Mishapen Muse

The second coming of reform may be due. While Bruce Pirie's text, Reshaping High School English is little outdated by research standards, his call for change does not fall on deaf ears. This book came to me on a whim. So desperately wanting to hang with the big kids in the credential program back when I was a mere undergrad two years from left before the great walk of pomp and circumstance. This was during the time of great educational reform, well before NCLB. Teaching jobs were practically being handed out to college graduates and the upper division courses were filled with enthralling discussions on pedagogy and praxis.

Finally, I took the time to dig into to Pirie's ideas. It falls on the heels of my own thoughts after reading Blogs, Wikis and Poscasts. I've accepted the idea of integrating blogs into my instruction, but given the lack of computers readily available to my own students--the waiting list for the one computer lab set up for both the middle school and high school with only a few spots available at least two months in advance--my only recourse for this to be a regular routine is have students complete the weblog assignments on their own. Those who don't have the luxury to a computer at home would be asked to utilize the computers available in my classroom or the library at lunch or after school. This will cover a portion of the writing activity for the class. But it's the in-class activities that concern me.

Of course, I am planning on assigning in-class writing, be it journaling, in-class essays and short-answer-quizzes, but I cannot deny that there are times when I do worry whether I will have a creative approach to the literature we will cover in class. I can't just have them write the a response after every reading. Not only will such a plan be misconstrued as punishment by students, but it will also kill the literature we are covering. Pirie stresses the use of dramatic work as a means of engaging students with text. Not just plays as the texts selected to read in class, but dramatizing literature that sits flat for many students: "If we're trying to see how verbal language is embedded in nonverbal contexts, then we need to make a deliberate effort to experiment with other ways of knowing and communicating--visceral, physical, large-as-life complements to the 'talk and text' of traditional English" (54). Pirie is suggesting that we don't necessarily use drama as purely a source of entertainment in the classroom when all life seems to have been sucked out by some textual ghost, but find those episodes in a text that demand drama to explicate a text. The use of drama in such cases needs to be continually questioned for its purpose and value to assist the students. Otherwise, it may be equivalent to showing the movie in lieu of the literature itself--a choice so often made by teachers and more often preferred by students. But to what end? Clearly, not to explore the text more deeply.

The Tidalwave of Technology

Will Richardson's text, Blogs, Wikis, Podcasts, and other Powerful Web Tools for Classrooms has me thinking about public education's current logic regarding literacy. English/language arts teachers are forever known for their love of literature--lit jocks, if you will--but I question whether this ideology is not only somewhat ill-fitted for our current population of students so saturated in hyper-media, but whether it's a pipe dream altogether to think that the solitary, "a room of one's own" type reader can exist unplugged. Meaning, while there is a world of hypertext flooding the world outside of schools, our classrooms, packed with all the dusty classics, are really serving our students/ citizens. Yes, literature moves metaphysical mountains. Yes, literature provides an escape door for nightmare lives. Yes, literature is the stuff of revolutionaries. But literature also has become increasingly associated with stagnation, recalcitrance, authority. Of course, this is more the product of a limiting method of delivery rather than the literature itself.

I like to think of literature on the same playing field (play read as analysis, communication, etc.) as various other texts students come in contact with. The note--a minor, but necessary act of communicative sedition?--passed around the class under the oblivious teacher's nose. Text is text is text is text. Hard to swallow, I know. Particularly when students hear this from the teacher h/erself. We ought to be raising communicators, decipherers of meaningful language before attempting to indoctrinate them into the secret society of lit. jocks.

Blogs will be a part of my students weekly routine. They will be engaging in a community of readers/writers. This is a break away from the traditional modes of discourse we are asking students to engage in. As Richardson puts it, "The differences between blogging in this manner and writing as we traditionally think of it are clear: Writing stops; blogging continues. Writing is inside; blogging is outside. Writing is monologue; blogging is conversation. Writing is thesis; blogging is synthesis" (31). We as English teachers are caught up in the five-paragraph essay genre and are probably either too scared of technology or too comfortable with our routine to incorporate what appears to be a messy product. There may be some difficulty getting students to understand the difference between the journaling they do on their MySpace pages, or the traditional essay format covered in class and the act of blogging. Again, this is not to say that one genre supersedes another. But aren't we doing a disservice to our students if we champion academic writing as though it is the end-all of communication and neglect the many range of discourse communities students could be engaging in?

