So I’ve been thinking a lot about sessional teaching and it’s advantages/disadvantages. On one hand, I’m utterly convinced that it’s exploitative – it is the grape picking, the piece-working of the education industry. Working conditions are not good. The pay-per-hour rate seems good, but isn’t really a return due the vast amounts of time tutors spend preparing for classes. While there’s the argument that repeat-teaching is more cost-effective for tutors, in practical career terms, there is no reason beyond professional networking to teach a subject more than once – it’s not going to look terribly good on your resume. Most tutors don’t have an office on campus – they usually share space with other tutors. I use a conference room. This has some serious drawbacks: students are less likely to drop in for assistance (an advantage for full time staff, but no good for students). Staff are unlikely to drop in for a chat, to foster collaborative relationships (a topic of great issue to employers) or to provide a little incidental mentoring. Most sessional tutors, though they may take the time to peruse and pilfer the departmental stationary cupboard (I wish I knew where mine was), are more likely to spend their money on printer toner, photocopying paper, pens and bandwidth on teaching. We shall not even begin to discuss the computer facilities available to sessional teaching staff. And let’s not even approach the difficulties of working in an industry with mentors and employers and full time colleagues who are increasingly depressed, frustrated and angry with their own working conditions (I have a theory: sessional staff are mentored in dissatisfaction as much as teaching techniques, particularly as most out-sourced tutors are hired by the most desperate and overworked staff).
So sessional teaching is not a particularly excellent position for the tutors. I’m not even sure it’s a good deal for employers: casual staff who may at whim depart for sunnier climes, casual staff who, while experienced in sessional teaching may not have the research skills, interests or CV of more permanent teachers.
I have heard a number of arguments for sessional teaching – casualised teaching.
1. One can depart for sunnier climes on a whim. Hm. I think that I would trade secure employment for the suspect advantages of uprooting and repositioning.
2. One can pick and choose staff members to teach with, thus securing some sort of professional network which extends beyond one’s supervisor or even one university. Again, I’m not convinced. Most of the ‘early career academics’ in my position teach – or have taught – at more than one campus, in one city or more. This does give you the opportunity to meat more staff, but it also usually means that the staff you’re meeting are incredibly stressed and have little time or energy for mentoring or … whatever else it is you’re supposed to get out of networking. Teaching across universities also prevents you digging in at one institution – making a little nest, really cultivating proper, working mentoring relationships and contacts and perhaps setting yourself up for collaborative research projects or even – gold of golds – research funds.
I can’t really think of any other reasons which are even half as convincing.
I have been trying to convince myself that there are avenues for some sort of tactical exploitation of my own exploitation. I’m not really buying it, I’m afraid. But what have been the advantages of teaching across so many universities and departments?
1. I’ve been able meet and work with some amazing staff. All of these, but 2 (in the four universities I’ve taught at) have been middle aged woman who I have admired, respected and ultimately wanted to be. But I’ve also seen how gender works in university heirarchies. It is women (and the odd reconstructed bloke) who end up with the stooge’s share of heavy-teaching loads. And while they’ve been wonderful to meet and work with (and certainly fabulous in terms of the old girls’ network), I often wonder if it might be a good idea to attach myself to the types of academics whose ambition and general cutthroatedness have helped them avoid the need for sessional assistants. But then, would I want to work with that type of person?
2. I’ve learnt an awful lot. I’ve taught pretty much the same topics and readings and ideas, and had taught the same stuff across the five universities I’ve been involved with. But each department has had a different name: English department; Cultural studies program within an English department; Media Studies program; Communications program; Media within an English, Media and Performing Arts program. It’s been fascinating to see how each of these programs borrow from the same pool of ideas to produce and construct a ‘program’ – an ivory tower, a network of ideas, an ideology (both research and pedagogic) – which is quite unique. And reflects the professional, personal and intellectual interests and needs of the staff involved.
I am utterly unconvinced that all that institutional positioning and course restructuring makes any difference. People like me are still teaching the same things to young people, no matter what the name of the subject/course/degree, the CVs of the convening staff or the publishing profiles of the departmental heads. While the course convenors might intend a new and interesting and cutting edge subject, in practice their financial and employment restrictions necessitate using the same sessional stooges. And it is these stooges who actually do most of the teaching in universities. And course convenors beware: we are constantly negotiating our relationships to what you’re teaching, and there’s a very, very, very good (as in 100%) chance we’re adjusting and tailoring your subject to meet our own intellectual, personal and political goals*.
And it is these stooges who are steadily acquiring mad teaching skills (well, hopefully, but certainly not definitely. Or even possibly), but who ultimately regard sessional teaching as a step to somewhere else, a momentary aberration from a ‘professional’ career in academia. One which does not involve teaching.
