Canned Goods

So yesterday was the Crazylegs Classic (see the previous post for details), and, for me, it was a perfect day for running—cool and overcast. I actually did better than I thought I would, shaving about 6.5 minutes off my best training time. But with 13000+ runners, I didn’t exactly standout, except for my bright yellow shirt.

What’s intersting about seeing the photos afterward is that they explain, in part, why I’ve never been and will never be a competive runner. Besides the faulty heart valve, the real runners are, well, petite. Most races divide runners by gender and age, but some will actually include body type, and I definitely fit in with the Clydesdale Class.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun, and next year I’ll be sure to carry a camera as I run so as to get some pics of the guy that ran in the a black thong!

Here is my offical time and placement: 48 m. 24 s. / age: 30-34; my place: 777 / overall place: 5312.

Okay. It’s been a few years since I’ve done any competitive running. Damn grad school! So I’ve been training, if you’d call it that, for a couple months.

Crazylegs is an 8k, about 5 mi, and I’ve done that a few times over the last couple weeks, but without hills. Crazylegs has hills, and that either means I’ll be puking alongside the course or walking up them, especially the curvy, a la San Fran hill next the HCW–the building to the upper right. I know. You can’t see any hills. But I promise; it’s there. In the trees.

So why run this, you ask? Free stuff ($25 reg fee, actually)! I get a t-shirt which will fill out my wardrobe. And the best is the free beer once you finish in Camp Randall.

This will most likely be my last post on video games and learning for my course with Jim Gee and Betty Hayes, and, though I’ve written about what games can mean for education and composition, I’ll focus this post on peer review because peer review (in small groups) has often gone poorly in my classes–as a student and teacher. I guess I find it difficult to believe it when someone says that peer review works well in FYC (in small groups), Sure, I’ve seen some groups come together and have some great conversations, but it happens so infrequently that relying on it as a major way for students to get feedback on their writing foolhardy.

They need to be taught how to talk about writing, how to do peer review, and the best way that I’ve been able to make that happen is with using the writer’s workshop.

What’s the problem? Students don’t feel the need to do peer review if they are simply waiting for my comments on their drafts. I get paid to comment, right? So, we got motivation problems. We also have the problem of decontextualized writing. Is there really a rhetorical situation (situated learning; strong identity as writer; disciplinarity & genre)? Is there really and audience (feedback system; collaboration)?

Writing to learn is a great idea. I do it all the time and see the value in it. Heck, I’m doing it right now, as I type forward with an idea, backspace when I don’t like something and begin moving forward again; as I cut and paste one section to a new location; when I think it’d be cool to add an image, search for it, edit it, and post it into an already published post–revision. This here is another learning principle of games, from Gee: “Encourage a distinctive view of intelligence: Encourage players to explore thoroughly before moving on, to think laterally, not just linearly, and to use such exploration and lateral thinking to reconceive one’s goals from time to time.” Isn’t this what writing to learn and the move away from an emphasis on product is all about?

And you’ve probably noticed that I’ve moved away from my initial intended focus on peer review. Lateral, baby! Lateral! Not linear.

And so, I’ve focused on what goes wrong in FYC. But what does it seemingly do well in terms of the learning principles of good video games?

First, the process movement and the portfolio system of grading work to lower the consequences of failure. Drafting allows students to write a “shitty first draft” as well as a second or third. And the portfolio allows students to choose the best of their work, leaving out texts that were good experiments that didn’t work out as final products.

Second, FYC sort of incorporates “just in time” verbal information/feedback. It isn’t as immediate as in a video game that can flash “Use the left thumbstick to crouch”; I can’t be there when a student writes and suggest possible courses of action, but teacher and peer review feedback (especially marginal notation) can approximate the “just in time” effect.

Third, at least in the case of FYC at the UW there are cycles of challenge, consolidation, and new challenges. Basically, the problems are well-ordered. Students begin by writing about a topic with using sources they don’t already have (inside them); they learn to have an opinion, write about their experiences, ideas, and beliefs. Then they take the concepts of writing they’ve learned and apply them to the synthesis assignment which asks them to read a couple sources–and analyze and synthesize those sources into an argument of their own. This all leads to the research paper, where they take the principles they’ve learned to complete a larger project.

Alice’s work has looked at how video games designers begin with thinking about what they want the players to be able to do within the game: what should they be able to do at the end of the game? what are the goals for players?

And these ideas are what have always been the starting point for me as a writing teacher designing curriculum. What do I want my students to be able to do at the end of the course and how can I build a syllabus that gets them there?

Although I don’t think school (with all its required coursework) will ever be capable of generating the same interest and motivation as video games, we have to remember that not everyone likes to play video games, just as many of my students may never like writing (of any sort)–not that with an open mind they may coul not see what of value vg’s and writing have, but I’m the same way; I don’t have any reason to do algebra. I balance my check book well enough, and I haven’t needed to calculate where I’ll meet my wife if she leaves the West Coast on a train traveling at X mph, while I travel from the East Coast on a bus at X mph. I just read the arrival times on the tickets.

