Personal Reflection GO!

So how did Comics Class go, overall? That's the question I've been intending to answer on this blog ever since class ended back in December. I wrote about the planning stages, and the day-to-day activities, so it only makes sense that there should be some kind of self-evaluation at the end. But it's taken me awhile to figure out what I think. As with most human endeavors, the end result is hazy and ambiguous.

Over the last few weeks people have asked me if the class went well and I have said yes, the class was a success. I meant that. The students did their work and most of them passed, many of them with good grades. I followed through on my plans, with some tweaks along the way, and covered most of the material I set out to cover. I learned what worked and what didn't.

So, hurray!

But I also have a sense of disappointment. Even though it's important for teachers to focus on realistic, achievable, and measurable goals, we usually can't help ourselves. We don't just want kids to earn credit toward graduation; we want to Change Young Lives and Resculpt the Face of the Future. In my case, I wanted to change the students' perceptions of comics.

That's not a huge deal, in the grand scheme of things. At certain points in my life I have changed my mind on much bigger matters, after being convinced by a conversation, by a life event, or by something I read. I have, in the past, said, “Oh, I never thought of it that way; I guess I was wrong.”

That always seemed natural to me, so it took me years to realize that this was a fluke; most people don’t change their minds. And most of those people who don't change their minds consider their consistency to be a virtue. Studies at the University of Michigan show, in fact, that when you demonstrate to people that their beliefs are based on incorrect information, they entrench themselves more. If you show people that they are wrong, they become wronger.

This is devastating to the Enlightenment ideals I came to cherish through my liberal arts education. People are not enlightened individuals ruled by reason; they are brute savages, ruled by emotions. Rather, we are brute savages ruled by emotion.

To me, the idea that comics is a legitimate artistic medium is incredibly straightforward. Narrative is accepted as art; pictures are accepted as art; accepting pictures used as narrative as art should not be that big a stretch. The reason comics are generally considered juvenile trash is basically an accident of history, having more to do with pulp fiction publishers of the early 20th century than with any inherent values of the form itself.

(For a detailed look at those publishers who defined what we think of as American comic books, I highly recommend Gerard Jones' Men of Tomorrow: Geeks, Gangsters, and the Birth of the Comic Book.)

Most Americans think of comics as junk for kids, but most don't think about comics at all. It's an uninformed kneejerk reaction. So, on some level I have always believed that if you took the time to explain that comics is a perfectly valid medium of creative expression, and you made your argument clearly and reasonably, people would see the truth. Scott McCloud demonstrates, step by step and in great detail, the vast potential of comics. I can't imagine making it through a few chapters of Understanding Comics and still clinging to an anti-comics prejudice. 

Except that human beings don't respond to reasonable arguments, and prejudices are generally immune to logic. And my students were excruciatingly bored by McCloud. In fact, the whole argument that comics is a valid art form is meaningless to my students. Whether or not an art form is "valid" is a question of interest only to academics. Most of my students, if asked about books in general, would say, "I hate reading." They would evaluate a painting based on whether the subject matter is awesome or boring. My students, like most people, approach works of art with the question "Will this entertain me?" and, based on their immediate emotional response, leave either liking it or hating it.

(That is what normal people are like, right? That's what I've been led to believe.)

Most people who are prejudiced against gay people and then change their minds aren't won over by rational argument, but, rather, by having a gay friend. A respected friend comes out of the closet, and the formerly anti-gay individual comes to realize that, hey, my friend isn't so bad, so I guess other gay people aren't that bad either. An individual experience is more powerful than rational argument. We are ruled by emotion, after all.

Fortunately, I was able to provide personal experiences. I showed my students great comics. They read great comics. They saw with their own eyes what comics can do. And most of them enjoyed at least some of what we read. And yet . . . and yet, and yet, and yet . . .

I don't think I changed anyone's mind. Not one. I had a few students who liked comics going in, and they still liked comics at the end. The kids who said they hated comics at the beginning still hated them at the end, and the kids who didn't care still didn't care. Teachers need to focus on the measurable and achievable goals but, you know, we want to open cracks in the students' minds so that Truth and Beauty can shine in and bring about personal growth and change.    