But I have learnt a lot. I’ve seen some very good teaching in action, and I’ve seen some very bad. I’ve done my share of each (though I’d hope for a little more of the former, it’s impossible to gauge my own professional development in such an impermanent and constantly-shifting context). I’ve used some excellent readers (most of which could simply be reproduced as some sort of ‘cultural studies in Australia bible’, with a few addenda for localised interests or nods to administrative reshuffles and demands for ‘more digital content’ or ‘more practical applications’). I’ve also managed to keep up with current research – filtered down through the staff I’ve worked with, and occasionally stimulated by a particularly interesting lecture or ‘optional reading’.
3. I’ve had the chance to work with hundreds and hundreds of really bright, really motivated and interested students. Just when I think I hate teaching and never want to do it again, I have a class where someone says something so interesting it’s on my mind for days. Students bring fresh minds to familiar readings, they bring fresh ideas to familiar discourses, and they bring – in many cases – young approaches to increasingly older institutions. Many of the assumptions staff make about viewing habits or media consumption practices or just plain everyday activities are critiqued and challenged by students simply describing what it is they watch on television, where it is they go to eat and how it is they communicate with their friends, families and teachers. I love them.
I’m also struck by just how much many of the overworked staff I deal with love them. They just plain love their stoods. And they take their teaching responsibilities very seriously. Perhaps the hardest thing to see is a staff member bitching about their work load on one hand, and revealing committed, passionate caring for their students and delight in the teaching process on the other. I think that many of these people feel, quite profoundly, that teaching is important, an idea which is particularly unpopular in academia these days.
I would, quite happily, commit myself to a couple of years of doing nothing but teaching undergrads. I’d like to be set up in an office with a computer and a library and a bunch of stationary, and told to teach a bunch of subjects. It’d kick my arse, but I’d really like the opportunity. Even though – as a friend said half in jest the other day – [expressing that desire] ‘is career suicide’. I think that this is perhaps the saddest part of sessional teaching – seeing people who love teaching, who love sharing ideas and listening to students develop an interest in – and passionate attachment to – ideas feel guilt about or some sort of reticence to admit this. I’m not saying that we should all be mad-crazy-Mr-Chips hippy teachers. But I am saying that it seems the worst thing about sessional teaching is that you are faced with learning that teaching is a waste of time, is frustrating, is miserable and just plain bad news. Not terribly encouraging when you’re trying to bust on into this industry.
4. My teaching has inspired new ideas and new plans for papers and research projects which other forms of academic engagement (of which I have precious few) do not. I’m simply inspired by the process of reading and re-reading canonical texts, and then having to find ways of letting students find their own ways to fall in love or in fascination with these ideas. It’s challenging to find class activities or interesting learning and teaching games which make these ideas a) relevant, and b) just plain fun.
I think that the most important part of teaching media and cultural and communications and gender studies is to help students find a way to make this material relevant to their own everyday lives, and to find ways to just plain enjoy playing with it. I mean, de Certeau is fun. He’s dodgy, and his stuff falls, down, but it’s fun to find ways to explore and apply his ideas. And it’s also really, really fun to see students then test out the use-value of this stuff, and to begin to articulate their reservations about concepts. I think this stuff should have some sort of use-value, even if that use is only as an intellectual game, just for the sake of playing.
… but, anyway, I have to end by saying that I’m not terribly hopeful about my future in academia. There aren’t enough jobs. I can’t publish a book (I amn’t really convinced it’s actually all that useful a process anyway). No one gives a crap about dance. Working in universities is generally pretty shit. Perhaps it is better just to stick with sessional teaching, rather than committing myself – so emotionally and so finally – to a full time career in it?
* Some of us are not ready to be postfeminists just yet. Nor are we convinced that newspapers, television, magazines and radio are ‘heritage’ media.
Category Archives: academia
the 9am start was especially difficult today
…but one of my students was wearing this: 
so it was a little easier. It made me giggle a whole lot.
I am really tired. I haven’t had a full, proper night’s sleep in a very, very long time. It’s funny how you get used to broken sleep. I don’t like it, I’m not a nice person, but I’m used to it.
Did I mention that I didn’t like it?
Thank god the tutes are only an hour. I honestly can’t figure out how I’m managing to teach when I’m this tired.
I’m going to blog the SLX soon. I promise. But, really, there’s not much to say beyond ‘I danced a lot’ and ‘I did some DJing’ and ‘I stayed up all night a lot’. This year I didn’t do any stunts, but I did go in a dance competition. Ten years lindy hopping, first comp.
Meh.
Basically, competition nights are terribly, tediously boring, even when you’re in them. Social dancing is better.
But getting to the finals of a Jack and Jill as a lead where I was expected to lead >240bpm was a bit much.
goodness me
This past week I was teaching psychoanalysis. Or more specifically, a bit of Freud and then a bit of other people using and abusing Freud. This may entertain a few of you who know my feelings about psychoanalysis and Freud. We’re not friends. But the reading for the subject was from this neat text by Cranny Francis et al and I liked it – I’ve even bought the book because it gave such a useful overview of this stuff, especially in reference to gender, and I’m collecting useful resources. For The Future.
