College Writing is a Changin'

Yesterday the current EBHS Rutgers Expository Writing team (so Stacey, Cunningham, Soder, Brady, and me) and my boss took a meeting with two coordinators from the Rutgers Writing Program (Abigail Reardon and Brian Becker) and they explained the direction the course would be taking next September-- they were already currently modeling this new direction with a couple classes but they were going to "scale up" and completely revamp the course next year; anyway, the class WAS a synthesis non-fiction argument course-- the kids read long, dense, fairly difficult college level non-fiction pieces about far-ranging adult ideas-- organized complexity, criminal behavior, economics, sexual selection, sexism in a self-designated military academy, etcetera . . . great stuff-- and they learned to use these texts to formulate a sophisticated independent academic argument within the parameters of the textual evidence provided, without tangential anecdotes, outside sources, and random bullshit . . . and they did the same task over and over, with different texts, but the rules were always the same and the grades were NOT averaged-- instead they received the highest grade they sustained on any two essays . . . so it was more of a sports model where the kids really struggled on the first two papers, generally did not pass them, but then got better and better and received a grade for how good they got at the task, not an average of all their attempts-- anyway, it was a great class, I wish I had it before I went to college-- it taught our students how to formulate a thesis and an argument, how to complicate that thesis and go beyond compare/contrast, how to weave evidence into a paragraph, how to synthesize terms and ideas from different texts, and how to parse and understand a dense text . . . but apparently kids are struggling to do this at Rutgers, according to Abby and Brian, so the course is changing drastically-- in their words, the old course trained students to be "scholars" while the new course will invite kids to be "writers" . . . so the new course has four "projects," and while they are not fully fleshed out, this is my best description:

1. a personal essay with some modeling of techniques-- they called this the "College Essay 2.0"-- and this is ironic because years ago, when we first teamed up with Rutgers, they were very disdainful about our Composition Class that we ran for community college credit because it had a lot of reading examples and modeling rhetorical devices-- they thought that was sophomoric silliness and said so-- but now they are doing this themselves;

2. a synthesis essay with 4-5 short articles and a proposal-- this sounds vaguely like what we are currently doing, but with easier texts;

3. some response to a Radiolab podcast-- this might be synthesis or it might be the bridge to assignment number four;

4. an investigation into some question you'd like to think about during your four years in college-- and this can be multimodal-- so a website or a video or whatever-- they showed us a "beautiful" example that did look very nice-- it was a website made on Adobe that had lovely (stock) images and a cool layout-- use of a template!-- and was about how music soothed this girl's anxiety and had a citation from her friend Todd . . . it was pretty much journal entries-- and they told a story about a lousy student who figured out a good topic -- cricket!-- and he wrote about the progression and evolution of cricket-playing in our locality . . . so a cute assignment and one that smart kids will run with and not-so-smart kids will struggle with . . .

anyway, I took a bunch of notes (and also noticed that the Rutgers folk were zooming from home . . . it must be nice) and you can present anything to me and it sounds fine-- I'm like, whatever, I'll do that-- but Cunningham and Powers and our boss Jess process things much faster than me (they don't call me Delayed Reaction Dave for nothing . . . I got all pissed off about our new schedule a year after it was implemented, much to the amusement of the fast-thinking ladies) and they realized that this course was a major dumbing down of the old synthesis course and that this course is very similar to our English 12 community college credit course (except that course might be more rigorous) and while we didn't raise all these issues with Rutgers, we now have to decide what to do . . . and we have some theories as to what happened at Rutgers, from clues from Abby and Brian and from our own thoughts-- first of all, it used to be that it was impossible to place out of the Rutgers Expository Writing course, so everyone took it-- even the smart kids-- but lately, you can place out of it a variety of ways-- community college credits, AP scores, taking the course in high school-- so that the kids who have to take it freshman year at Rutgers are not the best students AND there is a major decline in college applications this year, more kids are dropping out than ever, kids experienced learning loss during COVID, and Rutgers pulls from a wide variety of schools . . . SO the kids can't pass the old College Writing course-- my wife says that her lesson plans that worked for twenty years of fifth grade math no longer work-- the kids can't do certain abstract and creative thinking since COVID . . . this was a lot for me to take in, but Cunningham has already outlined a new course that scaffolds the old Expository synthesis stuff in some better manner and I guess we'll present this to Rutgers because our kids are capable of doing this course and it's really beneficial for them while the new class just seems watered down and not that relevant to writing in other disciplines . . . I'm sure there will be more to this story and plenty more to synthesize and figure out but it looks like College Writing is a changing.

