Lawrence Lessig is on to something in his work, Remix. My interpretation of his most blatant theme is probably skewed by my bias as a future teacher, but I see it as this: Remixing (taking others' work and building upon it in a community of sharing that is greatly enhanced by more reasonable copyright laws) is highly beneficial to education, whether it be formal education or lifelong learning. This overview of Lessig's work is completely my own interpretation; in fact, I put my own educational spin on it that Lessig might have never intended. I just created (a completely copyright-appropriate) remix. I was able to do so because of the method I took in consuming the work. I did not read it front to back. Here is how I did it how you can remix your own remix:
1) Skim over the online version of the book, primarily looking at the chapter titles and section headings, reading through his introduction, and glancing over some anecdotes.
2) See what wikipedia has to say about the work. Click links that teach you about the author. Glance over summaries of some of his other works.
3) Go to goodreads.com and look through what others have to say about the book.
4) Look through others' blogs on the book using Google's blog search feature.
This method of reading a book takes away the author's connection with the readers, which is why such a method would be inappropriate for many texts. For Remix, though, it was perfect. I learned what I needed to learn, and I was able to learn it in the context of what I care about rather than what the author wants me to care about.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Tag, Grandpa! You're It!
My grandpa is nothing like Robert Gu. He eats technology like that horrifying machine eats books in Rainbows End. But he has a bad case of indigestion.
Over the weekend at my brother's wedding, I took a lovely picture of my Grandma and Grandpa at our home near Dallas, TX. (See below).
Cute, right? Grandpa inspected the picture immediately after I took it, and, upon finding it satisfactory, he said, "Great. Make sure you send me a copy." Grandpa is my Facebook friend, and, knowing how much he loves technology, I said, "I'll just post it to Facebook." He was unhappy with that suggestion, telling me that he doesn't know how to save files from Facebook (and, to his credit, the picture quality does generally diminish), so I was directed to just send it via e-mail. A couple days later I sent the e-mail, with a little note attached mentioning that I had also tagged the photo on Facebook. Grandpa wrote back, "Well, I don't know what tagging something on Facebook means, but I'll ask your cousin in the morning." Grandpa has had his Facebook account for at least a year.
At first I was flabbergasted. How can he not know what tagging means? The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized how complex our digital vocabulary is. If I hear a technological term that sounds advanced (or even if it sounds as though it would take a lot of explaining), I just ignore it. It is easy to refuse to explore the intricacies of technology. Grandpa didn't know what tagging a picture on Facebook meant, but so what? He is still a useful and productive (and hilarious in a Michael Scott from The Office sort of way...or Carl from the movie Up (notice the resemblance)) citizen.
If my grandpa never gets past his adoration for Angry Birds to more advanced uses of technology, his attempt to embrace the culture of the digital age will still be impressive. But for me and anyone viewing this blog, we have been immersed in a society that requires technology as one means of communication, without which our communication will not be as rich and full as it can be (see classmate Ben Wagner's blog post, "Digital Interaction is Real Interaction"). That isn't to say that non-digital communication is unnecessary or even subordinate (I would argue that it is of utmost importance), but digital literacy is a form of literacy that cannot be overlooked for those of us hoping to make an impact on our world in this digital age.
Over the weekend at my brother's wedding, I took a lovely picture of my Grandma and Grandpa at our home near Dallas, TX. (See below).
Cute, right? Grandpa inspected the picture immediately after I took it, and, upon finding it satisfactory, he said, "Great. Make sure you send me a copy." Grandpa is my Facebook friend, and, knowing how much he loves technology, I said, "I'll just post it to Facebook." He was unhappy with that suggestion, telling me that he doesn't know how to save files from Facebook (and, to his credit, the picture quality does generally diminish), so I was directed to just send it via e-mail. A couple days later I sent the e-mail, with a little note attached mentioning that I had also tagged the photo on Facebook. Grandpa wrote back, "Well, I don't know what tagging something on Facebook means, but I'll ask your cousin in the morning." Grandpa has had his Facebook account for at least a year.