Any how, we ended up saying p3nis, vag1na, shit, poo and a few other things quite a lot of times. I was all ‘blah blah blah’ and ‘let’s see what the difference between the phallus and the p3nis is’ and forgot to remember that firsties are afraid of naked body words. I mean, each semester I realise they’re also afraid of body hair on women (not having seen any, ever), and get a bit freaked out when I wear a sleeveless shirt as we move into summer. Any how, it took them a while, but eventually they eased up and could manage to use The Words. Not with much comfort, but use them they did. Eventually.
This is actually a more complicated issue than you might realise, especially in the context of teaching a class that’s 80% international or first gen Australian students, many of whom come from families or cultures where it’s totally not on to talk about this stuff in public, especially not in mixed-sex settings, across generations and across heirarchies. Part of me was all ‘oh come on, when I was a lass and doing gender studies we had to use the c word in my feministah classes’. And sure, we were bad ass (though I have to say, it was a bit rough on some of the private school kiddies who hadn’t gone to a rough outer suburbs public high school), but it was a bit challenging at first. I remember being amazed by the thought of ‘reclaiming’ the word. I was used to it being yelled at me out of bus windows as I rode my bike home. I didn’t much care for it, personally, and wasn’t really ready to use it, let alone reclaim it.
But I was surprised by the shyness of my stoods. I guess it’s an age thing – when you’re a teenager sex is all new and weird and freaky. You’re busy testing out your preferences (in terms of gender and relationships and what you do in bed and what you wear and … hell, everything) and you’re a bit unsure of most things, and, well, you didn’t make it to the end of the reading, so you’re not actually sure what everyone’s talking about anyway.
And there were moments when I thought ‘ok, am I demonstrating sufficient cultural sensitivity?’ I can be a blunt object, but I think that this stuff needs to be dealt with just as we would any other topic – clearly, in detail, with discussion and – if possible – looking at google maps. Well, not so much with the google maps. But I was careful to be ‘appropriate’ in my approach. And I was. Except for that one moment when I noticed that my usually-very-big hand gestures had suddenly taken a turn for the explicit when we discussed the difference between p3nis and phallus. But that was just funny. And, as I said at the time “a little ambitious, even for Freud’s neuroses.”
So anyway, this bunch of relatively outspoken Young People were quite shy and at first reluctant to talk. But then they relaxed and really got into it. I couldn’t believe how many people’d done the reading – numbers’d jumped massively from the week before. And it was a long reading with some quite challenging bits. I mean, Lacan + Freud + Saussere + Cixous and lots of other people, all in one reading? I know it took me a while to get through it all, and I’ve read this stuff before.
But they were all really into this, they were just interested and excited about the ideas. Freud always polarises students, and it was neat to see them get in their 3-people groups and hack into the Oedipal complex. Who would’ve thought?
it could just be that nerds – no matter their flavour – love to talk to other nerds about stuff they love
I’ve been crapping on about DJing on the SwingDJs board. I started a thread called mad skillz: mentoring, encouraging and skilling up (new) DJs. As with all threads I’ve begun with long, expository posts that don’t really make much sense and which tend to be far to theoretical, the thread has been languishing. Kind of like my tutorials when I ask a long question which is really a bit of exposition or otherwise impossible to answer.
But someone asked a question which caught my interest, so I’m going to answer it here, at length.
I made this comment (in a post that was far too long):
One thing I’ve noticed – if a scene values social dancing and has quite a tight community vibe, there’s a strong emphasis on skilling up new DJs. But the local culture dictates how this skilling up is achieved.
(Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 20:40, first page of the thread at URL above)
And Haydn replied:
Can I ask you – in practice, how does this ‘tight community vibe’ translate into DJs helping each other?
I’m going to answer this at length here, rather than cluttering up that discussion board with my own opinions/rambles.
I have to reiterate: I’m working largely from an Australian perspective, with only a bit of international experience. I’m sure things are vary in different places.
‘A tight community vibe’ needn’t actually translate into DJs helping each other. I don’t see it very often, but I’m sure there’ve been times when a DJ has made it difficult for a new DJ or experienced DJ to ‘break into’ a scene – to preserve their own status, to preserve their own profits, etc.
Also, definitions of ‘community’ (and who’s actually considered part of that community) are ideologically and politically loaded. Do you count west coast swing dancers as part of your ‘swing’ community? Rock and rollers? People from other dance schools/studios? Musicians? People you don’t know?
When I say a ‘tight community vibe’, I’m thinking about scenes where people articulate some sense of ‘communitas’ or identify themselves as part of a scene or community with some sort of pride, protectiveness, etc.
But how might that translate to DJs helping each other?
