In Defense of David Gilmour

I suppose the title of this blog is rather misleading.  I don’t intend to defend Mr. Gilmour’s outright dismissal of women writers, or Canadian writers, or Chinese writers.  But better thinkers than I have written posts that range from outrage to disappointment to sadness--my favourite ends with a picture of the author giving Mr. Gilmour the finger; Mr. Gilmour has a narrow-minded approach to literature.  For me, the discussions boil down to two tweets:  Jonathan Ball suggested (jokingly, obviously) that we should cut Mr. Gilmour some slack since he wrote “Comfortably Numb.”  Zachariah Wells tweeted in response, “Comfortably Dumb?”

I was going to start this post with an apology on behalf of white men who don’t think like Mr. Gilmour.  As expected, that is not necessary at all.  Many of those lambasting Mr. Gilmour are, in fact, very similar to Mr. Gilmour, in terms of their age, gender, and race.  Those who do not share Mr. Gilmour’s privileged position are not blaming old white guys for Mr. Gilmour’s views.  They are not blaming the University of Toronto.  Everyone seems to be placing the blame squarely on the shoulders of the responsible party:  the system that allows for someone to think that reading and teaching books that reflect only one’s own identity is a great way to teach students.  Some might name that system the patriarchy.

However, I have read numerous responses to Mr. Gilmour’s ill-conceived words (and ill-conceived perceptions of education and teaching) that condemn him for teaching only those books about which he is passionate.  And here is the only defense I can muster for Mr. Gilmour.  I had to reflect on my “Introduction to Language and Literature” course because that course could be sub-titled “Some of Jay’s Favourite Texts.”  The books I teach to students (many of whom are in my class only to meet a requirement for a Management degree) are books that I love; they are also books that I love to teach.  In fact, I have previously made an effort to teach books I actively hate in order to let students know that it is perfectly acceptable to study and read literature that you dislike.  I actually thought I would make a great scholar of Victorian novels because I despise them so perfectly.

One of the novels I made myself teach, despite my hatred for it, was Wuthering Heights.  I hate that book because it seems to me like a tragic episode of Three’s Company:  there’s a misunderstanding, but instead of it being wrapped up in a half-hour with Mr. Roper doing or saying something ridiculous and oblivious, it turns out the misunderstanding makes characters mope about on the moor for days-on-end crying into the sodden wind, “Woe is me,” and then trying to destroy others’ happiness because of a simple misunderstanding.  “Just TALK to each other!” I want to scream at the characters.  Anyway, my hatred of that book has nothing to do with the fact that it was written by a woman or that it does not reflect my values or my own identity.  How do I know this?  Because every term I teach A Room of One’s Own to one hundred first-year students.  I teach it because I love it; I teach it because of the fifty students who hate it, and the forty-nine students who come to love (or at least respect) it, there is one student, every term, whose life is changed because of it.  I would suggest that Mr. Gilmour read that book; it might speak to him in his moment of what can only be grave doubt.  But I mean REALLY read it.  Try to empathize.

It’s a difficult text to read; it’s a difficult text to teach to seventeen- and eighteen-year old students.  But it’s a book I love.  And I teach it because I love it.  I teach it because it’s important, not because it was written by a person I admire, or a person I want to be.  In fact, one of the few things I hope my students take away from my introductory class is that we must separate the author from the text; we want to look at the text as a cultural artifact, not as some deep expression of the author who “really” meant to say something else, or “really” meant what was written on the page.  That is not to say that, at more advanced stages, that social, historical, biographical information is irrelevant; it is only to say that I want students in first year to address the text first.

With that said, Mr. Gilmour, I invite you to take my “Introduction to Language and Literature” class, in which I state that we do not need to “identify with” the narrator or the protagonist because they are fictional characters.  I also suggest that we can read to understand and value difference, rather than have our own identities reflected back onto us.  Literature is so much more than a looking-glass.  Really, I suggest you read Woolf more closely.

I have read some responses to Mr. Gilmour's interview and abysmal "apology" that can be summarized with the following manufactured tweet: “So, we can now condemn Women’s Studies profs for not teaching men?” I will not develop this point further tonight, but I will say that this blog post is not relevant if Mr. Gilmour’s courses are called “The Representation of Middle-Aged White Male Sexuality in Literature” or “Old White Guys’ Sexual Hangups” or “I Will Stun You with a Scene of a Man Eating a Used Tampon.”  Somehow, I think my response is still relevant.  Also, I expect that Women’s Studies profs might include a good number of the authors Mr. Gilmour includes on his syllabus.  Mostly as evidence.

