On pedagogical responsibility and the subjectivity of style

Sometimes I wonder if I've gotten into the wrong field. I find that much of the time, I dislike classic "big-L" literature. I guess for me, English has never really been about the simple love of good poetic expression. That mentality has never quite been my bag. On the contrary, I got into English for the intellectualism- for that breed of abstract thought we refer to as "critical theory." But if I've learned anything in Graduate School thus far, it's that this sort of ivory tower intellectualism is more effective in alienating people than in creating a productive conversation, much less solve any of the cultural or political problems that it attempts to engage. Hence, when authors like Noam Chomsky talk about "intellectual fakery" in relation to disciplines like Marxism or Post-structuralism (which is really only an elaboration on the work of Saussure), it strikes a chord of truth. After-all, these are not issues that can't easily be explained to any 15 year old, as Chomsky has made note of.

But how did we get here? Why did we invent this sort of ivory tower language? It is important that we remember the premises on which post-structuralist modes of thought are based on. Contrary to the belief that literature can accurately mimic reality with any sort of accuracy, post-structuralism suggests that all human thought, including empirical observation, relies on ideology to construct meaning. For that reason, the most obvious way to expand upon academic modes of inquiry was to increase the stock of readily available signs. The result was a breed of thinking which endeavored to undo ideological falsities by creating new ideologies (we call them theoretical lenses) through which to interpret the world and its literacies. To an extent, this was successful- those who are versed in critical theory read and understand the world far differently than those who are not. Edward Said has called this a "critical consciousness" but such abstract terms can be misleading.

I don't believe people are tied to ideologies, or that it is impossible to usurp the cultural assumptions latent in contemporary "common-sense." On the contrary, the term "ideology" used proper connotes a system of ideas that can be built upon. The creation of new academic language has allowed for the simultaneous creation of a new common-sense. It is after all common-sense that power relations influence culture, that class differences exist, and that racism and sexism are still problems. It is common-sense that meaning is constructed through an exchange of cultural signs rather than from the signs themselves. It is also common-sense that individuals are enormously influenced by their environments, that they are socially-constructed. These are things that should be understood by everyone, but they are not. Growing up I was homophobic, sexist, and a bit racist as well. It wasn't until exposure to these new ideas that I became aware of the fact that my behavior was culturally influenced and socially damaging.

The creation of Ivory tower language has done two things: it has created terms through which to understand and speak about ideas that previously had no language, and it has allowed us to talk so abstractly and hermetically that no-one outside the field can understand anything we write. This means that our influence is relatively small, which is a sort of protection from those whose interests are not in mind in our breed of cultural criticism. We call this the problem of "putting theory into practice," because it would seem as if the (relatively good) ideas put forth by our genre can only be understood in the language through which it was conceived. But this isn't true. Our academic language has allowed for a discourse that undermines relatively simple cultural assumptions by complicating them. In order to accomplish this task effectively, it is necessary to think in terms abstract enough to enough escape "common-sense." However, the result has not been any sort of vastly complicated conception of the world. On the contrary, we have created a binary of simple oppositional ideas masquerading as inaccessible intellectualism. Marxism is the critical binary of capitalism, Gender Studies of heteroism, post-structuralism of expressive realism. If as Chomsky tells us, "people are not geniuses" we would do well to remember that mastering an academic dialect is not synonymous with being able to think better than anyone else. Rather, it helps us to think in broader, more abstract terms.

This is what is missed by Chomsky's criticism- our ideas are simple, but arriving at those ideas is most certainly not. What remains is to effectively disseminate them using accessible language. But what is the best way to do this?

I teach theory to my English 101 students. The texts that I expect them to engage are 75% abstract theoretical, 25% concrete political. For some of my students, this has meant engaging central themes and issues in concrete, researched terms. For others, it has meant the adoption of a theoretical language and abstract thought. The former is ideal, since it most directly bridges the gap between theory and practice. However, I have difficulty faulting the latter because I often feel that they understand the material more precisely than other students- that they have somehow engaged the material more fully. This leads me to ask: how much meaning do we have wrapped up in theoretical language? What is the ideal way for first year comp students to learn to write?

Poetic or literary expression is often associated with a veritable mastery of detail. Theoretical expression boasts detailed expression of abstract ideas. Is either the ideal way to write? I've struggled long and hard to think of a way that 18th century travel writing could inform the issues I'm concerned with, and I've realized that the best way they can work for me is in the question of style and empirical subjectivity. What claims of legitimacy are inherent in scientific or in literary writing? What is the legitimacy of our field, and what is the best way to teach writing? If we operate under the premise that universities create intellectuals- what sort of intellectuals ought we create?

