There was a time when words like ‘grok‘ made me cringe. This was at the height of the social media frenzy, when everyone and their brother was jostling to get onto Facebook, asking “What’s Facebook anyway?” Grok? If you have no idea what this means, never mind. It still makes me cringe.
So a few weeks back I recorded a podcast about tech jargon, a topic close to my heart. Two reasons.
1, Technology is turning us into bots, and before we begin speaking like Siri, it’s time to raise the red flag. We teachers demand clarity; we whip out the red marker no sooner we spot clichés. Or redundancies. Or words that we don’t grok.
2. I wanted to keep up the podcast momentum during summer, as I was testing a new app and using my recorder with a new mic. I plan to use it in class when we get back to school – tomorrow.
HERE’S THE THING. All of us – yes we the grown-ups – let slivers of jargon fall into everyday word salads we call lectures. When I catch myself in jargonizing mode, I pause, apologize to my students and move on.
Which is what this episode is all about. Hope you like it. It’s just 12 minutes. Tell me what you think, please.
Podcasts often tell stories. Even when it’s a podcast about an event such as Brexit, or analyzes a controversial idea. I remember, back in 2010, the podcasts I listened to were elaborate stories, whether it was about the media, or even an emerging area of sustainability. One podcast that has stuck with me over the years was This American Life, hosted and produced by Ira Glass. It was always divided into Act One, Act Two etc., and the story within the story created a colorful quilt.
No wonder Ira Glass won the first Pulitzer for a podcasts about immigration called“The Out Crowd.”It was all about documenting “the emotional truth” by weaving it into “stories around characters and scenes and story arcs…” It is exactly how the best podcasts are made. To a large extent, podcasts are a work in progress. An experiment with audio using a medium (sound recording) that has existed for more than a hundred years. This American Life declares: “We view the show as an experiment. We try things.”
The best example of an experiment was how one of its shows was turned into a live musical by Lin-Manuel Miranda! Even as the pandemic shut many doors, podcasting strolled in through the side entrance, let out the stale air of traditional media, and is causing a renaissance in storytelling. Watch this. No Listen to this!
Trust me – it will revise anything you’ve thought about the ‘spoken word.’
I once knew the master of yarns. His stories entertained us, and scared us as children. For a few days we would look under our camp cots before we went to bed. They next day, however, we would plead for more and he would spin another just like that. He was my father. Born storyteller, he. A troubadour sans guitar who taught me the power of story. Today, which would have been his 101st birthday.
A public school teacher, He taught History, Latin, and English Lit and potentially impacted thousands of students in Sri Lanka. They, like me, had stories to tell about him. Some wrote to me about them on his passing 15 years ago. My cousins, today recounted a few of them. Like the time he would ask them a riddle narrating the first few lines of a strange poem about a motor bus with a Latin phrases (such as “Indicat Motorem Bum”). They had no clue what it meant. Neither did I growing up. I looked it up and Motor Bus turns out to be a poem by an Oxford scholar who made puns out of Latin declensions, probably to make a point of the Latin roots of English. Listen to it here. Was that Dadda’s sneaky way of getting us to pay more attention to the English language we took for granted?
He left me a notebook with my name on the inside page, above which was a quote, “We must row with the oars we have.” This was a time when there were no blank journals, so he used the pages of a 1962 diary. It was filled with quotes like the ones below, and others by George Elliot, Nehru, Aristotle, and from Ecclesiastes.
In a post wrote last year, I explained how so many sat in his ‘class’ — neighbors, nieces and nephews, Catholic and Buddhist priests, and even vendors who had heard of the iskola-mahathaya down the road. They came to him for help with essays, debates, and job applications. I didn’t know until today that he had tutored a cousin’s fiancé in O’Level Sinhala, another on E.M. Forster’s Passage to India, and Shakespeare’s Othello; another won a world history prize with his tutoring. There are probably hundreds more my brother and I will never know about.
Joe Fernando was more than a teacher. A larger-than-life character who played Tennis, was a member of the Cursillo movement, and much, much more. I don’t think he realized what a legacy he left behind. Or how the stories he infected us with live on. Happy Birthday, Dadda.
