Meyers, Jigga, & a puppy

The recurrence of these ideas as new ideas suggests that those of us who want to change the way writing is taught tend to overlook the efforts and the lessons of earlier reformer. This process of adapting and carrying on the assumptions of our society is called reproducing ideology--- and the theme of most importance to us is the idea of the school as an image of society.  It gets a chance to become a miniature community, an embryonic society.  The danger is that the teacher has merely embodied his or her authority in the more effective guise of class consensus and so such elaborate machinery might occur when a constant appeal to consensus usage assumes the inherent superiority of certain language groups. Diversity is so well concealed that anyone could remain unaware that teachers in many cities are teaching classes in which most students were foreign born. Then the attempt by educators to deny the existence of these challenges can be seen as part of a repressive response by the government and corporations for if what we think of as facts are determined by our ideological framework, the facts cannot themselves get us beyond that framework.  But I am uneasy with the way the university makes them the enemy. We should be opposing, not traditional teachers, but a system in which such repressive teaching is, perfectly appropriate. If we see that schools can be both places of liberation and places of oppression, then we have to ask how we are using what limited power over people’s lives we do have. 

Non-fictional imaginary retelling of something that may or may not have happened:

First time working with an instructor who has their shit together. Like syllabus locked (for the whole semester, not just the first few weeks) assignments ready, sheets and powerpoints good to go, confident as shit kind of together.  And I thought- fack, this is what I wanna look like.  Instructor shall be named “jigga” cause that’s how I’m feeling.

I take liberty of such meticulous precision and turn my workshops into full blown multimodal, alternative, experimental mind fucks.  Jigga is the spine, I can be the flesh, the hair, the nails, the sweat, the stench, the fucken shit. 

I was like a puppy at the heels of its master, drooling over the mere thought of attention.  Teach me oh put together and thus wise one! Reality hit, Jigga is a solo act, and that doesn’t include masturbation because if it did at least Jigga woulda talked shop, their shop of course, but I’ve always inhaled the lives of others so that would have been more than enough to build upon.  But no, not even that, no I got the “respect” of a “colleague in training” a condescending, oh you’ll be here soon, see if you really like it you excited puppy.  “I know you know what you are doing. I trust you. Do what you like, you don’t have to ask me, tell me, update me…Man, these guys are really bad! Man, these guys can’t write for shit!”  I was the pup, you know the dog that listens to masters bitching and since I was the bitch, what better ear to fill. 

Skip the entire semester.  I did things… I taught students.  I improved thought that then led and was in corroboration with reading and writing.  Students moved me and I moved them, and I continued to understand why man inspires me so-  raw potential in the midst of angst is divine. 

Jigga is pleased with the classes overall outcome considering the scare at the beginning of the semester.  Jigga asks this pup to…collaborate…on some things for the following semester.  “Do you mind if I use this..?” 

After implementation of a semi multimedia, multimodal (bs, I mean that as nicely as possible) syllabus, Jigga becomes silent.  Jigga tells me—“wow, this is crazy some of the results I am getting, but… I can see why it can be troublesome.  It can only go so far.”

Oh…

I guess all the things I read, experienced, learned, experimented with—all my specialized classes (ha! I made special through, como se llaman—intrinsic motivation!), personal research and development—the focus on rhetoric and composition as not an “emerging” (ugh!!!!) but a purposely shitted on field (where does power lie?  In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… so what if we fuck with…God, I mean the word…wait, what?) … dammit, too many thoughts and () I lost track of my sentence, I mean thought L 

Jigga knew nothing about my pedagogy or about the theories that founded my philosophy and worse, Jigga doesn’t give a shit about theory in general.  Jigga doesn’t even have a composition background (like how many of our adjunct comp instructors—the poor bastards, literature and creative writers biting their tongue till Papa tenure drops them a dime worthy of their attention and dedication---HIRE ME PLEASE, I LIKE THIS SHIT)

Anywho…  This stance requires a sort of doubleness: an awareness that one’s course is part of an ideological structure that keeps people from thinking about their situation, but also a belief that one can resist this structure and help students to criticize it.