I enjoyed the Thanksgiving reading, especially when thinking about it in comparison to the work we did over the summer. Right now, I’m thinking of the reading without any class discussion, so I’m also trying to think of how I interacted with the summer reading before class started. With the Thanksgiving material, there is much, much more obvious connection between the material than the summer work had. The story of creation can be retold in so many ways, and I really appreciated the opportunity to engage to compare material that I know with version that I don’t. I was raised Christian, so reading definitely gave me a lot of flashbacks to Sunday School. In Ovid, I reflected on the differences between the Martin version and the Dryden version. It was difficult (and, I imagine, will continue to be difficult) to separate my own personal reaction to the translations and the actual differences between the two. Meaning, I found Martin to be much easier to understand than Dryden, but I don’t want that feeling to get wrapped up in analysis of the two ways. At first, I thought that the Martin version was more casual and less reverent, but I wonder if that’s a function of it being easier to comprehend. There are, of course, lots of similarities between the two Ovids where the language is really similar, but I tried to make notes of where there where other similarities between the texts. This is where my previous experience with Genesis became helpful, because I was more familiar with that text. The Titus Lucretius Carus reading was interesting, because I knew it was from a similar context as Ovid but obviously didn’t line up with his version. It seemed more scientific than Ovid, even if (understandably) the science wasn’t always accurate. That was the reading I thought could have the most connections to our living today; translations choices like ‘atoms’ help accentuate those connections. The Genesis reading was really familiar, but I’m glad that I read it after the other readings and before Paradise Lost. It was a good middle ground, and I didn’t think the language was as difficult. Paradise Lost was definitely the most difficult to read; even the Arguments/Summaries took up a lot of time. I really want to know more about Milton and the writing of Paradise Lost; I felt that I knew more about/could guess at the purpose for other readings, but I wasn’t sure where Paradise Lost fell. I would love to know more about Milton’s personal relationship with religion. The reading we’ve done so far makes it seem like he would still be devout, and writing an entire epic poem to rationalize the actions of God is quite an undertaking. But, I think there is definitely more to examine how he turns the Genesis story into entertainment, and this is the area that I’m most excited to hear my classmates offer their opinions on. I am also eager to read more Ovid and hear perspectives from kids who were in the play; I think I liked that reading the best so far because it was a good mix of comprehensible style and new storytelling.
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This year in AP Lit, I’ve been able to expand my boundaries both in content acquisition and class communication. The two readings that we’ve devoted the majority of our time, Scott’s Better Living Through Criticism and Greenblatt’s Renaissance Self-Fashioning, are, at first glance, pretty different. The style of writing, references, and base content stand out in stark contrast, and I remember wondering over the summer how we would connect the two in class. As we’ve worked through the ideas presented in these readings and how the arguments work, I’ve had the chance to engage with a wide variety of intellectual concepts, from aesthetic experiences to aliens and authorities. But what has stuck out to me, when looking back at the year so far, is not necessarily what I’ve read in the selections but what the class discussions have brought out in those texts. The class has a pretty unique style of individual learning/thinking, evidenced in our commonplace books, and group discovery, achieved through our class discussions. In previous classes, the structure has often been that each reader brings their own interpretations to the class and we spend the time merging those interpretations together; there isn't as much new discovery. In this class structure, I’ve noticed, there is more opportunity for us to talk through concepts that we don’t necessarily have a firm grasp on, and in that find new meaning, and not just reiterate the understandings we had already reached. My commonplace book, in particular, has been a resource unlike what I’ve encountered in previous courses, and it allows me to move between organized ‘final draft’ definitions we produce in class to quick just-jot-them-down thoughts and back again. In the commonplace book pages that I chose, one page is the class definitions that we produced together for Scott, and the other presents a less focused view into my thinking, just listing some questions I had along with a diagram from class. These styles of commonplacing fit together to form a detailed and comprehensive record of my thinking over time. Looking back now, I realize that I don't totally agree with some of the thinking I was doing, or rather, I think that my questions, thoughts, and conclusions would appear very differently now. Even though the two pictures are from different readings, I think that the structure that we used to examine them remains very similar. During this class, I’ve had to restructure my thinking, looking at the class intellectual less as a journey from A to B, but as a discovery process where every new bit of information or new point of view can shift the thinking process. In looking forward, I’m excited to add more readings to our discussions; I’m sure that we’ll continue to make references to Scott and Greenblatt throughout the year. I want to continue to offer my best, most succinct and fully formed thoughts to the class, in order for others to respond more fully, so that our discussions can be the most productive versions.
This third reading, to be honest, took a couple tries to get my brain wrapped around. It was much more conceptual than the other two main book excerpts and the Popova posts. But when I dug into it, I found that this writing connected with the others in many ways. One framework I found helpful when reading this was nature vs nurture. As the author writes about how one forms his own identity, the essential question becomes where the identity is coming from. We like to think it is from inside ourselves; our essential nature. When we choose to do, or not do, or like or not like something, and so on, we can feel ourselves make that decision. For most people, it is against their own conceput of themselves to consider that there is anything driving the wheel besides their own brain. But the influence that external factors have on our creation of our identity cannot be overstated. Our family, our books, our writing, our friends, our culture at large impacts us tremendously. And it becomes a reinforcing cycle- every impact that external factors have on us, we internalize and think that it came from within. The author writes about how some thinkers believe “that men are born ‘unfinished animals’, that the facts of life are less artless than they look.'' People tend to assign a poetic finish to the facts of their extenseance; they have the ability to choose everything themselves, that there is someone in life looking out for them, or that everything will be alright. But this writing argues that there is much less distinction between ourselves and that which is around us than many believe. This has a huge impact on art and how to approach it. Under this reading, each piece of art is both an extension of the social culture and the artist themselves. Take this quote: “the way to explore these implications lies neither in denying any relation between the play and social life nor in affirming that the latter is the ‘thing itself,’ free from any interpretation.” Every piece of art we consume is affected by the environment and codes it was created in, whether we consider that or not. I think that this is a great way to look at art. In some circles, how something was created already dicates much of the conversation. In film, for example, how difficult seeming a particular shot or performance was to create can have a big impact on how it is received. (This actor did his own stunts and had to wear a bear carcass! Oscar now!) Beyond that, it is now common practice to consider the demographics of the author when considering their work. Is this piece about race written by a white person? And so on. Of course, this information can greatly inform on the reading of the piece itself, and often contributes to a greater discussion of the piece. As this writing makes clear, the line between one’s self, one’s culture, and one’s art can blur. I wonder if Elliot Galloway even read any of this.
