Mini-Essay Two

In chapters three and four of “What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy,” Gee is primarily interested in identity and it’s effect on pedagogy (though chapter three is more directly related to identity, while chapter four focuses on situated meaning). These chapters, more so than the first two, seem to be more closely tied to actual teaching methods and Gee’s critique of them.

In “Learning and Identity: What Does it Mean to be Half-Elf?,” Gee notes that “debates about education . . . tend not to engage with issues about the identities learners bring to school and how these identities relate to motivation and effort (or their lack) in relation to specific sorts of pedagogies” (58). The specific sort of pedagogy that Gee believes is most beneficial to students is the one that utilizes a psychosocial moratorium, or an environment “in which the learner can take risks where real-world consequences are lowered” (59). In previous chapters Gee discussed the need for “failure” or mistakes to take place in order to allow true understanding to occur, and we expanded on this idea in class on Monday. It is this need to make mistakes and “learn from them” that the projective identity is more helpful in fulfilling, as it allows one to learn about his or her own limitations in a less prohibitive and high-stakes environment. (Failure and mistakes are rarely acceptable in a typical classroom.)

It is on this note that Gee moves into his chapter on “Situated Meaning and Learning: What Should You Do After You Have Destroyed the Global Conspiracy?” in which he continues to deconstruct traditional methods of learning and teaching. (Methods that, as he pointed out in previous chapters, often lead to a memorization of facts rather than an acquisition of actual knowledge.) The idea that traditional methods of teaching lead to fact memorization rather than usable and applicable knowledge can be summed up as Gee writes: “General, purely verbal meanings, meanings that a person has no ability to customize for specific situations and that offer the person no invitations for embodied actions in different situations, are useless (save for passing tests in school)” (83). This idea leads Gee to the “probe, hypothesize, reprobe, and rethink” model of learning. In this type of learning situation, a student (or learner) is able to form his or her own hypotheses and potentially make mistakes—a valuable learning tool, despite the negative connotations “failure” has in typical classrooms and learning environments.

One of the most interesting arguments Gee proposes is that there are no “masters” of particular subjects; rather there are expert practitioners who are able to expertly traverse a given semiotic domain. Because there are no “masters” of semiotic domains, but only learners of different levels, the idea of failure takes on a new meaning—one in which failure is not necessarily a negative thing, but a learning tool. Students, in this model, are not “bad” students, but rather students that have yet to have an embodied experience with a given semiotic domain. Gee’s example includes the instructions to Deus Ex: though the instructions make literal sense, one cannot really understand them until he or she has played the game. Having played the game, the instructions make sense. Perhaps after a few such experiences, a player (or student) will be able to read an instruction book and make abstractions about a similar but never-before-played game. Gee believes that the same holds true for those who take part in learning any subject. He calls this idea the “Situated Meaning Principle” which notes that meanings of signs are situated in an embodied experience. Furthermore, this idea is continued in his discussion of tools that hold knowledge. We discussed briefly in class that it’s nearly impossible to memorize a complete set of facts, but there are (in the real world, though perhaps not in many classroom settings) tools that can hold facts that perhaps one has not committed to memory. The ability the student has to find, use, and synthesize these facts seems to be the most important aspect of “learning” (though, with this in mind, perhaps the typical definition of learning is not useful). Gee speaks of this idea by saying that it’s “good that the material environment and objects in it are part of your intelligence” (107). This, I think, is one of the more radical ideas of his book so far, at least as far as typical classroom learning is concerned. As Gee points out, using outside materials in a typical classroom is “cheating” rather than tapping into one’s own intelligence resources.

Though Gee makes many good points throughout these chapters, the idea of classroom teaching and learning actually becoming similar to his model seems to be far-fetched, particularly in states that are primarily interested in standardized test scores (e.g. South Carolina). Classrooms and schools such as these leave little room for Gee’s “Material Intelligence Principle”; therefore, I am particularly interested in seeing if Gee has a plan of action in the coming chapters.

Questions:

1. I mention at the end of my post that I’m interested in seeing how Gee’s model of teaching can be utilized in actual classrooms. What ways do you see this model being used in the future?

2. Since we are all teaching in the Fall: What ways do you plan on using Gee’s model in your own classroom? How will you do the “repair work” Gee imagines needs to be done? (See page 57).

3. In graduate school, any grade below a B is considered failing. How does this contradict Gee’s learning/teaching model? Basically, what’s up with that? 

First Mini-Essay: Gee

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? 

Second Life Introduction

Having never played online games before, I imagine that an important part of it's allure would include the ability to be someone completely opposite of yourself. With this in mind, I created NanoMeter. As you can see, he's a guy. He's also a science nerd. Since I'm an English major and a female, he's pretty much my opposite in every way. 

My first impression of Second Life is that it's difficult! Besides the difficulty I had with simply moving around, it was also difficult to find an avatar I felt represented me. (Where are all the fat girls?) That's why I decided to make an opposite representation of myself. I think that once I figure out how to do this, it will be an interesting game, but that may take a while. I look forward to talking to everyone on Monday about their experiences. 

Introduction

Hey guys. I probably know most of the people that will be reading this, but for those of you who don't know me, I'm Kesha (pronounced Key-sha, unlike certain popular music auto-tune-ees). I'm a second year MAE student and I plan to apply to some rhetoric programs next year. My undergrad degree is in Interdisciplinary Studies with a concentration in philosophy and religion, but English has always been an interest of mine so I ended up at Clemson on a whim but I've been enjoying every minute of it (except, perhaps, a theory class here or there). I'm interested in a wide range of literature, but I think that adolescent literature and Gothic lit are my favorites. I'm also a huge fan of Mary Roach. She wrote such wonderful books as "Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers" and "Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife."

As far as this class goes, I'm terrified. I've never been into gaming, and I'm even struggling with the "harder" aspects of Twitter (eg. the hashtag). However, because I'm interested in Rhetoric programs, I'm trying to expose myself to as many classes as possible that are geared toward that. I think that's enough about me. I look forward to working with you guys over the summer.