this how passionate Linux users feel when they strip away all unnecessary components in order to code without complexity and distraction?
Do I need to learn the ways of Alex Klinkhamer to create a device that only allows the input of letters and outputs text? A digital typewriter? I'm eating my words and saying that I understand the appeal of this fictional device now. I want one. However, I'm not an Apple fan. It would need to be open source. And even then, an LCD screen is not the same as paper. Perhaps a hacked Kindle with a liquid paper display, connected to a keyboard and a device capable of processing text input and output and writing files. A unitasker-Linux-monstromachine.
Understanding some of the mechanics of handwriting can make writing with chalk and dry erase markers much easier, which ideally makes the written words easier to read as well.
Improving my own handwriting skills and techniques has been surprisingly easy. At least, subjectively, they appear to have improved. My cursive in particular has dramatically smoothed, and writing on a chalkboard by moving my arm--rather than attempting to form letters by moving my fingers--was noticeably easier on Tuesday. Whether it was actually easier for students to read my writing is hard to tell from my perspective.
Relearning how to do something that you thought intimately conveyed a static personality/identity shows just how subjective our definitions can be. Although my handwriting still appears similar to the way it did before, something is tangibly different as well. Perhaps its because my personalities and identities have shifted too. What if we all tried relearning how to ride bikes? How to hold a pen or a pencil? If we examined what types of pens and pencils exist and how they affect our writing, our thinking, our formations of ourselves? Relearned how to hold a knife, what knives exist and why? How it affects what we cook and how it tastes, feels. Not just examining tools we specifically create with either, but things such as chairs, desks, beds, etc. Questioning the things we use on a daily basis but that most people never stop to think about. How form affects how technological identities form. Not to theorize about how technologies shape our lives and how we shape technologies, but to experience the shaping and reshaping processes, feeling the technologies in a new way after changing something about our interactions with them, and considering the mediating technologies within systems as well (this whole time I've been framing this argument/exploration relative to writing, thinking, speaking, and reading in a context of English, my own English at that, with the ability to write with my hands, read with my eyes, etc.). Considering why we often need others to help us see what we're doing, to help us understand the world from a different perspective. To help us understand that we cannot understand it all on our own, that we cannot disrespect other people's views because we never realize that our own handwriting is not objective even in its conveyance of who we think we are. To explore the world as a kid again, before everything was explained. Perhaps we explore to explain, but most of us aren't taught to explore the explanation, or to explore our methods of exploration?

In many ways, graduate courses already feel like beginning school all over again. I don't always understand why I'm being asked to do something, why I'm learning in a particular way. I'm (re)learning to pay attention to a different evluation/grading system, making mistakes and not understanding things, and wondering why anyone would ever go to school every day. I take naps, feel terrible, lost, confused, excited, and blisfully enthused. I'm relearning how to write on my own.

Explore. How do you write? This book sounds rather interesting now too. I feel I should also mention that I've been relearning to say, "You're welcome" instead of "Yup," or "No problem," whenever someone says "Thanks."

On Being a Pseudo-grad

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 19:37:00 +0000

This semester, a lot of people have been asking me if I'm a grad student. I'm glad so many people are curious, especially since I don't have class every day with the group of friends I've interacted with for, oh, the last 3-4 years. I usually respond by saying, "I'm a pseudo-grad" and then explain that I'm taking two graduate courses (Human-Computer Interaction and Digital Media Studio), I'm a teaching assistant (TA) for Introduction to Web Design, and I have Business Law on Monday nights. So officially, I'm a senior undergraduate, but I'm doing a lot of the same things graduate students do. To be honest, it's hard to explain what exactly grad students do, or what "a" grad student is for that matter, particularly since I've only had a small taste of things to come in my areas of interest. Metaphorically, I'm some kind of vampiric cyborg entity (in a Haraway-an sense) that asks questions and helps others create and answer new questions. In some way, I’m made of a bunch of things, scare some people, and I adapt. I'm generally trying to make some sense of the world while making it a better place to live in any way I can. At the same time, I make the world a confusing place. I'm also constantly redefining myself. Much like listening to a Biologist, Botanist, Civil Engineer, etc., all try to define a tree, I could list identifiers ad nauseum and still not create a complete picture of me (or anything). But that's part of the fun. Concreteness (outside of physical “laws”) depends on mutually held assumptions and understandings. Challenge those and you find fluidity, at which point you learn how to swim... or you drown... or you at least try to get back to solid ground as quickly as possible and never go near the water again. I'm learning to swim.

Some people prefer knowing the dictionary (or other popular books) as a definitively solid source of information, and they choose never to question things. I ask those people the following: Who wrote the book? When? Why did they choose the words they did? What words are included? Which are excluded? Who makes that decision? How? Why? What language is it written in? In what language is it written? Why is it written at all? Is today's dictionary the same as the first? Why or why not? If not, how is it different? How is the dictionary organized? Why? How does that affect how we use dictionaries? What does that say about the people who wrote it? The people who use it? What other ways of organizing/categorizing exist? Where else do these questions apply/to what other systems of knowledge? Whose systems of knowledge? What might happen if someone made up a word, defined it, and wrote it down? What if they changed the meaning of another word? How can we play with meanings? Who makes meanings? How? etc.

I'm not partial to studying dictionaries (in fact, I'm usually applying most of the questions above to digital contexts), but I find that asking questions makes almost anything interesting for a while. All one has to do is ask. Part of what I'm learning as a pseudo-grad is how to ask different questions. Another part is learning what to do with answers. That is, theorizing and conveying ideas in a way that people understand (How do we know if someone understands something anyway?). I also look at what questions other people have asked and are currently asking, as well as things that are causing people to ask questions.

More specifically, I usually read around 100-200 pages per week for Digital Media Studio, respond to the readings in blog posts, discuss the readings in class with some really cool grad students, and apply the readings toward my own work in some way. It's a similar experience to most 3-4000 level classes I've taken in the Humanities Department at Tech, but the readings require a more focused approach to analysis, and usually no single person completely understands what's going on. There’s also less hand holding. The texts are also heavy on theory (e.g. Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation was one of the easier readings so far IMO, but it was still a bit of a struggle), though the content of the pieces varies from week to week. Currently, we're discussing definitions of "humanities" and "the digital humanities" as well as how such labels affect things like tenure, disciplinary boundaries, etc. As students, we're expected to lead class discussion twice, blog, develop a digital media production targeted at a specific journal (e.g. Kairos, Vectors, DHQ, etc.) and participate in class discussion.

I'm also writing several research/conference papers inside and outside of classes, and developing a digital senior portfolio (woot! Thank you, Department and individuals who made that possible), which makes sense considering how much reading I'm already doing. In theory, I'm blogging on HASTAC too, but I haven't developed many coherent posts in any form lately. I'm sure I'll have plenty to say in a few weeks once conferences hit and grad school decisions play out. However, with my few spare thoughts, I'm asking a lot of questions about social structures and educational institutions while also reflecting on my identities and relations with others, and what I've gotten myself into. I also do TA stuff that most of the students in Intro to Web Design are completely unaware of (the professor deserves more credit than she'll admit too), but we’re having fun.

I've led a full class session in Web Design twice this semester, and I plan to lead class once more before the end of the semester. It's challenging, at least to do well, especially recitation style. I know I still have much more to learn, and that won't ever completely change if I'm doing things well. Even just being in the class again is fun, and it’s amazing how much seeing things from the front of the classroom changes your perspective on things. My mind is blown on a semi-regular basis, and at least half the time it's from the spectacular things students do. There are also more frustrations than I anticipated (not specifically related to Web Design), but they pale in comparison to the rewards. Regardless of any positive/negative judgement of my experience, I feel like I've learned more in the last 8 weeks (since I started the semester a half-week early) than I knew I was capable of learning in that amount of time. It's good to regularly feel completely humbled by realizing how little we know.

Outside of Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have Human-Computer Interaction (HCI). On Wednesday nights, I'm still enjoying Beer Rhetorics when I can. HCI is different than I anticipated, but it's providing me an opportunity to see another approach to teaching, technical communication, and usability. Like with other experiences, my mind is regularly blown in some way. So far in HCI, I've mostly been overseeing teams of undergrads developing Android applications for scientists and "citizen scientists" as part of a National Science Foundation (NSF) funded project. I've had to evaluate the team projects via usability analyses/heuristic evaluations, and I'm currently writing a research paper.

Shifting from user-centered design methodologies to writing personas and never actually meeting any users has been the most challenging part of HCI for me personally, to say the least. However, I take some satisfaction in knowing that there are students (and some faculty) interested in seeing more collaboration between departments on campus, even if there are barriers to overcome. Monday nights I also have Business Law, which is interesting when I think about the class in relation to "code is law" and governing structures. Although I can't say MWF contain my favorite classes, I am learning something from them and they inform my perspectives. I've had very few experiences that I couldn't learn something from.

So, am I a grad student this semester? I'm not really sure, but I can attempt to explain a few of the things I'm doing/my experiences when people ask. For the most part, I define myself as “busier,” because that's exactly what I am (in a good way). It's amazing how much my ability to manage stress has changed so quickly too, but the fun and fulfillment makes up for it. Even though I'm busy, I enjoy spending time helping students and attempting to give something back to the community here at Tech and the surrounding area (even though I can't discuss everything I'm doing). I'm still not sure how this semester is flying by at such a rapid pace. Soon I'll be presenting at a conference for the first time with two awesome professors, graduating, and potentially leaving Houghton and some truly remarkable people for a while. In short, I'm enjoying life to the fullest extent that I know how while I can.

The Two Cultures - Post-Mortem, Post-Modern, & Posting

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 05:03:00 +0000

My dad sent me a link to a blog post by Robert J. Lang today. In his post, Lang reflects on a book project that never came to fruition after The Two Cultures, a conference at Michigan State University that was intended to bring together individuals from the sciences and humanities back in 2009. After reading Lang’s post, I’m left wondering about the role of documentation or preservation of cross-border conversations, production as a result of discussion, as well as how it all ties together into change. Running short on time, I quickly threw this post together in hopes of generating conversation.

I’m a bit nostalgic, as The Two Cultures was the first conference I ever attended. If it wasn’t obvious enough that I had never attended a conference because I went with my dad as a sophomore, at which point I had just switched from Computer Science to Scientific & Technical Communication, I made it clear I was a noob by wearing shorts and a Firefox t-shirt to the pre-conference reception. Looking back, my theoretical understanding of C.P. Snow’s original lecture was wearing shorts too.

At the time, I had no idea how rare it is that physicists, psychologists, philosophers, computer scientists, artists, and “science and humanities people” actually get together in the same room to have productive conversations. Of course, part of what I learned from the conference, and now understand from a theoretical and experiential perspective (Thanks Haraway and Baudrillard), is that the dichotomy of science and humanities is limiting (and ultimately disguises that the dichotomy is socially constructed). In other words, “philosopher” and “computer scientist” are not mutually exclusive. But, I would argue that like vampires (Haraway), individuals with “cross-blooded,” complex identities scare the hell out of a lot of people—even in academia—despite the impossibility of being a “pure” or “true” computer scientist or a “pure” philosopher. Clinging to what are generally singular labels, although practical in some ways, is often used as a safety net against interacting with the Other. But back to Lang’s post on the book that never was.

