galiciablackman Uncategorized

About my research on silence

Scholars have argued that silence is important for learning. Some even go as far to say,

Silence… appears suspended between an experience of something–often a sense of comfort and relative belonging–that is “no longer” and a second possibility that is “not yet” –the prospect of having something to say. In this sense, in its temporal structure, silence, its uncertainty and indeterminacy, appears to be remarkably similar to the experience of learning itself. (Hamelock & Friesen, 2012, p. 8)

…silence also can be a form of agency. …The choice of enacting silence for beneficial purposes in academic settings can be rich with meaning. (San Pedro, 2015, p. 513)

Literacy cannot exist without the reflection that fills silence. (Belanoff, 2001, pp. 414-416)

Silence is an active human performance…it cannot be an act of unmitigated autonomy…involves a yielding following upon the awareness of finitude and awe….it is a yielding which binds and joins. (Dauenhauer, 1980, p. 79)

Thus every word, as the event of a moment, carries with it the unsaid, to which it is related by responding and summoning. (Gadamer, 2013, p. 454)

Teachers can interpret the silence of students or a class of students as a lack of knowledge or understanding, or they can listen to what is communicated through the silence. Rather than a failure to understand, silence might indicate the need for more time to reflect or that ideas may be difficult to put into words. (Schultz, 2010, p. 2845)

And I leave you with the thoughts of Ted Aoki:

…an authentic person is no mere individual, an island unto oneself, but is a being-in-relation-with-others, and hence is, at core, an ethical being. Such a person knows that being an educated person is more than possessing knowledge or acquiring intellectual or practical skills, and that basically, it is being concerned with dwelling aright in thoughtful living with others. (Aoki, 2012, p. 624)

References

Aoki, T. T. (2012). Curriculum in a new key: The collected works of Ted T. Aoki. London: Routledge.

Belanoff, P. (2001). Silence: Reflection, literacy, learning, and teaching. College Composition and Communication, 52(3), 399-428. doi:10.2307/358625

Dauenhauer, B. P. (1980). Silence: The phenomenon and its ontological significance. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Hamelock, M., & Friesen, N. (2012). One student’s experience of silence in the classroom. Retrieved from http://learningspaces.org/2012/07/13/silence/

San Pedro, T. (2015). Silence as weapons: Transformative praxis among Native American Students in the urban southwest. Equity and Excellence in Education, 48(4), 511–528. https://doi.org/10.1080/10665684.2015.1083915

Schultz, K. (2010). After the blackbird whistles: Listening to silence in classrooms. Teachers College Record, 112(11), 2833-2849.

galiciablackman Uncategorized

The charisma of prose that gives you pause

Without being overly sentimental, I have to declare my unwavering love of Caribbean literature. I was enchanted with Caribbean literature while I lived there and now that I’m away sometimes I swoon with chagwen* and tabanca* at the lyricism. I’m currently reading The Last Warner Woman by Kei Miller. I have wanted to read it from the very first time I heard Miller read an extract, when the novel was in its infancy as a manuscript. I am reading it in small bites because it is an unparalleled Epicurean experience. For example, the following image is absolutely beautiful:

The fish-women gather around concrete sinks and run metal files up and down the bodies of snappers and mackerel; bright silver scales jump into the air and land softly on the women’s heads like confetti.

(Miller, 2010, p. 7)

It evokes all kinds of nostalgia for me, an island village girl. It stirs memories of days where I would scale fish in the outdoor sink at home, and the scales would fly everywhere. It might have been a household chore, especially the cleaning after, but I enjoyed it. To have it described as confetti indeed captures the strange beauty of preparing fresh fish to eat. And by fresh, I mean fish that had not been frozen. I also used to enjoy practicing the delicate technique of parting the stomach, at the right tender spot and reaching up with my thumb and forefinger to grasp the gills and tug firmly so that all the entrails would come away in one swoop. If it was done well all that was left to be done was rinse out the fish and lay it aside for the next level of preparation for dining. Depending on the type of fish, there would be the added pleasure of the treasure of eggs. And the smell of cleaning fresh fish…it lingers, it frustrates, but it is the scent of vitality and sustenance. It is, for me, a pungent homely scent.
In some vegan circles I imagine this description is disconcerting. But I can’t apologize for the beauty and necessity of these ways of sustenance. A big part of me has chagwen which goes beyond my distance from my island home. To enjoy healthy fresh fish and that way of life already feels so remote with climate change. I think to love how animals feed us does not mean that we should harvest indiscriminately. To love how they sustain us, or just love how they are requires us to take better care of their homes. This wasn’t meant to be an eco-political meditation. But guess what, there’s no predicting where the lyricism of beautiful prose takes you; how it gives you pause. Isn’t that part of what good literature does?

*Caribbean vernacular terms which mean something along the lines of poignant heartbreak, longing, yearning for something dearly loved.

Reference: Miller, K. (2010). The last warner woman. UK: Weidenfeld & Nicolson; UK

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Not a book review

This is more like a book break. Generally I spend a significant amount of time reading—casual, study, academic (across several disciplines), that sometimes, even though I want to get to that highly recommended book—you know the one that all the connosieurs say is a must-read, I prefer something light. I just finished reading Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones and it was ideal for what I needed to read for leisure: an uncomplicated storyline about a complicated scenario, a bigamist juggling his two families. But it’s not quite about the bigamist. It’s more about his daughters and how they come to know each other. I suppose it might be categorized as YA literature.

A book break is an old habit I have. How best to explain it? During undergrad, sometimes right before exams, I’d pick up a novel far removed from my syllabus or related material to cleanse my mental palate. And I’m still doing it—having a book break ever so often.