Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Stiletto


Oxblood leather with gold
cap toes do not sway
a sharp and jarring gait.

Urgency can indeed be
felt through the soles like
a surprise microphone
in front of millions.

She sees she is
a tempest on thorns
attempting to pierce concrete -
knowing her heels
could double as
weapons.

Once a woman under-
stands this spindle of
influence, her walk be-
comes staccato flashes
of lightening.

After a trip down un-
carpeted paths, she
knows the fury sound –
that thwap – thwap
pulse like the beginning
of a disco anthem - or
impatience.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Cease and De-Cyst


It’s not like cancer left
the lump on my wrist like
some malleable fleshy super
ball.  Instead, this annoying
knob is purely courtesy of
neurons refusing to communicate
and years of shelving
heavy Engineering journals in the
library.  I’m sure Shakespeare Quarterly
had nothing to do with this benign
bump. 

The doctor remarks that it used to be
common for people to smash the
swelling with a Bible.  Convinced
only a King James version could drive
out such a painful protuberance,
I inform him that broken bones and
surgery will not be necessary.  Besides,
after spending considerable time waiting and
squishing my little ganglion cyst in the
fluorescent front room, I scanned all
coffee tables only to find that even The
Gideons forgot this
office.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

So the Dolphin Decided


Oh stupid scuba man
It’s you again.
Take your tank and flippers and get
Out of my natural habitat – besides –
National Geographic has already beaten you to it.

Of course I know how to speak English
You fucking moron – and if I felt
like being a battering ram today, I’d relieve
you of that ridiculous air contraption.  Yes –
I’d puncture that fucker just for the pleasure
of watching bubbles rise and burst brightly like
(what do you call that thing again…?)
a disco ball.  That’s right, it would be
a god-damned disco down here.
But you would never know
because you’re always running out of air.

You’d better get back to your boat before
my brothers (Frank and Joe) return. 
They've done hard time at Sea World, you know.
Furthermore, I have my own land gadget to test.
Yes – that’s right – I've decided to know
the feeling of dirt on my dorsal.
So I’ll put on my land-suit (designed to keep
my skin moist) and maybe I’ll come
observe you in your home/office/church.

But – I wouldn't hold my breath
(pun intended) because
my sonar senses tell me that the ground
isn't that fucking great after all.  

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Laboratory


I swear I can feel my own cilia
fondling intruders
the way a redneck might with ripened
seventeen year old stepdaughters.

Giving nematodes two heads
is easy.  I just have to be steady
and bored.  And no, this parasite
did not consume itself.

So the fetal pig’s heart is in the wrong
place.  It happens to humans too.  Freaks
living normally within the boundaries
of biology.

If I stare at the serum on the slide
long enough, my mitochondria will
make music again like Melissa Etheridge’s
lung capacity.

I've held a scalpel –
I know how important it is
to breathe.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Dermis


And it was anchovies I tasted
As you cock-swabbed the inside
Of my cheek
Calling it science

Epithelial indeed lies
Like icebergs or politicians picking
Arab friends

And there was a slight crust you left
Behind of crystalline semen
On my dress – unless –
I’m calling it armor


Just before that


C’mon press that spot, baby


And I place my thumb to your trachea
 And your eyelids flutter
  Almost epileptic
   As I surface to meet my own skin
    At last level ground
     And I fake it
      And I fuck
       And I fake it


And

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Tour Guide


Immunity to the sulfur smell was inevitable –
Standing next to an Adonis –
His hair rich, thick molasses like the furniture
Syrup guaranteed to make my
Mahogany and
Cherry glisten

I could see 
In Santorini – He was a REAL Greek and I
Was a REAL overweight American – Eyes
Sleep-deprived as a condemned circus closes
Down
Or
Maybe a couple of orbs in Chernobyl

He whispered
This is the place that destroyed Atlantis
Did more than destroyed –
Yes
This pumice
Ruined her like sex
In the Aegean after a back-home boyfriend

Springtime slid easily into the hot
Dry Cycladic summer and the volcano is
Still
I am gone – searching for other gods –
Satisfied there is no punctuation at Easter

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Engineering




Some September I remember you peering
Into my chemical textbook, but you had already succumbed
To your poetry people, and continuously reeked
Of stale coffee and sex musk.

Walnut Trail apartment complex needed
An artist, I suppose.  So, Georgia O’Keefe
(in all her vagina-bloom glory) traveled
From your cramped Eldridge Hall to join my Elvis
Hip-swinging clock on the wall.

Verse is not logical and safe
Like my sacred books of algebraic equations and formulaic lists.
You argued – you found ART within the urine-colored
Pages of Chemical Engineering 101.

Enjoy your magical realism –
The scratchy dirt-hued carpet remains, and O’Keefe still hangs.
While Elvis ticks off seconds, I’m taking my texts literally only to find
One cold-foiled sandwich when
There should’ve been two.





