Stout, Roland. “Good Writing Assignments = Good Thinking: A Proven WID Philosophy.” Language and Learning across the Disciplines 2.2 (1997): 9-17. The WAC Clearing House. Colorado State University. Web. 26 May 2011.
As I have been searching through different journals and collections, I have been looking for both theoretical and practical discussions of assignment development and evaluation. The title of this article initially attracted me, as I agree with the WAC/WID notions that writing is a means of thinking. And, since a chemistry professor wrote the article, I hoped to gain some insight into interdisciplinary perspectives on writing assignments. The article argues that instructors who develop a clear sense of what they want students to learn will be able to develop effective writing assignments that encourage more meaningful thinking in students. But the perspectives of writing offered here make this article problematic.
First, I want to address the benefits of this article, for what this professor attempts is exactly the kind of work writing instructors in English studies should be promoting, at least generally. Stout promotes helping students learn to think as members of a discipline, making the work they do more relevant to them and helping them retain and more meaningfully apply information. He also promotes a number of other elements writing instructors will likely applaud: writing as a process; deeper, more thoughtful revisions of texts; considerations of different rhetorical situations by having students write texts in different genres and for different audiences. Finally, he talks about developing assignments and exam questions that require different levels of thinking These all help students better understand various abstract chemistry concepts and are all notions many writing instructors endorse.
Despite Stout’s beneficial approaches, some of the assumptions about writing are troubling. The vast majority of these assumptions arise quite early in the piece, and some may even serve to undermine the good work his assignments attempt. First, much of how he defines “good” writing seems to rely on grammar and style. He wants “clear, concise writing” and note that “poor writing” consists of “awkward phrasing, improper grammar, illogical word choices” (10). Second, he seems to avoid much responsibility for teaching his students how to write well in his terms. He claims that he will help the students learn but immediately notes that, because he lacks specific training in writing instruction, he requires his students to go to the writing center. Furthermore, most of the commentary on students’ drafts prior to final drafts comes from their peers and from tutors, not from the professor (10-11). In short, this article seems to promote (even if unintentionally) ideas that good writing is superficially correct and that responsibility for writing instruction is minimally or not at all on instructors in the discipline, even if they rely on writing assignments in their classrooms. In considering the work that we and our colleagues from different disciplines do regarding writing assignments, we must attempt to challenge those assumptions that undermine more sound pedagogical practices, while praising the positive work our colleagues do to promote writing.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
664 Blog 3: Assignments and Assumptions
Clark, Irene. “A Genre Approach to Writing Assignments.” Composition Forum 14.2 (2005): n. pag. CompositionForum. Web. 27 May 2011.
In my previous blog posting, I pointed out Bartholomae’s claim that certain language in writing assignments can contain discipline-specific expectations that we, as instructors, may take for granted. Irene Clark’s article furthers this discussion by arguing that relying on a genre approach to writing can help students discover and address these assumptions more effectively, and she suggests that viewing assignments themselves as a genre will help us recognize the assumptions buried in them. Such assumptions are often disciplinary, but Clark notes the socio-historical influences on views of education at a given time. These perceptions of what education is or should do markedly influence the goals of assignments. Thus, the aims of assignments are social as well as pedagogical, adding another layer of complexity that students often fail to understand fully. Furthermore, instructors themselves may even miss the assumed goals they are including in their assignments and see the problem as resting wholly on the students.
One of the key problems she notes is that those constructing assignments understand their language as transparent but this language carries with it the need for the student to construct “an appropriate textual self suitable for the writing task” (par. 7). Clark claims that “uptake” can help to illuminate this problem. Uptake unites a primary text and its “interpretant,” or a text that results from a primary text—the uptake text. In this case, a writing assignment would be the primary text; the interpretant would be a student’s essay in response to that text. If a student fails to recognize certain goals or assumptions in the primary text, he or she is likely to produce a less successful interpretant. Such practices privilege certain knowledge and discourse, not always readily available to our students. Therefore, students who already understand these situtions continue to do well, while those students on the periphery struggle.