Lang leaves me wondering about documenting conversations, particularly in cross-disciplinary work. If we (collectively as humans) ever hope to challenge barriers to relationships, not only do we have to actively foster relationships across boundaries, but also without record of these relationships and the discussions they produce, it seems difficult to make a lasting impact. Furthermore, after being part of the HASTAC community, following projects such as Debates in the Digital Humanities, and generally noticing wikis, course blogs, and other archival efforts, I’m wondering how the outcome of The Two Cultures conference might’ve been different had participants blogged or simply archived their presentations and/or notes from the conference (granted, I do remember the girl next to me live-Tweeting the conference, and she apparently made one blog post). Would there be any difference? I’m also wondering, does creating a space for discourse (on ideal nights) via Beer Rhetorics matter if the only record of discussions consists of pages informing people when to show up? If nothing tangible or slightly less temporal than speech is produced from conversations (whether what’s produced is a recording or a new creation), do the conversations really matter? In other words, if there’s no action aside from the act of speaking, how much impact does discussion really have? How does this all relate to academic publishing in general?

What I Learned from Facebook Timeline

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 19:24:00 +0000

I threatened to leave Facebook when I learned about Timeline. It's a matter of ethics. I don't condone Facebook's lackluster privacy policies or the fact that they store data even after it's "deleted," and I don't agree with their move to make it easier to browse through all that data. But, it also seems that there are still only approximately five people actively using Google+. Unethical business practices aside, I did learn/realize a few things while browsing my 4-year history on Facebook.

Foremost, very few (if any) individuals are going to bother scrolling through even the highlighted version of one person's entire timeline. I tired of reading through my own history after the equivalent of around 5 "show more" clicks on the current system. Frankly, I'm not interested enough in anyone else to bother scrolling much further through theirs either. At some point, it just feels creepy browsing through that much of someone's life without actively communicating with him or her, particularly if I haven't known the person very long. If I'm going to invest a significant amount of time in learning about someone, I'd rather just ask about their life or have a conversation.

Things I learned about myself

I'm actually a pretty cool guy.
I haven't fully enjoyed a spring or Thanksgiving "break" from MTU without homework... well, ever. There's always been at least one paper to write. And even though I remember Christmas break being more relaxed, I discovered that I usually have at least one application for something due then too. Breaks are equivalent to having classes canceled for a week.

583 dbl cheez

I've started enjoying life a lot more in the past two years, 2011 in particular. New Year’s resolutions are a wonderful thing, and surrounding myself with awesome people made a huge difference.
I've lost a significant amount of weight. I started at ~195 lbs this summer (which in itself was satisfying to be under 200, as that was down roughly 50 pounds from 8th grade), and I now weigh just over 175. 20-30 more pounds shouldn't be difficult. By comparison, I've already lost roughly the caloric equivalent of 583 BK double cheeseburgers, or approximately 2,700 apples.
I've progressively averaged less sleep per day each semester. I think I've reached my limit this year though. Consequently, my time management skills improve with more work each semester as well. Michigan Tech does an excellent job of teaching students to prioritize and handle multiple projects at the same time, if not how to maintain healthy sleeping habits and social lives. We get 2 out of 3 most days.
Data Structures is still one of the most stressful classes I have ever taken, but the infamous DS semester probably did the most to prepare me for the most recent semester too.
I am interested in really nerdy things, but I enjoy being a geek, and I've done some cool things and met interesting people because of it.
I have made fewer major mistakes than I like to believe or seem to remember. The events that loom so large in my mind, in the broader scheme of things, are rather insignificant compared to all the good. I also acknowledge that there's no way to know how my actions have impacted others for sure, significantly or not. Recognizing that I'm human makes forgiving other people for their mistakes seem much easier as well, particularly when they honestly hope to learn or grow. That said, I still remember what I learned from my mistakes, and I do my best every day to avoid repeating them. Tolerating those who aren't ready or willing to think or see a new perspective often isn't worth the time, but that's a two-way street as well. Sometimes it means letting people do their own thing for a while. Others, it's better to just let go.
Anything related to politics is a hotbed of poorly crafted statements. I try to avoid posting anything too controversial, as most times I look back at it later and think, "This really didn't matter, I/that person really shouldn't have said that, and it wasn't worth the frustration." Some things are better discussed elsewhere, and will probably make a bigger impact face-to-face.
I'm actually somewhat glad I've been single all this time. I haven't necessarily been happy about that the whole time, but in retrospect, I'm glad I've had time (and extra money) to experience things on my own and to meet new people. No offense, but I haven't met anyone who I would want to spend the majority of my time with on a regular basis. A significant amount of my time, maybe, but I have about a 3.5 hour tolerance for most people without some sort of distraction or break, depending on a variety of other factors. There are a few exceptions.
I've averaged about 5 new friends a month over the last year or so, at least on Facebook.
My most enjoyable memories aren't the ones that have status updates. Some of them get photos or videos, but most are only preserved in my head and the minds of others involved. I'm not sure if such memories seem more important because they're more subjective (i.e. book vs. movie), if I purposely didn't document them so I wouldn't alter them mentally, or if by not documenting them I'm emphasizing the importance of consciously remembering them. Either way, the photos evoke more response than statuses, comments, or videos, at least for me, though longer written texts are similar to photos in that regard.

So, although I'm waiting until Facebook forces me to adopt the timeline interface, I can at least rest easy knowing that much like every other UI Facebook designs, this one is horrible too. I doubt that it will significantly impact my browsing habits any time soon, but we'll see. It ultimately seems more useful as a tool for reflection at this point, unless you're a stalker with a lot of time on your hands. Go actually interact with somebody instead.

A Week of Handwritten Facebook Statuses

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 05:43:00 +0000

Over the past week, I’ve been posting all my status updates on Facebook as handwritten text that I scanned and uploaded as photos. After finishing Sherry Turkle’s book Alone Together, in which she discusses how modern communication technologies are changing our communication practices as well as our relationships with each other and with technology, I wondered what it would be like to use a communication technology such as Facebook in a way closer to older modes of communicating, e.g. snail mail. Although I probably won’t continue posting handwritten statuses (mostly to save sticky notes), it was a fun and thought-provoking experiment.

My Rules

Beginning Friday November 4, I posted a photo/status update that asked, “I wonder, what would Facebook be like if I wrote status updates by hand for a week?” I responded to any comments on such updates via handwritten note, and attempted to do the same when commenting on friends’ posts. However, I excluded links, events, and regular photos from this rule because it might confuse people, and because it meant including an extra link to a photo in each post.

My Assumptions

I assumed I would post less often to Facebook because posting would take longer, and as a result, I would be more deliberate in posting (i.e. I’d be less inclined to post a quick rant).
I also thought I would check FB less often because I wouldn’t be receiving comments on posts if I didn’t post updates regularly. Essentially, I thought it would be more like using snail mail than email or Facebook.

My Results

Writing by hand didn’t seem to reduce the number of status updates I made.
The amount of time I spent writing each status seemed to be the same as when typing. However, scanning each update added time.
I still spent the same amount of time checking Facebook for updates.
I commented on fewer statuses, particularly any involving complaints or stress-related emotions. This was partially because to comment, I had to write, scan, upload the scan to a separate image-hosting site, and then paste a URL into a Facebook comment. However, posting fewer comments on certain statuses has become routine for me, and I “think before I post” a little more now.

What I Learned/Recognized/Pondered

I realized how much I use spellchecking utilities in Firefox daily, while also recognizing that I’m more forgiving of grammatical/spelling errors in handwritten texts than in typed.
I noticed that Facebook stopped suggesting pages related to my status updates (I assume the same is true for ads. I block them though, so I can’t say definitively).
Why does Facebook allow users to organize collections of photos into albums, but not status updates, comments, etc. (excluding notes)? Why not include tags? Why the lack of user control in some areas, but not others?

This experiment solidified that the act of digitizing handwriting is still different than sending a letter because it is instant and intangible. Ironically, once the text was digitized, the handwritten image seemed closer to text created in InDesign. That is, typed text can be modified in order to convey attitude, personality, etc. through strategic typographic choices; things commonly associated with handwriting. Where is the line between personal and programmed once the physical is removed? Is it the authenticity of tactile input, the difficulty in forging unique handwriting? This returns me to a TED talk by Paul Bloom on original paintings, and it’s something I’ll continue to question.

Finally, although it may seem obvious that “Facebook doesn’t delete anything,” being able to physically throw away, burn, shred, flush, or otherwise destroy a status update makes the act of preserving a thought online forever seem more monumental. It gives weight to words. Books don’t last forever, but when will Google’s pages fade away?

It’s refreshing to dispose of written thoughts, they’re in the garbage right now, yet… they’re still on Facebook. What if the postal service kept a copy of everything everyone mailed?

Conclusion

This weeklong experiment reminded me that Facebook doesn’t delete anything, but in a concrete way, and it emphasized some of Facebook’s limitations as an interface. It also made me question how much time people spent deciphering my handwriting, as well as what the choice of pen, ink, and paper meant to them. Furthermore, this experiment clarified some differences between print and digital communication while also blurring that line for me.

So where does this experiment leave things? Facebook clearly was never meant for distributing handwritten statements, and each social network offers different levels of control and organization. What about Twitter, Tumblr, Google Plus, and email? Why do some users post handwritten documents regularly? What is the value of a handwritten letter in physical form when it can take just as much effort to create a well-designed, evocative, print document? What does it say about valuing print media in academia over digital?

What I Learned about Conversation from a Writing Conference

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 17:50:00 +0000

Contents: (hit ctrl+f then enter the code to go to a specific section. Blogger doesn't handle anchors well.)

SE1 Intro to Writing across the Peninsula conference

SE2 Keynote Speaker

SE3 Ethics, Stakeholder Theory, and Rhetorical Savvy in the Professional Writing Class and Little Histories: Enhancing Confidence by Establishing Personal Roots

SE4 Collaboration and Meaningful Discourse in the Writing Classroom

SE5 From Feedback to Revision: Reseeing Written Response to Students’ Texts

SE6 From Textbook to Facebook, From Essaying to Texting: Challenges of Teaching Writing in the Digital Age and Embracing Interactive Writing Pedagogy: Writing and Research Beyond the Textbook

SE7 The Post-Conference Chat/ How to Improve Your Department

SE1 Intro

On Friday, I arose at 5:30 AM from my “slumber” that never quite came. My brain had been waiting for the last drop of sleep to release from the bottom of the metaphoric plastic cup all night. By 6:10, I was dressed and headed into the frigid silence of Houghton’s suffocatingly dark morning with a fellow undergraduate. Her wet, black hair was gradually freezing as she tried not to sprain an ankle on McNair hill in her heeled leather boots. As we walked, we discussed the flaws in “cold as X” similes, futilely trying to keep our minds off the temperature and the time… not that we were capable of thinking about much else at that hour anyway. We were on our way to meet others who were heading to the Writing across the Peninsula conference in Marquette, MI.

Map of Michigan by Todd VerBeek.

The Writing across the Peninsula conference is a regional conference attended mostly by individuals from schools primarily located in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. This is the second time I’ve been to this conference, and it was slightly larger this year with around 150 people in attendance. Unlike some other conferences, the WAP conference encourages high school teachers, college undergrads, community college instructors, graduate students, and university faculty to participate in discussion about writing (technical, creative, etc.).

Arriving just in time to check-in and grab an MTU sponsored donut, Jackie, Felicia and Kevin (both grad students in Tech’s RTC program we rode over with), and I sat down at a table. We barely had enough time to notice that we all chose the same type of donut before the keynote speaker began presenting.

