Chatalist: Zoom Chat as Form

A latecomer to pandemic pedagogy, I’m lately drawn to the phenomenon of Zoom Chat–something else that happens while I’m teaching. I first found it distracting and disconcerting, especially when I tried to follow Chat while talking and listening to students talking. I soon gave up on that impossible task and just let Chat happen. I would download and read the Chat after class, viewing it as a supplement to what happened while I pointed things out and led class discussion. Or were the talking Zoom squares and Chat more akin to a movie with subtitles? Are Chat comments a hyper form of captioning or annotation?

I learned that students are doing all kinds of things in these Chats: commenting on texts we were discussing, fancrushing and hating on literary characters, sharing family stories that relate to class readings/viewings, making connections to texts they studied in other classes, recommending films and TV series, validating one another’s comments. I ask for volunteers to serve as Chat Curator so they can pull relevant comments into our audio discussions, momentarily aligning the channels. Here Zoom Chat becomes a form of digital polyphony.

I begin to think of Chat as an augmentation or extension of each class session, something beyond a cyber call-and-response. At one level, it can be a multimodal form of class participation (some students talk in the squares and text in the Chat, others prefer one or the other). At another level, Chat constitutes a multilmodal form of collaboration. At still another, Zoom Chat functions as a pop-up reading group.

Student discourse shifts registers in Chat. It becomes more confessional. It becomes slangier, zestier, punchier. Is Chat a collaborative form of subversion? If Chat operates as a subterranean stream, does that make it a punk practice within Zoom teaching? As I save each Chat and file it on my laptop, what kind of archive am I making? And how will records of this emergent form remake our future teaching?  – MB

cross-section of underground channel

Image Sources:

Music Theory Academy
Multimodality for Diverse Audiences
Karst Hydrology

Socks in Box: Marie Kondo Tidies Dr. Seuss

Socks
Amok.
Box.
Socks.

Pile of socks
by empty box.
Balled up socks
in pile send shocks!

She comes –
Marie comes.
My sock drawer now looks so sorry.
Help me please with your KonMari.

 

 

 

 

(Inspects socks.)
Respect socks!
Socks ill-used.
Socks abused.

Socks balled!
(She’s appalled.)
Stretched elastic!
(Now she’s spastic.)
I’m admonished.
She’s astonished.

Scold!
Fold!

Tops rolled over?
Must do over!

 

 

 

Who sorts socks beside the box now,
bric-a-brac of stacked black socks, how?
I choose, sort socks:
short, long, crew socks,
old and new socks,
Confuse, peruse, reuse socks.

Fold.
Behold.

Socks in box –
poor drawer out-foxed now.
Interlocked.
KonMari know-how. – MB

 

 

CREDITS:
Muse – Seuss.
M.O. – Kondo.

Theme Song to the Off-Off-Broadway Stationary Musical: Home-a-Lot!

rows of colorful homesStill at home? Sing along for custom quarantine karaoke here. (Be ready to start with the horns.) You can find the original Camelot theme song here.

 

It’s true! It’s true! The WHO has made it clear—
This virus will be with us through the year.

A quarantine was made some months ago here
So our town won’t be COVID’s new hot spot.
And there are legal limits where go, so we’re
Home a lot.

Bare faces aren’t advised until December
When getting groceries, or in parking lots.
Disorder makes things so hard to remember
When home a lot.

Home-a-Lot! Home-a-Lot!
I hardly ever drive my car.
But in Home-a-Lot, Home-a-Lot,
It’s safer here by far.

Why should libations have to wait till sundown?
By 8 a.m. the coffee clouds appear.
In short there’s simply not
A more sequestered spot
For safer social distancing than here
In Home-a-Lot.

Home-a-Lot! Home-a-Lot!
Our lives are in perpetual pause.
But in Home-a-Lot, Home-a-Lot,
These are the safety laws.
The comfy couch so plush becomes a thrill ride!
By 9 p.m. the Zoom screens disappear.

