ELL Conference

Reflections on the 2003 English Language and Literature Conference

Held in Joliet Illinois, at the University of St. Francis

This essay comes far too late. Unfortunately, I pushed it onto the summer pile. I wasn't expecting to spend the summer hoping the Fall semester would be an adequate substitute for vacation :)

After Anne Baublitz, Kristen LeFever, and I returned home from St. Francis's English Language and Literature Conference, Dr. Downing asked us how it went. We looked at each other grinned, hemmed, chuckled, hawed, until one of us spoke up and said, "We'll have to get back to you on that." This was generally the nature of our reply to many people, unless we were responding with the small-talk version of "yeah, it was great". Furthermore, the article that came out in the Etownian, which was based on a conversation we had about the nature of much of the other students' papers, leaned rather toward the negative. The rather negative impression we communicated about the conference has been unfortunate, because in my case at least, I believe it has been amazingly positive. For me, attending the conference forced me to seriously think about some important issues I had only lightly dealt with before. The conclusions I made about these issues may possibly be the most important choices of my time at Etown.

A recent MLA Journal asked the first of these questions: Why study literature? According to one author in the journal, the benefits of reading and discussing are the main reasons to study literature: It's fun; and it opens one up to new perspectives through reading and dialogue. "But am I in it for something more than that?" I asked myself.

The second is more complex: What should I focus on as I study literature? So many types of study, so many topics of study can be overwhelming. My focus today can provide me with a springboard after College. My life up until now has been very eclectic, but I no longer have the sheer volume of time to spend to become very competent at many things. The last year has been a painful exercise in winnowing away hordes of amazingly cool things that are fun, exciting, interesting, and hugely rewarding. Is it time to do the same academically?

These questions ran like a thread through the entire conference weekend, surprisingly stark, surprisingly connected. My time with Anne and Kristen, the organization of the conference, the talks give by the substitute keynote, and the topics of the papers all contributed to my understanding of these questions and have helped me find some conclusions.

(How's that for an outline in one paragraph? I even got to include the word "conclusions"! Now that you have a roadmap and are lulled into comfortable confidence about the organization of this essay, it's time for a curveball.)

They connect with the story of everything I learned at Etown this last year.

Fortunately, I'm not telling it here.

Whew.

A summary maybe? Here goes.

During the Fall, I took two great lit classes. My class with Dr. Harman on Kafka, Joyce, and Beckett introduced me to the three authors and familiarized me with various views of literary theory. It gave me my first chance to enjoy the mental challenge of literary analysis. Through Dr. Harman's class, I was also impressed with the importance of the editing process as a creative act.

Dr. Martin's Medieval Literature class was great. In the class, I learned how to explicate poetry, which helped me better understand how poetry works, thus improving my own writing. Although I have only written one poem since the Fall semester began, when I place it next to my previous work, the difference is phenomenal. Dr. Martin also introduced me to a great model for composing papers that encourages individual thinking yet does not neglect the importance of using sources. Again, the importance of the editing process in writing came to the front of my attention.

Toward the end of the semester, I tackled a difficult paper topic for Dr. Harman's class. I was studying Steven Dedalus's view of art in Joyce's Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man. This was important to me, because I had never encountered the idea of a quantified creative process. I spent barrels of time working on the paper, and though the threads of research were very interesting, I was consistently frustrated by my inability to adequately complete it. In short, I was taking it too seriously.

In fact, while wrestling with the topic, a random prof suggested I dedicate my academic career to studying Joyce. It was the first time anyone ever suggested an academic career to me. I was horrified by the thought of bashing my brains against Joyce for the rest of my life.

Over Christmas break, I saw the National Cathedral in Washington D.C.. I also saw copies of Dr. Downing's book showcased as one of the books in a display of books on C.S. Lewis. At the beginning of the semester, I mentioned this and other faculty honors to Dr. Martin and smalltalked a guess that he might be next. He said that he doesn't really get all that involved in writing books or publishing papers. His purpose is fulfilled in his students; while he does research for fun, it's not his main priority.

This statement contrasted many of the impressions I had gathered about an academic 'career'. It still remains very present in my thoughts. A few months later, a few research papers later, and a few more suggestions of an academic career later, I was on a plane with Kristen LeFever and Anne Baublitz.