SE2 Dr. John Ruszkiewicz from U of Texas at Austin presented Revising the Teacher, the Writing Conference, Again as the keynote speech. His speech was based on pieces by Murray and Learner about using writing conferences with students rather than written feedback. Ruszkiewicz, however, used conferencing in addition to a writing center, rather than as a replacement.

To summarize Ruszkiewicz’s talk:

Meeting face-to-face with students and providing feedback in real time was more efficient* and enjoyable than writing on students’ papers in his experience. He saved time and enjoyed his job more.
He had students do peer reviews in class on papers before they met with him. He started meetings by asking, “Who was your editor and what did they say?”
This approach essentially counters the problem Socrates pointed out with text: you can’t ask the author questions and expect an answer if they aren’t around.
Students enjoyed the meetings. They felt more connected with Ruszkiewicz, saw that someone was actually reading their papers, and engaged their topics because he emphasized that students were writing their ideas. Personally, I like meeting with faculty to discuss papers way more than reading comments.
Conferencing isn’t for everyone. It probably won’t work for people teaching more than 40 students, and Ruszkiewicz noted that instructors must be comfortable giving feedback on the fly the first time they read through a paper.

*Ruszkiewicz calculated that given an average class size of around 20 students, and requiring students to discuss two papers, he would spend about 40 hours per class per semester meeting with students in half-hour sessions. He also scheduled sessions sequentially when possible to avoid distraction. This meant using a strict 30-minute timer, but students didn’t mind.

SE3 MTU’s own Kevin Cassell and Daniel Lawrence, presenting Ethics, Stakeholder Theory, and Rhetorical Savvy in the Professional Writing Class and Little Histories: Enhancing Confidence by Establishing Personal Roots.

Kevin discussed an assignment that asked students to respond to a hypothetical business scenario in which they were faced with an ethical dilemma and needed to create a written response. Honestly, I don’t enjoy assignments that involve case study responses or hypothetical scenarios as a student, so I wasn’t sure what I might gain from Kevin’s presentation as a prospective teacher. However, I did like Kevin’s philosophy that an initial lack of an evaluation method shouldn’t prevent teachers from trying new assignments. The trick is maintaining students’ trust by having at least a semi-coherent rubric when introducing the assignment.

Daniel argued that having students share personal histories, identities, “roots,” etc. allows for more open conversations that facilitate “little epiphanies.” During Q&A, this idea was tied back to Kevin’s presentation too. Students bring their personal experiences to ethical dilemmas and arguments, so exploring such experiences and finding out about other people can be a good way of moving beyond one’s own experiences. I think this would definitely be a good way of connecting with other students. Swapping personal statements and talking about histories has connected me with several students I might not have spent as much time talking with otherwise.

SE4 Amber Kinonen from Bay College present Collaboration and Meaningful Discourse in the Writing Classroom.

Amber had participants walk through a condensed version of a class assignment in which we analyzed Charles Bukowski’s The History of One Tough Motherfucker, responded via Likert scale to questions about the piece that we agreed or disagreed with, then provided an explanation for our opinion. We then grouped into fours and discussed our responses until coming to a mutual agreement about whether we strongly agreed/disagreed, or just agreed/disagreed. Then, those groups moved to four corners of the room based on whether we agreed/disagreed with a statement. Finally, groups shared their justifications for why we agreed/disagreed.

Personally, I felt the activity would be better suited to high school students than college students. I remember doing a similar activity in high school English and hating it then too, though I loathed every activity in high school English class. This particular teaching method may encourage more students to participate in discussion than other methods, but I found myself contributing less to discussion during the activity than I would during a “regular” class discussion. It felt forced. She spoke very highly of it though, and other participants seemed excited about its potential. Amber’s presentation did lead to a thought that I used in a statement of purpose for graduate applications too, so I guess that made it worthwhile attending for me.

SE5 From Feedback to Revision: Reseeing Written Response to Students’ Texts, presented by Lori Rogers and MaryAnn Crawford from Central Michigan University.

I ran into Jackie at this session, and we agree that this was by far the best panel of the day. It stands out among other conference presentations I’ve been to as well. The session was interesting because it took the best part of presentations, the Q&A/discussion, and made that the center of attention.

The “speakers” handed out a few sheets of paper with questions and then asked audience members for their thoughts, e.g. “When composing, what resources do you usually consult first?” This process repeated several times. Refreshingly, Jackie and I were very actively and comfortably involved in the conversation because we could provide a student perspective on what professors were saying and asking about writing practices. I can’t say I learned a lot about writing and revision practices specifically though. But, it was an enjoyable experience discussing ideas with professors, grad students, and other undergrads while not feeling like the only person without a PhD contributing to the conversation.

Finally, Jackie and I both attended SE6 From Textbook to Facebook, From Essaying to Texting: Challenges of Teaching Writing in the Digital Age by Ildiko Melis from Bay Mills CC, and Embracing Interactive Writing Pedagogy: Writing and Research Beyond the Textbook by Kimberly Miller from Case Western Reserve University.

I saw a red flag in one of the titles, but I had talked with both presenters over lunch and thought their session might be interesting. However, I think I learned more talking with them during lunch than during the session. It was interesting to hear about the challenges associated with teaching at a tribal community college in the first presentation, and that Smartboards are frustrating professors far beyond MTU in the latter though. Seriously, Smartboards are useless without training faculty and creating reference texts/tutorials, not to mention proper configuration and calibration.

SE7 The Post-Conference Chat/How to Improve Your Department

We explored Marquette before leaving.

Overall, the conference was a good “break” from classes and the stress of wondering how I’ll fit the necessary work into my days. Being immersed in rooms full of women was a needed break too, compared to the infamous ~~18:1~~ 3:1 male-to-female ratio at Michigan Tech. It was a new experience going with another undergrad as well, especially since Jackie had never been to an academic conference before. I had fun watching her learn some of the same things I did along the way, and making a few of the same mistakes ;) Surprisingly though, I feel like I learned more from the conversation on the car ride back, and had a lot of fun on the road too.

Almost non-stop, Jackie and I told stories to Kevin and Felicia about life as undergrads in the STC program. Just as constant were our questions to them about grad student life in the RTC program, their questions to us about what we actually do in class, and the four-way laughter at our mutual frustrations. I think we may have even discussed one conference session. Through our discussion, we eventually concluded that (ironically for a communication program) no functional communication network exists between grad students, undergrads, faculty, and administration, and that is a major problem. Equally problematic is the lack of accountability at all levels when communication does occur, primarily because of a FUBARed tenure/evaluation system that extends far beyond Michigan Technological University.

We even worked toward a few potential solutions, though the solutions discussed could use further input during Beer Rhetorics. Honestly, that’s exactly why I started Keweenaw Beer Rhetorics: communication. Communication between groups that don’t normally converse or even acknowledge that the others exist. Communication that happens outside the conference, the classroom, and the committee meeting. Communi-cation to promote communi-ty.

And don’t get me wrong, I love Tech’s STC program and the community here. It’s clear when I go to conferences why Tech’s tuition is so high, and why our faculty and students are well respected. But it’s appalling to think that could change because nobody bothered to sit down and talk with each other a little more.

Administrators, everyone “below” you is a user. Involve them in the design process. Faculty, everyone “below” you is a user. Involve them in the design process. Grad students, your students are your users. Involve them in the design process. Undergrads, we’re users, and sometimes that means we have to invest ourselves in the design process for ourselves to show that we have something to contribute. We (students) have to do more than simply fill out “strongly agree” on every bubble of evaluation sheets and leave a comment or two once per semester. We can’t just complain either. We (in the Humanities here at Tech) teach and learn user-centered design like it’s the Golden Rule and tell students to take a more active role than “scribe.” We have Bob Johnson for crying out loud, we can do better at this.

But don’t simply complain or critique. Seek answers. Actively ask questions. We also need to ask ourselves questions such as, “Who is our department head? What does he or she do? When and where can I speak with him or her?” What have I done to improve that class I hated taking? When was the last time I asked a student why he or she hated my class? Why do we have this class and who is teaching it? Don’t grad students, faculty, and administrators like pizza and beer (root or otherwise) at the KBC too? Clearly, we enjoy talking with each other given the opportunity. What’s my excuse for not being part of the conversation?

More importantly, don’t stop when you have an answer. Find a solution and do what you can to solve whatever problem you find. Take some action. More talk, more doing, more better (abbreviated MMM, as in “MMM… Beer Rhetorics… 6 PM in the KBC on Wednesdays…”).

As I reflect on the entire day, it seems that engaging conversation was the real theme of this writing conference. Actually, I didn’t learn a single thing about writing practice. The keynote speaker encouraged teachers to put down the pens and paper and pick up a conversation with their students. The second session encouraged sharing “little histories” and stories. The third promoted a way of involving more students in class discussion. The fourth panel was a discussion, and the fifth sparked an additional hour of conversation between Jackie and me after we returned to campus. Ironic, perhaps, that I learned so much about conversation considering the conference’s title. Or maybe it says something about the nature of what teachers really do, and communication more broadly. What do you think?

What I'll be Blogging as a HASTAC Scholar

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 23:54:00 +0000

This year, I’m participating in the HASTAC Scholars program as one of over 150 undergrad and graduate students who are part of the larger HASTAC community. This means I’ll be posting about conferences I attend, relevant news, my research, etc., here on my blog. I also get the opportunity to formally represent Michigan Technological University and the STC program, in addition to receiving a modest fellowship.

Considering I’ve been blogging about scholarly things for a while, not much is changing here. However, I will be cross posting to my blog on HASTAC. That doesn't mean you're excluded from reading and/or writing though. Anyone can participate in HASTAC and add to the ongoing conversation, not just people in the Scholars program. So, if you’re interested in Humanities, Arts, Science, and/or Technology, I recommend checking out HASTAC.

How I Learned about HASTAC

While I was at the Computers & Writing conference this summer, Cheryl Ball told me I would be a good candidate for the HASTAC Scholars program. I don’t remember what prompted that discussion, but I Googled HASTAC when I returned to Houghton and told a few professors about the program and Cheryl’s suggestion. After a relatively painless application process and a nomination from Dr. Marika Seigel, I was accepted into the program. Moral of the story: go to conferences, don’t be afraid to talk to people, and be nice to/respect professors.

What I’ll Be Blogging about This Year

Grad School Applications

Right now, I’m applying to graduate programs, which involves writing and revising personal statements/statements of purpose, a curriculum vitae (an academic résumé), and producing a writing sample. This is consuming most of my free time, and probably will be for at least the next two months. However, it’s an experience worth writing about, and I’ll have several posts about going through the process.

Courses

After 2 AM, I also work on other things, such as reading and writing for class. This semester I’m taking Media and Globalization, Professional Development in HU, Media Industries, and Advanced Practicum in STC. In other words, I’m working on multiple senior projects, developing as a professional, and learning about (mostly) pre-digital media industries. So far, the courses haven’t inspired any major blog posts, but I do have one in the works connecting discussion in Advanced Practicum with discussion at Keweenaw Beer Rhetorics.

Keweenaw Beer Rhetorics

This semester, I started Keweenaw Beer Rhetorics (a page will also be on the official Beer Rhetorics site soon). The conversations are very entertaining, and many have inspired thoughts on various subjects, which I plan to blog here.