In short there’s simply not
A more sequestered spot
For safer social distancing than here
In Home-a-Lot!

-MB

The Anne Sexton or Mrs. Maisel Quiz

poet Anne SextonBreaking social rules about what women could say in public, American confessional poets and standup comediennes sassed up the 1960s with their candid revelations. Spouses, children, and even parents were fair game for drawing nods and laughter from the audience. Offering peeks behind closed doors, such poets and comediennes worked family intimacies into their acts in ways that could provoke outrage. Anne Sexton and the fictional Mrs. Maisel drew fire from male critics who doubled down on the double standard. And they upstaged their male counterparts by dishing out grit while looking utterly fabulous. Both performers could rock a frock, each appeared on television, and each toured with a band. Can you match the correct woman with with her words, actions, or incidents below?

 

Mrs. Maisel at nightclub

  1. Described herself as having nylon legs, luminous arms and some advertised clothes
  2. Declared It’s the bras. And the girdles and the corsets. All designed to cut off the circulation to your brain. 
  3. Quipped that My mother never goes to the bathroom.  
  4. Confessed: Mother, last night I slept in your Bonwit Teller nightgown.
  5. Another performer recommended that she see Sylvia Plath’s psychiatrist in New York.
  6. Had an affair with her psychiatrist
  7. A male critic faulted her for ‘dwell[ing] insistently on the pathetic and disgusting aspects of bodily experience.’
  8. Described the birth canal as an escape route the size of a change purse
  9. Declared that You’re downtown. If you have underwear on, you’re overdressed.
  10. Described a woman rolling down her girdle, that pink snapper and hoarder
    -MB

SOURCES:
Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems. Mariner Books, 1999.
Anne Sexton performing with her band, Her Kind
The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Amy Sherman-Palladino et al. Amazon Original, 2017- .
This Business of Words: Reassessing Anne Sexton, ed. Amanda Golden. U. Press of Florida, 1916.
Read Anne Sexton’s Response to Her Worst-Ever Review.’ Nov 9, 2017. Lithub.com.
Houston Chronicle, Oct. 16, 2018. (Former UH graduate students discover ‘forgotten’ Anne Sexton poetry)
College Fashion, Feb. 16, 2020. (Mrs. Maisel Fashion)

Answer Key:
1. AS, ‘Self in 1958‘; 2. MM Season 1.2; 3. MM Season 2.8; 4. AS, ‘The Division of Parts‘; 5. MM Season 2.1; 6. AS; 7. AS; 8. MM Season 2.10; 9. MM Season 1.pilot; 10. AS, “Woman with Girdle

 

Liquid Whitman Gains a Locomotive and a Captain

American steam locomotive, 1800sSince my Liquid Whitman post in July, more 12-ounce tributes to the poet’s Bicentennial have emerged in the Leaves of Grass Series from Bell’s Brewery. I’ve reviewed three of them for The Massachusetts Review, situating each within the contexts of the namesake poem, Whitman’s career, and beer culture. Part of my process in writing these reviews is conversations with friends. We read the poems aloud together, sharing our spontaneous reactions as well as our individual vocal inflections. We drink in Whitman’s poems, relishing their nineteenth-century diction and American exuberance, their geographic and demographic reach, their bouts of boisterousness and beauty. We take a break from our routines and talk about things we usually don’t. My pop-up poetry salons operate outside the classroom and the coffee house.