Miracle at the Wawa

Yet another sentence set at the Wawa-- and NOT at the Starbucks, I might add . . . there are ZERO sentences on this blog set at Starbucks because I've never been inside a Starbucks . . . I refuse to spend that much money for coffee and-- if I followed Cunningham's orders-- this Miracle at the Wawa might not have happened at all because she wanted me to pick her up some kind of crazy sugary barely caffeinated drink at Starbucks (she's pregnant and not drinking coffee) but I told her I wasn't going to Starbucks and I would pick her up anything she wanted as long as it was at the Wawa and we had an interesting debate/discussion  in front of her AP Lang. class and then I drove to the Wawa to get a sandwich and to pick up a very complicated coffee order for Stacey; I ordered my sandwich on the little touchscreen and then I built Stacey's drink, which consisted of half a 20 oz. cup of some frothy extreme caffeine Mocha Wake Up out of a big multi-multi-nozzled machine, then 1/3 cup of dark roast from the regular coffee urn, and then a dollop of Irish Creme coffee creamer . . . and then I got in line and while I was standing there, holding her giant complex coffee drink, the little cardboard band that keeps you from burning your hand broke and her 20 oz. coffee slid through the broken band and fell and-- without even thinking-- I dropped my hand two feet down, lightning fast, fucking lightning fast and I caught the cup-- and did not spill a drop-- I caught the cup with exactly the right amount of force so that it fell no farther but I didn't crush it-- it was a fucking miracle-- and-- Testify!-- the guy behind me in line saw the whole thing and he was like, "That was amazing" and I said, "Yeah, that would have been a big mess" and I was very glad that someone Witnessed this Miracle and I am certainly a Blessed Figure on this Earth.

Nothing Romantic

Catherine, Ian, and I had a fun (but not very romantic) Valentine's Day-- we watched episode five of The Last of Us, which was gripping and compelling and scary and violent and tragic-- but had zero romance-- and then we went to the Rutgers basketball game and watched Nebraska shoot the eyes out of the basket, while the Rutgers crew hesitated on threes, threw away passes, botched lay-ups, and missed free throws . . . fun to be there but what a mess.

William Carlos Williams vs. Wallace Stevens: Adjective Smackdown!

 New episode of We Defy Augury up and it's a good one-- as close to being in my Creative Writing class as it gets . . . "William Carlos Williams vs. Wallace Stevens: Adjective Smackdown!"

Nice Work, Kids

It's official-- both my kids can properly shoot a basketball (and they learned to do it sooner than I did . . . I think it took me until I was 24 before I could shoot with proper form and spin).

Why Roger Goodell . . . Why?

It's Sunday night, I'm wiped out and want to pack it in and get ready for school tomorrow, but we're off to a SuperBowl party-- and I'm not complaining about that, it's wonderful to have friends and to be invited places-- but why not do this shindig on Saturday night?-- why torture all the working people?

Things I Learned Recently (For the Next Time)

I've now hit the age where I can have three alcoholic drinks and feel okay the next morning, but if I have four alcoholic drinks then I'll feel pretty awful the next morning . . . so that's how I felt this morning, but I took some Advil, shook it off, and went to the gym with my son-- I lifted weights but he got involved in a pick-up basketball game so we stayed for a while, and I watched the first half of the Rutgers basketball game while I was working out-- lifting weights, walking backwards on the treadmill, rowing, etcetera . .  and it was stress free-- so that's what I learned-- when you watch your team while you're working out, you don't yell and scream and curse at the TV-- you release your stress through exercise . . . but then we drove home and caught the second half, and I yelled and screamed and cursed and Rutgers totally collapsed and I should have stayed at the gym for the entire game-- next time: three drinks and I stay at the gym, next time.

