One of my classmates used a system called Zeemaps to let students post their locations visually. Here’s the result so far:
zeemaps.com For UvA Communication Science class — first 122 students
The map can zoom in to show exactly where in Uzbeckistan one student is, or where the two of us are in Virginia — depending on how specific we made the location in Zeemaps. (I just gave my city, not my street address. Some students may have just given a state — or a nation.)
On the day I captured this, only 122 students had pinned themselves on the map. That’s just a beginning. In a reply to one of my posts in the course discussion area last week, Professor Rutger de Graaf apologized for not only being able to respond to messages personally — his enrollment had just passed 37,000. That map could get crowded! But it already shows the marvelous diversity of the student body.
While the course is a basic introduction to concepts and theories in the (itself quite diverse) discipline of “Communication Science,” the online student-created discussions range from “This is Me!” introductions to “Is Communication an Art or a Science?” to “Have we lost our ability to communicate?”and “deliberate gender stereotyping?” — a 70-voice discussion inspired by the professor’s use of a cartoon showing a bouquet of flowers as a way to communicate “you are pretty” in one of his first slideshow lectures.
I’ve already gotten typically verbose trying to explain the structure of various academic “communication” organizations in the United States, where “Mass Communication,” “Media Studies,” “Communication Studies” and “Communication Science” can mix and match from campus to campus due to various quirks of academic organization, allegiance and ancestry. Here are just a few:
Our #edcmooc online course discussion topics include technological utopias and dystopias, coincidentally a theme in the Digital Culture program created by David Bogen and colleagues at Emerson College in Boston.
My focus on communication history — in that particular year and city — was a perfect excuse to introduce students to Edward Bellamy’s utopian novel, “Looking Backward,” written in the 1880s, but taking place in Bellamy’s imagined Boston of 2000.
The class met in a computer lab and included introductions to online resources and software applications (Photoshop, Dreamweaver, etc.). Bellamy gave us an excuse to explore Project Gutenberg, where students could read the book or search its text for keywords in our discussion.
(A Google search will find many more online editions of the book, including this one at the University of Virginia, but I prefer the simple searchable text version in one big file. )
To reach sections relevant to a discussion of technology, media and education, I would ask students to identify the major communication technology advances of the decade in which Bellamy was writing, the 1880s.
I am pleasantly surprised to see that my smartphone can open the full text of the novel and use its Android browser’s “search in page” feature to locate the words “telephone” and “newspaper.”
The surprise for most students (spoiler alert) is that Bellamy predicted the telephone would become a broadcast medium — bringing music, lectures and genteel culture into the home.
We might also discuss my strange behaviour of opening an old book and immediately doing keyword searches instead of reading it in a linear fashion as intended by the author. That could be a bridge to an entire course on hypertext and postmodernism.
Another of my favorite searches in the book is for the word “umbrella” — which leads to a Bellamy form of socialist utopianism, the communal street awning. And a search for “credit card” (yes, 1887) should prove surprising.
I wonder if Bellamy is on the radar of the course’s organizers at the University of Edinburgh? I am hoping that the course RSS pick up this short post and share it with them and my classmates.
Today, thanks to Google Books, we could try the same “search for keywords” trick with Fidler’s Mediamorphosis. At the time of its publication, Fidler had been a member of the Knight-Ridder videotex development team and Viewtron’s first director of design, developing a vision of “tablet” interfaces in the early 1980s.
Getting back to the turn-of-the-21st century, our 2000-2003 Emerson Digital Culture class included a film series on “digital culture” sub-themes including utopia/dystopia, cyborgs and virtual reality. It included some (*) of these, all made between 1982 and 2002:
(After the original posting, I added a few “did we show this…?” and “should we have…?” films to the list, put it in chronological order, and added IMDB links. The “*” films are the ones I’m pretty sure we did use at the time.)
Note: this post is also an experiment in creating a blog item for the mooc RSS aggregator using only my smartphone and to a great extent its voice to text feature. Apologies for any resultant misspellings.
I’ve signed up for an already-in-progress MOOC course, “E-Learning and Digital Culture,” taught by a team of professors at the University of Edinburgh, which is encouraging students to use their blogs, Twitter accounts (@bobstep) and other online media as part of the discussion. So… greetings to any visiting classmates.