You won’t learn much about me in these reviews. But you’ll likely 1876 photo of Walt Whitmandiscern that I like describing taste sensations and I enjoy teaching poetry. I hope you will consider reading the poems aloud in good company and talking them over, just for fun. Here are the introductions to my recent reviews of To a Locomotive in Winter (a smoked porter) and O Captain! My Captain! (a black lager). Click on the titles to read more.  –MB

Brew the Locomotion for Whitman’s Marvelous Machine
Most great American train songs are really about people. But Walt Whitman’s “To a Locomotive in Winter” and Emily Dickinson’s “I like to see it lap the miles” are machinist at heart. They don’t depict engineers, stokers, and passengers. They don’t take you home, and they won’t bring your baby back. Dickinson’s mechanical animal, a frolicsome iron horse, rounds mountains and crosses valleys before finally coming to a stop. But Whitman’s train keeps on coming, making a constant locomotion: throbbing, gyrating, shuttling, protruding, careering, rumbling, rousing. Two decades before the Lumière Brothers’ train arrived at its celluloid station, Whitman’s marvelous machine rocketed into the sky—anticipating the pipe-bridled locomotives in F. T. Marinetti’s Futurist manifesto. The poem’s newest incarnation is a smoked porter, the fourth offering in Bell’s ongoing Leaves of Grass Series celebrating Whitman’s bicentennial. . . .

Bells for Whitman’s Captain
What’s an elegy for Abraham Lincoln doing in a 12-ounce beer bottle? The third Walt Whitman tribute in Bell’s Leaves of Grass Series reinvents the poet’s preferred beer style as a confluence of American Black Ale and India Pale Lager. Bringing roasty malts and Michigan hops to lager’s crispness, Bell’s Brewery labels O Captain! My Captain! a Black India-Style Pale Lager. Even with this mouthful of attributes, its mouthfeel is light. This beer isn’t as dark and opaque as a stout, but the head is frothier—with bead-sized bubbles floating amidst the tiny ones. It rises up in your glass like sea foam.

So why Whitman’s Captain for this enhanced lager? The poem’s publishing history links to its “India-Style.” First appearing in a newspaper in 1865, “O Captain! My Captain!” migrated to Passage to India (1871) before ending up in the 1881 Leaves of Grass. Certainly lager’s longstanding popularity pairs well with the most recited Whitman poem during his lifetime. . . .

SOURCES
Locomotive GIF, https://www.ushistory.org/us/25b.asp
1876 Photograph of Walt Whitman, Library of Congress, www.loc.gov/item/2018662291/

Punk Country

 

Johnny Cash and the Tennessee TwoTennessee Two, that’s like a punk band. –Elvis Costello

Ken Burns’s Country Music documentary wrapped its PBS broadcast last week, and now you can binge it. I didn’t expect the punk strains that broke through the film’s mashup of blues, bluegrass, gospel, rockabilly, honky tonk, Bakersfield and Nashville sounds. The resistance through style that Dick Hebdige attributes to British punk and its formative subcultures forms a powerful subtext.

Elvis Costello in Ken Burns's Country Music film* What’s the punk Elvis doing in a documentary about Country music? Episode 4 brings Johnny Cash to Memphis, where his Tennessee Two practiced with a borrowed guitar and a bass that Marshall Grant was just learning how to play. Elvis Costello lays claim to the band’s stripped-down sound: The bass is so percussive and Luther Perkins just playing, like the 4 notes…I literally think they sound like punk rock records. The band is a prototype of punk’s DIY aesthetic. Episode 5 gives a shout-out to Costello’s recent collaboration with Loretta Lynn, “Everything It Takes.” (hear it here)

Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison 1968*Did Johnny Cash traffic in Teddy Boy style? Episode 5 also features Cash’s breakthrough performance at Folsom Prison in 1968. The live album reinfused  Country music with grit. But what about that classic three-piece suit Cash wore for the photo shoot? Might the black jacket’s red lining and the double-breasted vest constitute a sartorial exotica akin to the previous decade’s London Teds–and anticipate its revival in the 1970s? Cash’s pose here accentuates his streamlined dandyism.

*Is that Ziggy Stardust hair on Rosanne Cash’s 1985 album cover? That spiky burst of red on Rhythm & Romance traffics in Bowie’s Glam Rock dandyism. In Episode 8 Rosanne talks about how her LA style clashed with Nashville’s when she moved there in 1981: I had purple hair. I was a little bit streetwise, urban girl . . . you know, brazen. If the Carters were the First Family of Country music, Johnny and Rosanne Cash are the First Family of Punk Country.