If you’re interested in joining us, we (students, faculty, industry professionals, and community members) meet every Wednesday at 6:00pm at the Keweenaw Brewing Company. We informally discuss rhetoric, digital media, technology, school/education, work, beer, and a variety of other things in order to expand our learning and networking beyond the classroom. The alcohol serves as social lubricant, rather than a way of becoming inebriated, and is completely optional. Several people drink freshly brewed root beer regularly, and I’m personally eager to try the KBC’s birch beer.

My Research Project/ CCCC Conference Presentation

I’m currently working on a research project in which I am redesigning the graphical user interface (GUI) of the Avast! WebRep browser extension, conducting usability tests, and writing a paper. You can find the official description of my paper here (I’m the second speaker). The document also describes the panel I’m on with Dr. Marika Seigel and Dr. Wendy Anderson, as well as their papers, as we’re presenting at the CCCC conference this spring. My paper has changed a little since that description was finalized though. I’m now focusing my discussion of Johnson’s user-centered design model more specifically on how it applies in a remix culture. Regardless, this project has brought new experiences every step of the way.

I’m pretty excited about the conference, especially to be presenting as an undergrad (not to mention alongside two outstanding professors!). I’m sure I’ll be blogging about the experience, among other things, this spring. I’ll also post a modified version of the presentation here afterwards.

Being a Teaching Assistant and Taking a Grad Course

Assuming everything goes as planned, this spring semester I’ll begin my new position as a Teaching Assistant (TA) for Wendy Anderson’s Web Design course. This means I’ll be developing the course site using Drupal (a content management system), facilitating lab activities, leading class once or twice, and doing a few other things. I truly can’t wait to get started, which is good considering I’ll have to begin preparing before the course actually starts. I’ll probably be in Houghton a week earlier than normal after Christmas, but the hard part may be dragging me away from Tech for winter break.

Pending registration, I’m also planning to take a graduate course under MTU’s senior rule, which allows upper-division students to enroll in graduate courses for credit toward their B.S. or M.A. degree. Even if it consumes all my time and very soul, I think it will be enjoyable, a good taste of grad school, and a valuable learning experience. You can be sure I’ll blog about that too.

Thank You!

Once again, I’d like to thank Marika for nominating me to the HASTAC Scholars program and arranging funding; Cheryl for telling me about the program; Fiona Barnett for answering questions about the program from me and Marika (not to mention for all the behind-the-scenes work); all of the faculty and staff at Tech and elsewhere who have helped prepare me for this opportunity; my parents/ family; and the friends at Tech and beyond who help keep me sane during these insanely busy semesters. You’re all awesome people, and I thank you for your support and inspiration!

Now, time to kick it into overdrive and enjoy another intense year of living/learning.

Writing a Personal Statement... so far

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 00:34:00 +0000

I didn’t plan to start this series about the graduate application process until later in the spring, but rather than repeating myself to multiple people now, I’m starting a few posts on what advice I can offer. This isn’t intended to duplicate the advice found in general guides, or more specific guides. Rather, I’m offering what I can from my limited experience; I can tell you what I’ve learned so far. Write, rewrite, reflect, review, and relax. It’s cyclical. I welcome advice from anyone else too.

Write.

To rehash a Facebook comment I made a few weeks ago, I’m learning as I go, and I was nervous about starting my purpose/personal statements too. However, as Matt Seigel so elegantly puts it, “Write.”

Reading and summarizing suggestions about personal statements, as well as looking at examples, is an important step. However, it's easy to spend all day reading advice, making outlines, and writing down possible topics. I'm glad I spent that time outlining, as it makes it easier to focus on explicitly connecting my experiences to why program X is a good fit when I'm writing. But seriously, force yourself to start writing.

Writing personal statements has required an entirely different approach than what I normally take, and is actually more similar to creative writing. When I started writing, I closed MS Word because it was too "final" and opened Omm Writer. Even that didn't solve every problem though.

To get something on "paper" and my brain thinking productive thoughts, I literally wrote, "This is the first sentence. It isn't finished." Then I went to my outline. "I am applying to University's program in... because [I want to do]..." I had to ignore my thoughts of "this sentence sucks" and my instinct to hit the backspace key. Instead of censoring things by deleting them, I finished the sentence and hit "Enter" twice, then started a different version of the same sentence. I wrote 7 variations of my first sentence, and modified one to use as a sentence in the draft, which I placed at the top of the page. Next sentence, same thing, and then I hit another block. I kept writing new sentences while preserving the old. Keep writing.

By writing so many sentences, I could eventually analyze them as a whole to figure out what I was really trying to say with them. I discovered that what I was trying to say wasn't what I needed to convey, hence the block. So, I went back to pen and paper to figure out what I really needed to convey, then how to say it. Then I had an epiphany and things started flowing. I could see the connection between everything I had already outlined and the program.

I'm not saying my approach will work for you, but start writing. It's a process of reminding myself that it's a draft, that it's supposed to be torn apart multiple times, and that it won't get any better unless I'm writing…and rewriting.

Rewrite

The part about seeing a connection between my experience and the program lasted a matter of days. After getting feedback from professors, I scrapped approximately 75% of the statement. However, what remained was a solid framework for rewriting it (in MS Word this time). I reflected and introspected further. Writing everything after the first draft has been easier overall, thanks to specific feedback, but some parts have been more difficult. Connecting my teaching interests to the program and writing a strong concluding argument have been particularly challenging. Keep writing.

In subsequent drafts, I’ve focused on making stronger connections between the program and my experiences. As far as that goes, my advice parallels the generic guides: Show that you’re familiar with the work of current faculty, show how your work relates to theirs, etc. Making those connections also requires reflection (keep writing).

Reflect

No one can write about his or herself well without knowing his or herself intimately. Half the battle of writing personal statements has been being honest with myself about my interests and experiences (as much as possible, anyway). I find that a pen and paper are the most helpful tools for reflecting with, though mostly for writing down questions. Ask yourself more questions.

Every time you make a claim such as “My research experience taught me about how children develop reading skills,” ask yourself, “How?” Put yourself in the shoes of a reviewer. How have your experiences prepared you for graduate study? What do the experiences have to do with the program you’re applying to? Question every claim. Question your revised claims. Question your evidence. It will take a few drafts, and likely a few shifts in how you frame your argument. Keep questioning, and then write.

At some point, you’ll probably begin to question your motivations for even applying. “What separates you from the hundreds of other applicants?” is a trying query. Try not to let it get you down. You are, after all, questioning your own value as a potential graduate student. It’s rough. If you can’t do it, maybe you need to rethink your interests and try again, or explore other options. If you feel like you can’t do it, you’re wrong. Writing personal statements has required me to raise my self-confidence significantly, while also helping raise it. Reviewing a friend’s statement and getting their feedback is a great way to build some confidence too. Keep writing.

Review

Getting feedback from others is extremely helpful, but reviewing another person’s statement can be just as beneficial. Seeing how other programs structure their writing prompts can make you really appreciate the prompts you have. Examining a peer’s writing can also spark ideas about how you might present your own experiences, even if the peer is writing for a slightly different purpose or covering different content. If you know the person well enough, they can also help identify what’s unique about you from their perspective. That doesn’t necessarily make articulating your uniqueness any easier, but it still helps.

Personally, I doubted how helpful peer review might be after years of lame in-class reviews that consist of comments such as, “good point.” Fortunately, when I met with a fellow student (Jess Banda), the peer review process was worthwhile. I received enough feedback to write another draft. It kept me writing, and helped me relax.

Relax

Jess probably didn’t know how stressed I was the days before I met with her to exchange personal statements, but I’m guessing she was equally stressed, if not more. We spent about 30 minutes critiquing each other’s statements. I’m not sure she’s aware of how much the 5 and a half hours of talking afterward helped me eliminate stress, but I believe it was mutually beneficial (even though we both had plans to do homework). Applying to grad school is stressful with senior activities and interests, not to mention the diverse range of other concerns everyone has. Try to find people to talk with, they probably want to talk too.

This semester, I don’t have class with many people applying to grad school, so I have to make contact outside of class. This makes it harder to meet with people. But, it’s worth the effort to meet outside of class in order to stay motivated by talking about the experience with people who understand. For me, playing video games doesn’t make the application process more enjoyable or relieve much stress. Joking with friends about personal statements, however, does. To find friends to joke with though, you might have to find new friends. Fortunately, swapping personal statements is a great way to connect with people, as everyone writing a personal statement is writing about his or her interests and experiences. You can forget about writing for a few hours afterward too.

Write.

Blank paper and pens are your friends, but make sure you have some human friends too. Writing personal statements is challenging. Try to follow the steps I outlined here (Write, rewrite, reflect, review, relax). Write. Keep writing. Receive advice from and provide advice to others.

Creating a Better Day

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 03:35:00 +0000

Is a bad mood the cause of “bad” actions, or is a lack of good actions the cause of a bad mood? A simple (if ill formed and reductionist) question. While today was a fairly productive one, it hasn’t been very uplifting or inspirational. Turning to a source of reflection (pen and paper), I realized I couldn’t recall doing anything that helped anyone else today, or made their day any better. In fact, I made a lot of negative comments throughout the day. Could that have any connection to my mood? I’m sure my simple existence passively made someone’s day more enjoyable, but how might I feel had I actively done something to improve theirs? In other words, could I create consistently better days/moods for myself by doing small things to improve someone's day?

To test this, I’m starting now and making the most of what remains of today. I’ll do my best to continue this regimen of doing at least one thing to make someone’s day better for at least 30 days. What’s the worst that can happen? To do this, I'll attempt to stop and ask, "Will this action make someone's day any better, and is it really improving mine? What about the person I'm directly impacting?" We’ll see what impact it has, and if it's any easier than stopping to think about "teachable moments" before responding to questions. Perhaps this other-focused approach will help prepare me for teaching as well.

Matt – There was no carrot cake in the cafeteria, as I’m sure you already know. If you really enjoy sitting in your room on weekend mornings while Brent sleeps his senior year away, that’s your choice. Despite pestering you about your enjoyment of certain foods, having another person at the table always makes the shitty cafeteria “food” more enjoyable, at least when that person isn't pestering anyone…

Eric – Thanks for posting the weekly polls on your whiteboard. When they go up, hearing people argue over which choice is better yields at least one chuckle, if not a few closed doors. Besides that, it’s something new to check on the way to or from the hall door. It keeps things interesting at our end of Bastille. Keep it up.

The blond RA in East McNair also doing laundry at 2 A.M. last weekend – Thanks for complimenting me on the neatness of my folding and packing of clothes. I’m not really sure what an appropriate response to something like that might be, other than “thanks,” especially that late at night. Later, I thought, “I should’ve said, ‘Thanks, but you wear your clothes more neatly than I do.” Either way, you looked nice. Clearly, I need to work on my laundry-related lines.

Writing this didn’t make my day the best ever, but it at least made it slightly more enjoyable. We’ll see where this path goes.

Taking the GRE: An Open Account

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 19:48:00 +0000

This post marks the beginning of a shift in my blogging style. After reading through a discussion on Openness in Academia in the HASTAC forums, I decided that given my current position, the best thing I can do to promote openness is be open about my own experiences in academia. So, that's what I'm doing.