At first I was flabbergasted. How can he not know what tagging means? The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized how complex our digital vocabulary is. If I hear a technological term that sounds advanced (or even if it sounds as though it would take a lot of explaining), I just ignore it. It is easy to refuse to explore the intricacies of technology. Grandpa didn't know what tagging a picture on Facebook meant, but so what? He is still a useful and productive (and hilarious in a Michael Scott from The Office sort of way...or Carl from the movie Up (notice the resemblance)) citizen.
If my grandpa never gets past his adoration for Angry Birds to more advanced uses of technology, his attempt to embrace the culture of the digital age will still be impressive. But for me and anyone viewing this blog, we have been immersed in a society that requires technology as one means of communication, without which our communication will not be as rich and full as it can be (see classmate Ben Wagner's blog post, "Digital Interaction is Real Interaction"). That isn't to say that non-digital communication is unnecessary or even subordinate (I would argue that it is of utmost importance), but digital literacy is a form of literacy that cannot be overlooked for those of us hoping to make an impact on our world in this digital age.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Life is One Big Remix
Lawrence Lessig's Remix is interesting on many levels, but to me, this is one of the most significant: The average individual (one without large stakes in the copyright industry) is bound to agree with what it says. In a nutshell, Lessig argues that copyright wars are senseless and extremely damaging to children who are born into a culture that inherently compels them to break those laws (which they don't understand); therefore, copyright laws need to be modified.
Our culture is one of consumption. It always has been. And now that our culture is saturated with technology, we are destined to consume technology with gusto. We do. In fact, this very class, English 295, encourages my classmates and me to consume, create, and connect (see Professor Burton's post, "Traditional Literary Study Breaks Down in the Digital Age"). This cycle of consumption, creation, and connection--which is actually quite natural for those of us reared in the digital age--leads to layers of information that pile up on top of the original source, creating richer material and a greater depth of knowledge. In other words, we consume knowledge more thirstily than ever before--how exciting for teachers and scholars! And we contribute to knowledge--also incredibly exciting. This is remix. This is natural. Life isn't some disjointed collection of separate ideas and events, it is a symphony of layers and overlays, intersections and interminglings. Unfortunately, adding our ideas to copyrighted ideas is, in the improper context, against the law.
Maria Popova, curator of the blog Brain Pickings, summarizes Lessig's argument neatly: "[E]ncouraging exclusivity of access is inconsistent with the ethics of our world, the sort of paradigm that lets knowledge wither in the hands of the privileged" ("Lawrence Lessig on the Free Access Movement"). Read more: http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2011/05/03/lawrence-lessig-science-publishing/#ixzz1LtMwW9BR
I'm seeing major connections between Remix and everything we're learning in and doing for class. Knowledge shouldn't be bought and sold; it should be shared. Funny how our consumer culture advocates copyright laws that contradict our inherent urge to consume. That isn't to say anything goes is a good philosophy in regard to copyright (see the Wikipedia summary of Lessig's proposal to reform copyright laws), but it does pose some interesting questions. Why must we struggle so much with laws that we don't understand when we aren't trying to make a profit off of our intellectual internet exploits? Shouldn't we be able to garner knowledge and share what we learn in peace so long as we aren't ruining others' livelihood?
According to my classmate, Matt Harrison, Convergence Culture reiterates Lessig's ideas in Remix (see Matt's blog on the topic). Matt mentions that, as copyright laws are implemented in various situations, our digital consumption evolves to conform (as loosely as possibly) to those laws. But our culture is one of sharing, one of consuming, one of creating, so why do we have to work so hard to do so legally?
I don't have good answers to the questions I posed in this blog, and I'm sure that there is much to be said about the necessity of our current copyright laws. From all I've been learning from English 295, though, these laws are counter-intuitive in any society that values knowledge.
