Video games in the classroom

UGH. Ever since the group presentation on WoW (World of Warcraft) as an effective way to utilize video games in the classroom setting, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So here I am blogging on a windy Thursday night.

I'm sorry, but as a professional gamer (I believe Chris is as well) I can't help but disagree with their topic. I believe video games CAN be used effectively in a classroom setting, very effectively actually. However, WoW was possibly the worst example to use to prove it. In fact, I could almost argue that Grand Theft Auto would have a more effective and educational effect on kids in classrooms than WoW. Why you ask? What is so bad about WoW?

I'll tell you.

Just like books have several different genres, so do video games. WoW falls under the genre of MMORPG, which stands for Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. These kinds of games can be compared to social networking sites such as Facebook or Myspace, just with benefits. Benefits such as having your own avatar to represent you. In WoW, you make this avatar look like whatever you desire, and once created, you get to travel a digital world where several other people are as well. You interact with these other players (which are from across the globe) in many ways, from just sitting at a pub having drinks to banding together to take down a dragon. The players get to identify with their avatar more in WoW than a place like Myspace because you build that character up as if you were raising a child. The player strives to get stronger, gain better weapons and skills to make their life in the game easier. On top of that, players can compete against each other as well, giving plenty of room for (sometimes not-so-friendly) competition. This is what the genre of MMORPGs are all about.

Here is my claim as to why this genre is terrible in the classroom setting: MMORPGs never end. That's right, they don't END. Why do you think a game like WoW is so addictive? It is because the players must constantly strive to be greater and stronger, with no real end in sight. Even if you complete every quest and have the strongest weapons and armor, the game is not over. That is how MMORPGs work.

Now humans, ALL throughout history, have been ingrained with this idea of beginning, middle, and end. Our days begin with sunrise and breakfast and end with sunset and dinner. Even lives fall into this idea: birth is the beginning, death is the end; "mid-life" crisis can fill the middle. Every book begins and ends, every relationship begins and ends. That is just the NATURE of humans, beginnings and endings. WoW has no ending. Every game that falls under the genre of MMORPG have no ending. THAT is why they are so addicting, people. It is not the fact that the game is so amazing. Granted, WoW is considered to be the cream of the crop of this genre, but in the end it is the fact that it never ends that drives these children wild. Humans are built to finish things. How genius would it be to make money off something that can never be completed? That is WoW.

I speak from experience. I was once addicted to MMORPGs myself. I'm not sure if anyone in Wednesday's group has been, but from the sound of their presentation, I would argue that none of them have. I am not bashing their idea: I love it. I love video games, so I would love to see them integrated effectively into the classroom, but WoW...or any MMORPG for that matter, is NOT the example to use. There are so many other better choices, such as God of War to teach Greek mythology, or Final Fantasy to teach literacy, critical thinking, as well as mythology. They are not perfect examples, but in my opinion they are far better than WoW.

Many other genres of video games follow the beginning, middle, and end model. The best example I would give are RPGs, or role playing games. If you look it up, make sure they are RPGs, not MMORPGs. Big difference, people.

Well, there's my splurge. There's much more I can say on the topic, but I'm currently out of juice. Peace!

Post-Colonialization and Globalization

The culture of a post-colonial nation is often unfamiliar to everyone. The blend between the nation's original culture and the colonized culture is never simple. In Globalization and the Claims of Postcoloniality from the Duke University Press, post-colonialism as well as globalization seem to be put up on a pedestal of sorts as if they are the ways of the new world. I personally have to disagree. The idea of colonialism is bad enough as it is, even though that's what this country is founded on. No country truly has any good reason to colonize another place other than for their own personal benefit. I highly doubt there has been a time in history that a place was colonized for their own good. That makes absolutely no sense. Who is anyone to make such a claim like that anyway? Who has the gull to claim that they are invading and forcing change upon a place and that it is solely for their own good? It's a load of crap.