Catch-22: Is high school ready for Heller?

I consider it a minor victory when my students laugh. A mere handful in the corner busting out with snickers can be the spark that gets the class discussion going. And when the entire class bursts into a chorus of laughter—laughing with me and not at me, although, even the latter will do—for some reason, I feel that I’ve reached a state of pedagogical Nirvana and can do no wrong. At the very least, I recognize that I’m on to something when I’ve tantalized them with humor. Not every student in my high school classroom feels life’s pulse through literature or the urgency to exist through h/er own writing, but humor can be the welcoming invitation, the joke the hook.

Still, the discussion of more serious—even depressing—topics such as war can be a challenge when I’m struggling to engage students in the conversation. During such solemn discussions, often the classroom carries an air closely resembling a funeral service than a place of intellectual enlightenment. Hardly the mood for inspiration. This may be the result of following the safe path thematically—posing and reconfirming the universal “war is hell” stance, proceeding to provide examples in literature that reveal the horrors of war. Sadly, actualizing this universal theme through literature has difficulty in reaching a generation that has at once become desensitized to graphic violence and arguably has found less strength in the written word. Moreover, any attempt to crack a joke in attempt to break this somber mood in class might be interpreted as an insult to the fallen soldiers. Any teacher’s attempt to engage students in such an important and complex moral subject as war without any major psychological resistance can surely become a pedagogical catch-22.

However, the use of humor has the potential of taking an alternative perspective on the generally morose discussion of war. Using humor to understand aspects of war can pierce traditional classroom discourse, tear open the discussion and shed light on a calloused topic. Heller’s Catch-22 can be the vehicle to achieve this. Albeit a long and sophisticated narrative, this novel has episodes of absurdist comedy that, when compared to examples using traditional tropes (e.g., the horror of war, the effect on soldiers, patriotism, man as base animal, etc.), reach an alternative, and, arguably, fresh understanding of war.

Yet I resist the temptation to attempt to tackle the complexity of Catch-22 in its entirety. Not only would it be impossible to teach everything Catch-22 has to offer, but to do so would also contradict an important idea that the novel proposes: that institutions can be in control of an individual’s liberty to an excess. There is a degree of defiance of authority in a student’s reading of Catch-22 on h/er own, something that a teacher need not micromanage in the classroom. However, clarifying Heller’s use of absurdity to make a point about war and the institutions that run them rather than being a mish-mash of pointless mischief (although, coming to that conclusion may not be too far off of Heller’s point). Before even launching into the novel, understanding the catch-22 expression can help students establish the right frame of mind for Heller’s whirlwind of absurdity. When students understand how the phrase applies to situations in their world it may be easier for them to accept the absurdist logic that dictates the action in the novel. Otherwise the world of Catch-22 may be a tough sell to make.

From there the character of Yossarian can be the compass from which I guide the students through the novel, helping them to identify key scenes that not only exemplify the absurdity of the military bureaucracy, but also the futility of his resistance to conform to the war machine. By taking this approach, rather than the war is pure hell motif so oft illustrated through Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front or Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage, I’m deflecting the American mentality and rhetoric that is usually associated with war. Namely, the us vs. them mentality—- where the enemy rather than our own leaders is responsible for maintaining the brutal conditions. There is no real enemy to speak of in the novel; there is only the conflict between officers dictating inhumane orders to enlisted men who either find ways to escape mentally or physically.

A number of scenes where Yossarian fights Colonel Cathcart’s relentless upping of missions with hypochondria, finding anything condition that will get him grounded can provide the insight into Heller’s method of absurdity. This is all advanced through the initial conversation Yossarian has with Doc Daneeka regarding the logic of Catch-22 (45-6). Although this may be difficult to follow for some students, the circular logic and the confusion that ensues can be a reminder when getting caught up in the other examples of illogic, convicting Clevinger via rhetorical entrapment, the military’s recognition of Doc Daneeka’s technical but not actual death (and the inverse for Mudd).

These examples are not too far removed from the outrageous cartoons students are watching today. Making the bridge between the physically absurd worlds of Looney Toons or the black comedy of Family Guy can help students understand the episodic feel for many of the scenes in Catch-22. Exposing students to Theatre of the Absurd, showing clips of Monty Python or excerpts of any Becket play may help provide perspective to these scenes. This will break the comedy from the page—an essential before coming back to the darker side of the novel: the horror of war.

