Posts Tagged ‘creativity’

robo-readers do what teachers can’t! Or, how we turned writing literacy into an algorithm

The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation has this weekly radio show called “Spark.” It is, in my opinion, the best technology-focused show that Americans don’t know about.

This week’s show included a story on the use of computer tools to read and score student writing on standardized tests. Spark host Nora Young interviewed Mark Shermis, the Dean of the College of Education at the University of Akron, who had this to say about how so-called “robo readers” assess writing:

They don’t necessarily use the same logic that you or I would in evaluating an essay. Those that use natural language processing will look for structures of arguments, so for example they might be looking for key words like ‘first,’ ‘second,’ ‘third,’ and ‘finally.’ Or if they’re looking for the main point, they might look at the topic sentence and try to identify key words that would be associated with an essay that was on topic. Or if they were looking for a conclusion they might be looking for something like ‘in conclusion’ or ‘in summary.’

Guess what, dudes–I’m not down with this approach to assessing writing. As a pretty decent writer myself, a former college composition instructor and a current instructor of preservice teachers who will one day be teaching our young people how to write, I tell my students the following:

  • Don’t use the phrase “in conclusion” to end your essay–any reader who’s paying attention can tell that they’ve hit the end of your paper, and “in conclusion” is therefore redundant, throwaway information.
  • Key words like ‘first,’ ‘second,’ third,’ and ‘finally’ are often lazy transitions, and ones that extremely strong, creative writers almost never use. While they work just fine, they often make a reader feel like s/he’s reading a set of driving directions.

Then I tell my students some things about how good writing is writing that meets the needs and interests and expectations of the reader while also jarring or provoking the reader in some significant way. Often, this jarring can be brought about through creative, unexpected use of language–precisely the sort of thing that robo-readers cannot detect.

Young asks Shermis about the creativity aspect, noting that computers can’t effectively assess this element of good writing. Shermis concedes the point, but adds that

this notion of creativity is kind of a curious one. If you take a look at the actual curriculum, when kids graduate and they go to the university, most colleges and schools aren’t looking for creative writing; they’re looking for somebody who can string together a subject, predicate, and nominative–that is, that they can communicate effectively. When you actually do an analysis of 95% of the writing that goes on even at the university level, it’s not creative. It’s simply a communication pattern that’s been ascribed to by professionals in the field.

Sure. But given that so much of the writing that young people are doing is not directed toward professional or career goals, given that so much of how young people learn, communicate, and participate in social and civic life is through written but informal text online, it just seems silly to put faith in the idea that writing skills are, at their base, about following ‘conventions’ agreed upon long before the internet was even a glimmer in anyone’s eye.

Anyway, go take a listen to Spark if you’re into technology. It’s a cool, fun show that deserves more listeners on the American side of the North American borders.

 

Stephen Dobyns, ‘How to Like It’

from The Cortland Review, issue 26.

How to Like It

These are the first days of fall. The wind
at evening smells of roads still to be traveled,
while the sound of leaves blowing across the lawns
is like an unsettled feeling in the blood,
the desire to get in a car and just keep driving.
A man and a dog descend their front steps.
The dog says, Let’s go downtown and get crazy drunk.
Let’s tip over all the trash cans we can find.
This is how dogs deal with the prospect of change.
But in his sense of the season, the man is struck
by the oppressiveness of his past, how his memories
which were shifting and fluid have grown more solid
until it seems he can see remembered faces
caught up among the dark places in the trees.
The dog says, Let’s pick up some girls and just
rip off their clothes. Let’s dig holes everywhere.
Above his house, the man notices wisps of cloud
crossing the face of the moon. Like in a movie,
he says to himself, a movie about a person
leaving on a journey. He looks down the street
to the hills outside of town and finds the cut
where the road heads north. He thinks of driving
on that road and the dusty smell of the car
heater, which hasn’t been used since last winter.
The dog says, Let’s go down to the diner and sniff
people’s legs. Let’s stuff ourselves on burgers.
In the man’s mind, the road is empty and dark.
Pine trees press down to the edge of the shoulder,
where the eyes of animals, fixed in his headlights,
shine like small cautions against the night.
Sometimes a passing truck makes his whole car shake.
The dog says, Let’s go to sleep. Let’s lie down
by the fire and put our tails over our noses.
But the man wants to drive all night, crossing
one state line after another, and never stop
until the sun creeps into his rearview mirror.
Then he’ll pull over and rest awhile before
starting again, and at dusk he’ll crest a hill
and there, filling a valley, will be the lights
of a city entirely new to him.
But the dog says, Let’s just go back inside.
Let’s not do anything tonight. So they
walk back up the sidewalk to the front steps.
How is it possible to want so many things
and still want nothing? The man wants to sleep
and wants to hit his head again and again
against a wall. Why is it all so difficult?
But the dog says, Let’s go make a sandwich.
Let’s make the tallest sandwich anyone’s ever seen.
And that’s what they do and that’s where the man’s
wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator
as if into the place where the answers are kept—
the ones telling why you get up in the morning
and how it is possible to sleep at night,
answers to what comes next and how to like it.

weighing in on Edward Albee

Edward Albee is gay and he’s a writer, but he wants you to know he’s not a gay writer.

