Reinventing who we are, again….and again. ISMLL 312-30

The most significant thing I’ve learned from my first quarter as a graduate student in English Composition has less to do with perspectives on library research and contemporary composition theory and everything to do with the fact that I really had no clue what I was getting into. I thought an M.A. in Composition was going to make be a “better” writer (whatever that means) and help me stake a claim in the professional world of journalism and/or noveling. I imagined myself eating at different restaurants throughout the world and reporting my critiques in a renowned food magazine of sorts. I imagined practice in composition was going to help me compose a book about my life worth selling on bookstore (and even supermarket) shelves. Who knew that composition practice comes with composition studies and that even composition itself often questions its own place, not only within the academy, but within society as well? For Bruce Robbins, in his epilogue to the third edition of Introduction to Scholarship in Modern Languages and Literatures, the English scholar has a place in society—as he makes his position obvious with the title of his essay, “The Scholar in Society.” However, he touches on a variety of topics regarding this “place” in society that leaves much to question. For example, is it the job of the scholar to change the world or interpret it? Is the “crisis of the humanities” a temporary crisis or a “structural weakness” within the humanities itself? And, How much should a teacher’s job matter to her/himself and in what ways is (or isn’t) that job connected to culture and society? All in all, Robbins asserts that in all its correlation and contradiction, we must embrace our field of work and recognize our responsibility to society, while using this challenge to “reinvent [ourselves] for decades to come” (327).

I suppose reinventing ourselves is not only the best option, but quite possibly the only one that makes sense. Recent composition theory reveals that composition as an academic discipline is loosely grounded in the foundations of the academy. In fact, many universities around the nation are cutting budgets and victimizing composition departments for wrongs that can hardly be attributed to the departments themselves. Truth is, composition studies on a whole is in question and university administrators are freaking out. Sadly, if only such administrators took the time to look a little harder they may have come to the realization that:

Composition is an academic discipline in the making. Composition is always up for debate, topic for discussion, and keyword in controversial conversations. Composition is the study of language and meaning, but it is also that very language and meaning being studied. Composition is a field that is open to be defined and if we, as its practitioners, accept the numerous calls to action, it’s up to us to help define or even re-define it. Composition is best understood when its definition is peppered with uncertainties—that is the nature of the discipline and understanding this is the first step in harnessing its place for the future.

Whatever concentration within the English field you are a part of and whether or not you think your duty is to change or interpret the world, one certainty is that you have a significant place in society. But you didn’t need me or Robbins to tell you that did you? Because it’s you who’s reinventing that place each time you research, write, and teach. Let’s keep it going, because for starters, it motivates rookies like me to want to jump in the mix with you.

Connecting Dots, Crossing Boundaries, Reaching Out. ISMLL 225-44

Anne Donadey and Francoise Lionnet describe their essay, “Feminisms, Genders, Sexualities,” as “a still photograph of objects in motion, some of which may be outside the frame entirely” (226), to assure that their work is in no way a comprehensive representation of the evolution within the field. In fact, the conversations on feminism, genders, and sexualities are so vast and on the move that any attempt at encapsulating it would be feeble at best. Therefore, Donadey and Lionnet humbly offer a revealing survey of some of the most pertinent scholarship out there, unveiling the connection of feminist study to various other fields of interest including race, post-colonialism, globalization, and even disability studies (to name a few). They offer a brief overview of “queer theory” and how it has come to represent the collective goals of LGBTQ, while acknowledging the load the term “queer” has taken upon its back. Further, Donadey and Lionnet report that with all its connections and disconnections the different angles of feminist studies have found refuge within the writing of memoirs. They describe the memoir genre as “a genre [that] brings together the historical and the personal, history and autobiography” and since “Feminist criticism always focuse[s] on the importance of theorizing from experience” (237) maybe there is an important correlation being made here.

In my opinion the memoir is a wonderful and potentially effective tool to be used within the layers of feminist studies. Now when I say feminist studies, I mean feminist studies in its vast connections (as reported in the essay) to other fields and sub-fields throughout academia as well as society. In the last couple decades the memoir has made a place for itself within the publication industry and has dug its roots into the soil of academic scholarship as well. Feminist studies is definitely a collective unit, but I would venture to say that it’s the individual experience of those within its sphere that drive what it has become and will become in the near and far future. The memoir is a way for both scholars and the general public to raise awareness on topics that for many years have been deemed taboo in most circles. With the proper application, both academic scholarship and memoir can be coupled to take the conversations both in and outside the lines of feminist studies to new heights. Although the memoir itself may not be enough to keep things in a positive direction, joined with the research, study, and survey within the academic aspect, the already far-reaching field of feminist studies will be able to stretch its arms even further.