Not only does Clark provide instructors with problems to consider regarding assignment design; she also offers three strategies for alleviating these problems. First, she suggests adding an element of role-playing. As she noted early in the article, students need to assume a role in response to the writing prompt. Helping students recognize this need will better enable them to address the topic with more authority than if they were to focus on the topic as another writing assignment situated only in the context of the course. Second, she suggests encouraging students to write for a discipline-specific audience; thus students may be more able to understand certain expectations that the audience may have and what it means to write for an audience. Finally, she reminds instructors to be more aware of the genre of the writing assignment, with all of its subtlety. Doing so helps instructors make the implicit more explicit, to the benefit of the students and the texts they produce. And indeed, Clark’s warnings and strategies provide instructors with some valuable tools to use when crafting their own writing assignments.
In my previous blog posting, I pointed out Bartholomae’s claim that certain language in writing assignments can contain discipline-specific expectations that we, as instructors, may take for granted. Irene Clark’s article furthers this discussion by arguing that relying on a genre approach to writing can help students discover and address these assumptions more effectively, and she suggests that viewing assignments themselves as a genre will help us recognize the assumptions buried in them. Such assumptions are often disciplinary, but Clark notes the socio-historical influences on views of education at a given time. These perceptions of what education is or should do markedly influence the goals of assignments. Thus, the aims of assignments are social as well as pedagogical, adding another layer of complexity that students often fail to understand fully. Furthermore, instructors themselves may even miss the assumed goals they are including in their assignments and see the problem as resting wholly on the students.
One of the key problems she notes is that those constructing assignments understand their language as transparent but this language carries with it the need for the student to construct “an appropriate textual self suitable for the writing task” (par. 7). Clark claims that “uptake” can help to illuminate this problem. Uptake unites a primary text and its “interpretant,” or a text that results from a primary text—the uptake text. In this case, a writing assignment would be the primary text; the interpretant would be a student’s essay in response to that text. If a student fails to recognize certain goals or assumptions in the primary text, he or she is likely to produce a less successful interpretant. Such practices privilege certain knowledge and discourse, not always readily available to our students. Therefore, students who already understand these situtions continue to do well, while those students on the periphery struggle.
Not only does Clark provide instructors with problems to consider regarding assignment design; she also offers three strategies for alleviating these problems. First, she suggests adding an element of role-playing. As she noted early in the article, students need to assume a role in response to the writing prompt. Helping students recognize this need will better enable them to address the topic with more authority than if they were to focus on the topic as another writing assignment situated only in the context of the course. Second, she suggests encouraging students to write for a discipline-specific audience; thus students may be more able to understand certain expectations that the audience may have and what it means to write for an audience. Finally, she reminds instructors to be more aware of the genre of the writing assignment, with all of its subtlety. Doing so helps instructors make the implicit more explicit, to the benefit of the students and the texts they produce. And indeed, Clark’s warnings and strategies provide instructors with some valuable tools to use when crafting their own writing assignments.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
664 Blog 2: Assignments "Inventing the University"
Bartholomae, David. “Writing Assignments: Where Writing Begins.” Fforum Fall (1982): 35-46. Rpt. in Writing on the Margins: Essays on Composition and Teaching. Ed. David Bartholomae. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2005. 177-91. Print.
This article appears three years before David Bartholomae’s seminal “Inventing the University,” but here, too, he claims that students “invent the university”—they attempt to approximate academic and disciplinary language and knowledge—when they write (177). The job of instructors, then, is to provide students with meaningful and challenging ways into the discourse of the university through carefully crafted and scaffolded assignments.
Bartholomae emphasizes two assignment principles (though others work their way in through these discussions). The first principle is indoctrination. For an assignment to indoctrinate students in academic and/or disciplinary discourse, it must build on their abilities to enter into such discourses, to “lead students through successive approximations” of them (179). Attention to this principle helps instructors move beyond providing disciplinary content. He notes students receive ample content in the university, but too rarely do they learn how to think and communicate as a practitioner in a particular discourse. Through indoctrination, students learn to engage with a subject as an active participant instead of as an outsider briefly peeking in on a subject as a theme for a particular assignment.