Tony Arkani, a sprightly junior has the gift of biting repartee that cuts through a slab of high school cynicism. Tony, by the way, isn’t his real name. (I mistakenly called him that on the first day of class; he didn’t mind.) His other essential ingredient is a self-deprecating humor which comes handy when he weighs in on issues where he expects push-back: racism, face masks, privacy. Each morning Tony sits propped up against my classroom wall waiting for me to open the door. It’s barely 6:30 am. He’s on a roll. His gangly feet protrude into the hallway, but its his acerbic comments lobbed at barely woken-up teenagers that stop them in their tracks. A few set down their overstuffed backpacks to join the conversation.
This linguistic flamethrower is just one of the students who signed up for my elective class on Writing and Publishingthis year. Other high schools have classes in Tech Writing, or Fiction. The broad scope of W&P resonated with students like Tony, and his classmate in whose veins run bits of Chaucer and Comedy Central, and even New Girl. The work of Atul Gawande, an endocrine surgeon-writer, and Kacey Musgraves, songwriter, resonate with them.
I once told this class I wish I had had such imaginative minds to work with back in the day when I worked in advertising, hunting for creativity. Fast forward thirty years, these are born story-tellers who take to plot and story arcs as effortlessly as they deconstruct memes and imbibe TikToks. It gives me a reason to wake up each morning, knowing there’ll be a fresh batch of creativity to be put in the blender.
To put a time stamp on this, it was a class that began in the middle of COVID when school superintendents were trying to balance students’ well being and academic achievement. Would a return to in-person school trigger a longer shut down? No one has the perfect recipe. But one thing I do know is that these storytellers with face coverings soon proved to us that our kids, despite six feet of separation and rigorous sanitization, were bursting with energy — something I wrote about earlier.
Given this kind of raw material we just might we see a new batch of thought leaders, creative policymakers, poets, screenwriters, scientists, and entrepreneurs. From my perspective at least, they have already shown their hand. One student has a podcast and a YouTube channel. Another, who works part-time at Taco Bell, is working on a George Lucas-ish manuscript — a series of 15 books, with prequels. Seriously! Tony also has a one in the works, too, involving ‘islands’ populated by ‘Orixens,’ ‘Fades,’ and creatures called ‘Voidwalkers.’ They remind me of characters in C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra. A year ago during the height of school lockdowns he pitched the idea of starting a mythical country he calls New Arkansas. He’s now recruiting ‘citizens’, has written up an elaborate constitution, designed a court of arms, and for an assignment in this class, created a podcast about it. Here, take a listen:
As they wrapped up their final assignment, I heard Tony mumble, “I wish I could retake this elective next year!” To which I responded, “You’d be bored.” I lied. These students who spar with him in the hallways seem to have exorcized the boredom gene that drops in on teenagers.
We shouldn’t let these storytellers out without tapping into these inner dynamos. If we fail them, we risk sacrificing them as underpaid drones in some Amazon-like warehouse. We desperately need the next C.S. Lewis, Erik Larson, and George Orwell.
There’s been an outbreak of writing in school. I suspect it’s contagious. Even those language deniers are catching it. They’re huddled in the student union during lunch break breathing in the same particles of plot and narrative. The writers’ disease, also known as storytelling, is spreading.
I’m talking about student writing that I alluded to a few week back. Fiction. Non-fiction. How-To books. The titles blow my mind. From the typical teen horror, to some on technology. There’s one on Dissociative Identity Disorder (If you hadn’t heard of it, it’s mind opening!), one about Photoshop, many on romance, a few on travel and family, and one written entirely in French!
Recording a podcast is the easy part. Editing it however, takes a lot of time. Especially when you record segments separately. Or when the Wifi goes down for a few minutes, as it did for a recording of this episode of The Mayflower Files. My guest was on Google Meet. We had to recap the lost moment and move on.
It also took some back-end fiddling around to get these podcasts on a few networks. So it was gratifying to see this confirmed a few weeks back. RadioLab 201 is now on Spotify, and Apple Podcasts as well.
As Jake Carlson, one of the guest speakers (who’s been podcasting since 2014) told my class, “Everything is Figureoutable.” He was candid the speed bumps he ran into when he got started, and what it took to get comfortable in front of a mic. When I record the podcasts, I have to content with several factors – people walking into the Lab, sound over the school PA system for instance.
I have mentioned this before. I used to have a podcast in 2009, while at Arizona State University. I hit a long pause, and now, partly because of the class I teach, podcasting is back.
She worked in the belly of the beast as a reporter— in Washington DC — covering the Trump White House; a short internship that made Theresa Smith, now a teacher, a fly on the wall watching the frenetic competition for stories in the James Brady briefing room.
