The Audio Essay

My students at Miami University are working on "audio essays." As part of the "Miami Plan" (basic core curriculum that the University would like all the Freshman to encounter), I'm charged with helping my students experience what get's called "Entering Public Discourse." That's really how the administration says it. Now I'm certainly not troubled by the notion of helping students engage with a discourse that is "public," or that exists outside the classroom walls. In fact, figuring out how to get eighteen-year-olds who are living apart from the rule of their parents' house for the first time to recognize that what they say and do can matter beyond me and their grade often consumes me. That said, my problem is with the word "entering." It's as if we, as researchers, professors, instructors, writers, and whatever, believe the illusion that students have not already been moving and morphing "public discourse." And now, lucky them, we're going to show them this illusive door and grant them the full tour.

But that's not what I'm wanting to share with you. What I want to share with you is my excitement for what the students are turning in on Friday. For the last few weeks, they've been researching an issue of their choice that could, in one way or another, be considered "public." We've been verbally hashing out what it means to be a child of gay parents, why the drinking age is 21, whether or not "free speech" actually exists, issues of child obesity, the odd religious feelings generated by the saving rhetoric of technology, politics, abortion, and many other "public" debates. Instead of translating these discussions into formal college essays (a notion that I find myself resiting more and more, yet constantly catching myself using to help me judge the work that gets generated in class), the students have been writing scripts and recording Public Service Announcements. They're working in teams, with new digital audio recorders and access to huge databases of sound effects and music, to construct two different pieces: they only have one topic, but they're communicating to two separate audiences. This is not exactly a new or innovative assignment--composition teachers have been doing such work since the technology has been available. Before that, as many of you may remember, we made collages and posters to argue a particular side of an issue. But this is the first time I've assigned such a project and the first time my 66 Miami students have had to think differently about composition. So, in that way, it's brand new--again. I say all this for a few reasons: 1.) I plan to share some of their work with you on this blog; 2.) I'm frickin' terribly excited about what I'll hear on Friday; 3.) My students have begun to ignore me--they've not only forgotten I'm the "one with the red pen," but also, and more importantly, they're not thinking about me as their audience. They know who they need to convince and they're recognizing that using one particular word for an audience of parents won't work for an audience of college students; and 4.) My students are beginning to realize they've always known how to do this--they're good at it. They "instinctively" know if they should tell a sad story to appeal to the emotions of their audience, or if they should try solid-sounding facts and cite several studies that make use of statistics. And now, maybe, they can recognize when the "public" is doing it to them.

Here are few examples that have caused some controversy in our classroom, and certainly lead to some inspiration:

Free Speech

Heifer Project

Cheers!