Since this blog’s usual topics are journalism, media studies, teaching and hypertext linkage, I don’t see much point in creating a new blog to go with the course. It should all fit together… including my habit of embedding YouTube videos in the blog. This is one of the “prompts” for discussion in the course, a charming exploration of “new media” networking called “Inbox” (although “Inbag” would be more literal):
Coincidentally, my last couple of blog posts were related to a previous MOOC, which I just completed a couple of weeks ago.
My first contribution to the already extensive discussion managed to stray far from digital — to some of H.G. Wells’ writings as far back as 1895, in a discussion of utopian and dystopian themes in a few short videos about contemporary media. Here’s a copy, with links to two films and the Wells information:
Apologies for joining the course so late and trying to catch up with a lot of discussions in one evening. In addition to the main themes of this course, I am interested in the culture and history of technology, pre-digital as well as digital.
The first short film, Bendito Machine III, has echoes of Javanese wayang shadow puppet plays — which also have to do with ritual, communication with powerful forces from above, and with storytelling. Perhaps our dystopic or utopian stories about technology have a deeper message about our feelings of powerlessness, and our hope to get more control of things through knowledge, ritual and flickering lights from above (or from behind a screen). For the worshippers of the machine in this little film, there was little control of the technology, no two-way communication, and the ultimate end was dystopia and destruction. Inboxwas charming — while not quite utopian, it showed another magical technology that, this time, made communication possible. It also showed how we are drawn to “new media” by accident, curiosity and trial-and-error. (As well as including a homage to the softer ”technology” of the post-it note, a mainstay of communication on refrigerators everywhere.) And it was fascinating that the “user’s” exuberance over his connection with the other RedBag user led to his accidentally ripping the bag and extinguishing its magic — much like an exuberant Facebook user accidentally dumping a cup of tea into a laptop. Technology is fragile. (And, as for the RedBag, ”Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” as Arthur C. Clarke said.)
I found it fascinating that spoken dialogue was not important in either film, partly because I just finished my first Coursera experience, Scott Higgins’ wonderful course on “The Language of Hollywood,” including the transition from silent to sound film: https://www.coursera.org/course/hollywood
On the topic of earlier utopias or dystopias, H.G. Wells gave us several examples – starting more than a century ago. His 1895 time traveler found a distant future where dependance on technology had degraded human nature. His War of the Worlds saw superior (Martian) military technology ultimately defeated by Earth’s biology. His 1933 The Shape of Things to Come (and the 1936 film, “Things to Come”) had an Anglocentric scientific/technological “benign dictatorship” put an end to war (and to most religions and diverse cultures) after a century of war. One person’s utopia may be another’s dystopia.
This square dance was what really stuck the line “… On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine” in my head. I’ve since learned The Trail didn’t stop (or start) with the dance, but you can watch it, then sing along for fun while you read the rest of the story.
My film course has led to an interesting popular-culture chain of media, starting with a 1908 novel, The Trail of the Lonesome Pine, and wending its way to a 1913 pop song, an outdoor drama still performed each summer in Big Stone Gap, Virginia, and a singing square dance still done in New England, all available on the Web, especially in the Internet Archive and on YouTube, with separate Wikipedia pages for the novel, song, and film.
Because of the coincidence of the 1913 song’s centennial, here are some links and connections, mostly a celebration of the Internet’s varied ways of archiving media — and giving me ways to distract myself. (This page may be a bit of a jumble, with some duplication because of pieces cut and pasted from my movie course discussion site; I’ll try to come back and clean it up some day.)
The original song is more a product of the barbershop quartet era of sentimental melodies and harmonizing. Laurel and Hardy managed four voices between the two of them, with the help of a bung starter.
The words are sweet and sentimental and do use the name of the book’s heroine, June, a favorite of every barbershop rhyming dictionary. A bit of that melody is used behind the title credits for the 1936 movie, but the words are not sung. Instead, we get the (composed for the film?) song “Twilight on the Trail” with its reference to a “lonesome pine on the hill.”