Game, Set, Dave is Old

When my son Ian was a sophomore I could still occasionally win a set when I played him in tennis; last year, his junior season, I could still take plenty of games off him; the past two days, we had some unseasonable warm weather so we went out and hit together and played some and it looks like now I'll be struggling to win points when I play him (but I'm sure hitting with him helps my game more than his-- so when I play my usual competitors, who are aging at the same pace I am, I'll be a leg up because of hitting with Ian, who is at the point where he's just getting bigger and stronger every day).

Pet Paradox

My vet still requires masking . . . for people-- but pets don't have to wear masks and they are the patients!

Tomorrow, I Just Might Start Playing Video Games . . . Tomorrow

 

New episode of We Defy Augury up-- I read Gabrielle Zevin's novel about creativity, collaboration, and video-game design Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Simon Parkin's book Death by Video Game: Tales of Obsession from the Virtual Frontline and this (along with an article about Dead Space at The Ringer) sent me on a long, nostalgic, philosophical and reflective journey . . . check it out, and if you've got the time, leave a review on Apple podcasts . . . "Tomorrow, I Will Play Video Games, Tomorrow."

Salad Days of Dave

Making a salad in the morning to bring for lunch seems like a great idea in the AM-- healthy, nutritious, delicious and fibrous-- but then when lunch time rolls around, that salad is not as appetizing, and feels a bit paltry-- especially if you forget the dressing.

That Was Only Monday?

Full on Monday today . . . as a model narrative, I told a story in Public Speaking I haven't recounted in a while-- the time Catherine and I took a bus from Damascus, Syria to Cappadocia, Turkey-- a twenty-hour ride for only seven dollars?- but the bus broke down at the border and the driver escorted us (and the dozen or so other passengers) to a decrepit mosquito-ridden gas station waiting room and then some other guy drove the bus into the darkness behind the building-- it was 3:30 AM-- and it was quite cold in the gas station waiting room so I told the driver my wife and I were cold (in my caveman Arabic) and that I wanted to get our jackets and he said the bus was broken and I couldn't do that but I finally got fed up and walked into the darkness around the back of the building and I found our bus and there were some guys inserting tubes into various hidden plastic containers in every nook and cranny of the bus-- even under the walkways inside the bus-- and then I realized why the tickets were so cheap-- this bus wasn't for transporting people, it was for smuggling gasoline over the border-- gas was subsidized and cheap in Syria and more expensive in Turkey, so after the guys had filled all the containers and canisters with gas, the bus was "fixed" and we headed to Goreme National Park-- but the bus dropped off on the main highway road sixty miles short of our destination-- the driver said a minibus would come along eventually, but instead Catherine stuck her thumb out and a truck driver picked us up and brought us all the way to our destination-- definitely one of the most scenic places we ever visited-- houses and Byzantine churches carved in the soft stone and labyrinthine underground cities to explore. . . and I told this story because I have some Middle Eastern kid in my first period class and I thought they'd enjoy it-- which they did-- but they informed me that, coincidentally, last night there was a terribly powerful earthquake right at the border of Syria and Turkey, right where our bus stopped-- so that was weird-- and then I covered PE class second period-- and I had what I now call "jailhouse" PE . . . first the kids walk in a circle and then I covered a split class of ping-pong and weight-lifting, so three premier jailhouse activities-- then another Public Speaking class, then down to the Library . . . excuse me, Media Center . . . for peer-editing, then an endless faculty meeting with an extensive presentation on the dangers of substance abuse . . . and wow, according to this lady, kids are really abusing all sorts of substances: THC, Delta 8, edibles, nicotine vapes, fentanyl, etcetera . . . drugs are easier than ever to get, hide, ingest, and abuse and she had all kinds of horror stories from the local emergency rooms-- but apparently vaping is horrible for you, vaping ANYTHING . . . heavy metals, weird particles, deeper lung penetration, unregulated chemicals and dosages-- scary stuff-- and kids are eating huge doses of edibles (or even dosing their classmates) and exhibiting some nutty behaviors . . . but perhaps we'll sort all this out on Tuesday.