Our culture is one of consumption. It always has been. And now that our culture is saturated with technology, we are destined to consume technology with gusto. We do. In fact, this very class, English 295, encourages my classmates and me to consume, create, and connect (see Professor Burton's post, "Traditional Literary Study Breaks Down in the Digital Age"). This cycle of consumption, creation, and connection--which is actually quite natural for those of us reared in the digital age--leads to layers of information that pile up on top of the original source, creating richer material and a greater depth of knowledge. In other words, we consume knowledge more thirstily than ever before--how exciting for teachers and scholars! And we contribute to knowledge--also incredibly exciting. This is remix. This is natural. Life isn't some disjointed collection of separate ideas and events, it is a symphony of layers and overlays, intersections and interminglings. Unfortunately, adding our ideas to copyrighted ideas is, in the improper context, against the law.
Maria Popova, curator of the blog Brain Pickings, summarizes Lessig's argument neatly: "[E]ncouraging exclusivity of access is inconsistent with the ethics of our world, the sort of paradigm that lets knowledge wither in the hands of the privileged" ("Lawrence Lessig on the Free Access Movement"). Read more: http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2011/05/03/lawrence-lessig-science-publishing/#ixzz1LtMwW9BR
I'm seeing major connections between Remix and everything we're learning in and doing for class. Knowledge shouldn't be bought and sold; it should be shared. Funny how our consumer culture advocates copyright laws that contradict our inherent urge to consume. That isn't to say anything goes is a good philosophy in regard to copyright (see the Wikipedia summary of Lessig's proposal to reform copyright laws), but it does pose some interesting questions. Why must we struggle so much with laws that we don't understand when we aren't trying to make a profit off of our intellectual internet exploits? Shouldn't we be able to garner knowledge and share what we learn in peace so long as we aren't ruining others' livelihood?
According to my classmate, Matt Harrison, Convergence Culture reiterates Lessig's ideas in Remix (see Matt's blog on the topic). Matt mentions that, as copyright laws are implemented in various situations, our digital consumption evolves to conform (as loosely as possibly) to those laws. But our culture is one of sharing, one of consuming, one of creating, so why do we have to work so hard to do so legally?
I don't have good answers to the questions I posed in this blog, and I'm sure that there is much to be said about the necessity of our current copyright laws. From all I've been learning from English 295, though, these laws are counter-intuitive in any society that values knowledge.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Mile-High Wi-Fi
It is a cliche that has been repeated so many times in recent years because it is inarguably true: We are more connected now than ever. This morning, at 4:30 a.m., I was in the Salt Lake City airport on the way to Dallas for my brother's wedding, and I felt the need to check my e-mail. No problem. I whipped out my laptop, got connected to the SLC airport wi-fi, and I was set.
Even in the airplane, cruising at 35,000 feet, I could have surfed the web from my seat in the sky (if, of course, I had been willing to pay $9.95...what a rip off!). But this made me think--as almost everything seems to do these days--about Vinge's Rainbows End. In the book, society's dependence on technology is vividly illustrated when, due to riots and various other dramatic happenings, the characters lose connectivity and are unable to cope. Clearly, we aren't too far from this already. When my airplane landed in Dallas, all passengers over the age of 10 and under the age of 80 reached immediately for their cell phones, and the release of tension was instantaneous. Technology doesn't even seem like technology anymore; it seems like a necessary part of life.
And, to illustrate this point, here is a creepy, yet intriguing Daft Punk video. Enjoy!
Even in the airplane, cruising at 35,000 feet, I could have surfed the web from my seat in the sky (if, of course, I had been willing to pay $9.95...what a rip off!). But this made me think--as almost everything seems to do these days--about Vinge's Rainbows End. In the book, society's dependence on technology is vividly illustrated when, due to riots and various other dramatic happenings, the characters lose connectivity and are unable to cope. Clearly, we aren't too far from this already. When my airplane landed in Dallas, all passengers over the age of 10 and under the age of 80 reached immediately for their cell phones, and the release of tension was instantaneous. Technology doesn't even seem like technology anymore; it seems like a necessary part of life.
And, to illustrate this point, here is a creepy, yet intriguing Daft Punk video. Enjoy!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
A Blog is Not...A Bump on a Log
And neither am I. So how do I translate an active life and an active mind into interactive learning?
The mighty blog?
