I really enjoyed reading Cushman’s work this week, yet I still have mixed feelings about this type of academic work. I’m certainly not questioning its integrity and usefulness, because the immediate, “real-world” impact is front and center; but then again, maybe that’s part of what bothers me. In my assigned chapter, we go along with Cushman as she follows Raejone’s attempt to get into college, which ultimately fails. Cushman successfully shows through her analysis that transfer can help bridge gaps between social others, and this endeavor is, in my opinion, full of good intentions.
However, the reality comes crashing down in the end, leaving Raejone in no better place. I admire Cushman for revealing that these efforts are sometimes in vain. We are denied a comforting closure to Raejone’s story. It helps build Cushman’s ethos. Nonetheless, I can’t stop wondering if Cushman should have done something more to help Raejone. It may not be her position as a researcher to “save” Raejone from a life of poverty and hard labor, but in a way, Cushman profits from Raejone’s hard life. Is this a bizarre form of exploitation?
During most of my reading, I’m cheering the two of them on, wishing Raejone to get into college and achieve her goals. Cushman builds my sympathy for these real people in a way that pushes forward her political agenda. I see that Raejone’s experience and Cushman’s text might be able to shape policy later on, but what about Raejone the person? On closer inspection, I don’t feel comfortable with Cushman entering Raejone’s life, writing an academic chapter about it, and abandoning Raejone.
Perhaps I’m looking at this the wrong way. This information should be shared with others. The point of transfer is to enter into dialogue with various people—it’s a tool for shaping different communities. Certain relationships just have boundaries. We can’t intervene in everyone’s life. Still, there are living and breathing people who have to face the harsh world that researchers visit temporary before returning to their own lives.
A friend of mine said something along the lines of: “I just feel more comfortable researching dead people.” And maybe that’s why I tend to stick with literary material.
Showing posts with label Transfer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transfer. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Executive Summary of Chapter 8 of Ellen Cushman's The Struggle and The Tools
Cushman examines how Raejone, a single Black mother from a low socioeconomic background, negotiates the discourse of power and her cultural language and values as she tries to gain acceptance into a State university. Navigating through gatekeepers and her idea of their expectations, Raejone translates her values into qualities and language that college admissions committee would find desirable. Analyzing Raejone’s personal statement as well as her meeting with an admissions officer Mr. Tony Villups, Cushman argues that “the transfer of language can promote social and political equality” (186).
Raejone balances the rhetorical demands of her audience with her personal experiences in her statement of purpose. For instance, Raejone reshapes the “cultural value of self-help and personal struggle” into the concrete experience of completing her GED; however, she leaves out details about the challenge to go to school and take care of her children. Cushman indicates that Raejone carefully uses personal pronouns and shared values to reach her audience.
Next, Cushman illustrates how Mr. Villups reinforces yet subverts his position as an academic gatekeeper and invites Raejone and Sasha to participate in the language of power. At first, Villups asserts his authority by exclusively speaking in the language of power, and this move keeps Raejone and Sasha from feeling comfortable enough to join the conversation. However, Villups switches to Black Vernacular—“You ain’t gotta think of nothin’ flowery”—and welcomes Raejone and Sasha’s discourse.
In the final segment, Cushman helps Raejone decode the language of the University. Raejone learns that the school does not offer a degree in primary education, and the only alternative is to apply to an expensive, local private school. While this discovery frustrates Raejone’s efforts to get to get a degree, readers learn that Raejone never even gets to enter college. She deals with extreme economic problems and defers her college hopes to her children.
Raejone balances the rhetorical demands of her audience with her personal experiences in her statement of purpose. For instance, Raejone reshapes the “cultural value of self-help and personal struggle” into the concrete experience of completing her GED; however, she leaves out details about the challenge to go to school and take care of her children. Cushman indicates that Raejone carefully uses personal pronouns and shared values to reach her audience.
Next, Cushman illustrates how Mr. Villups reinforces yet subverts his position as an academic gatekeeper and invites Raejone and Sasha to participate in the language of power. At first, Villups asserts his authority by exclusively speaking in the language of power, and this move keeps Raejone and Sasha from feeling comfortable enough to join the conversation. However, Villups switches to Black Vernacular—“You ain’t gotta think of nothin’ flowery”—and welcomes Raejone and Sasha’s discourse.
In the final segment, Cushman helps Raejone decode the language of the University. Raejone learns that the school does not offer a degree in primary education, and the only alternative is to apply to an expensive, local private school. While this discovery frustrates Raejone’s efforts to get to get a degree, readers learn that Raejone never even gets to enter college. She deals with extreme economic problems and defers her college hopes to her children.
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