Paying Attention

I’ve been mulling over a conference presentation I’m doing this Spring (Computers and Writing 2010) and I was happy to find that some current research has confirmed a set of ideas that I’ve had for a while. Or, rather, they confirm that some basic ideas need rethinking. It’s a kind of cliche in my field to say that students know more than their teachers about technology. In fact, what I have observed is that students know different things about technology or even different technologies than their teachers.

A recent Pew study (“Social Media and Young Adults“) confirms this in several ways, noting, for example, that teenagers rarely use Twitter. The study also confirms the importance of fads in technology, suggesting, for example, that the blog has begun to fade. There’s also increasing evidence that another of our basic notions– that students are better multitasking– is wrong. It turns out that multitasking feels great but doesn’t work well if you want to retain knowledge (“Media multitaskers pay mental price, Stanford study shows“).

Multitasking seems best suited for busy work that doesn’t require concentration; it also seems unsuited for the sorts of learning we do in the classroom. So teenagers turn out to be just teenagers: suspect to trendy, short lived enthusiasms and resistant to the sorts of focused efforts demanded by teachers. My hope is that this bodes well for writing instruction, at least to the extent that we can drop the hype and can get back to our roots as a discipline rooted in the cultivation of contemplative thought.

No Standard Children

My students always have a hard time writing criticism. The first complaint is that they don’t know enough; that’s not true, of course. They have the assignment, to start, which they can use as criteria. That’s plenty of material in itself, but they also have their own sense of language. It may be difficult to articulate your tastes in writing, but that’s the point. The more you struggle to put things into words, the more you will improve as a writer and a thinker.

Once I get them over that hurdle—sometimes before—their next complaint is that they don’t want to be negative. They want to affirm what’s right as well as explain what’s wrong. The practical-minded curmudgeon in me resists that idea—affirmation is both unnecessary and often unhelpful. In the spirit of compromise, though, I often tell them to affirm first, briefly, and then get on to the criticism. More generally, too, I understand that relentless criticism can be bracing at best and often dispiriting.

In the resisting the curmudgeon spirit, I was happy to read this summary of the proposed changes to No Child Left Behind; a measure often known more simply as No Child left (“Obama to Seek Sweeping Change in ‘No Child’ Law“). Suffice to say that NCLB was a brutal attack on working people and their children. The best part of the proposed changes, to my way of thinking, is the possibility that the new program will embrace what’s called the “Common Core State Standards Initiative.”

The writing standards, in particularly, are refreshingly rich, the opposite of a standardized test. It’s easy to imagine a college admissions process founded in these standards. Teachers, perhaps with the help of students and parents, could create non-reductive narrative assessments. Admission officials, then, with the help of professor’s and staff, could use these narratives to compile diverse freshman classes. It wouldn’t be perfect but it would be a huge improvement.

Privileged Suffering

There’s a famous passage in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy in which a planet-sized computer, tasked with finding “the meaning of life” finally reports its results after hundreds of years of analysis. The answer, it says, is 42. That’s my feeling about grades, they provide an absurdly simple answer to very complicated questions. You feel like something happened, but in fact nothing happened. Still, as this story about grade inflation at Princeton shows (“Type-A-Plus Students Chafe at Grade Deflation“), just because something is totally absurd, doesn’t mean it can’t have efficacy in the world.

I’m never sure what grade inflation really means, in the end, but at Princeton they have apparently brought it under control, reducing the total number of A students from 50% to 40%. The problem, apparently, is that no other schools have followed suit. This means, as a student reports, the possible “nightmare scenario, if you will, is that you apply with a 3.5 from Princeton and someone just as smart as you applies with a 3.8 from Yale.” I suppose it’s true that in a highly competitive environment that .3 would make a big difference, if you define ”a big difference” as settling for Standford when you wanted M.I.T.

Despite the right-wing’s ongoing paranoia about college students, I think this reflects the profound conservatism of most undergraduates. (the 60s were a rare exception.) As Doug Henwood said recently (talking about health care reform), American culture is rooted in traditional notions of rugged individualism; these exercises in meritocratic-hair-splitting are one of the best illustrations I’ve seen recently. Education is (or should be) a collective enterprise, and it’s a shame we can’t bring ourselves to adopt forms of learning assessment that don’t generate these bizarre competitions.