The second principle Bartholomae discusses at length here is interference. This term has positive connotations here as it emphasizes disrupting students’ typical perceptions. He claims students tend to approach the writing process as a linear activity, as a sort of a formula. The language instructors use in constructing their assignments can exacerbate this problem since this language often carries different meanings in different disciplinary contexts. The directive to “argue” in a political science course assignment likely carries different implications than it does in an English course. As a result, students tend to retreat to closed and easily defended theses rather than wrestling with the uncertainties of a subject. Instead of closing off subjects, Bartholomae claims that academic writers recognize and engage with the open and situated nature of discourse and knowledge. To help students better understand this, instructors need to make sure that their assignments help students recognize and be comfortable with this as well. Ultimately, Bartholomae claims that only a sequence of assignments that focus on the same topic, allow the instructor to push against students’ conceptions, and otherwise “interfere” with students’ typical ways of writing and thinking will allow students to explore a subject as a subject, to situate themselves in the subject’s discourse, and to have the room to explore the subject.
I tend to agree with Bartholomae’s position that at least part of our duty as writing instructors is to help students find greater academic and professional—even civic and personal—success by providing them the tools needed to effectively and efficiently understand and navigate discourse communities. The scaffolded approach to assignment development he advocates here positions assignments as part of an ongoing investigation into academic discourses (though one could certainly imagine this applying to other types of discourses as well) that link course assignments with the work students will be doing elsewhere and encourage students to see themselves as participants in that discourse.
This article appears three years before David Bartholomae’s seminal “Inventing the University,” but here, too, he claims that students “invent the university”—they attempt to approximate academic and disciplinary language and knowledge—when they write (177). The job of instructors, then, is to provide students with meaningful and challenging ways into the discourse of the university through carefully crafted and scaffolded assignments.
Bartholomae emphasizes two assignment principles (though others work their way in through these discussions). The first principle is indoctrination. For an assignment to indoctrinate students in academic and/or disciplinary discourse, it must build on their abilities to enter into such discourses, to “lead students through successive approximations” of them (179). Attention to this principle helps instructors move beyond providing disciplinary content. He notes students receive ample content in the university, but too rarely do they learn how to think and communicate as a practitioner in a particular discourse. Through indoctrination, students learn to engage with a subject as an active participant instead of as an outsider briefly peeking in on a subject as a theme for a particular assignment.
The second principle Bartholomae discusses at length here is interference. This term has positive connotations here as it emphasizes disrupting students’ typical perceptions. He claims students tend to approach the writing process as a linear activity, as a sort of a formula. The language instructors use in constructing their assignments can exacerbate this problem since this language often carries different meanings in different disciplinary contexts. The directive to “argue” in a political science course assignment likely carries different implications than it does in an English course. As a result, students tend to retreat to closed and easily defended theses rather than wrestling with the uncertainties of a subject. Instead of closing off subjects, Bartholomae claims that academic writers recognize and engage with the open and situated nature of discourse and knowledge. To help students better understand this, instructors need to make sure that their assignments help students recognize and be comfortable with this as well. Ultimately, Bartholomae claims that only a sequence of assignments that focus on the same topic, allow the instructor to push against students’ conceptions, and otherwise “interfere” with students’ typical ways of writing and thinking will allow students to explore a subject as a subject, to situate themselves in the subject’s discourse, and to have the room to explore the subject.
I tend to agree with Bartholomae’s position that at least part of our duty as writing instructors is to help students find greater academic and professional—even civic and personal—success by providing them the tools needed to effectively and efficiently understand and navigate discourse communities. The scaffolded approach to assignment development he advocates here positions assignments as part of an ongoing investigation into academic discourses (though one could certainly imagine this applying to other types of discourses as well) that link course assignments with the work students will be doing elsewhere and encourage students to see themselves as participants in that discourse.
Monday, May 23, 2011
664 Blog 1: (Re)Interpreting Post-Process and Process
Breuch, Lee-Ann M. Kastman. “Post-Process ‘Pedagogy’: A Philosophical Exercise.” JAC 22.1 (2002): 119-50. Rpt. in Cross-Talk in Comp Theory: A Reader. 2nd ed. Ed. Victor Villanueva. Urbana, IL: NCTE, 2003. 97-125. Print.
Lee-Ann Kastman Breuch’s article explores post-process criticisms and argues against the simplistic views of both process and post-process notions to create a more dialogic and effective pedagogy. She begins by exploring some of the key tenets of post-process theory. Much of this resides in challenging the notion that writing processes can be codified and taught as content. This is most apparent in the “rejection of mastery” that post-process theories exhibit by objecting to writing as a thing to study rather than an activity in which students can engage. When the focus is on process as content, an instructor may bring up prewriting in a lecture or discussion and leave it as something for students to engage in on their own rather than making this an explicit and consistent part of classroom practices. Breuch also discusses the views of writing’s public, interpretive, and situated nature that arise from post-process theory; but she rightly notes that these are not specific to post-process theory, that they have established roots in postmodern theories of thought and language.