In the last week of class, one of the students who liked comics at the beginning of the semester was talking about Spider-Man or the Hulk or something. Another student, who had gotten good grades overall, said, in a disbelieving tone, "Man, you like comics? That's kid stuff."

As the responsible adult in the room, I responded with, "You now have an F."

You can never focus on one comment from one student, of course--that's a total rookie mistake--but that comment summed up my frustration, my feeling that I was unable to change even one person's mind. That's all conjecture, of course. You never know what long-term effect you have on a student. It's like your co-workers tell you, during your first year of teaching, when all the joy has gone out of life and everything you try seems like a failure, "We're planting seeds. It will be years before they grow, and you'll probably never see the results." Which is actually comforting.

Talk at my school will soon turn to next year's class schedule. If someone comes to me and asks if I want to teach comics class again, I will definitely say yes. Despite the frustration, I know that you can never predict what students will end up getting out of a class. Who knows? Maybe next time, they'll all learn to love comics. Maybe I'll see students carrying around volumes of Neil Gaiman's Sandman or Jeff Smith's Bone.

That may be an impossible dream, but being a teacher requires some of the self-delusion of Don Quixote and the forever-unrewarded dedication of Sisyphus. We are given goals that are literally impossible, and criticized when we fail to meet those goals. 

But if there's one thing the comics of Jack Kirby have taught me, it's that when you are faced with impossible odds, you always keep fighting, and you never give up.

The Ice Haven Factor

Remember yesterday, how I didn't know what I was going to do in class today? Don't worry, I figured it out. You knew I would figure it out, right? I'm a professional. I have training and stuff.

I took in a big pile of comics and had the students get into groups and look through them for examples of Scott McCloud's seven different types of word/picture combinations. I mainly took in Tintin and Uncle Scrooge books, because I know they don't have offensive content, and they're thin, and it's easy to carry a big stack of them. I also threw a Kamandi Archives and a Fantastic Four Masterworks on the pile. Herge, Carl Barks, and Jack Kirby . . . does it get much better than that?

The whole "offensive content" thing has been a real limitation. There are many, many books I almost took in to show students, until I looked through them and realized they had a few words or images that might upset parents. Do you remember the news story a few years ago about the English teacher who lost his job because he assigned a graphic novel that a student's parents found offensive? I sure do. The graphic novel in question was Ice Haven, which is really good, and which I could easily imagine myself teaching, in a better world. But in this world, I have to play it safe.

If you assign a novel, and the novel includes a scene where characters are naked, no one will mind. But if you assign a graphic novel, and there's a scene where characters are naked, then people freak out, even if it's tasteful and/or relevant to the story, because they can see it. Okay, not everyone will freak out, but there's always the danger that someone will. So we have not delved very far into the world of literary comics.

Anyway, today's assignment went pretty well, though there were some difficult judgment calls. It turns out the line between Additive and Interdependent can be pretty blurry.

Under a Bright Yellow Sky

When I've asked the students to describe different artists' styles, the most common descriptions are "detailed" or "not detailed." I figured I should show them what detailed really means, so I took in some Geof Darrow. He's one of those artists whose name has become a shorthand explanation. Any comics artist who uses lots of detail is inevitably compared to Geof Darrow--"it's hyperdetailed. . . .you know, a Geof Darrow kind of thing." But, unlike so many, Darrow makes it work. I took in Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot, because it is appropriate for all ages, unlike Hard Boiled. I told the students how long I expect it took for Darrow to draw a page, and they didn't believe me.

The class finished drawing their examples of the seven types of word/picture combinations, and we moved on to Chapter 8, which is about color. I have read many a black-and-white comic in my time, and in many cases have preferred black-and-white to lousy coloring, so I forget how hung up on color most people are. Some of the students have complained from the beginning about how Understanding Comics is black-and-white. Today their dreams came true, though, because we made it to Chapter 8, the chapter about color, which is the only color section in the book.