Globalize me…I think. ISMLL 260-93

Literary history has shown that displacement, detachment, and disconnections have a way of creating a poetic in writing that holds its own place in literary studies. Susan Stanford Friedman focuses on the displacement and placement throughout literature in her essay, “Migrations, Diasporas, and Borders.” Her essay is a “preliminary mapping” of literary scholarship on migration, diasporas, and borders rooted in her own foundations in cultural theory. According to Friedman the recent (last few decades) interest in the mobility of peoples and the writing they create—the development of migrations, diasporas, and borders as a field—can be attributed and described by one word, globalization. Although the meaning and cultural significance of this new era of globalization is often debated, Friedman in fact claims, “globalization is not a new phenomenon, although the naming of it is new, indicating heightened awareness of what has been there all along” (261). So the act of globalization has been around all along, we just got around to naming it when its existence became more apparent on a larger scale. Throughout history peoples, cultures, and societies have crossed paths, making exchanges in language, custom, and tradition whether it was deliberate or not. Today, we can attribute nearly all of globalization to the rise in technology, and as Friedman assures, “The Internet has transformed the diasporic experience of many through the formation of virtual communities connecting the far-flung with those still back home” (261-62). Friedman continues that literary scholarship has moved toward a transnational perspective and that this new globalization is changing comparative literature through the development and effects of Geography, Anthropology, and the ever-evolving identities of writers and storytellers on the move. That although migration, diasporas, and borders hold their significance apart from each other, they are closely tied in their collective connections to culture, identity, language, and the memory and desire creating the history and future of literature on a world-scale.

The globalization Friedman speaks of is apparent in daily life. From the comfort of home I am able to reach into the depths of other culture—read about traditions, learn of language, and book a flight to just about anywhere I desire to go. Although sitting here in front of the computer lacks in the purity of being physically in a different place, it still represents a virtual reality that we, as a society, are exponentially getting accustomed to. As the mailbox at the driveway has stooped to an all-time low of being the holder of only coupon books and junk mail my inbox overflows with emails and the latest news in national affairs, world issues, and even sports updates. I have a good feeling (as I’m sure others do as well) that this is nowhere near the pinnacle of our technological endeavor. We are still at the threshold of a mountain of possibility and the advancement we face will likely bring us even closer together as a globalized world. Ironically, the virtual reality of cyberspace brings us together by keeping us apart, and I only hope that at the top of this mountain is a long plain of progressive existence and not a downward slope into an unknown abyss.

Identifying Identities ISMLL 245-59

I am Asian-American whether I like it or not—whether I signed up for it or not. Everything I do, everything I say, and everything I don’t do will be accompanied by the stereotypes and assumptions that come with my racial/ethnic (even social) identity. The issue of race has always had a big place in literary studies and has played a pivotal role in taking literature to where it is today. In his essay, “Race and Ethnicity,” Kenneth W. Warren seeks “to account for and critique the appeal of race to literary critics over the past two decades and to suggest reasons we ought to modify or resist aspects of that appeal” (245). His essay reports on the many scholars throughout recent literary history who reject the notion that race is an aspect by which we should (and could) categorize ourselves. Warren accounts for the writing and work of numerous philosophers, scholars, and activists ranging from Henry Louis Gates to W.E.B. Du Bois. Overall, Warren comes to the understanding that “although race appeals to observable features that are biologically determined, it must be understood not to derive from those features” (248-49), and with a better understanding of the “social construct” of race we come to a better understanding of literary history as a whole.

If in fact “This knowledge does not and should not be expected to give us tools to fix current inequalities” (258) then why the heck are we writing extensive critiques and essays about it? Is it that we enjoy discovering how jacked up history has been to minorities or any form of the lesser? Or maybe it’s because we feel that talking about it will help soothe the wounds caused by decades of racism and ridicule? Well, I feel that we talk about it because we have to—we talk about it because we should. Regardless of whether Warren believes that this knowledge should give us tools to fix current inequalities I believe that the act of talking about and revealing past inequalities is a tool in itself for ameliorating present injustices and possibly reducing inequalities in the future. As long as it’s an issue that affects us as a society, awareness is something that we need to push back and forth between schools of thought, amid scholarly articles, and amongst individuals. We need to talk about where we’ve been in order to have a better understanding of where we are. This awareness of current social progress will ensure that we get to a better place in the future—maybe even to the point where the hyphen in my own identity will someday be obsolete.

Metacommentary: “Working” Claims. TSIS 123-32

The final chapter of Graff and Birkenstein’s They Say / I Say: The Moves That Matter in Academic Writing focuses on the art of metacommentary. According to Graff and Birkenstein, “metacommentary is a way of commenting on your claims and telling readers how—and how not—to think about them” (123). They explain further that metacommentary can be seen as the narrator of your writing, guiding readers through complicated ideas and keeping them in check when meaning is seemingly obvious. So if you say something in the main text of your writing, the “metatext” is where “you help readers interpret and process what you’ve said” (124). In other words, metacommentary is like the narrator from The Wonder Years, always supporting or refuting the things protagonist Kevin says and does. Coupled with his metacommentator viewers have a deeper understanding of the character of a kid growing up in suburban United States during the 1960s. Metacommentary exists to clarify and elaborate ideas and discussions—making writing more substantive—offering writers avenues to “work” their claims.