Septic




When they created the crater in the backyard – Mom and Dad went
Inside – safely put away until the job was done, but I was ten.
Barefoot, I climbed to the edge of the stench-abyss and spied
On the methane men.
The first dirt clod crumbled too quickly in my hands, but the second one
Taken from yesterday’s stash on the putrid precipice, found its target.
PVC pipe is no match for my maneuverability and finesse.
They say the sewage smell will vanish once they finish the tank connection –
Whatever that means.  The stinky men evacuate our driveway in their mucky trucks,
Leaving me the keeper of all earthen bombs.



Wind Bagging




I sense disappointment today extruded from the black
Case holding the ever/over-bearing horn.
Something better in the performance you want?
Something as sensual as your beloved jazz saxophone?
No – I play trombone.
I can’t get squeaky/squawky – all helium delirious as your notes protest.
Chord progression talk no longer flows through the brandy decanter
Sitting on the slightly 60s mod glass dinner/slab table – I gave up on that
To pursue the slide and my stride evolved into something derived of my own song.
Try again old man.
Make me embrace Charlie Parker.
Make me faint from Coltrane.
I play trombone.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Ghosts in the Science Lab







Ghosts in the Science Lab: 
A Glimpse into the Conflict between Reason and Believing in the Supernatural
Emily Bencsics
Indiana University South Bend
ENG – 680
Professor Joe Chaney
August 4, 2012











Ghosts in the Science Lab: 
A Glimpse into the Conflict between Reason and Believing in the Supernatural