Vernor Vinge's Rainbows End does not specifically address the power of the mighty blog, but the book does address the necessity of intellectual collaboration, and my conversion to this concept is coming. I can feel it. I am Robert Gu before his own baptism by the fire of interaction (though the comparison makes me blush). I have preferred independent learning over anything that could be truly beneficial for my classmates and me. I've been stingy. By refusing to share my ideas, I've been a boring bump on a log. But now I am calling myself to repentance.
Collaboration is our language of learning. Just ask Lawrence Lessig. In his work, Remix, Lessig argues that the opportunity that students have to consume and consider others' work, particularly through technology, is essential to their learning. Moreover, it's natural. Lessig quotes Hosler as saying, "Every high school in America needs to have a course in media literacy. We're buried in this stuff. We're breathing it. We're drinking it constantly."
Both works that I have been reading demonstrate the benefits of collaboration. Why was Robert Gu such an unappealing specimen before he learned to learn with others? Community is essential to education in this technological age. So why have I been trying to learn in a bubble? I cannot be content sitting stagnantly on a log that is being worked into a boat, a chair, a roller coaster. Age-old methods of learning are dying, and to survive, I need to add my mast to that boat, throw some varnish on that chair, and buckle up as I take a ride on the roller coaster of interaction.
How will I make this change? The mighty blog. This is a genre I vow to figure out. And tomorrow, I'll do better. Tomorrow I will create a blog that is not a monologue. One step at a time.
The mighty blog?
Vernor Vinge's Rainbows End does not specifically address the power of the mighty blog, but the book does address the necessity of intellectual collaboration, and my conversion to this concept is coming. I can feel it. I am Robert Gu before his own baptism by the fire of interaction (though the comparison makes me blush). I have preferred independent learning over anything that could be truly beneficial for my classmates and me. I've been stingy. By refusing to share my ideas, I've been a boring bump on a log. But now I am calling myself to repentance.
Collaboration is our language of learning. Just ask Lawrence Lessig. In his work, Remix, Lessig argues that the opportunity that students have to consume and consider others' work, particularly through technology, is essential to their learning. Moreover, it's natural. Lessig quotes Hosler as saying, "Every high school in America needs to have a course in media literacy. We're buried in this stuff. We're breathing it. We're drinking it constantly."
Both works that I have been reading demonstrate the benefits of collaboration. Why was Robert Gu such an unappealing specimen before he learned to learn with others? Community is essential to education in this technological age. So why have I been trying to learn in a bubble? I cannot be content sitting stagnantly on a log that is being worked into a boat, a chair, a roller coaster. Age-old methods of learning are dying, and to survive, I need to add my mast to that boat, throw some varnish on that chair, and buckle up as I take a ride on the roller coaster of interaction.
How will I make this change? The mighty blog. This is a genre I vow to figure out. And tomorrow, I'll do better. Tomorrow I will create a blog that is not a monologue. One step at a time.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Don't Read Me; I'm about Technology!
"Ah, Miri, you read, but you don't understand." Sometimes while reading Vernor Vinge's technology-dense sci-fi novel, Rainbows End, I feel as though these words from the Mysterious Stranger to Miri could easily be directed toward me. It's not that I lack the reading skills to understand the book; at times, I just lack the interest. This book has some excellent things to say, and I'll get to them later, but right now, as I'm on page 304 with 77 pages left to go, caring about the plot is taking a concerted effort.
I'll be completely honest. I took a peak at Vernor Vinge's picture in the back of the book: This was my first grave mistake. But I wasn't looking for a romantic flame here; surely I could overlook the inch-thick glasses, mustache, and receding hairline in the name of good literature. After this thought came my second grave mistake: I read Vinge's brief biography. This novelist is not a literary man--he's a mathematician and computer scientist! Impostor! So, yes, I immediately formed a bias.
And then, there is all the futuristic technology. I love the internet. I love my cell phone. Do we really need another book predicting the radical societal changes that will come as a result of the exponential growth of our technological capabilities? I'm more of a take-it-day-by-day sort of girl when it comes to technology.