Albee received this year’s Pioneer Award from the Lambda Literary Association; this honor is described on the Lambda website as one that is bestowed

on individuals who have broken new ground in the field of LGBT literature and publishing. Established in 1995, the Award honors those who, through their achievements and passionate commitment, have contributed to the LGBT literary community in significant and tangible ways: through works of literature, or by establishing publishing houses, publications, archives, bookstores, or other institutions.

Albee then stunned the audience at the awards ceremony by saying this:

“A writer who happens to be gay or lesbian must be able to transcend self. I am not a gay writer. I am a writer who happens to be gay.”

Defending himself to NPR’s Renee Montagne, Albee added: “Maybe I’m being a little troublesome about this, but so many writers who are gay are expected to behave like gay writers and I find that is such a limitation and such a prejudicial thing that I fight against it whenever I can.”

Here’s what I think: if Edward Albee wants to present himself as a writer who happens to be gay, and not as a gay writer, that’s his absolute right. We all make our own decisions about how we want to face the world, and if Edward Albee would rather not put his orientation in front of his vocation, that’s cool.

The real fault is with the Lambda Literary Foundation, which appears to have genuflected to celebrity and forgotten its own mission:

The Lambda Literary Foundation nurtures, celebrates, and preserves LGBT literature through programs that honor excellence, promote visibility and encourage development of emerging writers.

Albee has said that he strives to create work that is not about–or not specifically about–LGBT issues and concerns. He has insisted that he is not in the business of engaging with or “breaking new ground in” LGBT literature or publishing. So where in the world did Lambda get the idea that Edward Albee was the right choice for the Pioneer Award? There are not enough honors for queer writers and publishers. Let’s make sure we’re handing them out to the people whose work actually merits the recognition.

Relatedly, and strangely, there is no mention of Edward Albee’s sexual orientation on his Wikipedia page. brb editing http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Albee


update 6/6/11 10:38 a.m.: Wikipedia page edited to include details about Edward Albee’s sexual orientation.

zach galifianakis: the pretentious illiterate

And the above video was linked on YouTube to this one starring the Monty Python crew:

do it like a dude / affix spikes to our lips

Here is the video for a song called “Do it like a dude,” sung by Jessie J:

In case you scrolled past the video without watching it, I’ll just tell you that it’s an absolute celebration of gay ladies and the sex they have together. Here are some lyrics:

I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

Do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

We can do it like the man’dem, man’dem
We can do it like the man’dem, man’dem
Sugar sugar sugar
We can do it like the man’dem, man’dem
We can do it like the man’dem, man’dem
Sugar sugar sugar

Boom Boom, pull me a beer
No pretty drinks, I’m a guy out here
Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ money like a pimp
My B I T C H’s on my d*ck like this

Dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty sucka
You think I can’t get hurt like you, you motherf….

I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

Some have expressed concern about the message of this video. Over at the woman-slanted queer site Autostraddle, riese tells us that though her first response was “YES THIS YES THIS LIKE IT YES THIS!,” more careful consideration led her to conclude that “despite its genderfucking qualities, many might argue that ‘Do It Like a Dude’ paradoxically uses men/maleness as a golden standard by which to define itself.”

The gay male-targeted blog Manhunt suggests that “Do It Like a Dude” is about, er, penis envy. If that’s so, or if it’s a reasonable interpretation of the song or video, then this is an additional reason to think hard about whether it’s fair for the queerlady community to embrace it.

But I don’t, believe that it’s reasonable to interpret this song or its video as being about penis envy. First, this is a queerladies-only song–no straight men allowed. The video especially makes its hostility and righteous anger clear: The camera becomes the “you,” the “dude” of the song, and Jessie J lunges and menaces at it like this:

The jerkiness of the women’s bodies, the refusal to sexualize or to make palatable their limbs or breasts or lips or attraction to other women, that’s an outright “fuck you” to the male gaze.

There’s one quick juxtaposed shot that Autostraddle finds problematic: The only women in the video who actually kiss look like this:

Riese asks: “why do we have all these hot dykes of color dancing in wifebeaters but the only women who kiss in the video are these two, dropped in mid-frame like out of someone else’s music video?”