Well, if a local scene has an active social club or organisation who also run social events, then that club might have an incentive to manage DJs quite carefully – so new DJs will get a bit of mentoring or coaching. I’ve noticed that gigs run by a smaller more coherent group – or by one person, or coordinated by someone who really cares about the DJing/social dancing – often manage the DJs more carefully. If the night is only one of many, is managed by an inexperienced dancer (or DJ) or isn’t actually ‘valued’ terribly highly, the DJing might be less strictly managed. Also, interestingly, if an event (or club) has a particularly fervent revivalist bent (ie they’re really really really into historical ‘accuracy’), they’re also pretty anal about music and about ‘teaching’ their DJs to like the ‘right’ music. But people might ‘manage’ DJs for other reasons – nepotism, interpersonal rivalries, failed romances, burning desires, professional networking, etc – all might affect who hires whom for which gigs.
I’ve noticed that these trends increase as a scene develops – in a newer scene, for example, where there are fewer DJs, there’s less ‘regulation’ of DJing: people are just happy to have someone play some music. As DJing becomes increasingly ‘professionalised’ or formalised in a scene (eg introducing pay rates, introducing a DJ roster, introducing preferences for particular types of music), then it becomes more ‘regulated’. It can also become less accessible. I’ve wondered if this is as a scene or community grows it also develops increasingly complex modes of cultural production and management (whether we’re talking DJing, dancing, dress making, event management, website design, whatever). Also, people figure out that formalised ways of working together can be useful on large projects – a camp has ‘rules’ for teachers (whether unspoken or not), an exchange is run by a group who become a nonprofit organisation to deal with tax and insurance, a social night has formal (or informally enforced) ‘no aerials’ rules for public safety.
What I’ve noticed (and I guess I’m talking about Australian examples, and only very vaguely in reference to the US, etc) is that if a local scene has quite a close community – ie people volunteering their time for events, events run by committees with a ‘community development’ agenda and ethos rather than (or in addition to) a profit motive, etc – then there’s a greater interest in ‘skilling up’ DJs – for the community’s benefit. More experienced DJs are more likely to volunteer to mentor new DJs in that context out of a spirit of ‘communitas’ or ‘doing good stuff for the community’.
There are other reasons for managing new DJs, though – profit motive is a good one, especially if you’re in a scene where dancers really value or care about the quality of DJing. Or plain old competition for cultural capital – a DJ might feel it’s in their interests to discourage new DJs or to not open their night to new DJs (ie they want to keep their status and ward off competitors). If a particular event has a specific musical focus (eg it might want to showcase a particular musical style or moment in history), then there’d also be reason to manage the DJs – if you were (for example), interested in running a ‘neo revival’ night, you might favour DJs who play BBVD, etc, and not hire DJs who play old school exclusively. I’ve even played gigs where what I’ve looked like – on stage – has been important: wearing vintage gear was specifically requested… which leads to interesting questions about the ‘performance’ of DJing. And how we might ‘perform’ the role of ‘vintage music fan’ or ‘swing dancer = vintage costume fan’ for an audience of non-dancers, for example. [That last bit is interesting in the light of things like the Facebook group ‘Embracing my embarrassing swing adolescence’ which seems largely to be about aesthetics and protocols of swing dance fashion – ie what not to wear]
There’s also another interesting aspect to all this. Throughout much of the academic literature dealing with online communities, authors note the importance of ‘answering questions’, especially in an established and well-moderated online ‘community’. People might answer questions for a number of reasons: to help out; to demonstrate their own knowledge (and status); to test their own knowledge; to enter into the discussion (and hence participate in the community – basically, answering simply as a way of getting into the conversation and enjoying the process of answering and discussing questions); etc etc etc.
I’ve always been interested in noticing what type of people answer what types of questions in swing dance discussion boards. In the years I was gathering data for my doctoral thesis (and before), I was really surprised by some of my findings. Sure, the data suggested all this stuff, but I was really hoping to find that how we play online wasn’t so tightly bound to gender. But I found that female posters tend to be quicker to offer assistance (eg hosting, info, etc), but that they mightn’t do so publicly (they’re almost always over-represented in offering condolences, giving positive feedback, compliments and proffering kind words generally). Men are more likely to post ‘information’ or ‘facts’, and to disagree. There are exceptions, but on the whole these tropes are consistent, and they also correlate with the way we talk in groups face to face. I’m also interested in the way the threaded discussion echoes ‘formal turn taking’ in a meeting – which is something all-male groups tend to favour (whereas women tend to favour a more casual, more interrupting/cooperative meaning-making approach). There are also ethnic issues at work here – I was at a fascinating book launch the other day for indigenous literacy day: the speeches and discussion was very very different to the usual middle class ‘literati’ book launch: a room full of koori ladies don’t really do formal turn taking :D.