Be passionate about what you teach, Mr. Gilmour.  Just try to allow your passion to extend beyond your own skin.  But, Mr. Gilmour, thank you for making me re-examine my course syllabi and allow me to see even more changes that I can make to allow more voices to enter my classroom than just my own.  My book order is over-due because of you.  I and my future students thank you for that.

We also have to remember that film is different from literature.  So, if you will excuse me, I am about to watch the film of me writing this blog post.

The Ballad of Tommy Lu

And here is the full text of "The Ballad of Tommy Lu (in Many Tweets)" that I read this Sunday at Word on the Street in Lethbridge:

The Ballad of Tommy Lu

(In Many Tweets)

I

You think Luckaszack is just a hack,

knows nought of PSE?

Well, here’s a song to prove you wrong,

so let the praise run free!

“We’ll give you cash and in a flash,”

said our Tommy, running.

He really meant, “The money’s spent,

sorry ‘bout your funding.”

“I am can-do,” said Tommy Lu

when up against Wild Rose.

Then he got in, stifled a grin,

“I’ve got some schools to close.”

We cheered, of course, without remorse:

who needs education?

Students will learn, after this burn,

‘bout this politician.

Why do they read when what we need

is good ol’ worker drones?

We need drillers, pillow fillers,

and people to answer phones.

He did besmirch the pure research

of profs who might think lots.

What’s the use of a lab recluse

if we can’t sell robots?

“I decide what’s taught (before I’m caught

punching above my weight),”

Said Tommy Lu to his mighty crew,

unaware of their fate.

If truth be told, our hero bold

unsheathed his battle axe:

he slashed and hacked, laughed and smacked,

“We always refuse to tax!”

He fixed his hair, said with a glare,

“we just require prudence.”

Though jobs were lost, “Despite the cost,

I support our students.”

To those who balked, Tommy had talked:

“This is gonna hurta.”

Though students cried, Tommy replied,

“I’m burning Alberta.”

The Ballad of Tommy Lu

(In Many Tweets)

Part Two:

Centralizing Bugaloo

Open your ear, and open a beer;

I’ve got a tale for you.

Here’s a story that sings the glory

Of the hero Tom Lu.

Tom takes his post: the students toast;

The profs all think he’s cool.

He’s on their side against the tide

Of this bitumen tool.

The budget fell, became a hell

For those who like Tom Lu.

He yelled, “Surprise! I’m Enterprise!

Deputy Premier, too!”

At this dual role, some eyes do roll,

Say it’s a lot to heft.

Tom will not shirk; it’s hardly work

When there’s nothing left.

He stands tall, cutting it all,

Much to the schools’ dismay:

“I take it back! Some I’ll sack;

Some programs shout, ‘Mayday!’”

But Tom’s not done; he’s having fun

Torturing all students.

He preens his mane, says with disdain,

“I’ll stop that impudence!”

To Tommy Lu, students said, “You

Promised autonomy!”

Into the mic, Tom spit with spite,

“In this economy?”

Despite their size, he’ll centralize

All of our many schools.

“It’s well and fine for some to whine;

we know they’re silly fools.”

“Go take a hike; it’s no Third Reich–

it’s what I have to do.”

He leaves, stage left; they’re all bereft

because of Tommy Lu.

But don’t be sad for this ballad

Of Lucky Tommy Lu.

Please don’t be sore; I’ll add some more,

But here must end Part Two.

The Ballad of Tommy Lu

(in many tweets)

Part III: Institute of Mystery

“I am can-do,” said Tommy Lu

(some even whispered, “liar!”)

But he got in, stifled a grin:

“I’ve got some profs to fire.”

The budget dropped; the schools were stopped

from having half a chance.

Here’s Tommy’s line: “Now don’t you whine,

We’ll cut to excellence!”

“I’ve got some news!” said Tommy Lu,

“We’ll add another school.

An institute of great repute!”

They screamed, “You bloody fool!”

He laughed, said, “Yup. But listen up,

Your research you can share.

And this is fun: it will be run

By CEOs--that’s fair!”

“The Institute, it will make the loot

We so sorrily need.”

Students said, “No!” Profs said, “Whoa!