            Internally, there is an ever-present struggle going on within human beings.  How is it possible to be a reasonable, logic-minded individual while at the same time still believe in ghosts or spirits?  Consciously, most people do not focus on this kind of conflict; however, subconsciously, it is always there lurking within our psyche like some sort of wandering specter.  The juxtaposition of science and the supernatural has been a dance throughout hundreds of years; moreover, it is a dance people have participated in across all cultures and classes.  Central to understanding this conflict, one must first understand how we form beliefs.  “We form our beliefs for a variety of subjective, emotional and psychological reasons in the context of environments created by family, friends, colleagues, culture and society at large” (Shermer, 2011, para. 2).  Essentially, our belief systems are environmental productions on a grand scale.  In addition to outside influences, Shermer (2011) goes on to state that “[a]fter forming our beliefs, we then defend, justify and rationalize them with a host of intellectual reasons, cogent arguments and rational explanations.  Beliefs come first; explanations for beliefs follow” (para. 2).  Nowhere is this theory about belief systems and how it relates to the conflict between science and the supernatural more prevalent than in our literature.  In many cases, ghosts (and other supernatural figures) are more than merely plot-helpers in our collective tales.  When a ghost is introduced, it immediately calls into question our belief systems and forcibly shows us some rather terrifying internal truths about ourselves.
            One of the most famous literary examples of these struggling beliefs, and a primary focus of this exploration, is the ghost of Hamlet (also known as Old Hamlet).  When Marcellus and Bernardo welcome Horatio into the beginning of their ghost story, there is a poignant piece of dialogue that transpires.  Marcellus says, “Horatio says ‘tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight twice seen of us.  Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of the night, That if again this apparition come He may approve our eyes and speak to it” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  Here we see Marcellus struggling with not only having seen an otherworldly spirit, but perhaps even more fascinating; he seeks the validation from the other watchmen.  “How many subsequent ghost stories begin with the disbelief of one participant, both legitimating our incredulity and making the evidence to the contrary, when it comes, the more appalling?  Stout common sense restores the everyday – but only for an instant” (Belsey, 2010, para. 6).  This play between what we know as logical and “real” and what we experience as unexplainable is the tension that has been the basis for this uniquely human encounter. 
            After Horatio sees Old Hamlet for the first time, Bernardo remarks, “How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale.  Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on’t?” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  Horatio is considered to be a scholar and a reasonable person.  For Horatio to see and interact with the spirit is to raise the level of uncertainty among the watchmen, and most assuredly, the audience as well.  In this case, Old Hamlet is an uncanny “thing.”  It “unsettles the familiar categories of knowledge, prompting ‘thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls’ (1.4.56).  Is it dead or alive, this figure that cannot rest in its tomb? … The oppositions we normally think with do not hold” (Belsey, 2010, para. 10).  It is important that Horatio experiences the ghost of Old Hamlet as it lends a credibility to how beliefs are formed.  Shermer (2011) coined the term “belief-dependent realism,” and it most definitely applies in the example of Horatio.  According to Shermer, the process “wherein our perceptions about reality are dependent on the beliefs that we hold about it [is called] belief-dependent realism” (2011, para. 2).  Culturally, all of the guardsmen in these scenes have an underlying belief in ghosts even if that flies in the face of their religion, or, in Horatio’s case, even if it goes against his reasoning and logic skills.  Much of the Elizabethan environment would have been filled with the mysterious and unexplained; and thus, much of what constituted the watchmen’s belief systems could have already been rooted in the supernatural. 
            When the beliefs are formed, then the task of backing them up becomes paramount.  “Once we form beliefs and make commitments to them, we maintain and reinforce them through a number of powerful cognitive biases that distort our percepts to fit belief concepts” (Shermer, 2011, para. 4).  In other words, one will always strive to find evidence and support to confirm one’s belief in a variety of ways.  At the end of act one- scene one in Hamlet, Horatio says:  “So have I heard and do in part believe it…Let us impart what we have seen tonight Unto young Hamlet; for upon my life, This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  This passage shows a couple of things. First, it shows Horatio’s willingness to accept the ghost due in part to his eye-witness account, but more notably, his being a part of a group experience.  One of the cognitive biases Shermer discusses in his theory, is that called an “in-group bias.”  In this bias, “we place more value on the beliefs of those whom we perceive to be fellow members of our group and less on the beliefs of those from different groups” (Shermer, 2011, para. 5).  Because Horatio witnessed the ghost of Old Hamlet with his cohorts, instead of apart from them, the belief in the ghost is somehow solidified in his mind.  Secondly, and perhaps ironically, this same passage also reveals that Horatio is not one hundred percent sold on the existence of the ghost just yet.  The words “do in part believe it” show us that Horatio has some hesitation about what he has just seen.  Also, these words reveal that internally, Horatio is searching for some other logical and/or reasonable explanation. 
            Before moving forward with the ghost of Old Hamlet, it is important to define what a ghost/spirit is within the context of Hamlet’s time.  Around the time frame of Hamlet, several factors were at play when it came to explaining the world in which they lived.  For example, common people still adhered to a more medieval way of describing the unknown.  This would entail a strong belief in ghosts and/or spirits.  In addition, the early Catholic Church had strict interpretations about what seeing ghosts and/or spirits would mean.  According to the church, witnessing ghosts/spirits implies an inherent evil either within the environment, or within the spectator seeing the specter.  Essentially, ghosts of any sort were equal to something demonic, and one would have to be simply mad to engage or summon one; much less question the church on the matter.   At the same time, there was an emerging group of people concerned with scientific theory and discovering rational explanations for “supernatural” events.  These early renaissance scientists, often at their peril, broke with ritual and religious tradition.  Most of these young men, like Horatio and Hamlet, concerned themselves with learned investigative and questioning techniques that did not lend themselves to blindly accept supernatural events.  “Ghosts suspend the rules of logic just as they break the laws of nature.  They belong to the past, to a history that should have closed with their death, and yet they reappear to trouble the present and change the future.  A ghost is always radically out of time, as well as out of place.  Is this Ghost a true revenant, the old king back from the grave, or a demon from hell that assumes his person (1.2.244-45)?”  (Belsey, 2010, para. 10).  However that question gets answered, it is undeniable that Hamlet and his helpers must completely reassess the beliefs they hold while being shaken to their very core. 