This is partly to do with how we’re socialised (which of course will result in regional variations), but also to do with the social/cultural context of online communication, especially on something like a discussion board. I’ve been wondering how Facebook changes all that, especially as it’s far more accessible than something like a discussion board.
All this might mean, in the context of DJs helping each other, that women are more likely to answer questions via private message or to ask for help via private message, and less likely to post publicly on the board generally. It also suggests that people post answers and ‘help each other’ for a range of reasons.
SwingDJs is a tricky case study as DJing generally is so male-dominated: there are more men posting regularly here than women, for example (which could be a result of the culture of online communication rather than directly correlating to the number of women DJs IRL).
Something I’ve noticed: experienced DJs, no matter what their gender, are generally very helpful and welcoming to new DJs. They mightn’t be very good at actually helping or communicating their welcome, but they certainly want to be helpful and care about this stuff. This might be a trickle-on effect from the revivalist impulses of contemporary swing dance generally – there’s this impetus towards ‘recruiting’ new dancers, so as to ‘preserve’ historic dance forms.
Or it could just be that nerds – no matter their flavour – love to talk to other nerds about stuff they love.
low level anxiety
I have to write some lectures RIGHT NOW. Stop procrastinating, you! Stop thinking about pop ups!
I have to DJ tonight, but haven’t even thought about my music in the two weeks since I last DJed. I’m also doing a blues set on Sunday night, and I certainly haven’t thought enough about that lately. So I have to spend some time with my laptop, listening to music.
I have to go to the library to (hopefully, fingers crossed) find a nice reading on advertising, from a cultural studies or media studies perspective, which involves or at least refers to semiotics and ‘ideology’, as a sort of follow-on from the previous two weeks (‘intro textual analysis/semiotics’ and ‘ideology’). There’s a full sick chapter by Johnathon Bignall from Media Semiotics, but I’m using him elsewhere (week on news values, to be precise). Goddamn copryight, goddamn it.
I have a short list of other stuff, but the library is kind of bare this time of year, particularly in Melbourne, where the libraries are full of computers and stoods facebooking on them and decidedly bare of books. Ordinarily, that’s fine by me – bring on the ebooks (Goddess bless them). But some of the Olden Days books (as in, the ones from before the 90s) aren’t on the internet. So I need the paper ones.
I had to trek all over the universe last week (three universities, 4 libraries) looking for a copy of Thwaites, Davis, et al’s Tools for Cultural Studies (in whichever editorial incarnation). I’m not a dumbarse, so I’m pretty sure I didn’t stuff up the whole ‘using the catalogue’ thing, but I’m pretty sure one copy’s not enough for a giant university. I ended up buying the latest edition (to replace my collection of photocopies from a very early edition) and it cost me FAR TOO FREAKIN’ MUCH. But I know it will be useful, as I’ve managed to use it nearly every year since I first did my undergraduate degree with messirs Thwaites, Davis et al.
–a short, impassioned digression—
But I did manage to find a copy of Cohen and Young’s The Manufacture of News: social problems, deviance and the mass media, which was an absolute nostalgia-thon. Oh, news values, how I love you. How I loved Stuart Hall when we first met. It was love at first skim-read. How I adored that book. I miss those days. When I was all about newspapers and developed mad microfilm skills. When Galtung and Ruge were fully sick and cultural studies was first listed in my wicked kewl book. Sigh. Then they made the internet and it all changed. Goodbye microfilm reader headaches, hello monitor headaches.
—
I have to buy some groceries. Milk. Bread.
I have to catch up with about half a dozen people I haven’t seen lately.
I HAVE TO MAKE POPS! Last night I had pop up dreams. It’s just like when I was going through a lol-making frenzy. Disturbed sleep. Decline in existing communication skills, incline in new ‘skills’…
Yoga still rocks. I am half moon queen. Not so much with the down dog. I just don’t think my arms will ever be straight. I think it’s congenital, and no amount of moving my shoulders up my back body and broadening and flattening of my collar bone will work.
And I have a few DVDs out that I need to watch.
So I have a little low level anxiety, and am dealing with it through the time honoured and much maligned process of procrastination. And there is no better source for that than blogging.
big, long round up
To celebrate a return to blogdom….
That’s some mighty fine balboa right there. Bal is the ‘tighty whitey’ member of the swing dance family. Seriously popular, seriously cool and absolutely fabulous for really sweet leading and following. There’s less ‘room’ for the follow to improvise (though a decent follow can make it work), but that’s really the appeal – the lead has to not only listen to the music and make it work musically for both partners, they also have to be a really good lead to make the whole thing work. ‘Pure bal’ often refers to the stuff in ‘closed’ position – no open position here. But ‘bal-swing’ is often a term used to include all the other stuff going on in a dance like the one above. These terms are (of course) as contentious as you might expect.
