Technology in the Classroom

Inspired by our oh so wonderful latest group project, I decided this week to write about the rhetoric of technology in the classroom.

To start off, let me just simply say that I’m not remotely a fan of technology. In some ways that makes me a hypocrite; I’m sitting here typing on a laptop with my iPhone right next to me. But that’s not what I mean, not exactly anyway.

I’m a firm believer that technology has proven to be detrimental to the ability for our society to learn. In my generation, I believe that this started with the PowerPoint and has progressed from there.

When I look back at my favorite classes that I have taken in my lifetime, they are the ones that used the least bit of technology as a teaching aid. They are also the ones that I learned the most in (even when they weren’t my favorite, I still learned more in these classes). In this way, I am not alone. I know many teachers, and students, who prefer not to use technology in their classes because it does not yield the results that they wish.

The promoters of technology rarely see the point. They can look at this new wonderful thing (whatever it may happen to be) and not only feel the need to use it right away, but to encourage everyone around them to do so as well.

In my opinion, this is selfish. Technology can be incredibly unreliable – especially compared to simply giving a speech, writing a paper, or reading a book. While, when done correctly, it has the potential to be quicker, it also has the potential to take an exponentially longer amount of time to complete the same amount of work.

http://www.leburke.com/roadtrip2008/images/phillyamish.jpg

I also have a problem with technology because, as I mentioned, I don’t learn as well from it. In a society based on grades, the verbatim definitions on a slide show are often what teachers want to see on a test. This means that student’s quickly copy down the slides before the teacher clicks to the next one, meaning they rarely take in any of what the teacher is saying anyway.

It would be foolish for me to say that I don’t see the point – that is not the case at all. I just think that technology is getting way too immersed into our education system. Something that I find terribly discouraging as an aspiring teacher.

The Amateur Athlete

I don’t know how many of you watched any of the Women’s NCAA Basketball Tournament coverage – it gets far less attention than the men’s – but if you did, you’ll see where I’m coming from in the this post. The thing is, for the past two weeks, just about the only things that the media doing the women’s side covered were stories on Elena DelleDone.

If you don’t watch a lick of women’s basketball, and if you’re not from Delaware, then you probably don’t know who that is. In reality, she’s the best damn female basketball player in a long time. Now playing at Delaware (due to family issues which are a whole other amazing story), Elena was highly recruited to play at the best of the best schools since she was twelve (received scholarships from great programs like Tennessee, UNC, Duke, and UCONN before high school).

She won her AAU tournaments, played for Team USA around the world, absolutely dominated high school basketball (her school was a rival of mine), and went on to take a scholarship at UCONN.

So she’s really good? What’s the big deal? The thing is, DelleDone had already become sick of basketball. Burnt out. There was no passion left – she just relied on her sheer ability to keep her successful. Finally, it was too much. And she left UCONN shortly after arriving.

This short summary is merely an example of the rhetoric that the media embodies to glorify the amateur athlete in America. It is one of the things that I hate most in the world. DelleDone’s story turns out to be a success, after quitting basketball cold turkey, she returned a year later and led Delaware to a 30-1 record this past season.

But she’s the exception.

The pressure that our society places on top class amateur athletes is ridiculous. ESPN glorified former teenage stars like Michelle Wie and Freddy Adu, people meant to be the next big thing and who have now slipped out of the limelight. Sports Illustrated loves to have articles on high school athletes who are supposed to be the next big thing. Often though, the people surrounding these kids love their story and abilities more than the kids love the sport.

I know the feeling firsthand. By the time I was in seventh grade, I had wrestled in over thirty states, won nationals, all-Americaned twice, and had had several articles written about me. I had been recruited by high schools around the state since elementary school, and was heralded as the next four-time state champ.

But I fell off. I hated it. Got burnt out. And the people around me didn’t help. The rhetoric of writing about stories like this go far beyond what I think most people imagine. Society wants to write about the crazy success story and skills, they don’t want to know that it’s all a façade.

Madness

With March Madness in full swing and the first round in action, I wanted to try to make this week’s blog somehow relevant. To millions of sports fans around the country, March (and the beginning of April) represents the time for incredible athletic phenomena. The “Big Dance,” or the NCAA Men’s Basketball tournament, traditionally fields 64 teams (68 this year) all vying for the coveted national championship.

The tournament makes and breaks players’ careers. It fosters magical memories, horrible heartbreaks, and the charismatic Cinderella stories that capture the love of the American public.

The NCAA basketball tournament is something easy to go on and on about on various levels. At its foundation though, is a special bracket that the NCAA has developed over the years to seed teams in their quests for the title. And it is herein that the rhetoric lies.

Every year, the Sunday before the tournament starts, otherwise known as “Selection Sunday,” a selection committee (made up of ten representatives from the major athletic conferences and a few individual athletic directors from various universities) chooses the teams that have earned the right to play in the tournament and the seeds that they will be assigned. Roughly half of the teams receive automatic bids for winning their conference titles, but the remaining teams must be admitted as At-Large entries.

This becomes very subjective. Who gets to be an At-Large team? Let’s look at an easy example. Duke and North Carolina are both in the ACC and both ranked in the top ten in the AP polls. Since only one team can win their conference tournament, only one team gets an automatic bid; since both have showed superiority over the rest of the schools all season though, both will be admitted.

This philosophy works with many of the At-Large bids but not all. What happens, for instance, when a team has beaten five ranked teams over the course of the season, but barely manages to finish about .500? Do they deserve an entry over the team that only lost six games all year but did not play a team ranked higher than fifty? These are the questions the committee faces – and with over three hundred schools to choose from – it is a difficult task.

Many teams that get these special bids are from what are called the Power Conferences, these are conferences (like the Big 10, Big 12, Big East, etc.) that have the biggest schools and generally have more money. Many “Mid-Major” Conferences complain that they don’t receive a fair shot at a bid, and are discriminated against because of lack of size.

It is the rhetoric of choosing the right schools, and being as fair as possible, that  is so interesting about the Selection Committee.

The Rhetoric of Writing About Tiger Woods

This post is a little different than one’s I’ve done before. It’s not about a specific image, or quote, or even a specific article. It is, however, about a series of articles – both printed and televised – and therefore from all different authors and sources.

This week, I write about the rhetoric of following Tiger Woods. By doing this, I indirectly add myself to the litany of people that I now write about. But, I think, for a different purpose.

As many people may remember, in late November of 2009 Woods shocked the world when reports of an infidelity streak came out and turned out to be true. He admitted to having affairs with dozens of women and the public began to realize just how little they had known about the golfing superstar.

Since then, Woods’ golfing career has been dismal to say the least. The man once believed to easily surpass Jack Nicklaus for the most all-time major victories now has people worried that he won’t win another.

So the question I pose is this: Our society acts as if it looks so far down upon those with moral flaws, that they not even be worthy of conversation. When the scandal broke, many companies that once endorsed Tiger dropped his contracts immediately, and Woods was made an outcast to the public. But, if all this is true, then why do people still consistently write about him? He hasn’t done anything on the golf course, and nothing has come out involving his scandal in over two years.

Personally, I still like and root for Tiger. No, he may not be a good role model, but (even though he can’t win recently) there is no denying that he is one of the best to ever play the game – and I find it entertaining to watch. What I have a problem with, are all the hypocrites that threw him under the bus two years ago – but can’t help but write [absolutely nothing] about him now. I think that there is great rhetoric in this phenomenon. I think that it speaks a great deal about the American journalist, and the quest to force news upon something very un-newsworthy. That is to say, I find rhetoric in the non-rhetorical.