In short, post-process theory is not anti-process, nor is it trying to alter radically the theoretical underpinnings of composition instruction. However, she recognizes that post-process too readily turns process into a villain. The arguments against mastery, specifically, often miss the intentions (and quite often, the realities) of process pedagogy: that the goal of process is to engage students in an activity and not to provide content to master. Breuch ends her discussion with a turn toward pedagogy, though she claims that the anti-foundational nature of post-process limits her ability to consider specific pedagogies. She does discuss, however, two considerations we can draw from post-process theory. First, we need to consider writing and its processes as actual activities, not just as fodder for a few lectures. Second, we should attempt to emphasize the dialogic nature of communication both in how we help students understand and engage in writing. Her hope, then, is that we consider fully and carefully what we do as teachers.
Breuch’s article offers two key benefits, one somewhat more universal and one more personal. The first comes in her attempts to dispel some myths about post-process theory and to counter some of the problematic views of process pedagogy that some post-process interpretations have. By complicating both notions, Breuch reminds us that seemingly competing theories need not negate each other. Thus, to engage in effective praxis, we need to be critical interpreters and practitioners of theory. The second matter concerns a problem I tend to have as an instructor. I, too, have fallen into the trap of process as content (not that I do not bring in process activities directly into the classroom). Breuch’s article will not only provide some ideas to underwrite the entire trajectory of my course, but this also will provide me with reminders to keep process and dialogue as more central and active parts of the assignments I construct.
Lee-Ann Kastman Breuch’s article explores post-process criticisms and argues against the simplistic views of both process and post-process notions to create a more dialogic and effective pedagogy. She begins by exploring some of the key tenets of post-process theory. Much of this resides in challenging the notion that writing processes can be codified and taught as content. This is most apparent in the “rejection of mastery” that post-process theories exhibit by objecting to writing as a thing to study rather than an activity in which students can engage. When the focus is on process as content, an instructor may bring up prewriting in a lecture or discussion and leave it as something for students to engage in on their own rather than making this an explicit and consistent part of classroom practices. Breuch also discusses the views of writing’s public, interpretive, and situated nature that arise from post-process theory; but she rightly notes that these are not specific to post-process theory, that they have established roots in postmodern theories of thought and language.
In short, post-process theory is not anti-process, nor is it trying to alter radically the theoretical underpinnings of composition instruction. However, she recognizes that post-process too readily turns process into a villain. The arguments against mastery, specifically, often miss the intentions (and quite often, the realities) of process pedagogy: that the goal of process is to engage students in an activity and not to provide content to master. Breuch ends her discussion with a turn toward pedagogy, though she claims that the anti-foundational nature of post-process limits her ability to consider specific pedagogies. She does discuss, however, two considerations we can draw from post-process theory. First, we need to consider writing and its processes as actual activities, not just as fodder for a few lectures. Second, we should attempt to emphasize the dialogic nature of communication both in how we help students understand and engage in writing. Her hope, then, is that we consider fully and carefully what we do as teachers.
Breuch’s article offers two key benefits, one somewhat more universal and one more personal. The first comes in her attempts to dispel some myths about post-process theory and to counter some of the problematic views of process pedagogy that some post-process interpretations have. By complicating both notions, Breuch reminds us that seemingly competing theories need not negate each other. Thus, to engage in effective praxis, we need to be critical interpreters and practitioners of theory. The second matter concerns a problem I tend to have as an instructor. I, too, have fallen into the trap of process as content (not that I do not bring in process activities directly into the classroom). Breuch’s article will not only provide some ideas to underwrite the entire trajectory of my course, but this also will provide me with reminders to keep process and dialogue as more central and active parts of the assignments I construct.
Entries for "Teaching College Composition"
My project for this course is to redesign my Composition II course. This course is a general education course and typically consists of sophomores. I have recently acquired the text Writing about Writing—a text that uses issues in writing as the content for a composition course. The content of this text is different than the “social issues” readers I typically use. Because of this, I am rethinking my assignments and my approaches to them. Therefore, my focus in the blog will be on issues related to assignment development and assessment to help me rethink my approaches to assignments.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Pedagogy Article Slideshow
Below is the link to my slideshow. I tried to condense as much as I could, but, you know. . . . My thinking on this is still a little rough, so I would appreciate any feedback.