We didn't realize it, but our destination was Surrealville. Last known location: The Twilight Zone.

Half of the twilight came from traveling with two English majors. For me, English is a tool. Just a tool. For Anne and Kristen, it borders on religion, at least when (a) they're taking a Grammar and Linguistics class and (b) they are in the general vicinity of a ribbable English major, especially one with such fragmented spoken English as mine. I once had a very good English teacher who stated thus:

"We learn grammar thoroughly so we never have to think about it again."

I took her advice, studied like a madman, and have never looked at a grammar rule since. This is not Anne and Kristen's philosophy :).

In a way, our trip was some sort of weird Canterbury Tales in which an English Professional Writing major, an English Ed major, and an English Lit Major all set off for Joliet, sharing interpretations of the story they're in.

When our stories came together for a few days, it was neat to hear theirs. They have both been much more focused than I am: Kristen wants to teach high school. Anne already works in journalism. The closest thing I have to purpose is the thing I am trying to escape: computer programming, which has been my job for the last four-and-a-half years. I only became interested in English within the last four years.

Points of grammar aside, however, we had an amazing time together. The three of us complemented each other very well, and we had a lot of great fun. I can still vividly recall the look of pure mirthful chagrin on the faces of Anne and Kristen as we realized that we, in our search for the limo driver, had just waved to him and said "hi" as he passed us in the corridor.

Anne and Kristen commented a few times beforehand on how over-seriously I was taking the conference, but none of us expected the conference to be what it was. For me, the unexpected nature of the conference, when combined with my over-seriousness, forced me to think more carefully about my experiences. Here's how we were weirded out:

(Mary Ann Sluzis got us out of the bind. Go Mary Ann! My credit card rejoiced as well.)

So far, we were surprised by how nice everything was. Then...

(to add to the weirdness and employ humor to relieve the tension created by the previous point, I will add two items that affected neither Anne nor Kristen)

Then they got weird again, because

After the keynote, some of the students went to enjoy the scheduled refreshments. I went to call the limo service to check on our bill. When I got back, Kristen and Anne were still standing together. It looked like the other clusters of students, large contingents from other schools, weren't very interested in meeting other people.

Soon after, the other students disappeared to somewhere other than where we were. We went back to the hotel. Most people, it seemed, had their own transportation, and many (most?) of the attendees not presenting on Friday night had not attended on Friday night.

Over the whole weekend, I was never introduced to any St. Francis Faculty. I never had a chance to actually meet any of the conference organizers I had spoken to on the phone. While I talked to one prof briefly, I didn't learn her name until later. My only contact with the chair of the department was a short question which he answered quickly before moving on. This was odd. I guess I'm spoiled by the attention students get at Etown.

(flip the page on the sun, and it's the next day again as your Dilbert calendar incinerates in a ball of nuclear flame)

Things started out well. Anne and Kristen went to listen to the keynote while I went up to the room to scope it out. I can get very nervous, and I try to employ all the relaxation techniques I can. In my performing experience, I have found it helpful to spend some time in the room alone to mentally prepare. I was still taking it too seriously.

I walked back downstairs and creeped in the back to hear something interesting from the self-proclaimed annoying man. He was talking about developing a writing style. He was recounting how he chose to write purposefully annoying essays and how he goes about writing an essay based on personal experiences. In fact, he was talking about actually practical things, not just going on about himself or giving us a boring lecture on literature. I wondered if it was like developing a musical style. In music, I found my style by playing what was most powerful and fun to me, then worked on improving it. In contrast, this man had designed his style for the market.

I wondered if I had a writing style, whether it was worthwhile, fun, or even useful. I wondered if I should design a style.

Then the papers began. Woah. This was amazingly tiring, amazingly boring, amazingly interesting, boring all over again, a little stupid, pretty cool, decently interesting, a bit boring, and then finally over.

(aren't you glad you're not grading this for grammar?)

See, I have been spoiled. As a member of a very active Linux computer Users Group in Lancaster, I was not new to giving presentations. Almost every other month, I gave a presentation on some sort of interesting technology issue: free faxing servers, graphics design techniques, advanced accounting for free, and even digital copyright law. In these cases, I was received well.