As far as globalization goes, the second article Towards a Critique of Globalcentrism: Speculations on Capitalism's Nature also from the Duke University Press, brings up an excellent point that the world generally views Capitalism as some kind of wonderful tool that governs society simply because of how it conquered socialism at the turn of the century. Because of this, of course, socialism is generally viewed as a bad thing, and so the world generally takes on a view that Capitalistic countries are far better than Socialistic ones. In reality, neither should be held up on any sort of pedestal! If the world uniformly agrees that, let's say, Capitalism is the greatest form of government, then so much will be lost culturally in the transition to capitalism. The idea of a globalized world reminds me The Borg from Star Trek: one hive, one mind. There would be no differences between people whatsoever. Everyone will love and hate the same thing, and those who choose to think apart from that will be ostracized. The idea of globalization sounds great on paper, but I believe that the world community is not ready for something like that. We as humans hate too easily. Things like love and hope would need to drive the togetherness of this community, but again, people are too emotional. It is just impractical, as far as I can tell.

Cineliteracy

Buckingham page 40-41:

He claims that through the study of Cineliteracy, there are several "stages" in which students are able to analyze videos on several different levels. A video like this to depict The Cask of Amontillado not only helps students grasp a better understanding of the overall plot of this poem, but they are also able to delve deeper into the mind of the main character. They can see his expressions and overall brooding persona where it is not so "obvious" by strictly reading the text on a page.

Group Facilitations

I think this assignment was pretty great overall. Mythologies are very interesting subjects that share plenty of information and knowledge with readers, as well as entertain them. It also gave us students an opportunity to get a feel of what it is like to lead an entire class discussion (for those of us who have not experienced it yet, anyway.)

I also wanted to thank everyone who participated in my group's facilitation assignment of making their own ending to the Trickster tale. I did go through everyone's blogs to see what they came up with, and it was awesome! So thank you again, and for those of you who are interested in how the story really goes, here it is:

Long ago, when man was newly come into the world, there were days when he was the happiest creature of all. Those were the days when spring brushed across the willow tails, or when his children ripened with the blueberries in the sun of summer, or when the goldenrod bloomed in the autumn haze.

But always the mists of autumn evenings grew more chill, and the sun's strokes grew shorter. Then man saw winter moving near, and he became fearful and unhappy. He was afraid for his children, and for the grandfathers and grandmothers who carried in their heads the sacred tales of the tribe. Many of these, young and old, would die in the long, ice-bitter months of winter.

Coyote, like the rest of the People, had no need for fire. So he seldom concerned himself with it, until one spring day when he was passing a human village. There the women were singing a song of mourning for the babies and the old ones who had died in the winter. Their voices moaned like the west wind through a buffalo skull, prickling the hairs on Coyote's neck.

"Feel how the sun is now warm on our backs," one of the men was saying. "Feel how it warms the earth and makes these stones hot to the touch. If only we could have had a small piece of the sun in our teepees during the winter."

Coyote, overhearing this, felt sorry for the men and women. He also felt that there was something he could do to help them. He knew of a faraway mountain-top where the three Fire Beings lived. These Beings kept fire to themselves, guarding it carefully for fear that man might somehow acquire it and become as strong as they. Coyote saw that he could do a good turn for man at the expense of these selfish Fire Beings.

So Coyote went to the mountain of the Fire Beings and crept to its top. He watched the way that the Beings guarded their fire. As he approached, the Beings leaped to their feet and gazed searchingly round their camp. Their eyes glinted like bloodstones, and their hands were clawed like the talons of the great black vulture.

"What's that? What's that I hear?" hissed one of the Beings.

"A thief, skulking in the bushes!" screeched another.

The third looked more closely, and saw Coyote. But he had gone to the mountain-top on all fours, so the Being thought she saw only an ordinary coyote slinking among the trees.

"It is no one, it is nothing!" she cried, and the other two looked where she pointed and also saw only a grey coyote. They sat down again by their fire and paid Coyote no more attention.