I think the reason is simple: the kissing women are a ‘fuck you’ to a male-dominated, heteronormative culture that likes its lesbians girly and wet dream-ready. They seem like they were dropped in from someone else’s music video because they really are absolutely out of place in this spike-lipped, sausage-butchering world. Since the rest of the video is so seamlessly hostile and angry, since there are no other instances of women touching in a heteroerotic way, it seems valid to assume that the clip was inserted, Tyler Durden-style, into the Fight Club world of Jessie J.

This is a smart, sassy video that’s probably only sexy to a subcategory of queerladies and maybe a few queergentlemen. I found it deeply sexy, FYI, and though god knows I like to be critical of stuff I find no solid foundation on which to critique this song or video as heteronormative or a product of penis envy.

As to the language of the lyrics, the “Boom Boom, pull me a beer / No pretty drinks, I’m a guy out here / Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ money like a pimp / My B I T C H’s on my d*ck like this”: It is a misconception and an enormous disservice to genderqueerladies and butches and drag kings to assume that women who perform ‘masculinity’ want to be ‘like men.’ Even when they say, for example, that they can ‘wear my hat low like you,’ they’re not imitating men–they’re (re)claiming ‘masculinity’ for their own purposes. When a (cisgendered) man dresses in drag, we don’t assume he wants to be just like a woman; we assume–and rightly so, in my view–that he is claiming a gender identity that crosses, transgresses, or transcends a gender binary.

That’s what the Jessie J video does, and nearly perfectly. And thank christ for it–we finally have a good reason to replace Katy Perry’s ridiculous, insipid, and problematically straight-friendly “I kissed a girl.”

my ‘I come from’ poem

I’m helping to teach a course this semester for pre-service secondary writing teachers. On the first day of class, we all wrote “I come from” poems. This is an activity that comes from Linda Christensen’s fantastic book Teaching for Joy and Justice. Here’s the poem I wrote.

Where I Come From

I come from the thumb of the mitten
knuckled under by desperation, the ‘out of a job yet?
keep buying foreign’ sticker slapped to the slanted back of a ford.
I come from the shame of sweet lilac, of watching the scoop
of a girl’s calf, the scoop of a shirt, the scoop and lift of faces turning away.
I come from normal, from keep it down, from the deep yellow shame of pack it away.
I packed it away. I got a job. I bought American until I wanted something
in my life to last and that’s when things got really fun.
I come from learning to unpack boxes and theories and complications,
from learning to feel a woman’s glance and return it. I come from a place
that binds and packs and calls it freedom, calls it normal, calls it turn it up.

if you care about equity in education, you should watch Summer Heights High

I was introduced to the Australian mockumentary “Summer Heights High” by my friend Steven Caldwell (who is also, by the way, the person who gave me the phrase ‘be the chainsaw you wish to see in the world‘). This show was apparently a raging hit when it aired in Australia, and Steven thought I would find its take on public education hilarious.

I didn’t find the show hilarious. I found it tragic and deeply moving and even a little bit beautiful. Most of all, I fell in love with Jonah, a Pacific Islander who disrupts class, fights with classmates, and struggles to read. If you care about equity in education, you should watch this show. If you care about social justice in education and you watch the series from beginning to end–there are only eight episodes–you will fall in love with Jonah too. It’s also highly likely that you will cry out of sadness and rage before the end.

The entire show is available via Netflix and in various places online. Here are a few clips to convince you.

Rives ftw

I have a little Sunday morning gift for you: Two videos of the spoken-word poet Rives doing his thing.

Ok Go: “White Knuckles”

Here’s the latest Ok Go video, “white knuckles.”

You know what would be really innovative? If OK Go made a video that didn’t involve every band member rigidly marching roughly in time with every other band member while alternating looking directly at the camera and moving offscreen to pull in some new prop. I’m not bored of this gimmick yet, but I’m getting there.

Sons of Anarchy returns Sept. 7

The FX series Sons of Anarchy is one of the best dramas on television right now. For reasons that are unclear to me, however, many people whose opinions I deeply respect do not watch this show. I want to make it clear that I believe this is a mistake.

Take Hamlet, Oedipus Rex, and Easy Rider and throw into a tumbler. Add Katey Sagal (Married with Children, Futurama), Ron Perlman (Hellboy), Charley Hunnam (Queer as Folk, Cold Mountain) and Dayton Callie (Deadwood. Dear lord, I miss Deadwood.). Shake well and pour over a dusty little northern California town called Charming. Add some of the most ruthless and powerful female characters ever to stride across the small screen and do some evil shit to them. Tell the men with Oedipal complexes about the evil shit that was done to their women, then give everybody explosives and firearms. Enjoy.

If you haven’t been watching SOA, you’ll have a chance to change your ways beginning Sept. 7, when season 3 premieres at 10 p.m.