I learned something at the conference. People are more interested in free Internet faxing than they are in the subtleties of a poem they never read. Profs are more interested in the things their own students do (including papers about the subtleties of a poem they did read) than the things other people's students do. Finally, students who write papers are most interested in the things they do themselves (including papers about the subtleties of a poem they might have read). Thus the imbalance in my sense of the importance of what I was doing.

I realized that I was there for myself, just like everyone else. At a computer conference, I would be equally interested in what other people had to offer because I could benefit from it or at least because it's tangibly nifty. At a literature conference, I stood to benefit very little from what I heard.

Here are some of the notable things I heard. I have indeed benefited from them, but not in the way intended by their authors:

I was aghast; instead of thinking, I wrote nonsense poetry consisting of compound words from every third or fourth word from her mouth. Kristen employed her most esteemed skill: writing upside-down. -When studying literature, what is my purpose? Is it to be original? Originality is unlikely, and in my view of understanding texts, easily leads to the wrong conclusion. What's the point of studying and interpreting literature then?

(to accumulate safe levels of suspense, keep you reading, and tip my hat to Douglas Adams, the answers to these and other mystifying questions will be withheld for the moment)

I think I stayed conscious. Afterward, I learned that her linguistic and writing interests lie in her goal of becoming a writer for National Geographic. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided this *after* writing her paper. What good is amazingly intense, thorough study if your life work is to tell the world about the singing habits of Tarsiers or the eating habits of Bedouins, or even something about Chaucer? 


Kristen saw his wedding band. I lamented for his wife. 




Is that it? Just brain benching mental weight for fun and accolade? Do I want to become someone like that? Am I becoming someone like that?






Her presentation was interesting, informative, and fun. I could even understand what she was saying. It still contributed nothing to my understanding of life or literature, although it helped me understand Chaucer a bit more. Well, perhaps it did contribute to my understanding of life... 



What good is studying literature? 


According to the MLA Journal, here's the answer: 






These are not my answers, although they are true. 



(now that suspense levels have been raised to the legally allowable limit, I will now disclose the answers, which came slowly over months. I usually prefer maple sugar over my months, but let's not complain. Especially because I'm the waiter of the months)



Q: What good is amazingly intense, thorough study? 
A: No good, unless it's useful. The study may be useful training for further mental effort, or it might be directly practical. Ultimately, I would like to focus my efforts toward practical ends.


(This of course, leads one to ask the question, "what are the practical ends?". I'm not sure.)


Q: What's the point of studying and interpreting literature then? 




Thus we come to the second question asked, thousands of words ago. What will I focus as I study literature at Etown? This can be derived from the previous answers. As much as possible, I would like to focus on topics that I can carry over into my own writing, and on a lesser level, those skills that help me think better. 


The conferences gave me an opportunity to think about some subsidiary items that were already in my mind. Here are some examples: 






I also asked myself about the whole academic career idea. In a way, I came closer to being interested in such a choice. In some ways, I was pushed away. I enjoy writing because I enjoy sharing what I have learned with others. The few times I have been able to teach, I have found it immensely satisfying. The future? Nobody knows what the future holds; I try not to plan too much in advance, in case an anvil misses Wilie E. Coyote and falls on me instead, but who knows? 


These musings have even affected my music studies. I will be stepping up my involvement in music at Etown for its practical value in my service to God, and I may be even taking a class on how to teach brass instruments (why the instruments need any education, I'm still not sure. However, I'm confident in the wisdom of the Music Dept). 


Finally (aha! the conclusion announced by the outline that long ago was lost in the horizon of a flaming Dilbert calendar!), the conference became a catalyst for a bunch of ideas, suggestions, desires, maxims, and bits of advice that somehow have been congealing into my motivations and goals over the last few years. It confirmed for me the need to be practical with what I do and write. While I could very easily become an academic Stephen Dedalus, such a choice would be destructive. I would be following purely selfish ends that at best would seem fulfilling at sporadic times (if enough people would agree that they can form careers either opposing or agreeing with my ideas). 


Chaucer did something useful. He wrote a manual. People used that manual to sight the stars, navigate the sea, stay alive another day, and reach their destination. 


I would like to do the same.