* Is the Queen of Rockabilly the grandmother of Punk? Episode 4 features Wanda Jackson’s riotous performance on Town Hall Party in 1958. Jackson smashed the era’s expectations of women musicians–she fronted her band. Introducing “Hard Headed Woman” as one of the most beautiful love songs that’s ever been written, she lays down her hard driving guitar licks and vocals. Jackson entered the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2009. Would we have front women Patti Smith, Chrissie Hynde and Joan Jett without Wanda Jackson and her punkabilly style? Would we have the fierceness of k.d. Lang, whom the documentary dubs a punk reincarnation of Patsy Cline? Insurgent Country plots its roots through a line-up of male musicians. Any history of Punk Country must account for its long line of radical women. – MB

SOURCES:
Country Music, A Film by Ken Burns.
Liza Corsillo, “TBT: When Johnny Cash Suited-Up for His Legendary Folsom Prison Concert.” GQ 1.14.16
Dick Hebdige, Subculture: The Meaning of Style. 1979.

 

Stone Stories: Louise Erdrich and Geologic Time

Erdrich "The Stone" in The New YorkerA stone is a thought that the earth develops over inhuman time. — Louise Erdrich

The first stories I remember were children’s stories my mother read to me, and Bible stories I heard in church. Sometime during elementary school, I found the bedrock story of my childhood–Jerome Wyckoff’s book Geology: Our Changing Earth through the Ages. Its illustrated “spiral of time” stretched across two pages. This was a different kind of story. I stared at the illustrations that plunged Water shaping the Earthbeneath Earth’s surface, poring over cross sections of fault lines, volcanoes, and water.

Last week I read Louise Erdrich’s story “The Stone,”a new kind of bedrock story. Noticing a basalt stone in the woods, the central character keeps it to herself and carries it home: Water had scoured two symmetrical hollows into the stone, giving it an owlish look, or a blind look, or, anyway, some quality that was oddly attractive. The girl abides with her stone as she ages–the story’s central (and centering) relationship. Its nearness and its ineffable gravity afford her self-sufficiency. This stone story reroutes the coming-of-age plot, moving beyond familial and romantic relationships. More than a material or a record, the basalt stone in Erdrich’s story is an actant. As the story expands into geologic time, the stone’s agency exceeds the dimensions of biological narratives. Commenting on her story, Erdrich asks: But who is to say that the stones aren’t using us to assert themselves? To transform themselves?

My first rock specimensRock plotting opens new seams in stories about ourselves, our families, our place in the world. Santa gave me a metal detector instead of Barbie dolls one year, followed by a Tumble Stones rock polishing kit. My own rolling stones ground away under my bed for weeks on end. I dreamed of being a lapidary. (I missed the message on the box that rock polishing was for boys.) Years later Dad revealed that my Tumble Stones kept him awake at night, but he said nothing at the time. Mom gave me a flatware organizer so I could change its kitchen categories to Igneous, Sedimentary, and Metamorphic. Rock solid acts of love. My rock collection and geologic time took me outside the gender scripts of my own time. I have carried these rocks into new habitations in Tennessee, Illinois, and Florida. They have carried me into books, museums, and mountains.

A stone is, in its own way, a living thing, not a biological being but one with a history far beyond our capacity to understand or even imagine.