On Monday, I took the updated Graduate Record Exam (the GRE). For those who are fortunate enough not to need worry about such acronyms, it's kind of like the ACT, but for grad school and more grueling. The GRE is the standardized test version of an unsexy sadist who tortures potential graduate students in four-hour sessions, makes them sign an agreement not to tell anyone about the event, and takes their money.

As I said, unfortunately, I can't recount the gruesome testing process in detail because I signed a ridiculous non-disclosure agreement. However, I can legally describe my overall experience—from studying and dealing with the mental game/stress to how I reacted to the test itself—and offer advice on how to survive the ordeal. First tip: don't get distracted by the cute girl at the test center. She's planted there by ETS. Regardless of your sexual orientation, she'll draw your attention. Then BAM! Agent Smith.

Studying

ETS Guide vs Princeton Review

To study for the GRE, I purchased both the Official ETS Guide and the Princeton Review guide, a.k.a Cracking the new GRE (as well as the MathSmart guide covered later). Despite being produced by the same company that designs the GRE, the ETS study guide was almost useless as anything other than a source for sample questions.

As a brief example, the ETS guide provides a half-page box of tips for completing each question type and then jumps to sample questions. The Princeton Review guide dedicates an entire chapter to strategies for each variety of question. Additionally, the Princeton Review guide breaks down several example problems and explains multiple strategies step-by-step before ending each section with a sample quiz. In other words, the Princeton Review guide provides an interactive tutorial in workbook style, while the ETS guide slaps a few protips on a load screen and then throws you into a boss fight. Thus, by the time I faced sample questions in the PR guide, I actually felt prepared to face them and didn't get completely owned.

Because of its simplicity and reader-centered approach, I found the Princeton Review's format more approachable, and preferred reading its occasionally obvious information to decoding the ETS BS. However, the ETS guide did have one redeeming quality: it included a copy of the PowerPrep II software. Unless you really need additional practice questions though, save your money and go to the ETS website to download PowerPrep and view sample questions. The PR guide, however, is definitely worth buying if you're preparing for the GRE. If anyone is interested, I'll post a more detailed rhetorical analysis/comparison of the two books.

Two Studying Mistakes

At the beginning of the summer, I planned to study for the GRE an hour per day. However, I made two mistakes that caused me to study less than I anticipated: (1) I started using the ETS guide before I even opened the Cracking guide; (2) I decided to tackle the quantitative section too early, and studied from the beginning of the MathSmart guide. Fortunately, I studied enough to perform better than I had anticipated.

Starting with the ETS guide was a mistake because it quickly killed my motivation to study during the first weeks of summer. The suggested strategies in the book were too general to be helpful, and consequently I was frustrated when I performed poorly on the sample sections. On top of that, the explanations behind answers were often useless, confusing, or the letters and answer choices were incorrectly paired, which made a frustrating endeavor fruitless.

Dedicating the most time to improving my weakest area early on (the quantitative section) backfired as well. Trying to study basic math while taking an online class, doing research, and enjoying the summer just made me want to study less. Unfortunately, the content I studied wasn't very helpful on the actual test either, as I started on page 1 of the MathSmart guide. I can't say how useful the second half of the book is, as I never made it that far. If nothing else, I re-learned how to do long division...which has been a useless skill.

How Much and What I Really Studied

Overall, I studied for approximately 20-40 hours. I honestly feel like I should have at least tripled that. I barely scraped the surface of studying the math section, and I definitely should've practiced 6-10 more essays under timed conditions. However, I know myself, and no matter how well I did I'd still feel like I should've studied harder. Perfection does not equal happiness.

Most of my study time was dedicated to practicing sample verbal questions. However, after realizing how easy it is for me to expand my vocabulary, I wish I would've prioritized time with flash cards for both the long-term and short-term benefits. I found that associating words with people was a surprisingly easy way to remember them too, e.g., "Jess Banda embodies alacrity with her enthusiastic willingness..." Honestly, I only made it through the first 6 words on the vocab "hit list" though. However, I did spend a few hours looking up unfamiliar words I encountered in practice questions and while reading, which probably subtly improved my overall performance.

Taking Sample Tests

Despite advice to take at least four full practice tests before the GRE, I didn't want to discourage myself early on by taking a sample test without being prepared. Thus, I waited until a few weeks before the test date, and only took two sample tests. Don't do what I did. Take a full practice test on day one of studying!

The first test was untimed and unscored, and I took it to familiarize myself with the test software. However, it wasn't a very useful performance benchmark since it wasn't scored. When I attempted to take a full practice test, I made it through one verbal section and then the PowerPrep software crashed. That was discouraging. In the days after that, I spent more time studying from books until I could motivate myself to retry the laughable PowerPrep software.

Three days before the GRE, I finally made it through a timed practice exam (though I skipped actually writing the essays) and was relieved to see a predicted score of 650-750 verbal and 510-610 quantitative. That was about 200 points higher than I worried I might score on both sections, so my stress levels plummeted. Lesson learned: take a full practice test on day one for a baseline score. Even if you get a low score, it's better than not having any reference point mentally.

The Psychological Test

In my experience, preparing for and thinking about the GRE was more psychologically stressful than actually taking the exam. As if the GRE wasn't enough to think about under normal circumstances, I only had one shot this year at getting the score I needed because of delays in scoring resulting from the new test format. Fortunately, I didn't start getting stressed until a few weeks before the test, and I was about as calm as I could be by the actual test day.

Early in the summer, I wasn't worried about the GRE at all. After attending a conference session about GRE prep and talking to professors, I felt like I had a handle on the idea that the GRE is, "just a game," "a simulation," "a system," "a gatekeeping mechanism," etc., and that my body "couldn't physically distinguish between fear and excitement" (according to Dr. Joseph Brown at Stanford anyway). I knew what I needed to do; it was just a matter of doing it.

Of course, I didn't anticipate summer classes taking up so much time, or the nagging feeling that I was somehow slacking despite evidence to the contrary. There were several times when I completely ignored what other people were doing and stopped reading Facebook updates because I would think about how friends were working, taking classes, getting married, having babies, applying to grad school, etc., and they somehow seemed to be studying more than me. I eventually realized that it was unlikely anyone was fitting in everything they wanted to, and it just seemed as if they were from my perspective.

Surprisingly, even talking to friends and family about the GRE began to cause some stress, and occasionally subtle social isolation. Usually, conversations during the last few months would briefly move toward the GRE or grad school applications at some point. However, most people that I know haven't heard of the GRE (which isn't bad), so inevitably my dad or I would explain what it is, why I'm taking it, etc. It's a lot to cover in a brief conversation.

Over time, I noticed that when my dad summarizes the test/application process, he usually emphasizes how selective various programs are, that I "only get one shot at the test," how much time it takes to prepare, etc. Frankly, I don't care to repeatedly hear the acceptance rates of all the programs I'm applying to, or that "the top people in the country" are applying, or how competitive it is. I generally exclude that information from my descriptions. I get it. Hearing the statistics on loop is stressful, and it reinforces the perception that the GRE is bigger than it really is.

I didn't realize how often my dad uses a particularly problematic set of phrases until a few days before the test either: "[Grad school is] A whole different ball game." "...a different level." "...a different world." I'm guessing my dad wasn't aware of how that might sound out of context, or that he was saying it repeatedly, but it usually signaled the end of conversations about grad school. My parents' pride is probably partially to blame for the prevalence of the phrase, and I'm glad my dad is particularly informed. However, such phrases gradually increase my stress levels and don't move conversations forward either. There's nothing like the pressure of a test separating you from "a different world," especially when you're trying to connect with people in the "same world" and explain the GRE.

Stress Relief

By the Thursday before the test, I was stressed to the point that it was affecting me physically. My shoulder muscles were painfully tense, and my back felt like it could cramp at any moment. Fortunately, I changed how I viewed the GRE within the broader context of graduate applications.

I was well aware that the GRE is more a cutoff point than a measure of ability, that it would be considered with letters of recommendation, etc. But the rhetoric of "review committee" and "application" was sterile and abstract, even though I understood the concepts. So, I reframed the GRE as an assignment within the broader "class" of an entire application, something I'm more familiar with. This shift reinforced the idea that the people reviewing applications are teachers, and that no teacher I know would judge a student's capabilities by his or her performance on a single, isolated assignment. That helped reduce stress, and eliminated the thought that I might somehow be failing my professors if I didn't meet my own expectations on one "assignment," even though I knew I would only be "failing" myself.

More important than the lens swap, taking a full practice test and seeing good estimated scores made me extremely happy. My stress disappeared in a matter of minutes, and I felt prepared enough to take the real test. One psychological battle was over.

Taking the Test

There was something ironic about taking the GRE in a town called Mt. Pleasant. The test chamber was hot, around 80 degrees Fahrenheit, even with a fan. It smelled like a small room in which people sweat and take tests; a room where the door is constantly closed...now that I think about it, I may have taken the GRE in a sauna. It was not a fun room mentally or physically.

Security was extremely tight too. If anyone manages to cheat on that test, they should be given an award for creativity. Forget the TSA, just hire Prometrics to do airport security. Part of the check-in process may or may not have involved sacrificing a goat while reciting legal jargon in tongues, then using the goat's blood to write the English alphabet in mirrored cursive as well. For legal reasons, I can't tell you what type of goat it may or may not have been. Rest assured, nobody was sneaking into that test room.

Mentally, I had to block out the security procedures and environmental conditions during the test. There are few times when I've been more psychologically focused. Although I wasn't nervous, I could tell that my body was producing adrenaline about an hour before the test. I noticed that I didn't seem to be digesting breakfast, and that I was more alert than I normally would have been. I wasn't visibly nervous like one test taker, I was excited, but I needed control.

As the test loaded, I started losing control of the adrenaline as my palms began to sweat and I sped through the instructions. I reminded myself to calm down as the first analytical question appeared. Compared to the practice tests, writing for the real test was like being thrown into a cold lake: my only option was to start swimming. That made it difficult to stay calm during the first 20 minutes, but I never felt like I was completely out of control.

I took advantage of the scrap paper and wrote down what I felt was a coherent mound of text, then I started typing and briefly wondered, "How the heck did anyone write those sample essays in 30 minutes? I'll just pull a da Vinci quote out of thin air now...wait, nope. Brain...melting...durp." I was wasting mental effort. Fortunately, I was at least comfortable with the simple text editor and lack of spell check, as I regularly use Notepad++ and Omm Writer to compose first drafts. Of course, neither of those programs displays a countdown timer.

Before I could catch my breath, the first essay was over, and so was the second. A few questions into the next test section, I took a moment to refocus and put my adrenaline to better use. I caught myself thinking, "I should've written more practice essays...I still had two words to write...My writing was nothing like the example essays..." So, I took 15 seconds to mentally slap myself and accept that the previous section was done. I needed to concentrate on the task at hand, I didn't have time to beat myself up.

From that point on, the GRE was a test of endurance, not a mental sprint to type words. Aside from being an endurance challenge, the GRE was very much a game in the sense that everything I had studied was comparable to mastering combos in Street Fighter (at least I assume it is). The strategies had become a systematic reaction; I wasn't button mashing. When I had to reread a question, I marked it and came back later. Sometimes that meant skipping multiple in a row, but if I hadn't used that bending strategy, I wouldn't have had any mental energy left for the last two sections of the test.