You are making us bleed.”

Said to his face, “Where is this place?

And we already share!”

And came the shout, “Get business out!”

Tom Lu just brushed his hair.

Tom wanted to flee: “Where it will be,

I have no real idea.

When I find out, I will no doubt,

Tell you some time. See ‘ya!”

And now, today, the U of A

has asked some profs to leave.

“But they weren’t fired; they just retired!”

Said our Tommy, starting to weave.

“Tuition I’ll freeze!” (not other fees)

“I do it for their sakes.”

Though students cried, Tommy replied,

“Who pissed in your CornFlakes?”

At Tommy Lu, they threw a shoe;

he dodged and weaved and ducked.

They’re just so proud; they shout so loud,

“Our schools are truly . . . in a whole lot of trouble.” 

A Letter to the Editor of The Meliorist

I have sent the following letter to our student newspaper, The Meliorist.

Dear, Editor:

I am writing in regards to the drastic cuts to Alberta’s post secondary education system.  As you know, the Redford government ran on an election platform of modest, if predictable and stable funding to post secondary schools in Alberta.  Redford explained that post-secondary education would see a 2% increase each year for three years.

On 7 March of this year, the government dropped a budget that made cuts to post secondary education of more than 7%.  Our schools are still reeling, and the full effect of these cuts will not be felt for some time.  These cuts have devastated our institutions.

Now, our Minister of Advanced Education Ignorance, Mr. Thomas Lukaszuk has said that students will not feel the effects of these cuts:  “not on the backs of students,” is the oblivious rallying cry of the Redford government.  I would expect that students are already feeling the effects of these cuts with a rise in non-instructional fees, with fewer course offerings, and other signs of the disaster that will be unfolding over the next few years.  Mr. Lukaszuk is quite delighted with the fact that he has frozen tuition; bear in mind, students, that this tuition freeze lasts for one year.  When your tuition skyrockets next year, be sure that your anger is directed at the proper source.

Mr. Lukaszuk has attempted a divide and conquer strategy: he has attempted to woo students with a tuition freeze, with quarterly meetings with student leaders, and numerous photo-ops with students.  The students I know at the University of Lethbridge can see through this charade.

Mr. Lukaszuk has also stated that he has not heard much from students or their parents.  And it is this claim I hope you, students of the University of Lethbridge, will prove to be staggeringly inaccurate.  I urge you to contact Mr. Lukaszuk.  I urge you to follow the #abpse hashtag on Twitter.  I urge you to get involved and demand that the government reverse these cuts; let’s protect the University of Lethbridge and your education.

Let’s show Mr. Lukaszuk and the Redford government what a united, educated citizenry is able to accomplish.

Regards,

Dr. Jay Gamble

P.S.  The opinions expressed in this letter are mine and do not reflect the views of the University of Lethbridge or its administration.

P.P.S.  You may contact the Honourable Thomas Lukaszuk at the following addresses:

Twitter:  @ThomasLukaszukMLA

Phone: 780 427-5777
Fax: 780 422-8733 

Snail Mail: Lukaszuk, Thomas, Honourable

Deputy Premier and Minister 

Office of the Minister

Enterprise and Advanced Education
408 Legislature Building
10800 - 97 Avenue
Edmonton, AB
T5K 2B6

The Value of Literature

In my last post, I stated that I believed that what I taught was important and that I wanted to protect the study of literature.  I did not explain why I thought that, which I intend to do in this post.  Be aware, I am not going to cite studies that say business owners often look to hire English students or studies that indicate our current government’s attempt to direct what is taught (and researched) in our post-secondary schools is ill-conceived because the traits that make someone desirable to hire are most frequently traits fostered in the Humanities.  Those studies exist, but I am going to talk about why I think the study of literature is important.  As I see it, I am not training my students to improve their chances of getting hired, though that is a wonderful secondary advantage of studying English.  Instead, I am helping to develop thoughtful, critical, engaged citizens who are able to interpret, analyze, and synthesize information.  I say “helping to develop” because I am only a guide; it is the students who must do the work.

Some of what I will say is applicable to all education, some to the Arts, and some only to what I do in the classroom.  I am writing only from my experience behind the podium (or pacing in front of the classroom).  In this way, the post could be dismissed as purely anecdotal.  That’s fine.  In some ways, I am trying to explain why I love what I do.