So he watched all day and night as the Fire Beings guarded their fire. He saw how they fed it pine cones and dry branches from the sycamore trees. He saw how they stamped furiously on runaway rivulets of flame that sometimes nibbled outwards on edges of dry grass. He saw also how, at night, the Beings took turns to sit by the fire. Two would sleep while one was on guard; and at certain times the Being by the fire would get up and go into their teepee, and another would come out to sit by the fire.

Coyote saw that the Beings were always jealously watchful of their fire except during one part of the day. That was in the earliest morning, when the first winds of dawn arose on the mountains. Then the Being by the fire would hurry, shivering, into the teepee calling, "Sister, sister, go out and watch the fire." But the next Being would always be slow to go out for her turn, her head spinning with sleep and the thin dreams of dawn.

Coyote, seeing all this, went down the mountain and spoke to his friends among the People. He told them of hairless man, fearing the cold and death of winter. And he told them of the Fire Beings, and the warmth and brightness of the flame. They all agreed that man should have fire, and they all promised to help Coyote's undertaking.

Then Coyote sped again to the mountain top. Again the Fire Beings leaped up when he came close, and one cried out, "What's that? A thief, a thief!"

But again the others looked closely, and saw only a grey coyote hunting among the bushes. So they sat down again and paid him no more attention.

Coyote waited through the day, and watched as night fell and two of the Beings went off to the teepee to sleep. He watched as they changed over at certain times all the night long, until at last the dawn winds rose.

Then the Being on guard called, "Sister, sister, get up and watch the fire."

And the Being whose turn it was climbed slow and sleepy from her bed, saying, "Yes, yes, I am coming. Do not shout so."

But before she could come out of the teepee, Coyote lunged from the bushes, snatched up a glowing portion of fire, and sprang away down the mountainside.

Screaming, the Fire Beings flew after him. Swift as Coyote ran, they caught up with him, and one of them reached out a clutching hand. Her fingers touched only the tip of the tail, but the touch was enough to turn the hairs white, and coyote tail tips are white still. Coyote shouted, and flung the fire away from him. But the others of the People had gathered at the mountain's foot. Squirrel saw the fire falling, and caught it, putting it on her back and fleeing away through the treetops. The fire scorched her back so painfully that her tail curled up and back, as squirrels' tails still do today.

The Fire Beings then pursued Squirrel, who threw the fire to Chipmunk. Chattering with fear, Chipmunk stood still as if rooted until the Beings were almost upon her. Then, as she turned to run, one Being clawed at her, tearing down the length of her back and leaving three stripes that are to be seen on chipmunks' backs even today. Chipmunk threw the fire to Frog, and the Beings turned towards him. One of the Beings grasped his tail, but Frog gave a mighty leap and tore himself free, leaving his tail behind in the Being's hand, which is why frogs have had no tails ever since.

As the Beings came after him again, Frog flung the fire on to Wood. And Wood swallowed it.

The Fire Beings gathered round, but they did not know how to get the fire out of Wood. They promised it gifts, sang to it and shouted at it. They twisted it and struck it and tore it with their knives. But Wood did not give up the fire. In the end, defeated, the Beings went back to their mountaintop and left the People alone.

But Coyote knew how to get fire out of Wood. And he went to the village of men and showed them how. He showed them the trick of rubbing two dry sticks together, and the trick of spinning a sharpened stick in a hole made in another piece of wood. So man was from then on warm and safe through the killing cold of winter.

Trickster Facilitation

This myth is very well known and not created by me. I only took a portion of the short story for the purpose of our group's facilitation. Again, I am not taking credit for this myth!

Long ago, when man was newly come into the world, there were days when he was the happiest creature of all. Those were the days when spring brushed across the willow tails, or when his children ripened with the blueberries in the sun of summer, or when the goldenrod bloomed in the autumn haze.