            Some literary analysts argue that the ghost in Hamlet is not scary or creepy enough to warrant it being a supernatural event.  “As for Hamlet, there is a supernatural constituent, but it is no more than a fragment of the fantastic, a peripheral phenomenon that motivates Hamlet’s actions and triggers the plot” (Traill, 1991, para. 8).  Many disagree with this theory (myself included) simply because there are so many levels of meaning to the ghost of Old Hamlet.  The ghost in Hamlet provides friction among the characters, reveals insights into the truth of his death, and creates questions about justice and consequences for the audience.  To relegate the ghost as a mere plot device seems undeserving and much too easy.  Besides, any time a dead man rises and takes the form of a ghost, it seems obviously necessary to attribute the supernatural.  Also, the ghost plays another important function.  Seeing Old Hamlet is at odds with very powerful religious beliefs held at that time.  This must have had quite an effect on the audience at the time of this performance, and is still a marker even today for the conflict between beliefs of what we think is real and what is not.   
            When Hamlet first encounters the ghost of his father, it is with these very same religious overtones that he speaks to him.  “Angels and ministers of grace defend us!  Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, By thy intents wicked or charitable…” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  This passage confirms an idea about belief systems.  Mainly, even though Hamlet is considered to be a learned scholarly person, upon seeing the ghost of his father, he immediately resorts back to his Catholic belief system rather than a scientific one.  In an article discussing Shermer’s work, A.C. Grayling states:
                        Although religious scientists are few, they are an interesting phenomenon,
                        exhibiting the impermeability of the internal barrier that allows  
                        simultaneous commitments to science and faith.  This remark will be
                        regarded as outrageous by believing scientists, who think that they are as
                        rational in their temples as in their laboratories, but scarcely any of them
                        would accept the challenge to mount a controlled experiment to test the
                        major claims of their faith… (Grayling, 2011, p. 447)
Although Hamlet is experiencing fear and trembling at the sight of his father’s ghost (who wouldn’t), it is important to note that his reversion back to a religious upbringing takes precedence over his rational/logical mind.  This reiterates the concept that primary and/or early belief systems are extremely powerful and difficult to override. 
            In addition to religious implications, it was generally accepted that involvement with a ghost and/or spirit would most certainly be an indicator of madness.  When the ghost beckons Hamlet to a moment of privacy, Hamlet’s friends make it clear that this is a grand mistake.  Horatio pleads, “What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff…And there assume some other horrible form Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness?” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  Following the Catholic Church’s teachings, any spirit that wishes to take one someplace private to converse cannot possibly be a virtuous ghost.  Therefore, Horatio’s warnings to Hamlet are more than justified.  Moreover, when Hamlet does speak with the ghost of his father, it becomes uncannily apparent that this spirit is seeking something much more devastating to Hamlet than a conversation.  Hamlet’s father commands, “Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  At this point, Hamlet must decide whether to trust this seemingly evil entity or seek peace through rationality.  After all, what natural conclusions could be drawn from a ghost that asks for revenge?  Indeed, is this ghost really Hamlet’s father, or is this ghost now a reflection of Hamlet’s desires?
            Perhaps the real conflict with ghosts comes not from whether one believes in their existence, but rather what ghosts disclose about a person’s true nature.  Old Hamlet is not imparting some new emotional quest onto his son by revealing his death was murderous in nature.  Ironically, it is the ghost that provides a reason for Hamlet to act on vengeful fantasies.  After Hamlet alludes to the current king (Claudius) as being a villain, Horatio’s response is:  “There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this” (Shakespeare, 2004 version).  This outwardly simple line shows us that the ghost resembles a mirror reflecting desires, wishes, and truths about the individual.  Deep down Hamlet (and his cohorts) already realize that there is something terribly wrong with Old Hamlet’s death, Gertrude’s quick remarriage, and the overall natural order of things.  Rationally, Hamlet recognizes his anger, grief, and depression long before Old Hamlet appears to him.  Similarly, Hamlet’s self-awareness leads him to constantly check himself between committing a murderous crime, ending his own life, or moving on and trying to forget this time of his life.  Essentially, Hamlet is juggling a whole host of cognitive biases and conflicts.  Interestingly, Hamlet’s “[b]elief-dependent realism is driven even deeper by a metabias called the bias blind spot, or the tendency to recognize the power of cognitive biases in other people but to be blind to [the] influence on our own beliefs” (Shermer, 2011, para. 6).  Even though Hamlet appears to be hyper self-aware, it isn’t enough to discern the healthy from the unhealthy, or the natural from the supernatural. 
            In summary, there will always be a place for ghost stories of some sort throughout time.  By examining the ghost in Hamlet, one can in turn explore all ghost stories.  Old Hamlet is special in that “[t]he Ghost constitutes more than a device of the plot and more, too, than a thrill of the uncanny.  It brings the prince into direct confrontation with the fact of mortality:  the revenant who bears his name presents the hero with a glimpse of his own future beyond the limits of what it is possible to know” (Belsey, 2010, para. 51).  And, perhaps it is this very stark reality of our own impermanence that makes ghosts and spirits so weirdly fascinating.  Spirits represent many things for us.  For instance, apparitions could signal everything from hallucinations to belief systems run astray.  “It is only by recovering the history of lost possibilities, what might have been, that we can shake the naturalness of what is” (Clery, 1995, p.174).  Ghosts give us a chance to reconcile and redefine ourselves, and maybe it is ultimately comforting to know that they are designed to confound the believer, the non-believer, the spiritualist, and the scientist all the same.  
References
Belsey, C. (2010). Shakespeare’s sad tale for winter:  Hamlet and the tradition of fireside ghost stories. Shakespeare Quarterly, 61(1). Retrieved from Ebsco.
Clery, E. J. (1995). The rise of supernatural fiction 1762-1800. Cambridge, UK:  Cambridge University Press.
Grayling, A. C. (2011). How we form beliefs. Nature, 474, 446-447.
Shakespeare, (2004 version). In D. Bevington & D.S. Katsan (Eds.), Shakespeare Hamlet. New York:  Bantam Classic.
Shermer, M. (2011). The believing brain. Scientific American, 305(1), 85. Retrieved from Academic Search Premier.
Traill, N. (1991). Fictional worlds of the fantastic. Style, 25(2), 196-209. Retrieved from Academic Search Premier.