Good (Dog Defecation) Deed

Today at the dog park, when this older guy's dog Max pooped in the far corner, I went and picked it up and disposed of it-- and I didn't even mention this to the dog's owner, a nice older gent named George, so this was a true altruistic act, a true good deed for which I received no credit . . . so it is now likely that upon my deathbed, I will receive total consciousness (or some such comparable benediction).

Uh . . . Wow . . . TV?

The third episode of The Last of Us-- the HBO show based on the video game with the same name-- is some very ambitious, very emotional, very amazing TV . . . the episode is really a film unto itself (it reminds me of the Station 11 episode Baby Boom in that respect) when the show takes a worthy detour in time and place to show us Nick Offerman as a survivalist prepper bizarro-world version of his most beloved character, Ron Swanson, with a compelling twist (the other fabulous cameo appearance is Murray Bartlett, another great actor who absolutely stole the show as Armand in White Lotus).

How to Get a Seat at Salt

After many fruitless attempts, my wife and I finally got a seat at Salt during happy hour; Salt is an upscale seafood joint in New Brunswick with a small bar and an excellent (but very short) happy hour: it only runs from 3 PM - 5PM . . . perhaps we were able to get a seat because it was bitterly cold and windy-- we barely made it across the bridge with getting frostbite-- but it was worth it, delicious oysters and tuna and rock shrimp and fish tacos . . . and they make some excellent drinks, as well. 

Dave Educates the Youth?

We had our first "Show and Tell" session with the new Creative Writing kids today-- they read something from the world that they find interesting and things took an odd turn in pop music history; the first student read the bit from American Psycho where Bateman chats about Huey Lewis and the News (and then murders Allen with an axe) and the second student read some lyrics from a Pantera song . . . none of the other students knew either of these bands, of course, so I had to "educate" them-- we took a gander at Huey Lewis's feathered hair in the "Power of Love" video and I showed what the next level of metal looked like in the 1990s . . . "Cowboys from Hell" . . . anyway, a weird and wild start to this Show and Tell session-- what will this wacky kids bring in next week?

Groundhog Day (on Groundhog Day)

It's mid-year . . . mid-terms are over and it's back to the repetitive grind; I did "first day of school stuff" in my three semester classes: learned a bunch of names, went over the rules-- no cell phones!-- and did all the icebreakers and such; covered several classes, including a couple of PE classes (one class was abysmal at ping-pong, leading me to lecture my College Writing classes about the sports they need to learn how to play before they go away to college: darts, pool, ping-pong, corn-hole, volleyball, and spike ball) and generally felt like we are on infinite repeat . . . no snow days, no breaks in sight . . . but soon enough we'll be over the hump (and it is getting sunnier in the mornings).

It's February!

Get busy, pack it in and compress yourself-- it's February, you sons of bitches, and you've only got 28 days to get it done this month . . . unless it's a leap year, is it a leap year?-- then you get an extra day and things aren't so dire.

Less Cheese Please

We stopped buying bags of pre-grate cheese (mainly because they have weird chemical additives to prevent clumping) and this had two good outcomes:

1. we eat less cheese;

2. when we grate a block of cheese by hand, the cheese tastes better.

Riley Sager, You Give Genre Fiction a Bad Name

 

Wow . . . this new Riley Sager book The House Across the Lake is a hot mess . . . but it certainly inspired me to think about the rules of genre fiction and lent itself to an episode with many special guests: Bart and Lisa Simpson, Marty and Rust, Steve Martin, God, Alec Baldwin . . . so my advice is DO NOT read this book, listen to my podcast instead: "Riley Sager, You Gives Genre Fiction a Bad Name."