But always the mists of autumn evenings grew more chill, and the sun's strokes grew shorter. Then man saw winter moving near, and he became fearful and unhappy. He was afraid for his children, and for the grandfathers and grandmothers who carried in their heads the sacred tales of the tribe. Many of these, young and old, would die in the long, ice-bitter months of winter.

Coyote, like the rest of the People, had no need for fire. So he seldom concerned himself with it, until one spring day when he was passing a human village. There the women were singing a song of mourning for the babies and the old ones who had died in the winter. Their voices moaned like the west wind through a buffalo skull, prickling the hairs on Coyote's neck.

"Feel how the sun is now warm on our backs," one of the men was saying. "Feel how it warms the earth and makes these stones hot to the touch. If only we could have had a small piece of the sun in our teepees during the winter."

Coyote, overhearing this...

Based on the elements of the "Trickster" we have discussed so far, come up with your own unique conclusion by yourself or with your row to this short story. It is completely open ended; just use the elements we have mentioned as guidelines to how you think the rest of the story goes. Post your final product with an original title onto your blog when you are finished!

Mythology

Mythology is a very interesting subject that can really expand the ideas of people if used properly. Myths are created through the imagination, even if they are parables of sorts. Regardless of the overall intention of myths (if there even is one,) the fact remains that it takes creativity in order to develop them.

Plato believes that myths are bad for society because they deceive us. They make people believe that they can be like Hercules or Odysseus, when in reality people like them rarely exist, if at all. On top of that, the situations they are in are rarely seen by the common man, and so to make society look at these men as a form of "guidelines" to how to be a man would do nothing except deflate their hopes.

Personally, I think Plato couldn't be more wrong on that subject. He has too little faith in the capabilities of the human mind. Sir Phillip Sidney said it well when he claimed that people SHOULD look up to these men as guidelines, as the morals and lessons they teach will help carve these men into stronger individuals that will better assist the common man. The power of the human mind is vast, more than Plato gives it credit for. We as readers can tell the difference between ourselves and Hercules, we know what he can do and what we cannot do.

Mythology is a wonderful tool in the upbringing of children. Take Santa Claus, for instance. He is a mythical person, and he gives hope and happiness every december to hundreds of thousands of children. He brings families together even though he is not real, and when the child learns that Santa Clause is not real, yes they go through a short sad stage in life, but their outlook on the world is rarely skewed in a permanent deformed manner. They eventually accept the reality of it and move on with their lives, letting that innocence either fade away on let it live on within them. If Plato thinks that is a bad thing, then I'd love to meet him in person and teach him a thing or two about happiness...

Poetry

Happiness

There's a pain in my chest,
It makes me feel funny,
Did that kick pierce through my vest,
Or am I just too sunny?

The past dictates how we think,
The present does little for the soul,
The future makes us want to sink,
Which of these guides us to our goal?

The answer may not be clear now,
Nor will it in ten, twenty years,
But as long as your thoughts allow,
In the end, you will cheer.


Companionship

I think I know about friendship.
I think I know about love.
It depends on if you count
Nineteen years of togetherness as either.

We were born under the same moon,
Raised together under the same roof,
We did not share the same blood,
But of love and friendship,
We think we knew.

We learned each other's culture,
Learned each other's hobbies,
Learned each other's love,
Learned each other's body.

In daycare we shared our bed.
In preschool we shared our toys.
In elementary school we shared our innocence.
In middle school we shared our infatuation.
In high school we shared our love.
In college...there was no one to share with.

She was a victim to fate, chance, technology.
The yellow light beckoned her to turn.
It beckoned the other to drive faster.
The collision was unavoidable.
Her life, my life, gone in an instant.

Edited in a 3rd poem on May 4th, 2010:

Misunderstanding

I give you my time,
I don’t really mind
Since it makes you chime
Despite the daily grind.

I give you my trust,
It is a fragile being
Which easily turns to dust
I swear by the all-seeing.

I give you my love,
Drink it like a wine
As you are like a dove
One that is all mine.

In return you offer me the miracle of creation,
When all I really want is the new playstation.