The lighting fixtures and the hot apple cider were especially charming. On to the keynote address, though.
We live in a new age of learning; one defined by a different kind of literacy and populated by, as keynote speaker Kathleen Blake Yancey put it, digital natives and digital immigrants. All is not well, though, in this land of overlapping tech and tradition. Illusions abound and what is real is hard to discern from that which is merely a facade. It’s a multi-surfaced world, and we’re all wearing slippery socks. In talking about networking and the democratization of literacy, however, Yancey seemed to be stressing that this new age of learning will afford us with a greater capacity to pick each other up. I also liked the whole tectonic plates thing. Would it not have been nice if each of the ballrooms had been renamed as one of these geologic behemoths? For instance, “Ballroom A” could’ve been the “Subduction Zone of the Juan De Fuca Plate.” Anyway, after the keynote address I headed toward Ballroom C and Dr. Jill VanAntwerp’s findings on new teachers.
Some of what Dr. VanAntwerp said in terms of the positive and negative experiences her particular sample of new teachers had was not as surprising as other parts of her research. This I count as a good thing. Thinking about it, I’m glad that I didn’t leave as someone shocked from what I had just heard. For instance, the problem of woeful textbooks, I think, probably didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. I was surprised, though, by the degree to which politics and social maneuvering might be a part of the job (I never poll well in these things). What I took away most from Dr. VanAntwerp’s presentation, however, was her statement that teachers must never discard the idealism which situates schools in such vaunted places in the psyche. I was actually sort of afraid she would tell the crowd to come down to earth as fast as our rapidly deflating balloons would allow. I’m glad she didn’t say that.
For Session B, I went to Packard, which I will call the Indian Plate, and Maja Wilson’s take on rubrics. In short, rubrics are efficient, practical, and so very cold as to strike from one’s once warm heart any semblance of sentimental yearnings that insulate the soul from the cold winters sent from the less than inspired parts of our very nature. They help us become detached from what writing could, if not should, be. Though should is a very dangerous word. Rubrics are altogether useful in some circumstances, but not recommended, at least by Maja Wilson. At the same time, Wilson stressed that assessing, not grading, papers should not devolve into a practice of cheering or coaching the writer. Feeling good is one of the many possible byproducts of the writing experience; it is hardly the singular point. Bummer.
Skipping over Session C, but returning for Session D, I traveled to Ballroom D, where Samantha Andrus Henry of Grand Valley State University (Go Lakers!) discussed part of her travails as a high school WAC (writing across the curriculum) coordinator and state standard assessment specialist. Drawn to her autoethnographic story by Katie Wood Rae’s less than glowing assessment of writing across the curriculum, I departed at the end of the presentation still somewhat confused but more open to the idea of WAC. To be honest, though, part of the confusion was due to a nasal emergency that forced me to miss a sizable chunk of her story.
Driving home from the Sheraton, all the while wishing that I had actually tried the hot apple cider and not settled for the refreshing but familiar cold apple cider, I didn’t cause a crash or get lost, making the whole experience an enjoyable one.