McCloud makes some good points about how color changes the way we see the image, and how it emphasizes specific objects. He also talks about how the two main factors in the history of color in American comics were "commerce and technology." Color is expensive and hard to pull off. (This is something I used to have to explain regularly to my Journalism students, who constantly insisted that the only way to make our school newspaper worth reading would be to print it all in color.) McCloud explains why, historically, American comics had such lousy color reproduction. And since there were such limitations to the color, the artists who did the best work with flat coloring were "masters of form and composition." McCloud specifically mentions Jack Cole, Winsor McCay, and Jack Kirby.

Here's an example of a page by Jack Kirby:

Even though the coloring is basically terrible--an orange monster against a yellow sky? Blue people standing on white ground?--the power of the drawing remains intact. It's still a satisfying picture, because it's Jack Freakin' Kirby.

Tomorrow I'll give them handouts with questions about Chapter 8. I know, I know . . . "Handouts with questions? How is that challenging them to learn in new and exciting ways? You've got to move higher on Bloom's Taxonomy! Instead of giving them sheets of questions, you should be assigning them to write and perform puppet shows that express their feelings about the material you've covered!"

Well, Straw Man, what you have to realize is that we teachers in the real world face many limitations. You can't do puppet shows every day; sometimes you've just got to get them to demonstrate that they've read the material.

Sopwith Camel Vs. Camel on a Magic Carpet

We continued on with our focus on art today. I brought in 20 or so graphic novels and then had the students compare the different art styles. Some of the artists represented were Carl Barks, Herge, Stan Sakai, Mark Schulz, Andy Runton, Chris Sprouse, Craig Thompson, Lewis Trondheim, Manu Larcenet, George Pratt, Jordan Crane, Dave McKean, David Mazzuchelli, Walt Holcombe . . . I forget who else. Writing them down, I realize that they were all men, like every other artist I've spotlighted, which is an inequality I really need to address one of these days.

Pop Quiz! Can you tell the difference between these art styles?

A. Walt Holcombe

B. George Pratt

Bonus points if you can place both artists on McCloud's Representation/Picture Plane/Idea pyramid.

Anyway, my criteria for selecting books were that they be non-superhero comics, preferably self-contained, and that they not contain profanity or nudity or other R-rated content. That last requirement knocked out a bunch of big name cartoonists like, say, Robert Crumb. 

If you had set yourself the goal of finding 20 different cartoonists with 20 different art styles you might have a hard time of it. I, on the other hand, could just stroll into my dining room and look over the bookshelf for a few minutes. You see, world? It's a good thing I've bought all these comics over the years! My obsession has paid off. Who's laughing now?

The Truth About Plenitude

I got four more copies of Understanding Comics in the mail today. Thanks, friends! You are unbelievably swell. I almost have enough for a complete class set.

Tomorrow I'm giving a quiz on the first chapter of Understanding Comics and our vocabulary words.  Today we reviewed for the quiz, and they read a three page Frank comic by Jim Woodring. I already shared the last page of it here. I chose this because it's short and it's wordless. I want them to practice reading the pictures. To make sure they looked at each panel, I had them number their papers 1 - 22 and write a one sentence summary of what happened in each panel.

Jim Woodring is basically a genius, but I'm afraid you don't really get that from reading just three pages. If you ever get the chance, read the slightly-longer "Frank and the Truth About Plenitude." It's one of my all-time favorite comics, a surreal vision of an imaginary but internally consistent world, and oh my god man it will totally BLOW YOUR MIND.


I once met Jim Woodring. Are you impressed? Yeah, the kids weren't, either.

In other news, I'm going to write about Grant Morrison's Supergods one of these days. In the meantime, here's Morrison being interviewed by Rolling Stone. It seems like he tries to avoid expressing his rage at Mark Millar, so I was surprised by the part where he basically said he'd like to hit Millar with his car.

In Deliberate Sequence

It's quickly becoming clear that one class is more enthusiastic than the other but, overall, things are going well.

This morning (during the more enthusiastic class) I walked around the room and watched as students diligently wrote their responses to Scott McCloud's definition of comics.

That definition, you may recall, is "Juxtaposed pictorial and other images in deliberate sequence, intended to convey information and/or to produce an aesthetic response in the viewer". Some big words in there, but we defined them yesterday and reviewed them today, and then talked about what it meant, so hopefully everyone got the idea.