By halfway through the second to last section, I started blankly staring at the screen every few questions. There were just too many words. In most cases, I could still bend and move on to a different question, but eventually I had to push and break down paragraphs and sentences just to figure out what was going on. I knew I was wasting mental effort keeping logical sequences in my short-term memory, but writing them down took too much time. I had been testing for over 3 hours, and I was becoming inefficient. Even with the adrenaline and strategies, it was a taxing process.

At the end, I barely realized the test was over. I had spent the last few seconds entering an answer, so I never had a final "click" of closure, it just stopped. No shouting "Shoryuken!" as I finished the exam, unfortunately, though I imagine the GRE would've made the "Gwaawaaahh" sound effect as it died. Despite the excitement of receiving preliminary scores and finally being done with the GRE, I was drained.

The Bright Side

Not everything was horrible about the GRE. There is the benefit of having a slightly larger vocabulary. Analyzing arguments quickly was good practice for the future too. I also get the pride of knowing I performed well, and that I overcame several psychological hurdles. Aside from that...never having to take that test again is the best part. Learning that it was worry that first killed the cat, not curiosity, was also an interesting side effect of the whole process.

What I would do differently

I don't regret spending my summer the way I did, and I'm satisfied with how I handled the GRE overall. However, a few minor changes could have made the process less stressful and thus more enjoyable:

Taking a full practice test as early as possible would've given me a point of reference, even if I didn't get an awesome score.
Studying the Princeton Review guide before the ETS guide would've helped me stay motivated, and given me more confidence in my abilities early on.
Skipping the MathSmart guide probably wouldn't have hurt, especially since not everything it covered was relevant to the GRE, and the Princeton Review guide had a very comprehensive math section.
Writing more essays under timed conditions might have helped, but it's hard to say for sure. At the end of the day, it's still difficult.
Forming a study group would've helped me study regularly and deal with the stress. Normally, I don't find study groups helpful. Reflecting on AP classes though, which were essentially preparation for the AP exams, discussing why answers were wrong/right and critiquing essays with friends was extremely useful.

Overall, I'm glad I can focus on more enjoyable tasks again, and that the (seemingly) worst part of applying to grad school is over. The GRE wasn't fun, but it was something I had to do in order to do what I want to. If you're not sure about going to grad school, the GRE might make the decision pretty clear. In my opinion, it's a test of will more than a test of intelligence or ability.

Just remember, it's a game. It can be beaten. It's a system with procedures. It has inherent properties and flaws. It can be analyzed. It's designed by "humans," so it's a construction. It has no emotion. It cannot be reasoned with, and it does not respond to your words, only your actions. It is designed to channel your thoughts and the thoughts of others. Don't let it, but don't forget that it does not ask you to ask questions or explain answers, it simply requires a return statement.

I Started a New Blog About Cooking

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 20:05:00 +0000

If you enjoy food, cooking, recipes, or photos, check out my new blog, Plating Carrots! I was going to call it “Eating Carrots,” as a play on words, but somebody beat me to the domain.

I’m posting recipes that I try over the summer, as well as photos of what I create. I’ll also include some favorite revised recipes. It’s a way for me to display my edible creations and maybe inspire others to try some new recipes this summer. You can expect a mix of flavorful and moderately healthy food, as well as “the good stuff.” I have a lot of making up to do for the extra 7 weeks of dorm food this summer.

Being an Elitist is not my Specialty

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 01:50:00 +0000

This post is intended to help contextualize (mostly for friends and family) who I am, what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and where I’m at in life right now. I can’t provide a definitive profile, but I can try to give people some information since I’m usually in the remote isolation of Houghton, and don’t always get to chat.

Within the last few weeks, I’ve been described multiple times by several friends and others as an “elite academic,” an “elitist,” “smarty pants,” and somehow outside the realm of “normal” people. I’m ok with being “abnormal,” but the last thing I want to be is an elitist, especially when my first reaction is “What? I’m not one of those people. I hate elitists too!”

Curious as to what might be giving people this impression, I asked a couple individuals who made such statements (as well as some who hadn’t) what it was that made me seem like an “elite academic.” I was surprised by the responses I received, to say the least.

I ask that while reading the rest of this post, you please keep in mind the following question: do you consider me an elitist, or am I becoming a specialist?

I’m Busy, But I’m Happy to Talk

The first thing I’d like to clear up is that I’m not purposely ignoring anyone (boldness for scanability, not intensity :) ). I like few things more than having conversations with people. Despite my historically quiet nature, after “breaking out of my shell” more, I actually enjoy meeting new people and talking to friends, family, etc. The problem is, I usually don’t have as much time as I would like to, and so I can’t talk to everyone all the time. Much of this is because Michigan Tech is a rigorous school, so average students spend a lot of time doing schoolwork. In a sense, blogging is a conversation of its own too. That said, I do everything I can to respond to people, so please, ask questions or say “Hi!”

“Hey, but you just started Keweenaw Beer Rhetorics, what do you mean you don’t have time to talk?”

Yes, I did. And Keweenaw Beer Rhetorics will return this fall. But, it’s a once-a-week thing, and I usually scramble to catch up on homework as it is. It’s one of the few times I’m “not busy.” In past semesters, I usually stopped showing up to Camera Club meetings by week 7 because I got too busy. It’s a lot of work being a student here.

Additionally, most students here don’t just drive home on weekends because of the location, so we tend to get involved with other projects, clubs, trips, work, etc. in our little spare time. People up here usually work smart and hard, and play in the same way, so it’s not always easy to tell what’s “work” and what’s “play.” As a result, what some might consider work (e.g. reading philosophy, going to conferences, or doing research and blogging) I consider to be work and play at the same time. While the origin of the quote below is debated, it summarizes my feelings on the issue:

A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play, his labour and his leisure, his mind and his body, his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself he always seems to be doing both. Enough for him that he does it well.

Paul Graham’s essay How to do What You Love helps explain how one might embody that quote.

Yes, I’m Happy to Talk With You

I started this blog (almost a year ago) as a way to spark conversations, but from some of the comments I’ve received lately, it has actually made some people feel excluded. I’m not purposely trying to exclude anyone :) I write about things I find interesting, although I understand that my interests are becoming more specialized in some ways, and becoming harder to separate from my “normal” life. This is partially because in my view, rhetoric, philosophy, communication, etc. all apply to “normal” life as much as “academic” life. To me, it’s just life, so I apologize if I seem like I’m doing it on purpose.

At some level, I can’t always write to as wide an audience as I would like. I suppose this is somewhat like teaching an intro course where some people have very little or no experience or background in the subject, while others might know quite a bit.

It’s a challenge to write about topics in a specialized or technical manner and make it accessible to a broader audience. As a technical communicator, I’m being trained to communicate technical or specialized information in a way that a non-specialized audience can use and vice versa. In this case, I’m communicating with a specialized and non-specialized audience at the same time.

Sometimes it’s a matter of mistakenly assuming people know what I’m talking about, or that those who don’t will be able to learn on their own. However, that’s a recipe for poor communication, so I try to include summaries or links to relevant resources when I can to help people understand, as I don’t always have space or time to explain every concept. For example, I was going to use Burke’s Parlor Metaphor in this section, but then recognized that probably half or more of the people reading this have never heard of it.

A Conversation About Burke’s Parlor

Considering I was going to use Burke’s parlor metaphor in an even more abstract sense, and didn’t find any concrete explanations online of how Burke’s metaphor is often used within the context of what I study, I decided to leave out the part about blogging, conferences, research, etc. being a conversation. I could write a separate post on that alone, and my interpretation would be much different from others’, so it would likely be different from your own. In other words, sometimes you have to make the meaning through learning from the original source; I can’t always give an “answer.” What I can do is help you ask questions or determine what specifically doesn’t make sense. But that means you have to ask :)

That’s probably why I didn’t find any explanations of the Burkean Parlor, and it’s why I like discussion based classes. Hopefully, the paragraphs below will help explain why I can’t always just put things in “normal people terms” either.

At dinner tonight, I overheard an inspirational conversation at another table that made me think about what I had just written. Some of the young kids who are up for the MTU Summer Youth Programs were asking an RA about his girlfriend. One of them asked, “Is she [the girlfriend] pretty?”

I thought, “That’s not going to tell you much, kid. Every good boyfriend knows the only response to that question is ‘Yes, she’s the sexiest woman around.’”

Relationship preserving response aside, what he had really asked the RA was, “Do you think she is pretty?” because there is no definitive or objective answer to “Is she pretty?” (an objective question); at least not without criteria for distinguishing between “pretty” and “non-pretty.” The kid ultimately has to judge for himself based on his own observations and his definition of “pretty” in this case. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” right?

Suppose for a moment that I had been taking part in this conversation. Let’s also assume that I disagree with the RA’s response and say, “Your girlfriend is pretty, but [insert my future girlfriend’s name here] is definitely the sexiest woman around.” At this point, the conversation would clearly end, because my girlfriend would indisputably be the sexiest woman around. Ok, so the RA probably wouldn’t just accept my truthful claim…

However, in asking “Do you think she’s pretty?” there is also the question of “What do you think pretty is/is pretty/defines pretty?” Trying to answer this question via conversation might allow the RA and I to come to some type of agreement on whose girlfriend was actually prettier, assuming we could agree on a more objective rubric, prototype, or definition of what constitutes “prettiness” (apply this conversation/argument at a societal level and you get a socially constructed reality and postmodernism).

For example, hair color, eye color, height, weight, etc. might factor into our “prettiness” model (think research or scientific model, not super). We could then compare the two girlfriends using such a model and determine which was prettier, although doing so would probably mean neither of us would have a girlfriend anymore. Ideally, using such a model, we could also ask for others’ opinions and come to some “objective” social consensus on who was actually the sexiest woman around. The argument (or experiment/test) would also be repeatable with other women. Sound familiar?

This same problem occurs when trying to explain Burke’s parlor and some other concepts, except the scientific method doesn’t really work. Asking, “What is the Burkean Parlor Metaphor/What does the metaphor mean?” is equivalent, in this case, to asking, “What do you think the Burkean Parlor Metaphor is/What do you think is the meaning of the metaphor?” because there simply is no objective answer.

I can give you a link to Burke’s description, but ultimately any other answer or link would boil down to “I think the metaphor is/means X.” Much like saying “I think Y is the sexiest woman around,” my view is still my view, not a definitive or “objective” answer. Thus, trying to explain the metaphor without having a discussion is just me saying what I think it means. It’s my interpretation. I assume this is why professors usually assign readings from multiple authors on the same topic when possible.

People have conversations about what they think the metaphor means, and may possibly come to a generally accepted meaning, but the meaning or definition will likely never be static (much like with religious texts/metaphors, law, etc.). This is why dictionaries don’t all have the same definitions ;) It’s also why theories are called theories, because no matter how objective scientists try to be, there’s always subjectivity. Ironically, no matter how hard I try to avoid it, I’m also often promoting “definitive” or “objective” definitions by linking to other articles as well. My best advice is to try to find your own meaning, listen to what others are saying, figure out where your meaning might fit, and then “put in your oar” ;)

Back to elitism though. As you can see, I can’t just turn off my “academic” brain, even at dinner or with the simplest of questions. I thought about postmodernism and all those ideas while eating a sandwich when a kid asked about somebody’s girlfriend. “Normal” or not, that’s part of who I am.

What I’m Doing

I’m going to conferences, reading, doing research, blogging, and taking classes most of the time. This is because doing these things is all part of what people in academia do, and I’d like to be in academia. Currently, I think I want to be a professor. That may change over time, but it’s where I’m aiming.