           

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Positive Psychology Theory: A Way to Understanding Literature and the Creative Process







Positive Psychology Theory:
A Way to Understanding Literature and the Creative Process
Emily Bencsics
Indiana University South Bend
ENG-L 680 Psychology and Literature
Professor Joe Chaney
July 12, 2012











Positive Psychology Theory:  A Way to Understanding Literature and the Creative Process
           
            While most branches of psychology focus on specific mental ailments of the patient such as depression, anger management issues, and a whole host of other neuroses; it is the emphasis on self-potential and fulfillment that sets the positive psychology theory apart from all of the others.  Born from the Humanistic approach in the 1950s, positive psychology has emerged as being one of the only modern day theories that center on a person’s internal happiness, rather than a person’s dysfunction or abnormal behavior.  Focusing on holistic health, positive psychology has been described as a way “to build thriving individuals, families, and communities” (Cherry, 2012, para. 2).  Mainly, positive psychology concerns itself with the optimistic aspects of one’s life. 
            Developed in the 1990s, positive psychology was originally thought to deal with three main issues:  “First …well-being, flow, joy, optimism, and hope.  Second …studying personality traits of thriving individuals…focusing on character strengths and virtues…Finally, identifying, studying, and enhancing those qualities of social institutions that sustain and enhance positive subjective experiences…” (Robbins, 2008, p. 96).  Upon first examination, it may be easy to assume that positive psychology ignores the very tangible psycho-social issues afflicting people today.  However, this assumption is far from accurate.  Positive psychology primes people to search for their own inner strengths, and gets one away from a “woe is me – everything is wrong” attitude. Refreshing in its assurance, positive psychology may very well offer more than an optimistic outlook; it may very well reveal insights into one’s creative process as well. 
            For many writers, accessing the chaotic, dramatic, and downright disturbing parts of the mind is, well, relatively easy and/or common.  Positive psychology suggests that retrieving the optimistic, altruistic, and spiritualistic aspects of one’s psyche is not only of equal importance, but could actually result in a more satisfying outcome for the artist/writer.  In other words, the writer who recognizes some of the base positive emotions that come out of the act of writing should exhibit a more confident and fulfilled nature; therefore, the act of writing in itself propels the author to produce thereby continuing a contented cycle of rewarding behavior. 
            In addition to understanding the positive emotions linked to the creative process, there is one in particular that deserves attention and is a focal point in positive psychology – mindfulness.  According to Dean Robbins (2008), a “fully functioning person [has] qualities such as being nondefensive and open to experience; fully living in the moment…recognizing his or her freedom…being creative, reliable, and constructive…”(p.98).  Without sounding like a Buddhist-based self-help book, being mindful is paramount to the writer’s creative process.  Generally, writers are extremely purposeful in their creations, and the literature to come from such authors expresses attention to detail, the overwhelming need to share, and a spirituality that speaks to doing something bigger than oneself.  Obviously, there are exceptions to the rule as many a writer has produced less than mediocre effort because the mind wasn’t fully present in the work.  Perhaps this is one of those pieces, but then again, perhaps this author is hopeful. 
References
Cherry, K. (n.d.). What is positive psychology? Retrieved from http://psychology.about.com/od/branchesofpsycholog1/a/positive-psychology.htm
Robbins, D. (2008).  What is the good life? Positive psychology and the renaissance of Humanistic psychology.  Humanistic Psychologist, 36(2), 96-112.
            doi: 10.1080/08873260802110988


            

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Freire's Chicken/Egg Conundrum







Freire’s Chicken/Egg Conundrum:
“Banking” vs. “Problem-Posing” Education
Emily Bencsics
Indiana University South Bend
English L502
Rebecca Brittenham
February 5, 2012





