When bloggers see shiny objects

While I have been not blogging here, I was at a conference in Baton Rouge, LA (and more). What happens in Baton Rouge, unfortunately, does not stay in Baton Rouge, and my behindedness followed me all the way home to Montgomery like a stalker.

The conference was for the Council of Writing Program Administrators (began in the late 1970s with the first conference in 1982). It’s a great organization–if you have any interest at all in writing program administration, check them out.

First I attended three days of intensive training for WPAs and met wonderful folks from around the country and had my brain imploded from all the information I processed. Then I attended a one-day institute on basic writing, “Tectonic Shifts in Basic Writing,” and again brain implosion happened. Or rather, I loved it. I learned and listened and was silent a lot–so lovely to learn from and with experts (I have so much more to share with my fall class on basic writing pedagogy now!). It was good to listen to teachers talking about what they loved, what they cared about, and what they worried about.

I presented two times. One paper was a collaborative effort on open education resources with Charles E. Lowe, writing professor at Grand Valley State University and co-editor of Writing Spaces. (What fun I had–43 slides in 12 minutes–ask me about this some time, it was breathtaking, literally. It was like a relay race as we handed a remote controller every few slides: “stick” and talked through the points of our presentation.) What a great conversation we had after two other scholars presented. It was terrific. I loved it. I wish our class were meeting again so I could do the presentation for you–you’d LOVE it.

In lieu of that, please check out Garr Reynolds to see where Charlie got his inspiration. And make no mistake about this, it was all Charlie’s idea–I would have stuck with a standard text-heavy presentation for three reasons: 1) I’m tired; 2) I’m tired; 3) I’m tired. But this made me untired. And I’m looking forward to the next PPTX I create to try out some of the ideas Reynolds has about presentation theory. (Actually, when I get to the next part, you’ll also see another shiny object that has been keeping me from writing–and I did try out the Reynold’s theory on those folks who are related to that shiny object–and it was way cool.) Our panel was titled: “Technology and the Future of Sustainable Composition.” The other two presenters were: Margaret Munson (ASU) “Administrative Tensions: Textbooks and Sustainability” and Julia Voss (OSU) “Is it Time to Rethink Composition’s Technology Ecology.” I couldn’t have asked for a better experience, esp. as I contemplate my book review about a text on comp and books and sustainability–though the review is only half completed. (It’s not like I baked half a cake and still get to eat the first half, is it? I just have a big bowl of goo at this point.)

I also presented on another panel with Michelle Sidler from Auburn University (she’s the director of programs on writing), Karen Gardiner and Jessica Kidd from University of Alabama (Karen’s the comp director there and Jessica is the associate comp director), and Robert Cummings from the University of Mississippi (he’s the director of the Center for Writing and Rhetoric). Our panel title: “Choosing to Succeed: Themed Approaches to Second-Semester Comp.” I was much impressed with my colleagues’ presentations which included substantial information about program development, teacher training, assessment measures, future plans. They all had charts, and deep, rich information. I was impressed every minute of each presentation about the work they were doing–and inspired.

Here’s my first slide:

I want to teach a section of comp 2 on spies.

And from this point I showed pictures of Edward Cullen, Cartman on South Park, tattooed body parts, Amy Winehouse, James T. Kirk, social media landscape maps, and so on. The last slide was a representation of the Justice League and a heartfelt “thank you” message to my fellow panelists for their support in the last three years. Well, it was pretty. I may have redeemed myself during the after-panel discussion. Truly, it was a blast and my presentation really did hit the high points of why we have themed comp 2 classes, the rationale, the assessment measures, and more–but it was really, really, really design–visual-rhetoric-heavy and very text-light.

I attended sessions on open education resources, writing with iPads, and a session on writing and problem solving. It was so cold in that last particular meeting room that even I was cold. Y’all know that was cold. I had to go outside to warm up. Egads.

The OTHER shiny object: The Center for Writing Excellence at the Air War College.

And here is another shiny object: The AUM Writing Extravaganza class which is funded by the National Science Foundation. You’ll see that I was inspired by our own Sarah Fish’s most recent entry on that blog (she’s the tutor of record for the course–her second year running–and doing a fine job, too–and so not always easy with me as the teacher… oooo, is that a shiny object? I must go see what it is and then make it mine, mine, mine…).

Ahem. So do you think I overextended this summer? I do. But here’s what I learned: you are remarkably resilient and amazing learners. So am I. I’m really worn out and frazzled and panicked about: the fall schedule, the budget, books, training, blackboard, teacher contracts, four unstaffed comp classes, the carton of bad cottage cheese in my fridge, and my dry cleaning–where did I take it again? And yet. I’ve learned so much–in the last 6-7 weeks. Freaky, isn’t it?

So y’all are writing warriors. Not everyone is. Students new to college are not as resilient or determined as you are. You have a lot of solid ground under you that shifts very little. You have fear when you’re standing on the fence reaching for the perfect peach and could topple into the neighbor’s yard at any moment, because they have a big, mean dog, but you breath deep and keep on reaching until you get the peach you want. You know you can do it. It’s brilliant to watch.

And I wouldn’t give up one second of our work together despite my being, always, too busy. I am as impressed and inspired by you as I am with my colleagues at the conference last week. In fact, the thing I realized while melting, and alternately freezing, in Baton Rouge–it’s all about the learning. Mine, theirs, and yours.

Thank you for teaching me, for letting me learn how you think, for showing me so much about who you are as writers. I’m not finished reading blogs by any means, in fact, my weekend is booked with 18,432 things I need to do to catch up–but the only thing I’m really looking forward to is reading what you wrote while I was not blogging.