But all this stuff about interest ans motivation doesn’t mean we, as educators, can’t do our best to design curriculum that will hopefully facilitate the learning of content.

Apologies to k8 for her response getting stuck in moderation limbo. I simply don’t know why this happens only to her. I’ll check the utterly confusing options. But if anyone can shed a little light on this, I’ll owe you one–of something.

Not only is Madison famous for partying and Halloween, State St. riots and impromptu bonfires, but Madison is also the 2nd worst place in the country for migraines. I, for one, do occasionally suffer from a migraine–seemingly activated by environments with high contrast lighting or sunlight reflected off chrome bumpers, so I was surprised to read why Madison made the list:

“Madison, Wis., has the highest (again, that’s the worst) score for lifestyle factors.”

“Lifestyle factors that have been shown to trigger migraines include irregular sleep patterns and stress.”

This struck me as odd, although this is the state capital and the UW is an R1 institution. But we’ve got parks, lakes, running trails, and bike lanes. I just don’t get it.

What should have got us on the list is weather related: “rapidly changing weather and extreme temperatures are among the environmental triggers.”

One day it’s 37 and the next it’s 73. I’d call that extreme.

I’ve come to that point again where, after bingeing on WoW for a couple weeks, I’ve had my fill. I got revved up as I approached lvl 50 (those 40s lasted nearly a year–at the pace I play), but now it’s becoming a bore again. Reasons? I had entered two new areas of the world, and I was excited to explore them, but now I have. And I had found lots of soloing quests to complete, but now they’re nearly done.

But ain’t this like real life? Well, if not like yours, it’s like mine. I usually do things in clumps. I pick a project and do that ’til I’m done with it and move on to the next. For instance, in school I focused on just a few things: art, reading (not school stuff), and football; and I did these things to the exclusion of everything else (how did I make it thru high school?). It’s more difficult in grad school since there are many more responsibilites than simply your coursework. I won’t bore you with a list. You probably have your own.

“What does this (and my other gaming blogs) have to do with education?” Betty asks. In my case (because I can’t speak for others, and I don’t have any research to back me up here), I’d say that my bingeing is tied to my style of learning. I get an itch, begin to scratch and can’t leave it alone until it’s gone (or at least until the doctor castigates me, ties my arms to my sides, and bandages the wounds). Yesterday, for example, I scratched an itch I’ve had for several days–I started reading Asimov’s Foundation, and I read thru 100+ pages. If only I could get into my seminar reading like this!

Simply put, school isn’t (usually) about itches and scratching (except for those electives, I guess; luckily, I was able to take 1-2 art classes a semester during high school) unless you consider the itch to escape from your seat. And it doesn’t seem capable of dealing with learning/interest binges. But if one were to attempt to make school like a video game for folks like me, I suppose it would need lots of save points facilitating the waxing and waning of a student’s interest in a subject.

I’ve recently fallen off the wagon and become slightly addicted to WoW again. Can one be slightly addicted? Maybe I’m merely slightly obsessed. Well . . . in the least, I have really enjoyed playing recently.

WhenI had suspended my account in June of last year, I was a lvl 43 hunter and didn’t play again until the beginning of February (I had leveled up to about 47 during this time). Over the course of this semester, I became frustrated becasue most of the quests I had on my list to do needed 5 person groups, and I play solo much of the time. After completing such “mini-games” as make-yourself-some-cool-armor I came across some quests to solo that also took me to an new area to explore: Un’Goro crater (filled to the brim with angry dinosaurs that would like nothing better than eating the flesh from my Night Elf bones. Or perhaps they were just acting out their programming.

I entered the crater and found many quests that I could do solo that also rewarded player with several thousand experience points (XP) . I admit that I’ve spent nearly 15 hrs in the past week (to chagrin of my wife) leveling up to 51. And I want more!

But I have a stack of papers to grade tonight. If only I could get addicted to grading papers .

I’ll frame this post in a way that will hopefully keep me from seeming like I’m wasting my life away (part of believes I am, actually). I’ve been getting back into the swing of running again, and when that happens I feel a need to run even more and a withdrawal when I don’t. If one were to get addicted to running, we would most likely applaud that person’s dedication to physical fitness, but playing a videogame is different(?). There’s something about getting something in return for the investment of time, and maybe we need to quantify what it is that people are getting out of games.

It’s finally up! After two classes on web development, many trips back to the Academic Tech office, and well, well, over 100 hours of sometimes quite frustrating work in Dreamweaver and Fireworks, my very first website is finally complete–except for all that updating that’s necessary–and I nearly did it all without looking at the code (although I’m startin’ to get the hang of that).

Check it out.

If any prospective students happen to travel there and here (linked from the student profile section), let me know what your experience was like.