The Social Book

 
   When you think of "reading," what images come to mind? For me, I picture being curled up with a novel and a cup of coffee on the couch on a winter day, or lying on a beach chair soaking up the sun when I turn the pages of a favorite fantasy. Sometimes, I am reminded of late nights and tired eyes, trying to finish a new work before a seminar the next day. Other times, the verb "reading" evokes images of a table in the corner of a sunlit cafe, of a quiet desk top in a corner of the third floor of Walsh Library, or of a blanket spread out on the quad during an early May warm spell.
     All of these scenes involve a solitary person, in a space that may be public or shared space -- but a space made very private by the act of reading. For me, reading has always been about being drawn in somewhere between the pages, shutting out the rest of the world.

    Of course, I went to graduate school for literature because I loved nothing more than talking about these books and these reading experiences, thus making the very private act of my reading transform into something public once again -- be it a discussion in a class or around the dinner table, a lesson plan, an essay or article, or a conference talk. The oscillation between the private and the public in our acts of reading are quite fascinating, indeed.
     I ask this question about reading because a new concept of reading has emerged in the world, driven by the new landscape of social media and technological communication. It is called "social reading" -- along with it comes the concept of the "social book." Featured in the most current issue of The Chronicle of Higher Education, "social reading" imagines the act of reading as one facilitated by social media applications, in which readers can "log into" an interactive, online text and "read" in a "group," making marginal notes, links, comments, and annotations as they read, while others do the same, creating a sort of "open," ever-changing text, and making the experience of reading become a interactive, hypertextual experience.
     If the every-day pleasure reader may find social reading unappealing, what about for teachers? The Chronicle article points out that the "social book" may be an excellent way to start thinking about teaching texts in a classroom format, either in a traditional classroom or an online classroom. I have to admit, that is the first thought I had when I was introduced to the idea of a social book -- what an amazing teaching tool!
    The concept of the social book and social reading has emerged from the intense increase in tablets, e-readers, and mobile devices that threaten to make the traditional paper book obsolete. And the idea that books may go out of style is not just changing the way we read but the way we write, as well. In the same way booksellers are wondering how to market books in ways that keep up with the times, so are writers wondering how to write books that keep up with the times. My sister launched a project during her senior year at the Parsons School of Design that experimented with social writing; the project called for a text to be written collaboratively using social media. The design of the "book" would be dictated by the ways in which it slowly emerged out of the collaboration. In the end, my sister is hoping that the resulting text will be a new form of a book, that is "read" according to the design innovations developed during the collaborations. I took part in the project as one of the collaborative writers; and, each day, I would check to see how the text grew. It was almost like watching a living thing grow day by day -- it was a fascinating experience!

    Of the concept of social reading, Jennifer Howard writes, "A conventional book invites readers to shut out the world while they read. Social reading asks them to connect with others as they encounter the text. Whether that sounds like a more perfect world depends on the reader." What do YOU think?
    Sound off, grad students!
    Until next time, Liza

   

Ghosts of Semesters Past

Hello Fordham Grad Students and Beyond!

Since it is the week of May that is the traditional last week of the term, today I’ve been thinking about my final papers from previous semesters. I was actually backing up my files yesterday and came across these digital documents. A while ago, I had organized all my files into separate folders for each course I had taken in graduate school, but I’d also created a file called “Final Seminar Papers,” in which I put the final draft, and even some copies that were graded and commented on digitally, of final seminar papers into their own folder. As I was backing up, I read a bit of some of them.  It was a trip down seminar-memory lane!

For me, now in my dissertation stage, most of these papers are not directly related to my dissertation, because I did not conjure my diss topic until after my comps,.  I actually haven’t looked at these or thought about these papers in a long time.

For others, their seminar papers and end of term projects may be feeding directly into their dissertations. This kind of focus seems rare, but in hindsight, I wonder if I should have been thinking long term earlier, trying to tailor my seminar topics towards some kind of overall goal – head start on my dissertation!

My thoughts about these final seminar papers now that I am dissertation stage?

PUBLISHING: I’m wondering if I can somehow, one day after this dissertation project is put to bed, use one or more of these capstone papers as a jumping off point for a new project or article. Of course, this revision and conversion might take a few months, but the seminar work already done might be a good kickstart to launch myself into something different once my dissertation has passed and I need a break from the material.