Freire’s Chicken/Egg Conundrum:  “Banking” vs. “Problem-Posing” Education
            Rarely is anything defined so neatly into categories in this world.  Trying to label pedagogy practices into neat little terms, is much like missing Gibraltar while hunting a particular pebble.  To state that “teachers either work for the liberation of the people – their humanization – or for their domestication, their domination” (Freire, 2005, p. 256), is not only insulting, but leaves little regard for the learning process involved in getting a student from a “banking concept of education” to a more “problem-posing” method.  On some level, we are all products of the “banking” educational mold.  As children, we memorize words, numbers, and ideas.  Some students listened and absorbed the information, while other students merely went through the motions.  Either way, the students never lost their “humanity” in the process. 
            To say that “[t]he more completely [the students] accept the passive role imposed on them, the more they tend simply to adapt to the world as it is and to the fragmented view of reality deposited in them” (Freire, 2005, p. 258), suggests that students are nothing but a bunch of mindless creatures.  Freire’s version of the “banking” model of education assumes that it is somehow perverse for a teacher to exhibit superior knowledge, discipline, and content selection capabilities.  It is, therefore, my argument that one cannot fully arrive at the “problem-posing” model until one has first been through the “banking” model.  In other words, the two methods are not mutually exclusive exercises in academic snobbery, but rather, a perfectly harmonious (and well documented) symbiotic relationship.
            While Freire’s concepts about education are extremely interesting, they do not feel fair. After much reading and exploring, there were several essays and texts that appeared to express the “honorable” characteristics of Freire’s “problem-posing” concept.  However, after further investigation, not one of these texts could stand alone in the “problem-posing” department without first being subjected to the “banking” theory.  In some way, the “banking” concept is always lurking in the background of these authors’ experiences. 
            The first text under investigation is Onnie Lee Logan’s excerpt from Motherwit.  Perhaps one of the toughest essays to pinpoint Freire’s concepts, after close analysis, one can see the concepts illustrated beautifully within.  While Logan’s learning may be more closely related to an apprenticeship in midwifery rather than a more traditional education, it is still very apparent that the traditional “banking” system is at work.  Logan best shows this concept when she describes her preparation for delivering a baby. “…I get up to scrub up my hands because I got to scrub em up two or three different times befo’ the baby is born…Scrub em up real good with a brush halfway up our arms.  I did that through the rules and regulations of the bo’d a health in my trainin” (Logan, 1993, p. 485).  Obviously, there has been some knowledge given to Logan in the form of training.  In addition, throughout the essay she mentions and refers to certain rules and regulations within the medical community.  While she most definitely puts her own flavor on the work she does, there are traces of a “banking” model at work.  Even more fascinating, is that Logan’s essay gives us a glimpse of how wonderful it is when the two concepts come together.  “I tell you one thing that’s very impo’tant that I do that the doctors don’t do and the nurses doesn’t do because they doesn’t take time to do it.  And that is I’m with my patients at all times with a smile and keepin her feelin good with kind words…Most of the doctors when they do say something to em it’s so harsh” (Logan, 1993, p. 485).  Unlike the strict dichotomy of the teacher-student (or in this case, doctor-patient) relationship, Logan illustrates how she uses her knowledge to become partners with her mothers in labor.  In other words, she imparts her wisdom by way of the “problem-posing” method. 
            Another essay where the “banking” method holds hands with the “problem-posing” method is from Helen Keller.  “I was simply making my fingers go in monkeylike imitation.  In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words…But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name” (Keller, 1993, p. 445).  This particular scene demonstrates the “banking” concept very well in Keller’s instruction.  This essay is punctuated with many vignettes of a stringent teacher-student mode.  After Keller’s teacher distinguishes “water” from “mug” for her, Keller states:  “I knew then that ‘w-a-t-e-r’ meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand.  That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free” (Keller, 1993, p. 446).  Interestingly, the teacher (who is first shown to teach Keller by rote memorization of hand gestures) is becoming a student herself.  Basically, as she instructs Keller, she is simultaneously learning new ways of instruction herself. 
            The interdependence of the “banking” concept and the “problem-posing” is very strong in Keller’s work.  “I was forced to repeat the words or sentences, sometimes for hours, until I felt the proper ring in my own voice.  My work was practice, practice, practice.  Discouragement and weariness cast me down frequently; but the next moment the thought that I should soon be at home and show my loved ones what I had accomplished, spurred me on, and I eagerly looked forward to their pleasure in my achievement” (Keller, 1993, p. 450).  While it is true that Keller is constantly practicing, memorizing, and gripping information from her teacher (“banking” method), she is very much taking ownership of this knowledge.  She is becoming more and more self-aware, and as a result, more aware of her transforming current reality (“problem-posing” method). 
            Finally (and probably most fascinating) areas in which we see the association between Freire’s concepts, is in Malcolm X’s Learning to Read.  First of all, it is important to note that Malcolm X’s education was essentially a self-education.  In other words, he taught himself how to read and write; he taught himself the functionality necessary to communicate on a level never before realized in his life so far. 
            Going along with this brand of homemade learning, there is most definitely a sense of Freire’s “banking” concept of education.  “I spent two days just riffling uncertainly through the dictionary’s pages…Finally, just to start some kind of action, I began copying.  In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed on that first page, down to the punctuation marks” (X, 1965, para. 6-7).  Here, we see the seemingly self-imposed “banking” educational system working to his benefit.  Even though there is no outside force (i.e., teacher), Malcolm X is behaving as though he is being taught be means of the oppressive memorization and mimicking methods described in the “banking” concept. 
            In conjunction with the “banking” model, Malcolm X undergoes a realization process that can only be described as a “problem-posing” model.  “Book after book showed me how the white man had brought upon the world’s black, brown, red, and yellow peoples every variety of the suffering of exploitation…I read, I saw, how the white man never has gone among the non-white peoples bearing the Cross in the true manner and spirit of Christ’s teachings – meek, humble, and Christlike” (X, 1965, para. 29).  Through Malcolm X’s readings and labor intensive self-study, a true revolutionary was born.  He would go on to become a radical leader during the civil rights era, and more than likely, would have morphed into a highly respected multicultural educator himself had it not been for his assassination.  When Malcolm X meticulously memorized and copied words from dictionaries, he was quite truthfully transforming his reality. 
            In the end, Freire postulates that the “banking” concept is the method of choice for the “oppressor.”  That somehow the act of learning through memorization, or by absorbing the teacher’s knowledge serves only to oppress peoples, is a theory that seems circular in its reasoning.  “Problem-posing education does not and cannot serve the interests of the oppressor.  No oppressive order could permit the oppressed to begin to question:  Why?” (Freire, 2005, p. 267).  Yet, it is troublesome that throughout history, one of the most sought after questions from students by teachers is simply: Why?  How is it then, that memorizing mind-numbing facts and regurgitating recalcitrant formulas does not eventually answer the question “why?” 
            Imagine if Onnie Lee Logan had not learned the rules and regulations of midwifery, or if Helen Keller had not first learned the finger-spelled words.  Moreover, what would we have received from Malcolm X had he never bothered to pick up the dictionary in his prison cell and painfully copied every word?  To divide learning concepts so succinctly like Freire does is to gloss over the importance of their coexistence. The traditional classroom learning techniques do not have to be a dehumanizing event, and the perfect “problem-posing” classroom is quite meaningless without some “bank” of knowledge from which to withdraw.   













