In the introduction, Riedner and Mahoney recount a standoff between protestors and various forces of the government during an IMF meeting in April of 2000. This particular incident that they focus on, among the many that they mention, resulted in a moment of triumph for peaceful protestors as the riot police and national guard backed down—they did not deploy tear gas or disperse the crowd by any other means (2-3). The statements made b y the student afterwards are of particular interest to me.
Reidner and Mahoney recall that the student “talked about his years of cynicism, that nothing could be done in the face of the global march of capital. But that feeling changed for him during the standoff. That moment on the corner of 21st and G Streets, he said, was the first time that he felt part of something in his life” (3).
Part of Something
One of the biggest stumbling blocks for students, in the writing classroom, is feeling like their voice matters. This is a point well made by Peter Elbow and David Bartholomae in their own ways.
The problem comes down to a feeling of meaningful inclusion. Writing in a classroom can seem directionless, purposeless. Teachers don’t always seem to take the ideas seriously, and students learn that the ideas are not what matters. Students learn that the only thing that matters is that there are words on the page that satisfy the grading criteria, whatever that may mean.
But what does it mean to validate student ideas. What does it mean to acknowledge and celebrate ideas as valuable contributions—especially when those ideas have the appearance and perspective of inexperience?
Later, in the same chapter, Reidner and Mahoney explain how their book fits in with rhetoric and composition as well as cultural studies. They explain that cultural studies is based on “everyday practices of social change within local and situated conjectures” and that they contribute to composition pedagogy by focusing on “strategies of learning that emerge from contingent moments and situated rhetorical exigencies” (8). In other words, their project works because it places learning in context of meaningful action.
What their project means, and what I strive to do in my own class, is that students are invited to participate in the processes of critically examining a real problem that is relevant to their lives. For me and my students, focusing on Technology allows us to examine our own engagement with the world, our own assumptions, our own biases, and those of others to find our own ways into meaningful conversations.
In a sense, we are not looking to go out and join any large social movement, but we are interrogating texts to see how they fit into our lives.
Does the text belong?
“In academic institutions, there are spaces…for dialogue, critical thinking, discussions of power and difference, and where dominant rhetorics are critiqued and re-imagined” (67).
In the end, I fully support this sentiment. I am curious about my role as a teacher in facilitating this process, and I take the responsibility seriously. If I am the person responsible for selecting the texts, selecting the topics, guiding the conversation, and evaluating outcomes—then I face the most difficult of challenges: which problem is most pressing that is relevant, engaging, inspiring, and helpful for my students?
Good points–maybe in a future writing you could address how spaces (like those referenced in the p. 67 quotation) are cultivated and fostered, within assignment prompts, classroom spaces, lesson plans, etc.