Alright, I've done my complaining. Now I am going to be a cautious advocate of the novel (cautious because a large part of me still sees it as silly, with fluffy dialogue and a dissatisfying lack of imagery). Vinge is not just predicting the future--that would be presumptuous and irrelevant--he is commenting on the present. I mentioned the metaphor of looking at shadows rather than looking to reality in my last post. Vinge recognizes we are a society of shadow watchers, and he illustrates this through the exaggerated shadow watching of a more technologically advanced society. Their brawls are fought in cyberspace; our wars are viewed over the television. Their communication is often through smings or with projections of people; our communication, too, is rarely face-to-face. The question Vinge poses, the question of what we are becoming as a result of our infatuation with technology, is relevant. True, I prefer books about almost anything other than a technologically-saturated society in jeopardy, but at least Vinge has something to say.
I'll be completely honest. I took a peak at Vernor Vinge's picture in the back of the book: This was my first grave mistake. But I wasn't looking for a romantic flame here; surely I could overlook the inch-thick glasses, mustache, and receding hairline in the name of good literature. After this thought came my second grave mistake: I read Vinge's brief biography. This novelist is not a literary man--he's a mathematician and computer scientist! Impostor! So, yes, I immediately formed a bias.
And then, there is all the futuristic technology. I love the internet. I love my cell phone. Do we really need another book predicting the radical societal changes that will come as a result of the exponential growth of our technological capabilities? I'm more of a take-it-day-by-day sort of girl when it comes to technology.
Alright, I've done my complaining. Now I am going to be a cautious advocate of the novel (cautious because a large part of me still sees it as silly, with fluffy dialogue and a dissatisfying lack of imagery). Vinge is not just predicting the future--that would be presumptuous and irrelevant--he is commenting on the present. I mentioned the metaphor of looking at shadows rather than looking to reality in my last post. Vinge recognizes we are a society of shadow watchers, and he illustrates this through the exaggerated shadow watching of a more technologically advanced society. Their brawls are fought in cyberspace; our wars are viewed over the television. Their communication is often through smings or with projections of people; our communication, too, is rarely face-to-face. The question Vinge poses, the question of what we are becoming as a result of our infatuation with technology, is relevant. True, I prefer books about almost anything other than a technologically-saturated society in jeopardy, but at least Vinge has something to say.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Jump Roping and Rainbows End
I should have never looked at the shadow. Looking at the shadow was my downfall. Moreover, it was my own shadow--my unique joint creation with the sun--that slowed the workout and sent my jump rope smacking into my shins. When I should have focused on the real rope as it circled around my jumping body, I instead looked to the shadow rope, and while it was an almost accurate representation of reality, it was off just enough to throw my groove.
As I stood there, holding the jump rope and catching my breath in the warmth of the sunny parking lot, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the physicality of my existence. The air was still, the birds were singing, and Utah finally felt like spring. It looked like spring. It smelled like spring. Why had I looked to a shadow when I had an entire world of reality around me? And, as if to prove to myself that I am, in fact, an English nerd, my thoughts immediately drifted to Vernor Vinge's Rainbows End. The characters in the novel look to shadows--overlays of reality--so often that they forget what is real. I haven't finished the book yet, but I'm over two-thirds of the way through, and I anticipate this inability to differentiate between what is real and what is virtual, this inability to see shadows for what they really are, will lead to blunders more grievous than the jump rope against my shins.
As I stood there, holding the jump rope and catching my breath in the warmth of the sunny parking lot, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the physicality of my existence. The air was still, the birds were singing, and Utah finally felt like spring. It looked like spring. It smelled like spring. Why had I looked to a shadow when I had an entire world of reality around me? And, as if to prove to myself that I am, in fact, an English nerd, my thoughts immediately drifted to Vernor Vinge's Rainbows End. The characters in the novel look to shadows--overlays of reality--so often that they forget what is real. I haven't finished the book yet, but I'm over two-thirds of the way through, and I anticipate this inability to differentiate between what is real and what is virtual, this inability to see shadows for what they really are, will lead to blunders more grievous than the jump rope against my shins.
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