I truly want my students to fall in love with the written and spoken word as much I have.  I know that will not be possible for every student, but I make an effort to make every student an English major.  I do so because I love it, because I enjoy it, and because literature has become an integral part of my life.  I earnestly hope that literature becomes a large part of my students’ lives, too, even if they don’t become English majors.

So what value do I see in literature that it is worth protecting from the thoughtless, destructive cuts of the Redford government?  As an undergraduate, my life was changed because I studied literature.  I became more compassionate, more understanding, more thoughtful.  I learned to value difference, not just to “tolerate” it.  I learned how our perceptions of reality are shaped by the language we use (or by the language that uses us).  That life-changing experience has a value that Mr. Lukaszuk has no time for; it produces no immediate money.

While I was doing my MA, I learned the value of community.  I learned how much I could learn from friends who shared similar interests.  I learned the joy of meeting, in person, authors I greatly admired.  I began to understand that the Canadian Literature I loved wasn’t a collection of books but a huge community of people, not always in agreement, but always passionate about literature.

I wrote my PhD dissertation on the ethics of absence in Canadian prairie literature.  That is a topic that could never be turned into the kind of profit Mr. Lukaszuk would like to see.  But it was a topic that inspired me, and in a course I now teach on occasion--Literature and Nothingness--I hope to bring the same passion to the classroom that I brought to writing that dissertation.  I want my students to share that passion--or find their own.

The poetry I now study and frequently teach could be called “avant-garde” or “innovative” or “experimental.”  Well, here’s a sample of the kind of poetry I most enjoying reading and teaching:  http://mediamogul.seas.upenn.edu/pennsound/video/Stefans/Kluge/_FILES/a_car_drives/index.htm.  Here’s another example:  http://ubumexico.centro.org.mx/sound/bok/Bok-Christian_from-Motorized-Razors.mp3  Really, I just recommend that you take a week off and explore ubu.com.

Why do I like “reading” and teaching that work?  First of all, it’s funny.  Secondly, all of the training I have had is almost useless when encountering work like that or aleatory verse, for example.  I have to think of new reading strategies, different approaches to finding meaning in the work.  I have to become creative as a “reader.”

Will any of my students ever be hired to provide a manager with an analysis of Christian Bök’s “Motorized Razors”?  Never.  Clearly, then, having students engage with “difficult,” fun poetry is of no value because you can’t pump oil with a sound poem.  I can’t imagine any employer interested in hiring a person trained to encounter the difficult and bizarre, and develop creative, innovative approaches to what seems unapproachable.

Mostly, I hope you take some time and explore ubu.com.  I also hope that this weekend, Mr. Lukaszuk is able to sit down and relax with a sound poem that I would like to send to him, personally.  It says just about everything I wish I could say to him:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wnuTeB5o6y0

The Problem of Thomas

The eviscerating cuts to Alberta’s post-secondary education system anger me; I believe that what I teach is important, and I want to protect the study of literature.  Mostly, these cuts enrage me because I believe that a healthy post-secondary education system is not only beneficial to Alberta but is necessary for our province to succeed in the future.  A well-educated citizenry can only be positive.

More than the fact that our current government ran on an election platform of stable funding for the education system and then cut funding by more than seven per-cent, I am enraged by the way in which these cuts have been meted out.  Obviously, they were surprise cuts, and the government has demanded large institutions to make drastic, horrific changes in only two years.  But it is how these cuts have been handled in the media and on social-media by our alleged champion, Mr. Lukaszuk, that sicken me.

Forgetting, for the moment, that this leader has limited experience with this portfolio or its “stakeholders,” and that the education portfolio also includes “enterprise,” and that he is also the Deputy Premier, his personal approach to these cuts is absolutely insulting.

This is a man who says that he will “deal” with angry professors; a man who says that he has not heard much from students or their parents; a man who is dismissive of the work done by lauded researchers and teachers; a man who engages, on Twitter, in ad hominem attacks against a far more rational professor than I who attempts to maintain fact-based, logical discourse about these cuts.

I have been blocked by Mr. Lukaszuk, and for good reason.  I called him an arse.  When he tried to capitalize on a school-shooting by re-tweeting another person’s tweet about the heroics of teachers, I said that it might be important to fund the heroes.  Don’t forget that he was the Minister of Education when devastating cuts were delivered to that sector.  Don’t forget that doctors and teachers in Alberta have also been bullied into accepting cuts.

