johnnie – Multiliteracies in ELA Classrooms

some thoughts on adaptation

Our group’s presentation on adaptation led to some interesting class discussion. One point worth considering is that of authorship. Some link authorship more tightly with ownership. For these, the process and product of adaptation might be more touchy—the notion of honouring the original text is important, which is to say the new adapted material must uphold a particular artistic standard. It somehow must be “true” to the original. I’m curious what drives these feelings of loyalty toward novelists, screenwriters and directors.

The negative reaction to Van Sant’s Psycho is a curious one. Having seen many film adaptations, the criticism I’m accustomed to reading often outlines how the new film fails to capture the spirit of the former. Key details were missing; the performances lacklustre; the director somehow missed the point. In these instances, the places of deviation are problematic for the critic. And yet when a skilled craftsman remakes a classic, honouring it so carefully and particularly that the outcome is a virtual replica, critics don’t like that either. They snivel, “What was the point?” A loose adaptation is dubious and a facsimile futile. My conclusion here is that when source material is considered a masterpiece, there is simply no winning. The emotional attachment to the former is too powerful for the critic to use an objective eye.

The piece by Bortolotti and Hutcheon is useful because it potentially liberates us from that challenging position. Adaptation is central to who we are as a species; we continuously evolve— socially, mentally, even physically. Our narratives evolve too; they adapt and survive. Written work, film and television continue to be produced at a dizzying rate. Clearly we have an insatiable appetite for stories despite the fact that identical scenarios and similar plot lines are revisited over and over again. When our position is less emotional, we allow ourselves to study work for what it is and not what it was. As teachers, it seems this is a better place to be to help students engage with the growing body of material around them. Those that disagree with this point might consider the usefulness of their position as well as what drives it.

Johnnie

Graphic Novels. Can anyone teach them?

By now, most of us heading into the field of English have—to some extent—learned that incorporating graphic novels into our classrooms is no longer a cutting-edge thinking, but rather a curricular imperative. However, having yet to study a graphic novel in a classroom setting, I’m curious about my own education, or lack thereof. By taking this on as an act of current appeal, I can’t help but wonder if I’m adequately qualified to validate this experience for my students. What do I know of this modality past the obvious? Does this even matter?

My unstable position on this is not a reflection of a traditional attitude with a hidden bias to preserve what I’m instinctively more comfortable with. The graphic novel seems to have a growing appeal; I am fascinated by this form and it’s myriad forms, concepts, codes and styles. I imagine my appreciation would greatly enhanced with some expertise—as with film, or other graphic art forms. But sadly, I didn’t learn this form. And because I didn’t take to comic books as a child or beyond, I now have trouble interacting with it; I don’t know how to read it. Increasingly I observe people around me engaged in graphic novels, and I feel one thing more than any other: envy.

I observed a high school English lesson concerning Art Spiegelman’s Maus. The lesson involved a class discussion on the holocaust and more or less mimicked a typical discussion one might observe in a typical grade eleven classroom anywhere in Vancouver. Some students actively participated, some listened quietly, some stared out the window or texted on the their phones under their desk. What occurred to me was how similar the instructor’s approach was—he might well have been teaching any other novel; there was no particular focus on the illustrations or talk of the physical presentation whatsoever. It was centred, as usual, on plot and theme. This is not a criticism either, but it raises some potential questions about graphic novels and instruction. Is this just the same as teaching anything else? Perhaps we’re perfectly qualified, provided we know what’s going on and can guide a willing group through the material. Somehow I’m not convinced though.

There is no denying the power of appeal. Any teacher—ELL or otherwise—who can engage a class or excite new students with the graphic novel is sure to keep this in their repertoire. I note, however, that as we find ourselves in an age of emerging literacies and multi-modal teaching practices, we run the risk of putting more weight on variety in the classroom rather than on substantive instruction. This is not to say that graphic novels lack substance. This is to say that they are a different form and should be recognized as more than just a clever tool to teach ELL students or kids who like comics.

Johnnie