N serfling 820 eposter
View more presentations from nathanserfling
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Pedagogical Tool Review: VoiceThread
(First, the link to my VoiceThread.)
VoiceThread, an online interactive slideshow program, offers instructors a new way to conduct discussions that allows for video and audio posts, unlike typical discussion forums that rely almost exclusively on text. And this is a rather simple tool to use. After creating an account, users click the “Create” tab to upload files from a local drive, include files from a media source (VoiceThread gives direct links to other VoiceThreads, Flickr, Facebook, and over 700,000 images from the New York Public Library), insert URLs, and/or create videos using a webcam. Users can also edit how viewers see the slideshow and can edit the publishing options, adding a fair amount of security to the VoiceThread.
Once creators share the VoiceThread, viewers who have VoiceThread accounts can comment on that (or about any) VoiceThread. A viewer simply clicks the “Comment” button and chooses the mode of comment he or she prefers; the principle options include text, audio, or video—the latter two having ten minute limits. Another feature available to viewers commenting via audio or video is Doodle. When recording an audio or video comment, a viewer can draw directly on the slide using the mouse. These doodles will then be visible to anyone who views the VoiceThread’s comments. Finally, once posted, the comments appear as boxes bearing images chosen by the commenters around the sides of the original VoiceThread. As the slides progress, the comments follow in the order they were posted (but the slideshow’s creator can modify this order).
Though VoiceThread has broad educational and non-educational uses, it does offer a number of key affordances for instructors in English studies. As English studies becomes increasingly multimodal, instructors seek out new tools and methods to teach students about critiquing and producing multimodal texts. This presents two key challenges. The first challenge is to align the technologies and multimodal texts with particular goals of English studies (Selber 8; Journet 110-11). The second challenge is to debunk the idea that technology use is simply a skill. Indeed, as Jennifer Sheppard argues, producers of effective multimodal texts must make careful rhetorical considerations of audience, context, purpose, and media (122). This provides instructors with the opportunity to emphasize both critique and production of multimodal texts, challenging theory/practice divides (Sheppard 123; Journet 114; Selber 7; Hocks 644-45).
Several scholars and teachers have introduced pedagogical practices to meet these challenges. Especially germane to VoiceThread, at least for my purposes, is Stuart Selber’s three literacies regarding computers: functional literacy (use), critical literacy (analysis), and rhetorical literacy (production) (24-25). An instructor could put into practice, quite easily, Selber’s various literacies using a tool such as VoiceThread. In a course emphasizing visual rhetoric or multimodal composition, an instructor could upload any text (a video, an image, etc.) into a VoiceThread. Students would then have to engage in functional literacy practices by viewing and commenting on that text. Students would rely on critical literacy to comment on the rhetoric, content, and design features of the text. And students must also consider their own rhetorical practices (albeit in a somewhat limited capacity) in their comments, thereby engaging in rhetorical literacy. One can see, too, how an instructor might incorporate elements of the New London Group’s mulitiliteracies pedagogy in a VoiceThread project (see Cope and Kalantzis 30-36).
VoiceThread’s affordances are not only specific to visual rhetoric or multimodal composition courses. A literature course instructor, for instance, could easily upload a poem (so long as the font size makes for easy viewing), or one of the many thousands of images from the New York Public Library (images of the growth of New York City if one was doing a unit on literature of the metropolis) for the class to analyze. More generally, VoiceThread offers a somewhat tangential but important benefit, especially for asynchronous distance classes. As these classes typically rely on considerable amounts of text, VoiceThread gives its users the opportunities to see and hear those in the class, creating an added sense of connection in courses that might isolate students (see Owens, Hardcastle, and Richardson).