All of this happens while a government in power for more than forty years refuses to levy a tax or increase royalties to the Oil and Gas industry.  We have to remember who the masters of Alberta truly are.  These masters are not Redford or Lukaszuk.

What I would like to address, though, is that Mr. Lukaszuk--even if he serves only as a diversion, an object of derision, as several people have astutely suggested--apparently had a tough go of it while at the University of Alberta.  There has to be something behind his absolutely dismissive attitude to instructors of higher education.  He seeks to woo students: the new doublethink is “Not on the backs of students,” all while student options decrease and non-tuition fees increase.  He is building Alberta for you by dismantling it.

Above all, Mr. Lukaszuk is clearly engaged in a divide-and-conquer strategy that is doomed to fail.  He does not know the students I know.  His absurd statements that these cuts will not affect students, that he is in support of students, that students come first--all of these statements would be dismissed by many students who have taken my classes or any number of post-secondary classes in Alberta. Remember:  this is a government that promised two per-cent increases to post-secondary education for three years.  Students are not as stupid as you think they are, Mr. Lukaszuk.

Moocing with Alberta’s Post-Secondary Education System

I first encountered the word MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) when I was on Facebook. A renowned and highly-respected expert in my field was offering a free course. I quickly enrolled in the class, joined the FaceBook group, and was eager to begin my studies.  I even told graduate students in the department about the course; this was, indeed, exciting news.  I thought I might be able to “borrow” some ideas about texts that I regularly teach.

The enrollment for this course grew to over 35 000 people.  I was inspired by the idea of a charismatic, well-intentioned, absolutely wonderful professor teaching an often-maligned field of study.  I imagined what I could do with half that many people, a quarter of that many people!  That professor became an on-line rock-star.

The graduate students that the professor (or university) employed to assist in this endeavor were equally inspiring.  They were all bright, passionate, absolutely devoted to the subject at hand.  The recorded lectures were excellent; the discussion boards were helpful, if hit-or-miss.  But 35 000 people around the world were discussing a subject about which I am deeply passionate.  “That can’t be a bad thing,” I thought.

But as the course progressed, I realized that this was not education; it was not even “edutainment.”  It was a way to feel that one’s time on-line was, in fact, spent fruitfully.  I completed the first “test” (which was rudimentary and graded electronically) that did not take into account more nuanced readings of a text, more knowledge than was expected.  I even began my first essay, which was to be ‘assessed’ by five or six of those registered in the MOOC, while I was to ‘assess’ five or six essays on my own.

That moment made me realize that the MOOC is not a form of education.  In my opinion, the government of Alberta is attempting to capitalize on a popular and ill-fated trend in education.  The MOOC will die off in a very short time.  To be clear, I think it is a great opportunity for those interested in particular topics, for those who have hobbies, to learn more about their passions. It is not a way to receive an education.

I (and my young children!) continued to watch lectures for a little while, before life got in the way.  And that is the problem with MOOCs.  It is not possible to imitate a class-room on-line.  You will not have an expert in the field of study offer you advice on how you can improve your essay.  The person commenting on your essay could be twelve-years old.

With that said, I think MOOCs could be a hearty welcome to people who do not have traditional methods of education available to them.  On-line courses are fantastic in that regard because there is direct instructor-to-student contact.  But MOOCs do not allow for that.  Those who wish for individual instruction, who have specific questions, who want to get expert advice?  You might as well go to Yahoo! answers.

I am writing this blog post because I believe the Redford government and Mr. Lukaszuk, in particular, given recent tweets, are interested in making education more accessible to Albertans (while raising non-tuition fees and reducing the number of seats) by using MOOCs.  We are certainly moving into an era where group-think and the wiki are new modes of developing knowledge.  It is easy to lose the voice of the expert in a shouting-match of competing voices.

MOOCs are a great supplementary resource, and for those instructors who would like to teach them, I think the more knowledge disseminated, the better.  But it is no substitute for an in-class face-to-face discussion in which the knowledge is created in the discussion, in which the teaching happens in that moment, where an instructor can see confusion on a student’s face or, better yet, enlightenment.

So, please excuse me, while I prepare for my next three face-to-face lectures, where students do not have anonymity and are required to take ownership for their ideas and actions.

I can only hope that Albertans will require the Redford government to take the same kind of ownership.  Why should we require more of our students than we do of our leaders?