These absurd episodes throughout the novel are juxtaposed to one key scene repeated cyclically—that of Snowden’s death. The horror of war, the killing of the young and innocent is symbolized in Snowden’s death. There are other episodes in the novel that are no less horrific—Captain Aardvark’s rape and murder of the young Italian girl, or the other accidental deaths or disappearances of Yossarian’s company—but they are the fault of the officers themselves and not direct casualties of war. In other words, they are accidents and not deaths brought on by enemy fire. Snowden, however, is a victim of direct enemy fire. Moreover, because this scene is repeated a number of times, it holds greater significance. It is through his death that students can understand the intentions behind Heller’s black comedy. Heller chooses to bombard the reader with institutional absurdities rather than with graphic violence in the deaths of countless soldiers.

In covering of this novel, we cannot avoid the connection to the War in Iraq. The novel may lead the discussion into a political reference. But rather than focus on the current administration’s policy on the war exclusively, we can focus on policies held by a number of governments during times of war. We can focus on the appeals made by the military to potential enlisted men throughout history, propaganda posters of World War I to the military advertisements of today. By addressing what appeals are being made to the viewer, we deconstruct the impulse to join the cause—asking ourselves: What emotions do these mediums of persuasion stir in the viewer? What values do they compel the viewer to hold dear? This will invariably lead our conversation to the kind of soldier has been constructed through these appeals. Through these appeals, leading into other mediums such as cartoons and film, we will be analyzing what the American mythos of the soldier looks like. It may be difficult for students within this culture to step out and take a critical look at America as a military culture (this may also result in a few concerned parents who perceive this as “America bashing” and calling the principal in disapproval). Instead, we can start with a more global perspective, looking generally at common methods of recruitment and what kind of mythos this creates for a country.

This background-building activity may help guide our discussion back to the issue of Yossarian. Although he might be the classic anti-hero, we must question whether his actions are truly cowardly. Given that he has completed the highest number of missions in the squadron, it is hard to excuse his service entirely. To get a modern perspective on soldier morale, the students can also reference a number of blogs of soldiers stationed in Iraq. Given the harsh circumstances of war, students must decide whether the hero mythos that we’ve created in our culture is realistic or even beneficial.

Undoubtedly, Catch-22 will leave many confused, shuddering in the wake of a sophisticated narrative style. There is no harm, however, in exposing students to Heller’s masterwork even if it is a scratch at the surface. Heller’s use of comedy in light of such serious matter as war may at least provide fodder for perspective-change. Myopic as adolescence may be, students may be able to relate to Yossarian’s desire for freedom within an institution that keeps him down.

Comedy: the keys to the master's house?

Comedy may attempt to satirize the existing power structure, poking at the ruling class, or rigid ideology (be it moral, religious, or political) that is at the top, but it may also maintain the status quo. Just as Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew challenges traditional expectations placed on women, it ultimately wraps up the affair with outward acceptance of male dominance in relationships in society. But, Taming of the Shrew may not be far off from other modern examples in American comedy where play with sexual trappings maintain masculine/heterosexual privilege in society before ever really challenging the power structure. With the militaristic milieu for texts such as M*A*S*H and Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips, and the similarly prudish moral code in America during the 1950s (the Hayes code still in effect) for Wilder’s Some Like it Hot, the masculine/ heterosexual escapade of “boys will be boys,” nevertheless, carries on.

Hooker’s novel, M*A*S*H exemplifies this attitude of protecting and serving the heterosexual male’s sexual appetite given the circumstances of war. It is the classic player mentality, chalking another sexual encounter as easily as counting the number of martinis imbibed. The swampmen justify their free love philosophy, claiming that the stress of the war circumstances, being trapped in Korea and away from home not only grants permission to the men, but is also projected onto the women’s actions, making both parties equally culpable in the affair. Almost implicit in the rationale is their view of the absurdity of the military system running the war. M*A*S*H is not only an example of the inmates running the asylum, but also a classic example of the homosocial male domain taking precedence similar to the African conquest in Heart of Darkness or the whaling pursuit in Moby Dick. A perceived threat to this domain, The Painless Pole’s latent homosexuality is ceremonially crucified vis-à-vis the depiction of the Last Supper, and, symbolically, vis-à-vis the Pride of Hamtramck, his heterosexual desire is resurrected. And with this, the logic and social mores of home are temporarily suspended for the full, unrestrained pursuit of male heterosexual desire while stationed in Korea.