VoiceThread is not without some drawbacks, most of which deal with the limitations of the free version and the cost of the paid versions. The free version limits uploads to 25MB and allows a user only three VoiceThreads on his or her account at a time. If use of VoiceThread were to be more than infrequent, the instructor would need to delete VoiceThreads and all the comments associated with them to create new VoiceThreads. VoiceThread does offer a Pro version with unlimited VoiceThreads and unlimited audio and video commenting, file uploads of up to 100MB, among other features, for $59.95 per year. VoiceThread also offers educational versions for K-12 and higher education. In the higher education category, an instructor can purchase a single instructor/manager account for $99 per year that includes one Pro account and 50 basic accounts. Departmental licenses are $699 for ten Pro accounts and 250 basic accounts, though the site doesn’t specify if this fee is one-time yearly. The limits of the free account and the costs of the other products may be significantly prohibitive depending on planned uses and/or available funding resources. Finally, aside from account concerns, another problem (though a small one) is that users cannot link or embed YouTube videos in a VoiceThread, but a free download of a YouTube downloader remedies this. Otherwise, VoiceThread accepts the majority of common file types.
Ultimately, VoiceThread is an easily accessible tool that, because of its ease of use and flexibility, can contribute to a variety of courses that emphasize and/or encourage a number of modalities in presenting and producing information. However, unless users are willing to pay for greater access, they may be forced to incorporate this minimally, costing time and effort for students and instructors for limited use. A clearly articulated and longer project, though, could counterbalance these limitations; furthermore, if an instructor plans to use this in a number of ways, the $5 monthly expense of a Pro account may be nominal for the affordances of this tool.
Works Cited
Cope, Bill and Mary Kalantzis. “Introduction: Multiliteracies: The Beginning of an Idea.” Multiliteracies: Literacy Learning and the Design of Social Futures. Ed. Bill Cope and Mary Kalantzis. London: Routledge, 2000. 3-37. Print.
Hocks, Mary E. “Understanding Visual Rhetoric in Digital Writing Environments.” CCC 54.4 (2003): 629-56. Print.
Journet, Debra. “Inventing Myself in Multimodality: Encouraging Senior Faculty to Use Digital Media.” Computers and Composition 24 (2007): 107-20. Print.
Owens, Janet, Lesley Ann Hardcastle, and Ben Richardson. “Learning from a Distance: The Experience of Remote Students.” Journal of Distance Education 23.3 (2009): 53-74. Print.
Selber, Stuart A. Multiliteracies for a Digital Age. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois UP, 2004. Print.
Sheppard, Jennifer. “The Rhetorical Work of Multimedia Production Practices: It’s More Than Just Technical Skill.” Computers and Composition (2009): 122-31. Print.
VoiceThread, an online interactive slideshow program, offers instructors a new way to conduct discussions that allows for video and audio posts, unlike typical discussion forums that rely almost exclusively on text. And this is a rather simple tool to use. After creating an account, users click the “Create” tab to upload files from a local drive, include files from a media source (VoiceThread gives direct links to other VoiceThreads, Flickr, Facebook, and over 700,000 images from the New York Public Library), insert URLs, and/or create videos using a webcam. Users can also edit how viewers see the slideshow and can edit the publishing options, adding a fair amount of security to the VoiceThread.
Once creators share the VoiceThread, viewers who have VoiceThread accounts can comment on that (or about any) VoiceThread. A viewer simply clicks the “Comment” button and chooses the mode of comment he or she prefers; the principle options include text, audio, or video—the latter two having ten minute limits. Another feature available to viewers commenting via audio or video is Doodle. When recording an audio or video comment, a viewer can draw directly on the slide using the mouse. These doodles will then be visible to anyone who views the VoiceThread’s comments. Finally, once posted, the comments appear as boxes bearing images chosen by the commenters around the sides of the original VoiceThread. As the slides progress, the comments follow in the order they were posted (but the slideshow’s creator can modify this order).
Though VoiceThread has broad educational and non-educational uses, it does offer a number of key affordances for instructors in English studies. As English studies becomes increasingly multimodal, instructors seek out new tools and methods to teach students about critiquing and producing multimodal texts. This presents two key challenges. The first challenge is to align the technologies and multimodal texts with particular goals of English studies (Selber 8; Journet 110-11). The second challenge is to debunk the idea that technology use is simply a skill. Indeed, as Jennifer Sheppard argues, producers of effective multimodal texts must make careful rhetorical considerations of audience, context, purpose, and media (122). This provides instructors with the opportunity to emphasize both critique and production of multimodal texts, challenging theory/practice divides (Sheppard 123; Journet 114; Selber 7; Hocks 644-45).