NETWORKING/ CONFERENCE CONNECTIONS: Maybe check out the CFP’s for upcoming regional and national conferences and see if any relate to my old seminar paper topics…. Maybe I revise one of them for a conference, and test out the argument in a panel discussion.

TEACHING: Or, perhaps they will be useful for creating lectures and class assignments for future courses I may design or teach.  You never know a text or a topic as well as you do after you’ve written about it, so why not consider yourself a growing “expert” on the topic and include it on your future syllabi?

It is interesting to me to look back and remember my trains of thought at the time, and to think about how I interpreted sources and texts years ago, and to compare and contrast how I might analyze those same texts now.

Of course, some are more relevant to my field than others – but some were connected to my most recent research interests in ways I hadn’t realized or remembered. For example, although I am concentrating on early American lit now, my Modern American Fiction class yielded a paper on The Pawnbroker which dealt with some of the very images I am looking at now in early American fiction – the contexts are different, of course, but there are parallel insights about the way fiction functioned culturally – parallels which I find to be stimulating and motivating to my current project, at least in some kind of intanglible energizing way.

I’m curious – what has become of your seminar papers and end of term projects and research? Are they still close to your current work? Have you strayed far? In terms of relevancy of seminar work to the disseration, how do the different disciplines compare and contrast? How do you organize your papers from your courses once they are finished?

For those of you still in coursework, are you thinking about building bridges from one seminar to another, within and across semesters? Should grad students design their seminar papers around a central theme to get ahead on their dissertation? Or, are our “coursework” years supposed to be about breadth more than depth?

Share your thoughts!!! 

Accidental Pedagogy; or, What You Learn When You Go to Class

“What are you going to do with that?”

Every grad student faces this question – at family parties, high school reunions, and even the occasional OK Cupid date. The logic behind the question is that there is no practical application for any graduate degree that isn’t an M.D., J.D., or M.B.A. And if you can’t do anything with the degree, what’s the point in pursuing it?

Thankfully, there is a range of careers open to us as grad students, and many of us came to grad school because a range is precisely what we’re interested in. And beyond the catalogue of rare jobs a grad student may choose to pursue (radical librarian, anyone?), there is always teaching.

Whether you are a medievalist or biologist, grad school prepares you for work in the classroom. More importantly, choosing to teach addresses a dire national need for good educators.

At Fordham, many grad students complete a teaching practicum; others learn about teaching by working with professors and undergrads through graduate assistantships. And everyone goes to class!

I believe that as grad students we learn a great deal about teaching just by being students. I like to refer to this phenomenon as “accidental pedagogy,” wherein a professor offers pedagogical instruction just by a good (or not-so-good) example.

The professor who shows up to class looking frazzled and carrying a mass of papers bound with a rubber band teaches you about the importance of punctuality and manila folders. The professor who returns a forty-page paper to you with a seemingly arbitrary grade and no comments teaches you about the importance of critical feedback.

(Let it be noted that I’m not referring to actual professors – least of all Fordham English professors, who are great. Seriously. See?)

And yet, as much as grad students learn from interacting with less-than-awesome professors, we gain so much more from working with fantastic professors. Most of us already know what not to do as teachers, but the elements of an unforgettable, illuminating teaching style are far more elusive.

This spring I had a professor whose teaching style was compassionate and egalitarian. She encouraged everyone to speak without thrusting anyone into the awkward seminar limelight. She structured the class so that participation was a cornerstone of our time together. We shared, presented, and discussed every time we gathered.

This professor seemed to understand that although we are all grad students, we still get shy! I appreciated her deliberate nudging and facilitation of class discussion as much as I did her knowledge and expertise.

And sometimes she brought us snacks!

Although “Being Awesome” and “Teaching You All to Be Awesome” were never listed as course objectives on the syllabus, effective teaching skills were a part of what we learned.

It might not be quite accidental that I learned so much about teaching from this professor. She was experienced and deliberate in her efforts to establish a safe, inclusive, fruitful class culture.

Good teaching indisputably requires more substantive credentials than “I went to class a lot,” but all great teachers begin as observant students who notice what works in the classroom and what does not.  

I have a year left at Fordham before I enter the job market. If I am teaching next fall, I’ll be sure to use all I have learned from my professors. I will arrive to class on time with a multicolored array of manila folders. I will create space for everyone’s voice. I will be awesome and teach others how to be awesome. And since I am bound to make mistakes along the way, I will bring snacks – just in case.