Mapping Out "Home"

Lately we've been talking a lot about place and about home. We've talked about the limitations and virtues of traveling away from home, and of our approximated understanding of other places and other cultures. But what about one's own culture?

Over spring break I began to realize that I preferred certain areas of my apartment to others, and that this preference was tied directly to my daily activity and use of space. It's gotten to the point where I strongly prefer sleeping on the couch, because my entire bedroom reeks of work to be done. Nobody who visits my apartment would have any clue what I normally do inside my home, because home is a space that is considered private. Yet home is the primary site of true culture. The monuments of economic excess we so often show our visitors, have everything to do with the modes of exchange in civil society, but little to do with the subjects of society. Isn't culture at least partly produced by the behavior of its people? In the humanities, we are always quick to talk of cultural production and ideological conformity, but it's because we speak in abstract terms that such notions seem so powerful. Sure ideology exists, sure behavior is learned, but not in black and white terms. People still make decisions, and ultimately those decisions are culture. No need therefore, to search for symbolism in the Eiffel tower or Space Needle. No need to escape to another country to understand one's own culture. If culture is contingent on behavior, if places gain cultural significance as a by-product of their usage, how much can one really learn in travel? Instead, I propose that we can learn a great deal about ourselves by studying the places we inhabit the most.

To demonstrate this point, I've mapped out my apartment according to personal and cultural behavior. I will here openly admit that I'm terrible at visual art, but I guess that's not the point. Behold:




I've split the apartment up into five distinct areas. They have been named according to their primary use, and the feelings I associate with those uses.

The first section of the map is called my "center of calculation." This part of my home functions as my window to the outside world. My computer is my only means to follow current events. It is also the primary place from which I do my writing and research, and the space I use to pursue my recording hobby. For that reason, this room has not been heavily associated with rest, despite the fact that it is my bedroom. You can clearly see that the very pathway to the bed is blocked by a microphone stand, which is almost ironic. Lately it hasn't been music that's stopped me from sleeping, it's been sheer academic workload. This is an area that's relegated to nervous coffee drinking, anxious internet use, and dreamless sleep.

I've called the second section of this map a "war-zone" in part due to the student papers that have accumulated over the last week. This entire side of the house is associated with work. The concept behind this map began originally by simply splitting the apartment down the center- one side for work, the other for leisure. Sometimes, I swear I don't even think while I'm sitting at that table. I wake up early, drink my coffee, smoke a cigarette, and literally plow through as much paperwork as I can on a daily basis. It becomes automatic, robotic, inhuman. But before I started doing this, my body was falling apart. I wasn't sleeping, and I do sometimes suffer from simple insomnia. This is the restless part of our culture, the part that privileges work over leisure, responsibility over personal comfort. I don't like eating at the table because it makes me feel like there's work left to be done- and there always is.

No man's land... the bathroom. A shower plastered in soap scum, corrosion inside the pipes of the toilet causes a disgusting slime that looks the exact same color as shit. There is body hair on the floor, and a stack of books on the back of the toilet. This is no man's land, because I am frankly embarrassed when other people use my bathroom. Stay away... nothing healthy can come from that mess.

I've called the kitchen "social space" because I don't like cooking myself. I have people over to eat three times a week or more, and it is during this time that I find myself forming my strongest friendships. Cooking is something that everybody should be able to enjoy. It is work for the sake of leisure- an art that is basically dedicated to bringing people together. There are stale fruit-loops under the microwave- signs of late night shenanigans, and the only dishes in the sink are coffee cups. I am not healthy, unless I surround myself with people.

It is curious that my living room is my "major area of study" because it is also my major area of leisure. For some reason, I just don't associate reading with hard work. I do almost all of my academic reading on the couch, using the reading lamp. I have had some of my most profound intellectual realizations in that very spot, but it is an area of leisure because I also have the television in that room. In this area of home, I learn passively. If I exert effort I enjoy doing it. I have also, incidentally, been sleeping on that couch. For some reason, this room never seems to remind me that there is work to be done, even if there is. This is an area of supreme comfort, and also the area that I show to my guests.

What we don't often see in travels, are the day-to-day patterns that people get caught in. No-one could possibly make the sorts of connections I've made without an intimate knowledge of the individual. So what's the point? Why travel? Not to learn... no. We travel to escape those very routines, to go to places to have no personal meaning, and to enjoy them.