Several scholars and teachers have introduced pedagogical practices to meet these challenges. Especially germane to VoiceThread, at least for my purposes, is Stuart Selber’s three literacies regarding computers: functional literacy (use), critical literacy (analysis), and rhetorical literacy (production) (24-25). An instructor could put into practice, quite easily, Selber’s various literacies using a tool such as VoiceThread. In a course emphasizing visual rhetoric or multimodal composition, an instructor could upload any text (a video, an image, etc.) into a VoiceThread. Students would then have to engage in functional literacy practices by viewing and commenting on that text. Students would rely on critical literacy to comment on the rhetoric, content, and design features of the text. And students must also consider their own rhetorical practices (albeit in a somewhat limited capacity) in their comments, thereby engaging in rhetorical literacy. One can see, too, how an instructor might incorporate elements of the New London Group’s mulitiliteracies pedagogy in a VoiceThread project (see Cope and Kalantzis 30-36).
VoiceThread’s affordances are not only specific to visual rhetoric or multimodal composition courses. A literature course instructor, for instance, could easily upload a poem (so long as the font size makes for easy viewing), or one of the many thousands of images from the New York Public Library (images of the growth of New York City if one was doing a unit on literature of the metropolis) for the class to analyze. More generally, VoiceThread offers a somewhat tangential but important benefit, especially for asynchronous distance classes. As these classes typically rely on considerable amounts of text, VoiceThread gives its users the opportunities to see and hear those in the class, creating an added sense of connection in courses that might isolate students (see Owens, Hardcastle, and Richardson).
VoiceThread is not without some drawbacks, most of which deal with the limitations of the free version and the cost of the paid versions. The free version limits uploads to 25MB and allows a user only three VoiceThreads on his or her account at a time. If use of VoiceThread were to be more than infrequent, the instructor would need to delete VoiceThreads and all the comments associated with them to create new VoiceThreads. VoiceThread does offer a Pro version with unlimited VoiceThreads and unlimited audio and video commenting, file uploads of up to 100MB, among other features, for $59.95 per year. VoiceThread also offers educational versions for K-12 and higher education. In the higher education category, an instructor can purchase a single instructor/manager account for $99 per year that includes one Pro account and 50 basic accounts. Departmental licenses are $699 for ten Pro accounts and 250 basic accounts, though the site doesn’t specify if this fee is one-time yearly. The limits of the free account and the costs of the other products may be significantly prohibitive depending on planned uses and/or available funding resources. Finally, aside from account concerns, another problem (though a small one) is that users cannot link or embed YouTube videos in a VoiceThread, but a free download of a YouTube downloader remedies this. Otherwise, VoiceThread accepts the majority of common file types.
Ultimately, VoiceThread is an easily accessible tool that, because of its ease of use and flexibility, can contribute to a variety of courses that emphasize and/or encourage a number of modalities in presenting and producing information. However, unless users are willing to pay for greater access, they may be forced to incorporate this minimally, costing time and effort for students and instructors for limited use. A clearly articulated and longer project, though, could counterbalance these limitations; furthermore, if an instructor plans to use this in a number of ways, the $5 monthly expense of a Pro account may be nominal for the affordances of this tool.
Works Cited
Cope, Bill and Mary Kalantzis. “Introduction: Multiliteracies: The Beginning of an Idea.” Multiliteracies: Literacy Learning and the Design of Social Futures. Ed. Bill Cope and Mary Kalantzis. London: Routledge, 2000. 3-37. Print.
Hocks, Mary E. “Understanding Visual Rhetoric in Digital Writing Environments.” CCC 54.4 (2003): 629-56. Print.
Journet, Debra. “Inventing Myself in Multimodality: Encouraging Senior Faculty to Use Digital Media.” Computers and Composition 24 (2007): 107-20. Print.
Owens, Janet, Lesley Ann Hardcastle, and Ben Richardson. “Learning from a Distance: The Experience of Remote Students.” Journal of Distance Education 23.3 (2009): 53-74. Print.
Selber, Stuart A. Multiliteracies for a Digital Age. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois UP, 2004. Print.
Sheppard, Jennifer. “The Rhetorical Work of Multimedia Production Practices: It’s More Than Just Technical Skill.” Computers and Composition (2009): 122-31. Print.
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