Linking Assignment

Furthermore, our blogs, despite sharing the same UBC platform, do contain some slight differences, which can also be connected to frameworks about text and technology. Sourabh’s blog, with its list of Tasks organized into blocks on his main page, presents his reflections as segments in a cohesive story. This aligns with earlier versions of texts, such as books, that could be read either continuously or in piece meal fashion, going chapter by chapter. In contrast, my blog’s tabbed organization breaks my posts into further segments like “Weekly Tasks” and this “Linking Assignment,” reflecting a textbook-like approach. This distinction could influence the reader’s experience, as Sourabh’s post offers a fluid access to his work allowing readers to experience it as an interconnected whole, while mine focuses on enabling users to seek specific information.

In my own domain, Social Studies, timelines are a prime example. Their linear format often reflects a ‘progressive’ view of history, one of forward motion and constant improvement. This mirrors the agentive language in English, which frequently emphasizes causality and the role of the actor in events. However, as Boroditsky (2011) identifies, languages like Spanish or Japanese take a non-agentive approach, where causality might be described without referencing an agent. Similarly, cyclical worldviews found in many Indigenous cultures challenge the Western notion of linear history, offering perspectives that emphasize the interconnectedness of events.

This brings me back to Natalie’s post. If a hundred chart can unconsciously reinforce assumptions about numerical order, what other biases might our teaching tools and practices embed? For instance, world maps often place Europe at the center, reinforcing Eurocentric worldviews. Similarly, the language of “discovery” in history textbooks prioritizes colonial narratives while marginalizing Indigenous perspectives. Even the gendered use of language in certain contexts might influence how students perceive roles and identities, as Boroditsky (2011) notes that grammatical gender can affect how individuals learn about their own gender (p. 65). Consequently, I appreciated the connections made in Natalie’s post, as they helped me to consider further questions on the topic of language and cultural worldviews  and how they relate to the classroom.

References

Boroditsky, L. (2011). How language shapes thought. Scientific American, 304(2), 62-65.

Another divergence came in our analysis of our stories. While I focused more on the process and results, David’s post was primarily directed at the linguistic differences that occur in written compositions versus verbal speech. For instance, David describes how:

“There’s a clear instance of self-repair, a characteristic feature of spontaneous speech, where I begin with “She further justified her system by saying that…” then switch to “expressing disbelief.” This happened because I wanted to use the word “disbelief” but had to adjust my syntactic structure to accommodate it – “expressing” better collocates with “disbelief” than “saying” does.”

Here I was reminded of Ong’s (2002) distinction between (written) literacy and orality, where the character and structure of the “primary orality” is related and yet fundamentally different from written language. In particular, the fluidity that David describes in his verbal speech can be seen in stark contrast to the fixed, deliberate nature of written language, which often requires forethought and editing to achieve clarity and coherence.

These differences in focus and experience also point to how our personal understandings influence the ways we engage with and analyze our texts. My frustration with the limitations of the memo app shaped my attention toward the technical challenges of transcription and their impact on the accuracy of the recorded text. In contrast, David’s smoother experience with Whisper may have allowed him to delve deeper into the nuances of linguistic features and the interplay between speech and text.

References

Ong, W.J. (2002). Chapter 1: The orality of language. In Orality and literacy: The technologizing of the word (pp. 5-16). Routledge. (Original work published 1982).

In addition to the physical print that he created, Nick’s reflection on the creation of his work also resonated with me. He wrote about how carving and stamping letters was not just an act of reproduction, but a way of embedding his time, effort, and intent into the work. This made me consider my own experience. While I initially saw my potato stamping as a frustrating exercise in precision, I also realized that each mistake and adjustment was part of a deeper engagement with the process of writing. Like Nick, I found that stamping letters required a level of attention and physical interaction that connected me to the words themselves. A smudge or uneven letter created a unique print that could not easily be replicated in the same fashion.

Furthermore, Nick’s description of stamping as a more intimate engagement with writing made me reflect on how different tools shape our connection to text. My handwritten journal entry, for example, felt more personal than a typed reflection because I could see the imperfections in my handwriting, just like Nick could see the irregularities in his stamped letters. Both of our experiences demonstrate how the act of physically creating text can carry meaning beyond the words themselves.

I also found it interesting how Elaine notes the potential differences in interpretations of their meaning that could arise due to one’s cultural background. The lack of specificity in emoji-based communication means that different cultures and communities may assign unique meanings to certain emojis, complicating cross-cultural communication. This is particularly relevant in global digital spaces (e.g. message boards, social media, etc.) where diverse audiences engage with the same set of symbols but may derive varying meanings from them. This brought to mind a previous link that I made to Nick’s post, where he included a heart symbol in his potato printing exercise. I had assumed that every culture would interpret this symbol as one representing ‘love,’ but this may not be a universal understanding.

References

Bolter, J. D. (2001). Writing space: Computers, hypertext, and the remediation of print (2nd ed.). Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

However, while I found these obstacles frustrating, Isabella’s post offered a perspective I hadn’t fully considered, that being the additional cognitive effects placed on neurodivergent users. Her reflection made me realize that while I was merely annoyed, others might experience genuine accessibility barriers due to these design choices. This contrast led me to question how web design can either accommodate or exclude users based on cognitive processing styles, accessibility needs, and behavioral tendencies. In particular, the way the interface disrupts standard navigation patterns may impose a heavier load on those with attentional challenges, making it far more than just a minor inconvenience. It prompts a deeper inquiry into whether designers are consciously or unconsciously incorporating elements that favor certain cognitive styles over others. This realization made me think about the importance of adopting an inclusive design mindset, where the goal is to create digital experiences that are not only engaging but also considerate of diverse user needs and potential vulnerabilities.