I like it, though I rarely dance it. I can lead very little of it, though I really like the challenge. The bal crowd here are really friendly and fun, so it’s always nice to hang out. And because bal is a lot less physically intense than lindy hop (though the tempos are frequently super fast) you can wear nice clothes and avoid looking like a drowned rat at the end of the night. Having said that, I sweat like a fool when I’m leading anything so perhaps that comment is misleading.
In other news, I’m busily preparing for another semester of lecturing and tutoring (casual basis of course :( ) and work has long since begun on MLX8: the Exchange of the Living Dead. It’s big, it’s bold, it’ll be beautiful. If you like to dance de lindy hop (or blues or bal or whatever) you’ll like this year’s MLX. Winter has pretty much arrived here in the ‘wick, though it’s oscillating between heinous autumn and proper winter, really. Not much rain, over all, which is kind of crap, though it’s very misty and foggy and has been pretty bloody cold.
This past weekend I made a nice suit for interviews. It’s blue, made of some sort of stretch and has a sort of pale grey cross-hatch type pattern (very small and discrete). The suit itself includes a nice pencil skirt (tres chic, apparently) with a nice buttoned flap feature thing at the front. The skirt was originally just making use of some left over remnants, so it’s actually made of six panels – two large front and back pieces and a smaller, narrower rectangular strip down the centre front and back. The feature flap thing was also remnants. The buttons cost about $17 for both skirt and jacket, which is mad as the fabric itself was less than $10 a metre. The jacket is really quite pretty – Simplicity 4412 (pattern B, the green jacket in the bottom right hand corner):
I haven’t used contrasting fabric or buttons (just plain blue buttons) and I’ve folded up the wide sleeves to make three quarter sleeves (which looks a lot better than the big sacky ones in the photo. It’s not lined and there aren’t any shoulder pads, though the interfacing is quite stiff and the shoulders do fit quite nicely. I’ve also cut it a bit closer so it fits quite snugly. Overall, it’s very 1930s secretary and gives me the right type of curves. I’m very happy with it. I guess I’m going to have to match it with some sort of heel, as the skirt is over the knee and I want to avoid the frump. But I don’t think I’ll wear it with a shirt under neath as it doesn’t really need it. But perhaps a slip would be a good idea for the skirt.
I also returned to yoga a few weeks ago, after a year’s break. It was like being a complete bubb all over again. The hardest thing was relearning how to lie still and quiet for 10 minutes. But now I’m back to twice a week and I LOVE IT.
ideas
I’m currently thinking about ‘faceplant fatigue’ as a tiny side-thought in a larger article and am collecting articles.
- Why I deactivated by facebook account
- Why do we have Facebook fatigue?
- Social network fatigue?
- Why I’m deleting my facebook account
There are heaps of other neat articles on the sudden ‘rush’ to ditch faceplant, but I’m tickled by the thought of ‘social networking fatigue’. It’s so difficult having friends.
sour grapes
Reading this rant here (and it is a rant, and I do think we should all allow ourselves the luxury of ranting on our blogs – that’s the delight of self-publishing, no?), my immediate thought was “that’s a bit rich.” I mean, the author is one of those young-gun rock star type American academics. She’s sporting a whole lot of academic and social privilege which plebs like myself really don’t have access to.
I also thought “hey, I have a paper in that journal!” And I am, I must admit, extremely excited about my article (it’s a nice one about YouTube and dancers and I’m quite proud of it). It’s not in that special issue of the journal, though it was initially accepted and later politely knocked back (I guess it was bumped for some rock star, right?). As I said, I’m feeling quite chuffed about being in this journal – it’s an International, donchakno? So I’m not all that cool reading that post – what does that make me, sister? Some sort of publisher’s stooge (I wish, I wish – I am so ready to be some publisher’s stooge).
So reading that article, I was a little bit… pooped. I mean, I don’t really think it’s all that cool to snub the very source of a serious part of your cred and status. That’s the action that’s getting her a career. That’s the action that’ll help me get a permanent job (anyone else just loving these semester-by-semester positions? Empowering, no? Terribly punk, yes?) and fund my future jazz spending (wait, I’ll tell you about today’s presents later). That’s the stuff that’ll make the past…15 years of work mean something.
I’m sorry, homegirl, you can’t go making those sorts of calls without expecting some sort of kick up the bum… or perhaps just a polite throat clearing and measured response.
This one by Anne is my favourite so far. I also like Jason’s comment on the original article and his blog entry. You can chase the other responses around the internet yourselves, but you can see the sorts of responses that sat bestest with me.
I think, from my position here, as:
- casually employed lecturer
- unemployed researcher just-finished-(no corrections! – sorry, but I need to remind myself at times like these) PhD-person
- self-employed article-writer and book-maker (oh yes, I can’t help but squeeze those papers out – it’s like blogging: must share, look-at-me-look-at-me-look-at-me!, God, am I the only one?)