“On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine” (1936), the first big outdoor three-strip Technicolor film, played an important part in Scott Higgins “The Language of Hollywood” online “MOOC” course I’ve been taking, and is discussed thoroughly for its “restrained” approach to color in his book, “Harnessing the Technicolor Rainbow.” (Fox’s novel, a not-quite-western frontier romance, with men on horseback and a battle to establish law and order, had inspired earlier silent films, but I still haven’t seen them.)
I’d first heard the title “On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine” as the refrain of an old song. I remember Arthur Godfrey singing snatches of the catchy tune on his TV and radio shows in the 1950s. (Media students: Look him up!) And more recently, I heard the tune at Ralph Sweet’s New England square dances in the 1980s, particularly a “singing square” that used the original song’s refrain and encouraged the dancers to sing along on the line “In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, on the trail of the lonesome pine.” If singing while dancing doesn’t stick a tune in your head, nothing will. (More recently, the lyric set me to questioning whether the area mentioned in the book is rightfully called part of the “Blue Ridge,” which I associate with the ridgeline of the Blue Ridge Parkway a couple of hundred miles east. But “Blue Ridge” has two syllables and “Cumberland” three, and the song gets to say “…like the mountains, I’m blue.”)
My first encounter with the movie wasn’t this film course, it was in Sharyn McCrumb’s novel, “The Devil Amongst the Lawyers,” set around the time the 1936 film came out. McCrumb’s characters blame the movie and the 1908 John Fox Jr. novel that inspired it for feeding outsiders’ unflattering preconceptions of Appalachian mountain folks.
After I read her novel, interested in her critique of 1930s journalists, I bought myself a copy of the movie on DVD. It starred Sylvia Sydney, Fred MacMurray and Henry Fonda, and the dialogue of “we-uns” and “furriners” and “green-up” (for springtime) got old in a hurry.
For a 105-year-old novel about “progress,” “nature” and change, I rather liked the melodrama about the coming of the railroads and coal mines to the mountains. Despite the “Blue Ridge” reference in the song lyric, the story takes place in farther Southwestern Virginia and Southeastern Kentucky. The town of Big Stone Gap, Va., still celebrates Fox’s work with June-through-August outdoor theater performances of a play based on the novel. Unfortunately, I didn’t discover the theater page at http://www.trailofthelonesomepine.com/ until the season was over.
This is going to be fun. I am for the third time enrolled at Wesleyan University… Continuing an old tradition of “leave job… return to college (preferably Wesleyan)…”
When I quit my daily newspaper job at The Hartford Courant, my goal was to take a year off, finish my courses for a master’s degree in anthropology, and spend a summer in Ireland researching my M.A. thesis. The one year spun into three after my advisor left on sabbatical and never returned. My new advisor, ethnomusicologist Mark Slobin, directed me into a couple of new courses and even made me his teaching assistant for a course on Ethnicity and Popular Culture, my introduction to Wesleyan’s cinema resources. He was enormously patient, and it was a struggle to keep the master’s thesis to 280 pages, even after one of the “informants” asked to be removed from it completely.
The resultant editing and rewriting were part of the inspiration for learning everything I could about “word processing” at the university computer lab, and buying my first computer. That led to my taking computer courses during the summer after graduation, editing a newsletter for Wesleyan microcomputer users, and landing a job writing (in English, not computer code) for a software company — which paid me to take more software-and-writing courses on the side.
When the founder sold the company and technical writing started feeling “old,” I added up the courses I’d taken already and headed back to Wesleyan to complete a second master’s — a “Master of Arts in Liberal Studies” — by writing a thesis about hypertext. (With the help of cognitive science prof Marc Sebrechts, I kept that “liberal studies final essay” to 135 pages, but it was 1988 and hypertext hadn’t been made the organizing principle of the World Wide Web. After the Web happened, I headed to UNC Chapel Hill to — eventually — write a much longer doctoral dissertation, very slowly.)
“This Film History course explores how fundamental changes in film technology affected popular Hollywood storytelling. We will consider the transition to sound, and the introduction of color.”
I hope to use what I learn the next time I teach a course about the portrayal of journalists in film and popular culture, possibly offering it as a more-online class myself. Professor Higgins’ course sounds fascinating, and I suspect I’ll learn plenty about film — and about online teaching in the process. Here’s how he describes it in the syllabus:
Each change in technology brought new opportunities and challenges, but the filmmaker’s basic task remained the emotional engagement of the viewer through visual means.
