In my introductory American Literature II survey course, I emphasize hunkering down and isolating oneself within the walls of literary or critical narrative for an hour or more. Many of my English majors struggle with this task because reading requires long stretches of relative isolation and fixed attention on a singular text. Such isolation and fixation run counter to the ways we Facebook, tweet, text, Youtube, blog, and work, not apart from each other but as overlapping tasks. While studies have shown that such multitasking has benefits and limitations, engaging in those debates is not my concern here because the fact is my students are already technological savvy multitaskers.
In light of this, it is no wonder that my English majors in American Literature II read reluctantly. My immediate response consisted of instituting frequent reading quizzes that asked questions that online summaries neglect. Over the course of the semester, some students accepted the disciplinary nature of quizzes and relented, reading more diligently and beginning to read when they didn’t before. However, quizzes worked only to an extent. Some students began to read but inconsistently. Other students who appeared to have read, which they demonstrated through discussion, had difficulty receiving above a C on the quizzes. Most students also seemed to view quizzes as punitive, and this may have detracted from their engagement with the course.
I’ve also responded to the culture of reluctant reading by assigning discussion questions and outlines of texts in lieu of quizzes. However, students learned to shortcut this system by turning in questions and outlines that appeared similar to each other and by consulting online sources to formulate their questions. These alternative assignments, in my experience, worked less well than quizzes in encouraging students to complete their reading assignments.
Are there other options? Is it possible to convince students who have grown up with vast informational resources that handheld electronic devices afford them to spend between one to three hours reading in relative seclusion and to not take advantage of online summaries that they can digest in fifteen minutes? Convincing them to read may involve an open discussion at the start of and throughout a semester about what it means to take short cuts and what it means to try to earn full credit without full effort. It may also consist of recalibrating my syllabi, emphasizing texts to which students respond with enthusiasm and granting students more time to negotiate more challenging texts.
However, these responses may be missing the mark because I have yet to ask the right question. Is the practice of reading primary and secondary sources, a practice that demands long isolated stretches of time, the only possible reading objective for an English major? Are there any benefits to reading summaries of literary, theoretical, and critical works rather than their full text? Reading a summary instead of a full text can be productive, and it may be thought provoking for students to read a summary instead of a full text and to reflect on this approach to reading. This could add depth to our discussion about short cuts and the relationship between credit and effort. As I consider using these approaches for an upcoming semester that will involve teaching literary criticism, I realize more and more that my job is not only to teach various genres of literature and criticism but also to teach a critical engagement with the cultures that shape our reading practices.
o Pp. 200 (start of chapter) to 220 (up to section break)
By Misun Dokko
In my introductory American Literature II survey course, I emphasize hunkering down and isolating oneself within the walls of literary or critical narrative for an hour or more. I think my English majors struggle to read because reading requires long stretches of relative isolation and fixed attention on a singular text. Such isolation and fixation runs counter to the ways we Facebook, tweet, text, Youtube, blog, and work, not apart from each other but as overlapping tasks. While studies have shown that such multitasking has benefits and limitations, engaging in those debates is not my concern here because the fact is my students are already technological savvy multi-taskers.
My students’ reluctance to read and their use of shortcuts led me down the path of instituting frequent reading quizzes that ask questions that online summaries neglect. Over the course of the semester, some students accepted the disciplinary nature of quizzes and relent, reading more diligently and beginning to read when they didn’t before. Quizzes work…to an extent. The effort is inconsistent, and students who appeared to have read, which they demonstrated through discussion, have difficulty receiving above a C on the quizzes. In addition, students tend to view quizzes as punitive and this may detract from their engagement with the class.
I’ve also responded by assigning discussion questions and outlines of texts in lieu of quizzes. Students learned to navigate this system by turning in questions and outlines that appear similar to each other and by consulting online sources to formulate their questions. These alternative assignments, in my experience, work less well than quizzes in promoting reading primary sources.
Are there other options? Is it possible to convince students who have grown up with vast informational resources that handheld electronic devices afford them to spend between one to three hours reading in relative isolation and to not take advantage of online summaries that they can digest in fifteen minutes? Convincing them to read may involve an open discussion at the start of a semester about what it means to take short cuts and what it means to try to earn full credit without full effort. It may also consist of recalibrating my syllabi, emphasizing texts to which students respond with enthusiasm and granting students more time to negotiate more challenging texts.
I grasp for the right follow-up assignment to further encourage reading. Quizzes? Discussion questions? Outlines? None of these are an adequate response. I struggle because I ought to question the very objective of reading primary sources that demand long, isolated stretches of time. Maybe I ought to ask whether there are benefits to reading a summary rather than a full text. If there are benefits, then I ought to assign a summary instead of a full text and have students reflect on this approach to reading. This could add depth to our discussion about short cuts and the relationship between credit and effort. As I consider using these approaches for an upcoming semester that will involve teaching literary criticism, I realize more and more that my job is not only to teach various genres of literature and criticism but also to teach a critical engagement with the cultures that shape our reading practices.o Pp. 230 (starting with the final paragraph: “From her nineteenth-century vantage point, George Eliot …”) to 231 (end of chapter)
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