References
Freire, P. (2005). The “banking” concept of education. In D. Bartholomae & A. Petrosky (Eds.), Ways of reading: An anthology for writers (pp. 255-267). Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s.
Keller, H. (1993). The story of my life. In P. Rose (Ed.), The Norton book of women’s lives (pp. 444-451). New York: W.W. Norton & Company.
Logan, O. (1993). Motherwit. In P. Rose (Ed.), The Norton book of women’s lives (pp. 483-495). New York: W.W. Norton & Company.
X, M. (1965). Learning to read. Retrieved from Oncourse.
             





Sunday, January 22, 2012

The Oral Tradition: A Mexican Polish Song







The Oral Tradition:  A Mexican Polish Song
Emily Bencsics
Indiana University South Bend
English L502
Rebecca Brittenham
1/22/2012






The Oral Tradition:  A Mexican Polish Song
            Before writing, there is sound; there is music in the mind long before pen hits paper, or phalanges strike keys.  Oral language came long before any written language, and has never left our side.  “Oral language is our original gift…For centuries people identified the breath with which we speak with the spirit or the soul and the language they spoke with their unique humanity” (Gee & Hayes, 2011, p. 5).  When the power and overall history of the spoken word is discovered, there tends to be a moment of excitement and wonder.  As an instructor of Presentation Skills (affectionately known as Speech class), I am acutely aware of my student’s internal (and forcibly external) music within their words.  How exciting it is to watch the discovery that the cadence, pitch, and volume of a speaker can be so integral to the message, whether it is written down somewhere or not.  In essence, my students are unveiling their own literacy narratives, and it is ironically, the “literacy” of the oral tradition. 
            Just as my speech students come into a new knowledge, theory, or idea, the oral language tradition is absolutely crucial for their understanding of this new material.  The oral tradition is especially important for those coming into a new literacy.  “…the best predictor of a child’s  success in school, including learning to read, is the child’s oral vocabulary around the age of five…Oral language development is the foundation for success in school and in school-based literacy” (Gee & Hayes, 2011, p. 18).  As is illustrated in the works of Richard Rodriguez and Eva Hoffman, oral language plays an enormous role in the literacy narrative genre, and in their personal experiences contained within. 
            Richard Rodriguez has an acute awareness of the oral tradition even at the very beginning of the selection.  “I stand in the ghetto classroom – ‘the guest speaker’ – attempting to lecture on the mystery of the sounds of our words to rows of diffident students.  ‘Don’t you hear it? Listen! The music of our words’” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 562).  In the upcoming pages, Rodriguez goes on to reveal interesting (albeit, stressful) vignettes about the sounds of language within his home, and in the classroom.  At first reading, it appears to be truly maddening that the dichotomy between his Mexican-American household and his classroom is so vast.   “But he senses those differences early.  Perhaps as early as the night he brings home an assignment from school and finds the house too noisy for study…The next day, the lesson is apparent at school…Discussion is ordered” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 565).  In this particular instance, it feels as though we are witnessing the end of Rodriguez’s oral tradition with Spanish only to see it being replaced by this new English literacy.  As Rodriguez continues his studies, it becomes powerfully evident that natural speech of family life is slipping away.  After a brief exchange with his mother, she responds with “[a] half smile, then silence.  Her head moving back in silence. Silence!  Instead of the intimate sounds that had once flowed smoothly between us, there was this silence” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 567).  Although not discussed in much detail, Rodriguez must feel some sense of loss of family, or loss of culture here.  It is interesting to note that as Rodriguez descends into his new literacy, one of the very first signs of change is within the spoken word, or lack thereof. 
            As Rodriguez continues in school, “[n]othing is said of the silence that comes to separate the boy from his parents…His story makes clear that education is a long, unglamorous, even demeaning process – a nurturing never natural to the person one was before one entered a classroom” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 577-578).  Eventually, Rodriguez senses the loneliness, isolation, and silence that being “educated” can bring.  Throughout the essay, he mentions free-flowing conversation being replaced with silence.  One cannot help but wonder if this self-inflicted chipping away of his own oral tradition has caused his recognition of his loss of a basic human trait in the end. 