That mean’s I’ll be attending graduate school for at least the next 6-7 years. Hopefully I’ll be able to tell you more about what that involves once I get there, but I’m already doing some of the things grad students do. Consequently, that’s making it difficult for me to define who I am.

I often feel like people think I’m no longer “just an undergrad” and that friends and other undergrads are thinking, “He’s not one of us” even though I still have a year left. At the same time, grad students do usually think that, “I’m one of them” until they discover I’m actually not, yet. I encounter that a lot at conferences, so it would be awesome to see a friend there.

The “problem” is that conferences are mostly attended by professors and a few grad students. Neither of those two groups can really be “friends” yet, even though I “know” them. I’m still a student, so professors can only be so friendly, and I’m not a grad student yet, so grad students and I only share certain interests/experiences at this point, within the context of conferences. We usually have interesting conversations about games though.

It’s not like high school where the same few people took AP classes together and all knew each other (for the most part, the people who were in those classes still know each other, and a handful go to MTU). We could look around and say, “Ok, he’s doing X, she’s doing Y, I think I know where I stand in comparison, we’re doing similar things…and look at these shiny medals we just got.” Now it’s “He’s doing X, but I don’t really want to do X. She’s doing Y, and that’s sort of like what I’m doing, but not exactly. I kind of know what I’m doing based on how people are reacting and the advice I’ve heard, and I kind of know where I want to be, but I’m pretty much by myself…so… where and who the heck am I?”

At the end of the day though, just because my life is intertwined with academia doesn’t mean I’m not “normal” anymore. I might use big words sometimes. Not to sound superior or intelligent, but for the same reason we use “apple” instead of “the usually round, red or yellow, edible fruit of a small tree, Malus sylvestris, of the rose family.” It’s abstraction to save space/time when describing something complex.

So, am I an Elitist, or am I a Specialist?

I might do things other people never do. In a similar sense, a turkey farmer does things other people might never do. What I’m doing is a “specialty.” Though it might appear as if I’m doing it just to be part of an “elite” group within society or because higher education can bring nice benefits, I’m not doing it for the benefits. I’m not doing it because I think what I’m doing is prestigious, or that I’m somehow better than anyone else because of it. I’m doing this because I enjoy doing it at multiple levels and I believe I have something meaningful to contribute to my field(s) of interest. Doing this also takes up a lot of my “leisure” time (remember the disputed quote?), so I don't always seem like I'm doing "normal" things.

Regardless of my specialties, I still like going fishing, and camping, and talking, and boating, and listening to music, and eating/cooking, and playing games, and all kinds of other things. If we don’t like the same food, or music, or games, that’s part of life. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you or that my tastes are “better.” Some of my “work” might sneak into those activities too. It’s part of who I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely different from you or think I’m “better” than anyone either. Perhaps instead of writing so much, I should be talking to people a little more as well.

Wait...crap, based on some of my answers to this quiz, I am an elitist.

Being Color Blind vs. "Color Blindness"

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 05:10:00 +0000

Since most people don’t know what it’s like to be color blind, I won’t berate those who use the term “color blind” or “color blindness” to describe being “blind” to skin color/race (Lisa Nakamura…). I’ll just say that this use of the term has bothered me since I first heard it associated with something other than color vision deficiencies.

Being blind to color and being color blind are not the same thing, despite the wordplay. I still see colors. I guess “race blind” just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Using “color blind” in the original sense is problematic as well, but saying “I have a color vision deficiency” isn’t very effective in most cases, and doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

Since I’m not sure there’s a better solution than just using “race blind,” rather than pointing out all the problems with using “color blind,” I’ll attempt to contextualize what being color blind is like from my own experience. Ideally, clearing up the many misconceptions about what it’s like to be color blind will also show why I find the racial use problematic.

Usually, when I tell someone that I’m color blind, I get one of three responses (in order of frequency):

1) “What color is this?” as the person points to a piece of clothing, wall, etc. “What color is this?” “This?” “This?” and so on.

2) “Whoa, so do you see any colors?”

3) “Really? I’m color blind too.” Or “My brother, cousin, etc. is color blind.”

Granted, I can understand people’s amazement at the thought of a subjective reality (“Whoa, you see color differently than I do?”). The problem is defining “differently.” The sky is still blue. Pine trees are still green, though I would consider many of them to be brown or red. Grass does not look purple or pink to me, and the poem about roses and violets still makes sense. I do see color, not grayscale, or black and white. So what is different?

I can distinguish between fewer hues of color. So, purples and blues may be indistinguishable at times, depending on hue, while with other combinations of blue and purple, I can tell that they’re different, but I couldn’t tell you which was purple and which was blue. This is also true with greens, browns, and some shades of red. Pinks, magentas, and that general tonal range is a nightmare. Pastels are much harder for me to distinguish between than highly saturated or “bright” colors as well.

What obstacles do you encounter?

Most of the time, I live pretty much the same way as someone with “normal” vision. However, there are a few problems and workarounds that I deal with regularly (partially borrowed from Daniel Flück’s post, though he makes some blanket statements that aren’t accurate for all color blind people):

Sunburn – Like with most issues involving color, if I have a point of reference, I can get a better idea of what color I might be looking at. With skin, I can usually compare the skin that hasn’t been covered to skin that has. However, I have gotten a few major sunburns because I couldn’t tell whether I was red or just tan.

Solution: I try to be proactive and use sunscreen often.

Degree to which meat is cooked – Unless it’s bleeding, and sometimes even if it is, I can’t safely tell you whether a hamburger or steak is well done or medium rare.

Solution: Fast and accurate digital food thermometers are awesome.

Ripeness of fruits/vegetables – Oh, bananas. Those damn bananas. Unless it’s clover green or spotted, a banana is a 50/50 guess. Picking out a banana is like picking out fresh corn for me. I can’t tell if it’s good until I open it. Bad lettuce is problematic too.

Solution: Gently squeezing them occasionally works, but it’s usually a crapshoot until I bite into one unless it’s spotted.

LED lights – I don’t notice this one much since most portable devices have battery gauges now. Game Boys were evil though. “Oh, battery looks fine…and there goes my save.”

Data Visualizations and Maps – Oh, bananas. Those damn bananas. Seriously, is it that difficult to use easily distinguishable primary or heavily saturated colors for graphics? Or patterns? Or shapes/symbols?

Solution: Educate designers and promote user-centered design processes. Even if your design absolutely depends on using only shades of red, use a pattern, or shape, or size as well.

Matching clothes – 90% of my wardrobe is black, because black matches everything. I have some whites, and can pretty much count on one hand the number of non-black, non-gray, and non-white shirts I own.

Solution: Wear whatever I feel like. When shopping, I ask someone with me for help, or I look at tags/labels.

Hunting – I can track a wounded animal more easily by following its tracks/foot prints than I can a blood trail (blood spots mostly look “dark” to me), particularly in the fall when the leaves on the ground are multiple colors and may have spots already. Consequently, at times I can see animal tracks others might miss because they’re what I focus on.

Solution: Drop ‘em where they stand. And yes, I enjoy fall colors as much as you do, regardless of what color I think a leaf is.

Design Work — Contrary to popular belief, I can actually design web pages and create images that use color effectively. It just takes a little extra effort and the help of online utilities. This wiki page provides some utilities for simulating how color blind users may see websites.

Hopefully, I’ve made it clear that being color blind has very little to do with ignoring colors or not making distinctions between colors. The exact opposite of what the racial use of the word implies. I already deal with enough misconceptions about color blindness. Please, don’t add to it by creating an even more problematic use of an already problematic term.

Furthermore, while I encourage people to ask questions and educate themselves, consider why you’re asking specific questions when speaking to a color blind person, and think about what an answer will really tell you. As Flück points out, “No answer given to this question [What color is this?] will help you understand how a colorblind person sees the world. And that is actually what you want to know.” So keep asking questions, but think about what you’re really asking ;)

Messing With Your Head

I’ve been officially diagnosed as having deuteranopia, otherwise known as Red-Green color blindness. I have a mild case, with about a 20-40% deficiency, and an affinity for duct tape. Due to the variance of LCD monitors, no online color tests are very accurate, but it is fun to compare your results with friends. For example, I got the following results from this test:

Assuming your monitor accurately reproduces print color (it doesn't, unless you have some very expensive equipment), a person with normal color vision would get an unclosed oval shape when the dots are connected.

Of course, the idea of “normal results” can be problematic too. This “reverse color blindness test” again shows that anything that’s designed has a bias. I also screencasted a real-time example of how my vision may differ from yours using Photoshop and an Ishihara test plate below. NOTE: this is NOT how Ishihara tests work. It's something I discovered while playing with Photoshop and demonstrates how hue affects people's ability to see or not see the patterns in the plates. However, due to color variance between monitors, this demonstration is way more useful when you can actually see it on the same monitor as me.

Unable to display content. Adobe Flash is required.

So please, if you’re tempted to use the term “color blind” in reference to race, think of using another word or phrase first :) And a final disclaimer: My experience is different than that of every other color blind person. Some people can barely distinguish reds from greens, others have no problem with those particular colors.

Ego and Teaching vs. Telling

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 02:39:00 +0000

Today was a good day for learning. In addition to thinking about lenses, I think I realized something elemental about teaching today as well: It often requires that one check their ego at the door.

Earlier today, I posted the following quote from An Approach for Applying Cultural Study Theory to Technical Writing Research as a Facebook status:

STC Matrix "Good technical writing is so clear that it is invisible. Yet technical writing is the mechanism that controls scientific systems, thereby organizing the operations of modem [sic] institutions and the people within them. The invisibility of technical writing attests to its efficiency as a control mechanism because it works to shape our actions without displaying its methods for ready analysis." Longo TCQ V. 7(1)

My ability to contextualize what I meant by “STC Matrix” was limited to 420 characters, and many people are unfamiliar with the technical jargon of journal articles from Technical Communication Quarterly (technical jargon in TCQ?). So, it was no surprise that the first comment was, “Ok, so now in terms normal people can understand...”

Telling

At that point, my inner rhetorician was screaming “Great kairos Batman! Here is an opportunity for teaching!” Unfortunately, my slightly more outer inner rhetorician yelled louder “show them what you know!” I responded with the following interpretation (singular) of the original post:

The irony here is awesome. I guess it's good teaching experience too ;)

By "normal" I assume you mean "more," so I'll do what I can.

In one sense, and slightly negative terms, the easiest way to control someone is when they don't realize they're being controlled. In this framework, technical writing (this also applies more broadly beyond the discipline of technical communication to design, acts of creation, persuasion, etc.) is done well when people don't realize it's there. That is, they don't realize that something could be different in the design of an institution, program, protocol, etc. and thus are controlled by it whether they realize it or not.

In a broader philosophical sense, it's related to questions like "who designed X system? Why? How? With what purpose? What aren't we seeing that's present in the system? How is that impacting our actions? etc."

All the great theological/philosophical questions applied to things people often forget have designers.

If you're interested in pursuing this further, I recommend:
Reading the Allegory of the Cave (here's a wikipedia summary) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_the_Cave

Reading Simulacra and Simulation (if you have the patience) http://www.egs.edu/faculty/jean-baudrillard/articles/simulacra-and-simulations/

Watching The Matrix, The Next Three Days, and I Love you Phillip Morris, and A Clockwork Orange, among others.