The second reading seemed, to me, very very Galloway. The focus on questions, on different learning styles, becoming a lifelong learner, especially on the structure of earlier education. I’ve been at Galloway since 5th grade, and this reading was certainly a manifestation of much of what makes the school itself - both the wonderful and the occasionally frustrating. As a student in high school, I must admit I took a bit of a cautious approach to the ideals expressed in this reading. The legal adult in me understands that school is all about preparing me for the future, that there are big, lofty philosophy at work in the structure of my classes, that there are a million and one influences on what my daily school life looks like. However, the biggest concern that the high school student in me was: would this class be boring? I wonder if educational writing is a classic case of ‘easier to say than do’. It’s easy to write about engaging kids and turning them into thinkers, but my most pressing concern is whether or not I dread sitting through 45 minutes of my 5th period. I think, for me personally, I quite appreciate having answers as much as questions. I’ve loved my experience at Galloway, but my most frustrating classes are ones where there are only questions, and no place to offer an answer. It feels as if the class is on a runway, gaining speed and understanding of both the material and its context, but that it never fully takes off and offers students a chance to offer an opinion. A kids' opinion, ready to be argued and dissected and spun off from, can be just as valuable to a class discussions as a good question. For example, the activity about torture described in the reading seemed intersting, and I understand that it prepares kids to be inquisitive and know how to form questions, all great life skills. But, for me personally, I would find it frustrating to spend two days listing questions without the chance to hear what my classmates had to say and have the chance to answer them. My impression from the reading - and I understand that I didn't read the entire book - is that much of this question focused style of education might work better in 8th grade and below. The Montessori school, as mentioned in the book, does not have a high school. I think it’s important to have discipline, consequences, and structure as kids approach college and adulthood. But, of course, it’s not a binary choice between structure and encouraging kids to be inquisitive and curious. It seems to me that much of the reform must come from federal and state governments. Their mandated requirements, concepts, and tests can control a classroom into a place where learning is stifled. Most of the schools the reading approvingly cited are private schools, where those with means can afford the choice of their child’s schooling. In my commonplace book, I again wrote down quotes that I connected with, and jotted down some quick reactions so that I could organize how I felt about each idea brought up. I did connect with many of the ideas in the reading. For example, the idea that simple, repeated questions could help simplify complex problems seemed like a great approach to me. It reminded me of when people have said "If you can't explain it to a five year old, you don't know it well enough". At one point, I remember reading that students who learn something knowing they will be asked to explain it to their classmates understand the information better than those who simply think they just need to learn it. I recently finished the first section reading, the one by A. O. Scott. I was initially very excited for this reading; I knew and appreciated his film reviews and hoped that his book would incorporate some of the same material. As I read through it, I found the book excerpts to be much, much, more conceptual, abstract, and self reflective. Looking back, this makes sense; his writing is both a great insight into his personal process, and a deep investigation into criticism from someone who clearly knows what he’s talking about.
I found his writing style fun and playful at times. Circular and self-referential quotes like “There is no argument, but then again there is only argument” were both confusing and entertaining. Personally, I found the most interesting discussion to be about one’s taste. I spend so much of my time talking with others - my sister, my parents, my friends - about our taste in media that it was a bit abrupt to look more inward. Many things that Scott mentions I found familiar. For example: “And much as you might, in deference to the social norms of the age, couch your opinions in modest, subjective language, really, who are you kidding?” This is a phenomenon that I think happens often in English classes. Not knowing why they like something, a student will just pull a random component (I loved the imagery!) without really considering it. I filled my commonplace book with the quotes and lines and words that really connected with me. This, to me, was the best way to let the commonplace show my thinking - by reflecting the parts of the piece that I saw myself in. At many levels, I think taste is mostly subjective and impossible to change with truly rational arguments. Oftentimes, when we talk about a movie or play or book, the discussion is framed like a debate, with each person staking out a claim and fighting for why they’re right. But, because taste is such a personal experience, that is often a fruitless pursuit. It’s more interesting and fulfilling to know why your friend liked the movie more than you, and to understand his point of view, than it is to try to get both of you to agree. As compelling as the abstract discussion of the art of criticism can be, there was certainly a part of me that, while reading the book, felt an itch to really dive into the meat of a discussion. Rather than sit back and contemplate why we all like what we like and how we like it, and in what ways do we like it, I was interested in actually having those discussions of taste. By the end of the book, I wanted to watch a movie with my friend and argue about it, or read a book with the class and discuss the material in depth. I hope that this year, our class has a good division between more self-reflective questions, and good old fashioned opinions. In some ways, that is what I took away from the book. There are so, so many ways to examine criticism, but it’s all a bit flat without a. an opinion about art and b. someone to disagree with you. Scott writes “Is it just me, or is that a beautiful painting? It’s just you - unless it’s just me. That has to be the theoretical starting point.” |
AuthorRobbie Kane Archives
December 2019
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