 Just as Rodriguez expressed losses within the oral tradition in his essay, so does Eva Hoffman with her journey from Poland to Canada.  Hoffman’s hyper awareness of the differing sounds of her native language (Polish) from those of English plays an important role throughout her narrative.  Like Rodriguez’s selection, Hoffman’s narrative is tinged with a sense of loss for the native oral language (arguably, more so).  “‘Shut up, shuddup,’ the children around us are shouting, and it’s the first word in English that I understand from its dramatic context…I can’t imagine wanting to talk their harsh-sounding language” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 104-105).  This observation by the author gives the reader such an interesting perspective on how a non-English speaking individual might feel upon listening to a foreign tongue. 
Oral language is inexorably linked to the way one perceives and feels about the world.  “‘River’ in Polish was a vital sound, energized with the essence of riverhood, of my rivers, of my being immersed in rivers.  ‘River’ in English is cold – a word without an aura…It does not evoke” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 106).  The music of language conjures images, and not just regular images, but vivid ones, which in essence, gives us our reality.  Later on, we see these losses of word connotations as being nothing short of an identity crisis for the author. 
Indeed, it is internal dialogue that when jeopardized, threatens our very being – our very core.  From the immigrant’s perspective, “[t]he verbal blur covers these people’s faces, their gestures with a sort of fog…I’m not filled with language anymore, and I have only a memory of fullness to anguish me with the knowledge that, in this dark and empty state, I don’t really exist” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 108).  After digesting this statement, one wonders how anyone in history could move away from his or her native language.  What an amazing feat to move away from what one knows into what could only be described as a self-imposed language/culture identity nightmare. 
In addition to one’s own internal dialogue, the oral tradition is essential to everyday conversations and interactions with others.  Something as simple as telling a joke can be intimidating at best in one’s own native tongue, and downright terrifying in a foreign language.  “But as I hear my choked-up voice straining to assert itself, as I hear myself missing every beat and rhythm that would say ‘funny’ and ‘punch line,’ I feel a hot flush of embarrassment…Telling a joke is like doing a linguistic pirouette” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 117-118).  This passage beautifully illustrates how the music of language plays such a vital role in social situations, conveying messages, and overall effective communication.  
Interestingly, this shift from one oral language to another has some rather unique personality consequences.  Both Hoffman and Rodriguez experience a form of silence and isolation from their former selves.  “I’ve never been prim before, but that’s how I am seen by my new peers.  I don’t try to tell jokes too often, I don’t know the slang, I have no cool repartee.  I love language too much to maul its beats, and my pride is too quick to risk incomprehension that greats such forays” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 118).  Honestly, Hoffman appears to have been quite a witty one back in Poland, complete with the lush sounding vocabulary to back up her banter.  One cannot help but sense she misses this ability terribly. 
Because oral language is more primal than the written word, there tends to be a certain physicality associated with it.  As one is initiated into a new oral language, quite literally there are physical changes happening within.  “My voice is doing funny things.  It does not seem to emerge from the same parts of my body as before.  It comes out from somewhere in my throat, tight, thin, and mat – a voice without modulations, dips, and rises that it had before, when it went from my stomach all the way through my head” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 121-122).  Hoffman is so attuned to the sounds of words, that she can actually “feel” the changes in her own body as she speaks them.  This most definitely makes the case for the understanding of the power of oral language within the framework of the literacy narrative genre. 
In conclusion, it is at once crucial and fair that we look upon languages and literacies through the lens of the oral tradition.  Gee and Hayes (2011) even state that “[w]e have lost a good deal of the art of using, and many of the language devices for telling, epic oral stories…We still find them in poetry, but they have nothing like the robust and central place they had in oral cultures…few of us are even aware of the loss of epic storytelling as a way of passing down knowledge and binding a culture together” (p. 19-20).  In some deep down visceral sense, Rodriguez and Hoffman were aware of this; whether or not they considered it a loss remains somewhat ambiguous.  Basically, before one can write a good story, one must tell a good story; this is true regardless if one is a speech student, an immigrant, or a teacher.  It is only human, after all. 
References
Gee, J. P., & Hayes, E. R. (2011). Language and learning in the digital age. New York: Routledge.
Hoffman, E. (1989). Lost in translation: A life in a new language. New York: Penguin Books.
Rodriguez, R. (2005). The achievement of desire. In D. Bartholomae & A. Petrosky (Eds.), Ways of reading: An anthology for writers (pp. 561-581). Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s.