- serial paper-giver/self-humiliator
I’d be kissing internet arse, making like I was the biggest bitch o’ the establishment ever if I was in that position.
I mean, isn’t that the scam? We get in there, softly, softly, then we make with the rabble rousing on the quiet, like?
And, finally, the other immediate thought that I had when first reading that initial post was, “hells bells, woman, we’re working in universities, not Médecins Sans Frontières“. Yes, it’d be really nice to think that we were actually out there making people’s lives wonderful, fighting the good fight and all, but at the end of the day we’re working within institutions whose primary goal is to institutionalise people. And to make money. I think it’s a little naive to think that universities now – if ever! – have ever really been about freeing minds, making jiggy with the knowledge and all. I know it’s a wonderful idea, but in practice… let’s be realistic here. Researching and writing in universities is privileged stuff. It’s not easy – it’s damn hard work, especially for n00bs – but it’s pretty freakin’ good work.
And sure, let’s say our academic articles are suddenly free and available to the whole universe. Does that mean that they’re suddenly also well written, accessible and meaningful to most people? I don’t think so… There’s far more to be done to make academic work the people’s work than simply avoiding old school journals. And I do feel that there’s some sort of …arrogance? to the idea that just because our academic work’s out there in the ‘public sphere’ that people’d actually want to read it. Pft. I don’t think so. You know they’d really rather look at kitties. I had that idea when I started in on my PhD work. But maybe that’s just dancers – no time for academic wankery.
…I can’t help thinking about this as I type this. I might be one of those types.
(insert dumb pun about listening to me here)
I’ve been thinking about this in relation to dancers. I’m not sure if dancers are really where they’re heading with that project thought – I think that’s a bit serious and got some political work going on. Dancers just seem kind of … frivelous in comparison. But perhaps that’s interesting in itself. Perhaps it’s worth talking about listening as ‘fun’ as well in terms of participation in serious public discourse.
But I’d like to write about ‘listening with the body’ and the way dancers (especially DJs) listen to music with an ear to dancing. And how partner dancers share the way they hear the music by getting in closed position (and open! because lindy hoppers are badass and don’t need closed to communicate!) and just feeling the way the other person is moving their body. And the truly wonderful, amazing thing about partner dancing is that this isn’t conscious – if we had to stop consciously think ‘hm, how is my partner feeling the beat here?’ the whole thing would collapse. It’s about training your muscles to respond automatically to physical stimuli.
Here’s an example: one of my first ever yoga classes the instructor was pushing on my back, right about where the leader puts their hand. He said “stop pushing back – let me push you into place”. I didn’t even notice that I was pushing back – it was just a matter of, as a follow, my ‘giving back what I was getting’ – returning equal pressure to make a nice connection. So I had to learn to let him move my body about without returning pressure.*
Any how, when you’re partner dancing, you’ve got all this stuff going on in your body, unconsciously. And then the music starts. And your lead ‘sets the tone’ of the relationship/partnership for the dance – they tell you how they feel the bounce (nice and big and Swedish? Miserly and American? Horrifically absent?), and that bounce is the easiest way for you to keep in time – you bounce along to the beat. The harder the music swings (ie the less on-the-beat-abrupt-yuck it is – the longer the delay between beats, the more time squeezed out of every beat), the more time you have to do deeper bounces (this is where I just can’t articulate it – it’s something you have to see and feel), etc etc.
And because you’re a team, you give back an idea of how you’re feeling the music. If they’re a great lead (which is congruent to being a great person in this instance), they’ll respond and incorporate your feeling into the partnership, so it’s not all one-way.
And all this before you even move! You’re still in place just checking each other out, ‘listening’ to the music.
And it’s even more complicated it it’s live music – the band is feeling each other out, they might be checking out the dancers…
It’s all very interesting. Improvisation makes music so much more fun and challenging – anything can happen. So you all have to have really nice connection so you can communicate. You’ve all got to be giving back what you’re getting. Equal pressure.
Any how, I think it’s interesting. And I’m going to send in an abstract, but I’m not sure they’ll dig it. We’ll see.
I’m finding people think my dance stuff is kind of hippy dippy. I feel like one of those fruit loops you meet at conferences who give papers about…, well, that weirdo, completely off-the-wall, nothing to do with anything stuff. I think people hear ‘dance’ and think the way they do when they hear ‘ficto-critical’. But most academics simply don’t dance, ever. And most have never partner danced more than once or twice. And that’s especially the case as the last generation of ackas retire. It kind of proves my point, though – anyone who dances regularly doesn’t think ‘woah, fruit loop’. They give dance as much importance as music or visual texts…
…after all, how come we’re all so keen on words and less interested in nonverbal communication? I mean, I’m not that much of a hippy dippy type. I don’t have any time for crystals or faith healing or past lives. I mean, I even find improvised ‘arty’ dance discomforting (“I’m a tree, I’m a flower!”).
