A Taste of the Things I Do Not Know

I woke up today with the urge to make a running tally of things I can't do.

Well, that's not entirely true. I did some more reading in Multimodal Composition before this urge really took hold.

So, let's see. I can't shoot a movie on my iphone. For the following reasons:

1. I don't have an iphone.
2. Even if I did, I probably couldn't use it. (I can't hardly use my current cell phone, which I bought because it was the cheapest one. Maybe it can shoot movies? I doubt it though.)
3. Even if I could figure out how to hit record on a video camera of some sort—and I have a very tenous grasp of how to do this with my regular digital camera—I wouldn't know what to do from there. Using editing software? No clue.

I can't record or edit audio. I've never used a microphone. Even if I could record the audio, I don't know how to store, play, or edit it on a computer.

These facts trouble me more nowadays than they used to.

What's interesting to me about Multimodal Composition, however, is that they don't seem to think I should be bothered by this. Even if, or perhaps especially if, I'm using multimodal assignments in my class.

Take, for example, chapter 10: When Things Go Wrong. They make a point, repeatedly, that has been made before not only in earlier chapters but also in previous readings. Students are becoming increasingly familiar with media technologies, often more familiar than their composition teachers. Therefore, teachers should let “the students pool their understandings and information” (133) because “a class, collectively, can identify a solution” (133) to technical problems and individual shortcomings. They repeat several times throughout that we should “Encourage students to help each other” (144) understand the technologies and potential problems involved in their usage.

One one hand, I can understand how this could be a beneficial practice. Many people learn best by doing, and therefore hands-on training is a good thing. (Did anyone else laugh at the chapter's technical advise of “Read the instructions” (136)? Gee, I hadn't thought of that...) And I can see the potential empowerment involved in students functioning as de facto co-teachers for their less technologically-advanced classmates.

Here's the problem. (And you know, I ALWAYS find a problem, cheery soul that I am...) I have an ethical issue with assigning my students to do something I could not do, and then judging them on what they produce. This is not a soundly logical problem on my part. I wouldn't say it's somehow unethical to criticize a James Cameron film just because I could never make a James Cameron film. I don't think it's unethical for less skilled students to peer critique the work of their classmates. I think the crux of my issue is this: I don't like to take credit for work I do not do, and I don't like to make others do the work I do get credit for. In essence, those students who take the responsibility of teaching technology usage in a composition class are (probably) not being paid to do so. The teacher is getting paid. The students, in fact, are paying for the privilege. I simply cannot see beyond the smack of exploitation inherent in this proposed system.

I don't otherwise consider myself a classroom control freak, nor do I think it's necessarily a good thing to think of the world in monetary terms. (Perhaps the benefit to self-esteem and knowledge-building that the students gain in such a case are far more valuable than any actual salary.) Like I said, I recognize the logical discrepancy in my own conundrum. So why does my stomach hurt when I think of asking students to teach each other how to shoot movies and edit sound for an assignment I've given them? Is it wrong that I feel like I'd be asking them to do my job?