We will survey major directors and genres from the studio era and point forward to contemporary American cinema. Our aim is to illuminate popular cinema as the intersection of business, technology, and art. Through film history, we will learn about the craft of filmmaking and how tools shape art.
Lectures will be online videos. We students will be on our own for film viewings — and I’m already tracking down the 10 films at local libraries and online suppliers. (Worldcat.org helped me quickly find several of the films at the Radford University and Virginia Tech libraries, and order others through Radford by InterLibrary Loan. I’m also buying a few, or at least renting them online.) Among other things, I’ll be interested to hear the professor’s view of the copyright (and ethical) issues involved in the posting of classic films on YouTube, which I started exploring because of my interest in hard-to-find newspaper films.
Next, I’ll dig back into Samuel Fuller’s novel, The Dark Page, which was the basis for the film. Written before he headed off to fight in World War II, it was inspired in some ways by his earlier experience as a newspaper reporter – including his start at the New York Evening Graphic, which really did run Lonely Hearts Club Balls like the one in the story.
In the film, Broderick Crawford is a tough tabloid editor whose Lonely Hearts Club Ball starts out as heartless exploitation — and leads to murder. His star reporter, with with help of Ms. Reed’s character, investigates clues that lead back to the boss. More info at Turner Movie Classics.
Although “Scandal Sheet” isn’t one of his productions, Fuller went on to become a film maker himself, and “Scandal Sheet” is included in a nice boxed set of his early films. Ironically, his two main newspaper-focused films, “Park Row (1952)” and “Shock Corridor (1963)” aren’t part of the set, but they are available separately.
I just watched “Rear Window” to review how Alfred Hitchcock presented its wheelchair-bound photojournalist character. Pretty amazing that the travel, excitement and adventure of his career are billed as such strong competition for Grace Kelly…
So far, I haven’t read the story the movie was based on, which apparently did not include Hitchcock’s romance angle. But I’m still tempted to go see what the original says about the fictitious photographer, and I made a cursory investigation to see if there was a newspaper career in the story author’s background.
The original tale, titled “It Had to Be Murder” or “Murder from a Fixed Perspective,” was by the late Cornell Woolrich, whom I found on Wikipedia, at IMDB, and in a centenary article at Time magazine. None of them mention journalism in his background, which Time summed up like this: “Woolrich’s life was as twisted and compelling as his work, and that’s saying something.” I did note two details that might interest Media Studies or Journalism students:
Back to the movies: After posting that “Rear Window” trailer to my 1950s Journo-Movies page, I noticed “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” right below it.
I will leave it to the movie fans, problem-solvers with the skills of a Perry Mason, and the very curious to recognize why that’s a coincidence.
Hmm. I was wondering if there were any journalist episodes of “Ironside” to make it a trifecta, then discovered a made-for-TV move and short-lived series about a 1976-77 media mogul named R.B. Kingston. Even his initials are interesting. Have to watch for that on the TV rerun channel!
Click to visit any of these Virginia BH Media papers
Yesterday’s announcement that Berkshire-Hathaway Media is buying my almost-local daily, the Roanoke Times, sent me off building link lists for the benefit of recent graduates still researching media careers… (See below.)
Warren Buffett’s BH Media has been acquiring papers in this region for several years, including former Media General (Richmond, Va., Lynchburg, Va., Bristol, Va., Winston-Salem, N.C.) and Landmark (Roanoke, Va., Greensboro, N.C.) publications. BH also has owned a good chunk of the Washington Post for 40 years. I’m beginning to think Berkshire-Hathaway Media Group should replace the “Berkshire” in its name with “Appalachian,” at least when doing business in this part of the world. (It also owns papers in North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, Florida, Texas, Iowa, Nebraska and Oklahoma.)
I did notice that stories in out-of-town publications had an inflated idea of the Roanoke Times’ daily circulation (76,000 instead of 67,000 reported in the RT itself)– perhaps based on a press release that used old data. See the discussion thread on the Times own story. I would expect an industry bible like E&P to check the numbers, but apparently not. Note the byline “by: Press Release | Dirks, Van Essen & Murray” (a newspaper acquisition firm, which you also might expect to have up-to-date stats).