…ok, now I’m ranting and being mean about hippies. I guess I can’t get on that wagon if I grow my own veggies (go tomatoes (even if you are eating my clothes line)! go mutant lettuce refugees! go unbelievable amounts of passion fruit!) using compost from the compost bin (go incredible fertiliser!), don’t bother with makeup or leg shaving (w the goddamn f?), don’t understand high heels and take less time getting ready to go out than The Squeeze. And that no car/love bike thing? Not exactly pushing me to the mainstream.
But come on – you know what I mean when I’m talking about the fruit loop types. That’s not me, ok? I’m, like, TOTALLY normal! Rrlly!!1!!
*aside: this is where I feel ‘compression’ comes from – you give back the pressure your partner gives you (unless they’re super-tense, but that’s a different story). For the equilibrium made by that equal-return of pressure to become them actually moving you, you allow the pressure to build up until it sort of ‘tips’ you over into moving. It’s really hard to explain, but it’s not a matter of just immediately doing as your partner moves you – you have to return the pressure until you reach the point of ‘critical mass’ where they then initiate movement. There are all sorts of other things going on (including what they’re doing with their bodies – are they moving their body weight?), but it’s sort of working around that idea.
teaching tools
So I’m all lined up to do some serious teaching next semester. The bit that I’m most interested in is coordinating the subject I did last semester. I’ll be able to put together a reader that suits what I’m teaching, I’ll get to rework some of my weaker lectures and tutorials, and I’ll be able to redo the assessment. There’s lots of admin work involved, but I’m actually not too bad at that stuff – MLX has made me strong. Plus I quite like the ob-con-ness of sorting and organising and making lists.
One of my first jobs will be getting some feedback from the sessional staff who taught with me on that subject last year. I want to know what worked, what didn’t, what they’d like to see on the subject (or ditched).
The next job will be working through the lectures and reworking the weeks – dumping the dumb stuff, strengthening the good stuff, adding in some useful stuff that was missing last year. I’m aiming for your basic intro to media studies/communications/cultural studies subject, including some really safe, useful ‘textual analysis tools’ (this is something the department really wants), some stuff about media industries and some stuff about audiences. I’m (mentally) dividing the subject up into those three parts (n those that order), and hoping to have three manageable (and hopefully cumulative rather than discrete) pieces of assessment to go with each (though that’s something that needs to be discussed).
I’d like a reader that had a greater emphasis on Australian cultural/media studies (especially in reference to the industry stuff… for obvious reasons), and including some more up-to-date readings (ie not stuff from the 80s… unless it’s something particularly important or awesome).
I’m also keen on strengthening the weekly tutorial exercises. I’m ordinarily not the hugest fan of this stuff, but this type of weekly mini self-assessment is important and can be really useful. Putting together a comprehensive weekly exercise (which isn’t too long) is also a nice way of making sure I structure my lectures properly (which I’m kind of anal about anyway), make the readings really relevant and giving the students an idea of the most important points in that week’s topic.
All this is for a first year subject, so I have to keep it pretty simple. It also has to work as a ‘teaser’ for later subjects – it has to convince these guys in the general arts degree that media studies/cultural studies/communications is fun and interesting and useful.
I’m a big fan of multimedia components in the teaching and learning tools, but I was very unhappy with webct last year. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get into moodle or another hardcore online teaching tool. But I do think it’s important to have some sort of online component, particularly for teaching across campuses, and teaching students who don’t spend much time on campus.
I am thinking about just using a plain, simple blog. Something like this one (but obviously not this one) which is super easy to navigate, allows me to embed youtube clips, add in useful links, upload lecture notes, etc. I do have reservations about uploading lecture notes to a public forum, though. This is where it’s actually a good idea to have a site where you must log in to get the good stuff.
I have considered other options like druple (bllurgh) and plone, but if I’m going that way, I really think I should use something designed for teaching – like moodle or webct. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to have students learn how to use a whole new system/site, just for one subject. And I’m not keen on learning myself – it’s not really worth the effort.
I also think it’s a good idea to use sites that students are already comfortable with. For obvious reasons. This of course leads us straight to faceplant and myspace. But I’m not happy with faceplant. I don’t want to encourage students to use such a massive data-gathering business tool.
There is, however, the google option. Google docs is something we’re considering using for MLX this year – a central collection point for files and discussions and email and things. But once again, it does require students learning a new system, signing up for new accounts and so on.
So my questions are:
– is it ok to use a blog where the lecture notes are public? My feeling is no.
– should I use something like plone which can have a public ‘face’ yet also requires students to log in to access notes?
– should I just suck it up and use webct?
All of this is very interesting and quite exciting. I’m looking forward to teaching with confidence material I know well, and to being able to strengthen what I’ve already done without starting from scratch. It’ll also be nice to not be working to such a full-on, heinous schedule, writing lectures as I go through the semester.