I first become aware of the idea of gaming as a learning tool when reading Katherine Hayles’ “Hyper and Deep Attention: Generational Divides in Cognitive Modes” during an introductory discussion for the MAE program. Having never played video games myself, the idea of games as a learning tool was foreign despite the obvious fact that some of the most intelligent students are those who are deeply interested in gaming.
James Paul Gee’s “What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy” is a text that further explicates the notion of games as a learning tool, even those games that draw negative attention due to violence and other graphic content. Gee notes in his introduction that “literacy and thinking—two things that, at first sight, seem to be ‘mental’ achievements—are in reality also primarily social and cultural achievements” (5). The idea that literacy is social is not a difficult one to grasp; however, thinking as a social construct tends to be more abstract. Thinking as a social endeavor (an idea that is particularly important in an academic setting requiring critical thinking) allows the playing of games to become a learning tool rather than a passive activity. Gee goes on to explain the ways in which “game worlds” can be juxtaposed with “academic worlds”—an idea that is extremely important in pedagogy (particularly to those of us who are beginning our first year teaching in the Fall). This “learning to play ‘the game’,” as Gee describes it, is interesting because it seems to imply that critical thinking is not necessary—if one is learning to “play the game” in a certain way, we must question whether this allows a learner to think abstractly and critically. However, it is this ability to “play the game” that allows a learner to thrive in any particular academic (or social, etc.) environment. Because thinking and thus speech are so inherently personal (and up for interpretation) it is necessary to learn to “play the game” in such a way that the critical thinking one does can expressed in such a way that can be interpreted correctly by others.
Gee begins the second chapter of his book, “Semiotic Domains: Is Playing Video Games a ‘Waste of Time’?” by writing that “[w]hen people learn to play video games, they are learning a new literacy” (18). Gee’s use of the word literacy forces readers to redefine their idea of the term, becoming farther removed from the (Socratic/Platonic) privileging of speech over writing, to accepting that multimodal texts are just as significant as those using writing exclusively. It is from this idea that Gee moves into his idea of the semiotic domain, which he defines to those who do not like jargon as “an area or set of activities where people think, act, and value in a certain way” (19). He is, of course, interested in the ways distinctive types of meanings are communicated in gaming communities, which can then be applied to different kinds of communities. He is not overly concerned with the problem of content; rather he focuses on the possibility that the semiotic domain of gaming allows gamers to learn to think critically (in many cases, I imagine, without even realizing it). Because Gee is interested in the idea of gaming as pedagogy, the ways in which games allow one to take part in critical thinking can and should carry over into all areas of pedagogy (Gee mentions science specifically). Gee’s interest in design grammars, stemming from his theory on semiotic domains, calls into question the idea of knowledge as a whole. Here he further fleshes out the difference between passive and critical thinking as it relates to internal and external design grammars. By internal design grammar he means “the principles and patterns in terms of which one can recognize what is and what is not acceptable or typical content in a semiotic domain” (28). He defines external design grammar as “the principles and patterns in terms of which one can recognize what is and what is not an acceptable or typical social practice and identity in regard to the affinity group associated with a semiotic domain” (28-29). His example includes the knowledge of a list of modernist architecture versus the knowledge of “what counts as thinking, acting, interacting, and valuing like someone who is into modernist architecture” (29). This subtle difference is, of course, crucial for critical learning in which the learner must “be able consciously to attend to, reflect on, critique, and manipulate these design grammars at a metalevel” (31-32). The idea of going above and beyond a given set of facts (as the passive learner fails to do) is imperative to pedagogy—one can easily teach a set of facts, but teaching students to apply and even think beyond those facts and their application is a much more difficult task. This task, perhaps, can best be taught by video games or teaching styles similar to them because, as Gee explains, players are able to not only learn to think critically but enjoy doing so.
Questions:
1. 1. What are some specific examples of how playing video games actively and critically can be translated into real-world problem solving?
2. 2. How can “learning to play the game” be seen as both passive and critical? In other words, can one “learn to play the game” (whether it be an actual game or any kind of semiotic domain) without learning critically?
3. 3. In what ways do you think future generations will respond to gaming? As older generations become more electronically literate, will the idea of gaming as pedagogy change?
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