In this interview, and podcast I asked her what she learned from such an experience — what lessons could I pass on to my students in writing and publishing? What’s a ‘Lede’? How do you get readers to pay attention? Some amazing insights from someone who’s been there, reported that.
You never know what the unintended consequences might be when you begin a ‘Little Free Library.’ A library in school is not as frequented as, say, the gym or football field. Even a vending machine gets more traffic than a bookshelf. That’s reality.
But hold on – there is a surprise outcome to this story.
After we installed our first Little Free Library unit in 2019 I sensed a slight uptick in reading. Though my classroom is a computer lab, we discuss literature; reading is a given. Books have not been replaced by technology. My shelves are stacked with copies of WIRED, and The New Yorker. (One book on my shelf, “Eats, Shoots and Leaves“ helps start a discussion on good grammar and punctuation. Then there’s no escaping Orwell’s ‘1984‘ when discussing privacy or surveillance. But I digress.)
Today, we launched the outdoor ‘Little Free Library’ with two of my former students who kicked off the project, invited to install the name plate of the library’s Charter number – It’s 111423. Meaning ours is now on the library network map – as you will see here.
The Writer’s Club was on hand. This new club will act as its custodians. It’s another example of the explosion of interest in reading and writing, despite an annus horribilis we went through, which made school so complicated. They kicked off the club in January and they’re already writing and sharing fiction. These kids are now reading like crazy!
The US continues to call the country Burma, even while the Associated Press uses the name Myanmar. Why the hesitance? One theory is that the name change from Burma was a change of the nameplate so-to-speak; a linguistic sleight of hand since internally it means the same thing. The other is that it’s inconvenient to acknowledge the name that was changed by a group that isn’t playing by the rules.
“The Burmese military regime has ignored the will of the people of Burma to restore the country’s path toward democracy and has continued to commit lethal attacks against protesters in addition to random attacks on bystanders.”
OK, so extra points for using ‘lethal attacks,’ and ‘will of the people’ when referring to the country by its previous name.
What’s in a name? We don’t refer to “New Holland” when we talk of Australia, or even Bombay these days because Mumbai is the more accurate. Imagine if the United Kingdom refused use the word Mumbai, because the Shiv Sena party, in 1995 changed the name as a thumb in the eye to colonialism.
The US policy on Myanmar is so convoluted that it is no wonder the rest of the world thinks our geography sucks. And this is not new. Hillary Clinton, as secretary of State practically refused to say ‘Burma’ calling the country by other dodgy nouns. Here’s the latest doublespeak from the new White House as quoted on VOA:
“Our official policy is that we say ‘Burma’ but use ‘Myanmar’ as a courtesy in certain communications,” Jen Psaki, the White House spokesperson, said when asked to address the issue during a press conference this week.”
Meaning they apparently like to be courteous, and politically correct while being out of step with reality. So she goes on:
“So, for example, the embassy website refers to Burma — Myanmar because they are by definition dealing with officials and the public. The State Department website uses ‘Burma (Myanmar)’ in some places and ‘Burma’ in others.”
Oh, I get it. Using curly brackets and an m-dash really clarifies matters.
While you’re doing that Ms. Psaki, why not rename Sri Lanka as “Ceylon-Sri Lanka” on your official site (this will make the CEYLON Tourist Board thrilled; the CEYLON Tea exporters might do a high-five outside your embassy in Colombo.) You could even call the country “Sri Lanka (Ceylon)-(Serendib)” in other places because it makes the hoi polloi feel like you know your history.
With ZoomH4N recorder that came in this week, we officially began the class podcast.
In reality, we started experimenting with recordings last week with a cheapo mic that I had for the past 10 years. We recorded directly to AnchorFM, and also on my laptop, to Hindenburg.
But the ZoomH4N simplifies matters. Slightly bulkier than a T1 calculator, its sleek black form factor has a no-nonsense appeal (some say it looks a bit like a Taser). The pickup from X/Y mics is so good, the interviews my students have conducted, have come off great. In a few days their individual podcasts, submitted as assignments to Google Classroom, will be uploaded to Medium, the publishing platform.
But before that, here’s the introduction to the Podcast series that will incorporate student voices alongside those of my colleagues at Benjamin Franklin High School.
When he’s not teaching Latin, Greg Davis is an agile outfielder at a AZMSBL, an Arizona league. He has a way of making students forget they are learning a language no one speaks.In this podcast I pick his brains on why Latin still survives as a subject in schools, and its connection with classical academies — something that goes back nearly five hundred years. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.