I finish reading Erdrich’s story late in the evening. I cross the room and pick up a small mica-faced stone I’d found in Grandma’s yard in North Carolina. As a child I saw its glint of silver in the gravel and picked it up. I stared into a mirror-like surface reflecting something further than I could see. I place this stone by my bed, sleeping more soundly than I have in many days. What I dream lies too deep to retrieve. – MB

SOURCES:
Louise Erdrich, “The Stone” in The New Yorker, Sept. 9, 2019. Quotes from Erdrich’s story and comments are in italics.
Louise Erdrich on the Power of Stones,” interviewed by Deborah Treisman for The New Yorker. Sept. 2, 2019.
Ruth Van Beek, Photo Illustration for “The Stone”
Jerome Wyckoff, Geology: Our Changing Earth through the Ages. Golden Press. 1967.
My rock collection
https://rocktumbler.com/blog/rapco-tumble-stones-rock-tumbler/

 

Liquid Whitman

Happy 4th of July in this bicentennial year of Walt Whitman’s birth! In addition to archival exhibits and poetry contests, the major U.S. celebrations include a 7-part liquid tribute from Bell’s Brewery. Its Leaves of Grass series takes its name from Whitman’s signature volume of poems first published on July 4, 1855. Part I is the Song of Myself American IPA. Here’s the opening to my interpretation in The Massachusetts Review:

Some poets are wine poets. Walt Whitman is a beer poet. In a Brooklyniana piece from 1862, he describes the Eastern District breweries as “sources of the mighty outpourings of ale and lager beer, refreshing the thirsty lovers of those liquids in hot or cold weather.” In American literature, the boisterous and sprawling poem that made his name still refreshes lovers of innovation with its mighty outpourings. Bell’s “Song of Myself” India Pale Ale isn’t Whitman’s first beer incarnation. Enlightenment Ales brewed a “Song of Myself” American Pale Ale in 2014, and Philadelphia Brewing still makes a Belgian White Ale dubbed Walt Wit. . . .

You can read the rest of my Liquid Whitman review here.

-MB

Rocketmen

Bernie Taupin, Elton John
Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player, 1972

Seeing Rocketman this week recalled what most struck middle-school me about Elton John, master of styles. There were other piano men moving onto my Memphis radio dial in the early 1970s: Billy Joel, Jackson Browne, my keyboard genius Keith Emerson. (Carole King was the piano woman.) But they wrote their own lyrics, or their lyricists were in the band. Honky Château was the second album I bought, and the first that gave rockstar treatment to a standalone lyricist. Who was this Bernie Taupin who appeared in the portraits on the cover art and in the album booklets? He wasn’t sounding the songs on my turntable, and he wasn’t onstage when I saw Elton John in 1973. Yet he was always there in the music. A mute prime mover. A Muse.

Like most rock biopics, Rocketman focuses on the usual kinds of volatile relationships:

Caribou, 1974

with parents, with managers, with lovers. At the epicenter is the star’s tortured relationship with himself. And the still center of this turbulent world is Taupin, who accepts his collaborator exactly as he is. Elton’s lyricist doesn’t fit into the film’s therapeutic framework because their relationship is the only one that doesn’t need fixing.

In the movie scene where Elton John meets Bernie Taupin, their initial words tumble out together. Then as they talk in turn, the piano man tells his lyricist that he could see all the notes when he read the words that Taupin didn’t intend to reveal: It’s like my fingers couldn’t work fast enough to keep up with my brain. The film’s portrayal of their collaboration and friendship is not a love story, and it is not a buddy movie. When the action happens–the film’s music performances–these rocketmen are in their separate spaces.

https://youtu.be/-qjCcIhLuCI

The glitz and glam of Rocketman would have us believe that only Elton was the flashy one. But that’s misreading the performer’s stage costumes and Bernie’s streetwear as emblems of their personalities. Look at the lyrics on those 1970s albums. Some of Bernie’s riotous lines seem to erupt from Alice in Wonderland. Why anyone would yearn to go hunting the horny-back toad was beyond me. Years later, I did meet a cat named Hercules. I still haven’t found lyrics quite as zany as “Solar Prestige a Gammon.” The movie’s interplay of music and plot can uncannily make the songs seem to be about Elton John’s life. But what they they really manifest is a rare synaptic synchronicity between a writer’s sense of Time and a musician’s sense of timing.