Or you can take the blue pill.

Questioning

Later on, I realized that I had recognized the “teachable moment” but I had not taught. I had explained. I interpreted the text for the other person. Knowing that effective teaching is often conversational and generative/constructive, I pondered how I could have “taught” more effectively. In doing so, I realized that I would need to shift my thinking, and that such a shift would require me to step back a little and let others do some of the gear turning.

Rather than responding with an answer, responding with a question like, “What do you think it might mean?” or, “What specifically isn’t clear?” would go further toward generating discussion/conversation. However, this requires me to acknowledge that I already know what I claim to know. In other words, am I trying to convince the reader or myself that I understand the text by offering my interpretation?

The same situation/response occurred during my ride back from the Computers & Writing conference. During the ride, my dad asked, “Did any of the panelists talk about how they see the Internet changing?” I asked “if he could be more specific” and wound up trying to give an explanation that was about as broad as the question. Ultimately, my answer wasn’t satisfactory to me, and probably not very useful to him. However, responding by asking him a question like “How do you see the internet changing?” would accomplish two things:

1) It helps me narrow what is being asked. Even if the person asking can’t be more specific his or herself, I can respond more effectively because I get a sense of their interests and understanding. For example, had my dad responded to the question with “I think phones are going to become even more important to using the internet in the future,” I would have had a clearer direction for further questions, even if the first response was still fairly broad.

2) It creates a conversation where all parties are contributing. It’s more engaging than me simply explaining or regurgitating information.

Teaching

Part of the challenge is that I’m a student. Thus, my natural response to a question is to provide a direct answer and state what I know to prove that I know it. This is partially a protection mechanism, and has been engrained in me for about the last 21 years. However, it’s the pedagogical equivalent of handing out fish to prove that I know how to fish.

So how does one teach others to fish? Furthermore, how does one show that they can teach others to fish when they need to (e.g. at a job interview)? I don’t have any immediate answers to either of these questions. However, I do think teaching, not just explaining, requires people to put their egos aside momentarily and be vulnerable in order to ask questions and listen to the answers of another person as they develop them. Of course, this assumes that the other person is interested in learning and engaging, not just eating fish.

Rethinking the "different lenses" metaphor

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 20:01:00 +0000

Picture a lens. What do you see when you look through it?

While reading through Critical Power Tools today, I paused to wonder about which philosophers I “should” be reading in relation to my work and interests. I emailed a professor to say “Hey, I just ordered The Practice of Everyday Life, and these Foucault and Deleuze guys keep popping up elsewhere. Are there any particular works I should be reading in addition to Burke, Feenberg, and Baudrillard?”

After returning to reading CPT, with this thought still brewing below the surface, I wondered about the analogy of “examining the world through different lenses” or “investigating from different perspectives” that's so commonly used in classes. Building on this, I pictured some Victorian era scholar wearing a pair of glasses with 5 different lenses in front that could be flipped down or up to change his view (yes, it was the stereotypical white male steam punk scientist with a professorial white ‘stache. Sorry, my daydreams aren’t “neutral”). Thinking about this, I concluded that having too many lenses attached to the glasses would make them cumbersome and ultimately less useful, while having too few might not do much good at all, especially if the various lenses were too similar.

And then I had an epiphany. I had always associated the lens metaphor with glasses or monocles and looking through them in real time. What if philosophies, theoretical models, and other modes of analysis were more like camera lenses?

A 600x zoom telephoto lens might not be very useful if I were doing landscape or architectural photography, unless I changed the way in which I approached them. Using a prime 50mm lens would also change how I might approach wildlife photography, and in some cases would make it nearly impossible or wouldn’t produce very useful images. At the same time, most photographers have one or two general-purpose lenses that they keep consistently mounted to their camera, when they’re traveling, etc. Some lenses have extremely specific applications, and some are just “creative.” Using a tilt-shift lens all the time might be problematic, but it can offer new interpretations of the same old scene. The same could be said about using a polarizing or red filter all the time. It would affect the way photos would turn out, how the photographer would approach their work, and quite literally how viewers would see the world with varying results.

While this may seem obvious to some, this shift in the way I viewed the metaphor made me realize that philosophy and theoretical models really are “tools in the tool bag,” but even more concretely, lenses in the camera bag. Perhaps this makes more sense to me because lenses are expensive investments, and often the lenses and filters that sound cool to own are limited in their usefulness. Thus, it’s not practical to own the same lenses as every other photographer because of expense and space, but it may be extremely worthwhile examining the photos they create with their tools. Equally useful is exploring how others have used the same equipment as I have, but to create completely different photos. Spending time and mental energy reading philosophy is also an investment, and the books do occupy space (if I invest in them monetarily). At this point, Baudrillard, Bitzer, and Sartre seem to be my 18-55mm lens, but there are plenty of others to use. So, with this new view in mind, I’m reconsidering how I approach philosophy.

Of course, this metaphor has problems of its own, and may seem deterministic. The lens used is not the only factor in creating a photograph. There’s also a camera body, other accessories like tripods, flash, etc. as well as the design strategies/frameworks and thought processes that photographers all use when creating photographs. “Camera’s don’t make good photos, photographers do.” However, lens choice plays a major role in how photographers make photos, and what photos they make within the broader context of what really makes a photo (e.g. culture, time, space, etc.).

Computers and Writing 2011 Recap OR My First #cwcon

noreply@blogger.com (John Sherrill) — Tue, 24 May 2011 23:27:00 +0000

I’m still readjusting to summer life on campus after returning from my first Computers and Writing conference. Thanks to everybody who helped make it so awesome, and thank you to those who helped get me there! I hope I can make it to the 2012 conference.

Here’s a list of sessions I attended if anyone is interested in hearing more or discussing (this list excludes Town Halls, Keynotes, etc., but I went to those too):

Graduate Research Network (GRN)
Choosing a Grad School
Grant Writing
Digital Writing Research in Motion: The Trajectories of Four Digital Writing Researchers
Networked Publics
Peersourcing: An FAQ
Public (Between) Private: Wikileaks, Legalities in Online Writing, and the Future of Network Rhetorics
Postindian Fugitive (e)Motions: Case Studies of Digital and Visual Cultural Rhetorics Research
Unbooks, Ebooks, and the Evolution of Self-Publishing Systems
Multimodality in Motion: Disability in/and Kairotic Spaces
Research Methods and Digital Publishing
Sharing Solitudes: Public and Private on the Move

Since I’ve already summarized my experience for friends on Facebook, I’ll focus on a few things I found helpful, some questions raised by the experience, and what I learned beyond disciplinary knowledge.

The GRN

Attending the afternoon sessions of the GRN alone would have been worth the trip (plus I got 3 free books and other swag). I didn’t have time to submit a proposal and register for the full GRN, but I interacted with fellow undergrad and graduate students, faculty, and a variety of other people. This helped me situate my experience, goals, questions, etc. I’ll be a first generation grad student, and I only know a handful of students who are preparing for grad school, so it was good to feel a slightly different sense of community and get a better idea of myself as an individual.

At most conferences, I’m the only undergrad. At C&W, the “Holy cow, you’re an undergrad?!” effect began to wear off (partially because I’m getting to know people) and challenged me to articulate what my interests are, what I’m working on, and who/what I know. It was pretty cool hearing Dickie Selfe talk about grant proposals he worked on, and then later being able to say, “That project sounded similar to one I worked on in Tech’s grant writing class. The client organization I worked with also did an oral history project and similar educational programs. Can you tell me more about how you approached things from a research perspective?” I mean, that must be like talking to Angus Young about blues.

What is the Role of Undergraduate Journals?

I’ve been interested in undergrad publications for a while, and I’ve been promoting various undergrad journals to faculty and friends. However, I never really stopped to question what they’re actually for. I just wanted to get published for the experience, and because it sounded interesting… and because of the nice addition to a CV ;)

All the things I just mentioned are valuable, but attending the session on The PITJournal’s peersourcing process made me wonder, what is the purpose of an undergrad journal? Is it just about getting published for a resume or vita? Is it for the learning experience? Is that the end goal and journals just serve as a repository? Does anyone actually read undergraduate journals? If so, who? I read them, but it’s mostly to see what other undergrads have done or how their courses were structured, who their advisors were, etc., not because I expect to cite undergrad work in a paper.

Hypothetically, I could gain something from another student’s methodology or interests by reading an undergrad journal. But so far, new articles are published so slowly that I’ll graduate before that happens with any of my current work. I could be reading student or course blogs instead. Does the platform of “journal” simply offer credibility? The about page for TheJUMP partially explains what its purpose is, but I’d like to hear your thoughts on the issue of the role of undergrad journals in a changing publishing system. Who else has asked related questions?

Twitter

After C&W, I’ve decided to dive into Twitter (@jtsherri). My decision is based on the abundance of tweeting at #cwcon, the fact that people have been discussing it for some time, and a post on moving from RSS feeds to Twitter Hashtags. I’m not finding Twitter very useful yet, but we’ll see how it goes and whether it’s worth the exploration.

Non-Academic Things I Learned

Simply asking someone who can explain or solve a perceived problem is often more productive than complaining to anyone. For example, asking Cheryl Ball why Kairos doesn’t provide an RSS feed was much more productive than saying “Kairos is the only online journal I follow that doesn’t offer an RSS feed. Wtf?” By asking, I learned, among other things, that offering a feed isn’t really necessary because there are only two issues per year. Perhaps asking, “why does the shower in NQ I’m assigned to only produce cold water?” would have been productive too…

Good food is better than good amenities. Thanks again to Steve Krause for the Google Map of Ann Arbor. Amer’s deli was a great choice and made my stay in the North Quad more enjoyable.

I’m extremely fortunate to have stumbled into Michigan Tech’s STC program when I did. Weary from Computer Science, leery of Humanities people, and completely oblivious to the program’s history, I’ve learned more from the experience than I ever could’ve imagined. I get to do awesome things like go to conferences.

Taking good notes is more important than having good memory. I should have taken more notes.

Professors are people too. I already partially knew this, but talking about sparkle ponies with a few of them at the newcomers’ breakfast helped drive the point home, among other experiences. Now when I hear students complain about Professor So-and-so, I wonder if they’ve ever talked to their professor in his or her office, or over lunch, or over newborn babies and academic pressure. Did they even ask about the issue? Or are they just complaining? Maybe the real problem is that it takes more ~~naivety~~ confidence to ask, and potentially be responsible for a solution, than it does to complain and walk away.

Life is too short to complain or let minor issues ruin a day. An MTU Business Professor, Bob Mark recently passed away at the age of 62. He used to tell students a story about his time as an undercover agent in Stuttgart, Germany involving an angry drug dealer with a machete. The point of his story was that after deciding not to do any more undercover work, he figured any day that he wasn’t getting shot at or stabbed was a good one; any other issues weren’t going to make him very mad. Bob’s philosophies are a big part of why I attended this conference and others, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to learn from him, even though we weren’t particularly close.

Do what you find interesting. I’ll repeat this until I die or I’m proven wrong. C&W only reinforced this philosophy for me.

Thanks again to everyone who helped organize the conference, to all the people who had conversations with me or gave me advice on grad school, conferences, etc., and to the University of Michigan for hosting the conference. I met a ton of people, had awesome sushi, and it was an all-around awesome experience. I’ll always remember my first Computers and Writing (and probably some random trivia for the GRN).