Reading this chapter once again verified a type of notion that I’ve realized more than a few times when reading this book. I realized that I already do the things they are teaching—maybe not as effectively as I should be—but without necessarily knowing I am doing it. Metacommentary is a part of my writing already but I’ve never known its name and that it has a defined purpose in effective writing. In other words, I include metacommentary in my writing only because it seems like the right thing to do—it seems logical to elaborate on certain ideas and claims. However, I never realized the gravity of what it is I am actually doing, and the effectiveness of doing it better. The template section of the chapter is what tipped me off to this revelation. I’m almost certain that I’ve used just about all of them in my writing, and a few of which I know I use near every time I put pen to paper or fingertips to keys (if you will). Still, this realization that I’ve been using these moves without necessarily utilizing their full potential is both disappointing and enlightening at the same time. What I mean is that I wish I had known what I was doing from the get-go and maybe my writing today could be better. On the bright side, this new knowledge may possibly help in making tomorrow’s writing a little better than today’s. Better late than never right?

The Dichotomous Dynamic Mix of Academic and Personal Voice—Let’s Rock. TSIS 115-22

In their template-filled instructional book They Say / I Say: The Moves That Matter in Academic Writing authors Gerald Graff and Cathy Birkenstein maintain that much of academic writing today consists of a careful combination of both academic and personal voice. Though they hold to the importance of Standard English they also reveal, “relaxed, colloquial language can often enliven academic writing and even enhance its rigor and precision […] help[ing] you to connect with readers in a personal as well as an intellectual way” (116). In other words, the grip of Standard English on academic writing is loosed and the more relaxed lingo of a writer’s own voice is mixed in, meshing to create a new kind of hybrid voice in writing. But Graff and Birkenstein signify that this combination of voice must be done in a careful and deliberate manner. They offer, “a simple recipe for blending the specialized and the everyday: first make your point in the language of a professional field, and then make it again in everyday language” (119). So it helps to write academically and then follow it with a less-standard translation of what you tried to say with big words. Overall, the key to mixing styles is to have a strong awareness of audience and purpose when writing. Taking into consideration who will be reading and for what reason it is being written, a writer should take discretion in deciding how much (if any at all) of their own voice will be interwoven throughout the text. When done appropriately, writing can be as scholarly as past and even more far-reaching to present and future readers.

What this means for me is a big, “Whew!” (my apologies for use of exclamation). Right when I’m thinking my lack of “scholarly vocabulary” is going to be the downfall of my academic career, Graff and Birkenstein tell me that everything is going to be a-okay. In fact, if I can manage to find a decent compromise between my personal voice and the short list of “big” words I do know, my writing can actually become more effective. Still, as much as I want to jump for joy, there is a bitter reality that comes with the innovations of voice meshing: That Standard English is still the “standard” and everything else is categorized into the sub-realms of “personal voice.” To be honest, the combination of academic and personal voice does not come as smooth in all situations. For instance, how appropriate is it for a first-year resident student to mix the broken English spoken on a regular basis with the academic voice of writing? I’d assume it to be unacceptable. Even after 36 years in the US, my mom still answers the door and phone with an unassuming, “What’s a matter you?”—which somewhere along the way came to mean, “Hello, what can I do for you?” Imagine if she started mixing her personal voice in with the standard of academia. However, with a glimmer of hope, Graff and Birkenstein do mention that the current changes in writing to include more personal voice is a positive aspect of the evolution of writing into a discipline ranging farther across previously drawn lines—both cultural and social.

Building bridges between bridges TSIS 101-14

This chapter is good. It has five sections. I think it’s too long.

This is exactly the kind of sentence disconnection Graff and Birkenstein are attempting to teach against. Not only are the sentences themselves disconnected the ideas behind each are far from each other as well. In chapter eight of They Say / I Say, they tackle the issue of “connecting the parts” of sentences and writing as a whole. Throughout the chapter they insist upon the importance of connecting your work and suggest, “that you converse not only with others in your writing, but with yourself: that you establish clear relations between one statement and the next by connecting those statements together” (103). They continue with the importance of transitions, pointing words, key terms and phrases, and repeating with difference when it comes to making your writing as clear and effective as it should be. On the whole, Graff and Birkenstein not only successfully highlight the necessity of paying attention to such detail, but in support, offer a surplus of tools and techniques to effectively assist in the process.

Upon reading this chapter I’ve realized that with every chapter of TSIS I read what Graff and Birkenstein have to say ends up having a direct effect on how I write. Especially when I write for these blogs I find myself intently focused on utilizing the tools taught in each specific chapter. In this case, after reading about the importance of connecting sentence and thought, I’m paying extra attention to make sure my ideas do not go off into tangents (as they often tend to do). In other words (as I humbly use another transition term), even as I write this sentence I am trying to figure the best way to reflect what I’ve already mentioned about my newfound need to connect my sentences. This particular chapter and others have raised my awareness, making me a more critical reader of my own work. Though it makes for a more tedious amount of work on my part, I think Graff and Birkenstein would be proud to know that the kind of book they have written was far from in vain. Though at first I wondered, “Why teach stuff that is so obvious?” I now understand that sometimes the obvious is most often overlooked, or in my case, often neglected. Therefore, in conclusion, and to sum things up, I think, as a writer, I am in a better place. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.