I have formed friendships through creative collaboration, and I have deepened friendships through collaboration. These are the sparks that ignite our engines. These are relationships that lift us.
–MB

SOURCES:
Rocketman (2019, Dir. Dexter Fletcher)
MB’s LP collection

 

 

 

 

What Is Sustainable Pedagogy?

Student architectural modelThe Humanities have become a sustainability study in these STEM-driven times for higher education. How does our hive survive the academic climate changes of a shrinking professoriate, curricular compression, and a nomadic job market? How do Humanities workers maneuver within and across our smaller footprints at public institutions? My Spring course took into account these changes. I designed “Modernist Studies & Pedagogy Workshop” for graduate students in our PhD and MFA programs. In choosing materials, I took into account my students’ diverse interests and career paths. These initial findings are preparatory material for a design review.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Resourceful. Materials-driven, my seminar incorporated modernist literary, critical, and visual texts; short essays about teaching; resources from our campus museum and library; teaching and conference materials I’ve made; materials from conference colleagues. I included teaching materials from other graduate students and from colleagues in English, Art History, Architecture, the Harn Museum of Art, and UF Libraries. My students worked with these shared resources, and they shared each other’s work. We practiced a renewable resourcefulness.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Cross-Campus. Partnerships I have formed across campus proved as crucial as my expertise in designing my seminar. The campus became our campus unit. We ventured across three colleges: Liberal Arts & Sciences; Arts; and Design, Construction & Planning. Interdisciplinary work requires physically crossing over to our colleagues in other disciplines and consulting with them. Through conversations we discovered that we were teaching some of the same materials.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Collaborative. Within our seminar room my students workshopped Beta assignments for future students and draft instructional resources for our campus museum. As the seminar emerged through our texts and campus partnerships, we became a pedagogy ensemble. We offered a roundtable presentation on teaching close reading for our department’s graduate organization. We visited an Art History class before we team-taught it. We were team taught by an undergraduate architecture class.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Creative. Much of our seminar work involved making instructional materials, generated from broad keywords that did not constrain our thinking. For example: Write an actual assignment about Cities that you would give your own students in a college-level course (or type) of your choice. Think of your Assignments as prototypes or Beta assignments. The idea is to generate materials that we can workshop, refine, and use. Connect your assignment to at least one primary text on our syllabus. This was the most creative work many students had done in a seminar.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Ethical. All teaching materials were shared by permission within and beyond my seminar. Our cross-campus consulting proceeded by outreach and invitation. Where possible, we offered resources in exchange for those we received. We shared our resources; we made new resources; I offered to visit my colleagues’ future courses. Through such ethical practices, Humanities workers sustain one another.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Beyond-the-Book. I have taught and benefitted from book-oriented seminars. Yet if Humanities departments are now envisioning beyond-the-book dissertations, shouldn’t seminar design take this into account? My seminar did not conform to the standard production line: seminar paper > journal article > dissertation > book. Using modular forms, my seminar assignments were outward-facing toward classrooms, conferences, journals, museums, and the public. Such assignments are resourceful for jobs within and beyond the academic market.

Sustainable Pedagogy is Repurposing. I tell all of my graduate students that everything they write or make in their coursework should have at least one afterlife. My debut pedagogy seminar-workshop practiced repurposing, opening new synergies between our academic writing and our teaching. We can repurpose our student assignments into blog posts, conference papers, publications, and museum guides. We can transpose academic writing into crossover writing. We can transport a module from something we’ve made to something we are now making.

(re)Source
I took this photo in the Architecture Teaching Gallery on Feb. 12. There was no label, so I cannot credit this model’s maker. Resourceful in its available materials (wire, wood, paper), the design offers an inventive prototype. The stained plywood marks the material’s prior states as it supports a new geometric form. A fitting figure for the work of sustainable pedagogy.  –MB

  • I wrote this post at the 2019 Humanities Writing Retreat, sponsored by UF’s Center for the Humanities and the Public Sphere.