That’s the punch line to a joke my dear mother-in-law told me many years ago. “Why do broadcasters have such small hands? Because you have to have wee paws for station identification.” Of course that joke, like jokes about typewriters and broken records, will need footnoting as the baby-boomers die out, but I’ll laugh even if it dates me. So there.

That said, I feel compelled to put a placeholder here to say that I have many things I want to explore about the recent Faculty Academy, about what I’m reading, about where my thoughts are taking me these days, about my new citizenship in Second Life, about last night’s episode of House and the ethics at the heart of epistemology (and vice-versa), but I can’t yet. Too many loose ends at this moment, too many projects I need to push a little farther along. And then there’s my job, too. All of which leads me to ask my five (or is it six? I lose count) loyal readers to bear with me for a while as I get some clear space to resume my natterings here.

I really want to push hard at some of the ideas and questions emerging for me out of the last few months, perhaps even the last year.

Stay tuned.

The event is over, yes, in terms of strict chronology. In other respects, I think we may have just matriculated into a vital, “real school” course of study. More on this idea soon. For now, I want to thank Jon Udell, Rachel Smith, Cyprien Lomas, and my astonishing staff of Instructional Technology Specialists for helping to shape and deliver this experience. You take my breath away.

Tonight I picked Cyprien Lomas up at National Airport in D.C. and ferried him to the motel near the University. Jerry did the same for Rachel Smith. Tomorrow we get started with the first of two days of Faculty Academy 2006.

We’ve been working toward this event for months, and to our great delight, we have about 110 folks already registered to attend and nearly forty presentations scheduled, including sessions by our special guests and by us in the Division of Teaching and Learning Technologies. We’re going to do our best to record and podcast all the sessions, and there’s a conference blog and a conference wiki so you can all follow along.

I’ll be blogging here, on the conference blog, and on The Smooth Elephant, and tracking my comments with CoComment. At least, that’s what I hope to do. Given the way these conferences often take on a ferocious life of their own, you may not hear from me again until Thursday, as I come down from what I’m sure will be an utterly exhilarating two days. But perhaps I’ll have the presence of mind to sneak in a few words here and there.

Viva Faculty Academy!

I was about to write that “The Flea,” one of Donne’s most famous, even notorious libertine seduction poems, changes its character radically when a woman reads it, but I don’t think that’s true. I think the poem stays the same. What changes, at least to some extent, is one’s horizon of expectations with regard to gender and/or sex. There are several ways to think about this:

1. the woman reads the poem against the grain, with an implied critique of the poem’s argument
2. the woman reads the poem with the grain (1), and the reading demonstrates Donne’s own witty or earnest or seriocomic critique of his own argument (i.e., self-consciously or not, Donne the poet writes in a way that subverts the poem’s argument)
3. the woman reads the poem with the grain (2), as a straightforward seduction poem, claiming the energy and wit and aggressiveness as her own

I don’t think I’ve exhausted the possibilities here by any means, and now that I mull this over, I see that these readings are available to men as well, depending on their own sexual ethics … but given that the poem’s original voicing is of a man seducing a woman, it’s easy to recognize why the reversal would stimulate thought.

Here’s Jess Rigel reading “The Flea.”

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (964.8KB)

In today’s Donne Seminar podcast, Charlotte Naas reads one of Donne’s less-well-known poems, “Witchcraft by a Picture.” Such is Donne’s sharply marked poetic character, though, that you could probably tell it was one of his even if I hadn’t told you. Try the experiment: play the poem for your nearest English major or poetry lover, and see if he or she can “name that poet.”

Click here to play Charlotte’s reading.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (505.6KB)

Encouraging update on Pete Townshend’s web site:

The Who begin rehearsing in two weeks, during which time I have to finish the rest of the Who album with Roger – so again, I’m trying to keep the music simple and direct. Our new stage set will allow us to do some new things, and to help tell some stories as yet untold.

I’ll be in line with Alan when tickets go on sale.

By way of Dorine Ruter’s blog–at least, I think that’s where I found it, after taking a look at Dorine’s public Bloglines feeds (cue Donald Fagen, “I.G.Y.”)–I’ve been learning a ton lately from Kathy Sierra’s “Creating Passionate Users” blog. Because I’m always about one cognitive millisecond away from analogy-mode (I almost said allegory-mode) in most of my daily interactions, I have formed the unshakable conviction that Kathy’s blog is sending important messages about teaching and learning, as well as about the work I and my team do every day as we try to encourage and empower our colleagues to transform their work as scholars and professors.

Kathy’s blog post on “Which user’s life have you changed today?” is one compelling example of what I’m talking about. I’m betting that most writers, teachers, and students would find the post just as inspiring and insightful as I did. And during the tough days when I’ve got (at last count) 30 papers and 61 exams left to grade, along with discussion forum portfolios and a few other odds and ends, and that’s before I get to the admin stuff, this tale of a simple owner’s manual that changed a life gets my chin up and my determination on full. Thanks to Kathy for telling the story, and thanks to Nick for writing that manual (Nick says, “Our goal is that the user has to do something cool within 30 minutes”), and thanks to Edward for being passionate, and thanks to O’Reilly for rewarding that passion–and, it seems, prodigious talent.

None of this magic happens automatically. That’s one reason I’m so grateful for every human being who helps make it happen, despite the real possibility that he or she will never, ever know that magic was the result.

And thanks again to Dorine, one of the most recent additions to my personal suite of inspiring and trusted experts.

Here’s Zac Smith reading Donne’s “Elegy 3: Change.” Donne’s elegies (in the Renaissance, “elegy” could mean any discursive or meditative poem, and could include even bawdy, Romanesque poems, as Donne demonstrates) are particularly interesting as indications of his wit and his skill at arguing several sides of the same issue, sometimes all at once. “Elegy 19: To His Mistress Going To Bed” is Donne’s most famous in this genre, and it’s a great poem, but I was very happy to see students go for some of the less well-known elegies in Donne’s work.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (1.7MB)