In many ways Some Like it Hot gender-bending charade challenges traditional mores, but this still remains on the surface. The heterosexual/masculine conquest of the feminine continues without the protagonists, Joe and Jerry, ever getting too comfortable in their feminine guise. There is a moment where Jerry/Daphne becomes enchanted by being the object of Osgood’s heterosexual male desire, wooed into engagement. Wilder may momentarily turn the world upside down for the audience when showing Jerry/Daphne’s own gender confusion. The object of h/er desire, consequently, is called into question, albeit momentarily. Wilder, however, must bring things back to the status quo, revealing this enchantment of Jerry/Daphne’s as actually being with Osgood’s checkbook. This resembles Bugs Bunny’s gender-bending in Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips, using feminine guise to dupe the enemy into submission. It is merely a means to an end and the Trickster, whether Bugs or Jerry, exits unscathed and impervious.

Problems of Race: representation through contrived dialect

An artist’s attempt at imitating, whether intending to be parody or not, can be a source of pure comedy. Yet, serious attempts at depicting the Other—identities in society excluded a voice, self-representation, thereby, power in society—can become mere caricatures of those identities. Classic pieces of literature such as Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Joel Chandler Harris’ stories depicting the fictional character of Uncle Remus are examples where major attempts are made to accurately depict the dialect of Southern blacks. Classics maybe; though, problematic for sure. The authors’ intentions may have been benign, though the construction of the Southern black voice (dialect) in written text when juxtaposed with standard white dialects comes off as linguistic exaggeration and therefore parody of the Southern black identity.

Twain’s representation of Jim in Huck Finn is problematic, not because Twain fails to develop complexity in his character, nor does Twain reduce Jim to the superstitious Negro stereotype as depicted with the hair ball scene early on in the novel, nor does Twain’s use of the word, nigger reduce Huck Finn to a racist work. But while the few occasions where Jim’s voice finds momentum beyond a mere phrase uttered it also opens up Jim’s manner of speaking to the reader—a clear shift from the familiar presented by Huck’s overarching narrative. The longest narrative for Jim occurs upon Jim and Huck’s meeting on the island where Jim explains how and why he has escaped. Although Jim’s speech is largely understandable—not exaggerated to the degree as Uncle Remus’ speech—the process of using the standard English alphabet with its deep orthography (compared to the rather shallow ones of Spanish or Japanese) to represent the phonetic pronunciation of Jim’s speech can be problematic when the white characters are, for the most part, using the language as was considered prescriptively correct. This cannot be explained away as the result of depicting the character’s illiteracy—even Pap Finn’s speech is more decipherable than Jim’s. The result, then, is something like an exoticized simulation of oral speech of the Southern black. Although Jim does have a voice and there’s a sense of his human agency, accurate representation looks more like caricature than the real thing.

Harris’ harshly stereotypical albeit nostalgic depiction of the Uncle Remus character goes beyond this linguistic exoticizing to the point where the narrative can be largely unintelligible. Looking at the story of “Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox,” we can see a more exaggerated depiction of Southern black speech. While the difference in Jim’s words are in slight spelling derivations of standard English for phonetic effect, the difference in Uncle Remus’ words are more frequent and look like a whole different language altogether. Moreover, Uncle Remus’ narrative is constructed within the larger narrative—in standard English, arguably, the master’s voice granting agency to Uncle Remus’ narrative. A clearer portrayal of the Other

Although these two examples of linguistic parody are unintentional attempts within textual speech, they do resemble the scathing lampoon of Japanese identity in the Warner Bros. cartoon, Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips. To compare content of the former texts with the latter would be absurd. Rather, the connection worth noting is how the speech of the Other in the cartoon is represented. The authors’ intentions for any of the texts, while possibly conciliatory, cannot dismiss the effect in representing the speech in such a way that it is substandard. The Japanese soldier in the cartoon is clearly a caricature ripe with every Asain stereotype at the writer’s disposal—not just Japanese—but the character’s speech is most often indistinguishable at best, cacophonous at worst. The intention is to distance the character from the audience, more alien than human.

How the speech of the Other in written speech is handled may be a difficult task for the author attempting authenticity rather than a distorted semblance of an identity…