News job openings with BH Media papers (About 16 vacancies in Virginia and nearby North Carolina, from internships to managing-editorships and a weekly editor-in-chief. Venues include a regional copydesk in Hickory, N.C.: “The ConsolidatedEditingCenter is located in Hickory, N.C. and is the design hub for most of the World Media Enterprise newspapers in the southeast.” It does worry me that the ConsolidatedEditingCenter doesn’t have spaces in its name. IhopeTheCopyEditorsAren’tUnderOrdersToSaveSpaceThatWay.)
(Note: If you’re intrigued, as I was, that both the Pilot and BH Media jobs are posted at a site called “silkroad.com,” it’s a human resources software company independent of both Landmark and BH Media.)
Last year I was named one of America’s “Top 50 Journalism Professors”, and I’ve finally decided to share that link with my students as an end-of-semester exercise in critical thinking, while we talk about the differences between journalism in print, on the air and on the Web.
After class — or after next week’s final exams, or after I clean out my office the week after that — I may come back to this page and add a few paragraphs to explain why I’m taking at least a semester or two off from teaching.
(I am also making jokes about going to a tractor-trailer driving school so that I can declare myself “semi-retired.” If I come up with better jokes, I may add them to this page, too — or at least delete that one.)
I was very pleased that a good number of students in my intro news writing class came up with appropriate “critical thinking” questions about that site — in particular, two questions they should ask any news source:
Who are you? (In this case, who runs the website, who pays the bills, and what is the site’s real purpose?)
How do you know that? (In this case, what are the criteria for the top-50 list and how was it assembled?)
In addition to “interrogating” the Web pages themselves, reading the “Home” and “About” pages, I suggested students try the Top 50 list’s find-a-school zip-code search. Surprise! Almost all the results were for for-profit schools or online-only programs. Nowhere was there any link to the major accrediting or research associations in journalism education (ACEJMC and AEJMC), and (coincidentally?) (ironically?) the search never turned up schools at which the “Top 50″ professors teach.
My conclusion: While it’s flattering to be on a top-anything list, that’s about all I can say about the “JournalismDegree.org” site. Its operators didn’t respond to my request for information about their criteria or its ownership, and I assume the site is just an advertising ploy to get people to visit and click on links to “journalism schools” that are not on anyone’s “Top 10.”
I recommend that students try to look beyond the window-dressing of such list-making link-farm sites. In all searches for information, look for sources that show why they are authoritative. In dealing with higher education, that means finding real “.edu” institutional sites with lists of faculty that give names, degrees earned, publications, professional experience, previous employers, scholarly interests and contact information.
(Last year I tried that with one of the universities advertised at “JournalismDegree” and chatted online with an “admissions” salesman, who ultimately could not direct me to a page listing any journalism faculty member.)
As for my own status as a “Top 50 Journalism Professor,” the final irony is that right around the time the site in question was putting me on its “Top 50″ list, the personnel committee at my school was prepared to drop me off its list entirely. There were no actual journalism professors involved in the decision, and no one from my other teaching area, Web production, so I didn’t feel too bad. I was told I would probably win another year’s contract if I appealed, but I decided not to.
I’ve had enough “best teacher I’ve ever had” student reviews to feel O.K. about my career here, even though those reviews were the exceptions more than the rule. For the past few years I simply haven’t been able to manage a four-course-a-semester teaching load and a schedule of publishing traditional “peer-reviewed” academic articles. My own disorganization and some health problems didn’t help. Student teaching reviews and conventional publications were all the committee cared about.
I’ve been better at keeping up with Web-publishing and social-media developments, with hundreds of pages published through my home page and in a half-dozen blogs, a podcast and a Twitter feed. But those things didn’t count for much to the non-journalist, non-Web-focused faculty who served on the personnel committee. (In contrast, my online media presence is probably what counted most to that link-hungry “Top 50″ list site.)
As a result, I’ve decided to retire from the faculty of Radford University and take a semester or two to get healthy, play more music, and finish the book I’ve been writing online. You can watch its progress at JHeroes.com — Newspaper Heroes on the Air. And you can check out my past, present and future at my Stepno.com homepage, or get some day-to-day links by following me at twitter.com/bobstep. I may return to teaching in 2014, here or somewhere nearby.