Anyway, as I walked around, and all the students were writing their thoughts about Scott McCloud's definition of comics, I felt a tremendous sense of peace and satisfaction. At that moment I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

The Mission Statement

For today's blog post I was planning on writing some kind of manifesto on what I want to achieve with this class. The good news is, I got an opportunity to write that manifesto.

The bad news is, I got an email this morning telling me I needed to fill out a form so that we could get the Creative Reading class approved. The bad thing about this is, I thought the class already was approved. If I'd known there was still a question as to whether it was going to happen, I wouldn't have put as much time into planning it, and I certainly wouldn't have created a blog about it. But here were are.

For the record, I'm not criticizing any of the people I work with--when that colleague of mine originally told me this class was happening, she genuinely thought everything had been approved and we were good to go. And it looked like we were, until we rammed into another layer of bureaucracy. I have no idea if this is just a tiny formality, or the End of the Dream, but hopefully I'll find out soon. In the meantime, here's what I spent this morning working on: a justification for why this class should exist.

Creative Reading is a one-semester course that focuses on reading, analyzing, and researching graphic novels.

According to Reading Process benchmark 2, English students need to “Answer literal, inferential, evaluative and synthesizing questions to demonstrate comprehension of grade-appropriate print texts and electronic and visual media.” It is important for students to “read” a variety of media. In a traditional Language Arts class we study print texts, and sometimes movies, but there is seldom time for students to read and analyze other visual media, such as comics and graphic novels.  

Comics—which Scott McCloud defines as “Juxtaposed pictorial and other images in deliberate sequence, intended to convey information and/or to produce an aesthetic response in the viewer”— is just as valid a medium of expression as print, film, painting, or drama. But because of the accidents of history, comics have not been given the same respect as other art forms in this country. Since Art Spiegelman’s Maus won a Pulitzer Prize in 1992, however, comics—or “graphic novels,” as longer form comics are known—have won considerable literary and social credibility. For example, in 2005, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’s graphic novel Watchmen was chosen as one of Time Magazine’s 100 Best English Language Novels, alongside such classics as The Great Gatsby and The Sound and the Fury.  

Reading comprehension and analysis skills can be practiced with any text. It is up to the teacher to choose quality texts that can simultaneously engage the students’ attention and challenge them. Graphic novels work well for both. In recent years there has been a string of blockbuster movies based on comic books. I have found that discussing comic book-related topics is a way to engage the students. Many students who dismiss reading as “boring” nonetheless find comics interesting. Graphic novels often interest reluctant readers. A rich and intelligent graphic novel, then, is a powerful tool for engaging students and then pushing them to develop deeper analytical abilities.  

Last year I loaned a fellow teacher my copy of Gene Yang’s award-winning graphic novel American Born Chinese. A few days later she told me that she found herself reading the words and skipping over the pictures. Even though she was a highly-trained, experienced, intelligent teacher, she did not know how to read comics. Creative Reading class will train students in comics literacy, teaching them to read not just the words but the pictures. Reading comics requires a different way of reading, a different way of thinking, that forces students to expand their minds as they interpret visual stimuli. Armed with these skills, students will be able to view and interpret the world around them in new ways.  

Our students are constantly barraged with information. Advertisers, politicians, and TV networks try to manipulate them with words and pictures. We need to prepare our students to make sense of the texts, both written and visual, that surround them. Learning to interpret visual texts is a valuable step in developing critical thinking skills and becoming an informed, engaged citizen of the 21^st century.

This course, then, offers students an engaging curriculum; exposure to literary works they probably would not have read otherwise; an appreciation of a culturally-relevant American art form; a new set of reading skills; a deepening of students’ existing reading comprehension, analysis, and research skills; and increased critical thinking abilities, which can be applied to any other discipline.  Creative Reading is a one-semester course that focuses on reading, analyzing, and researching graphic novels.

Textbooks!

Bad news: I was under the impression that the school had ordered 20-ish copies of Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud to use as my main textbook. It turns out that the order was never placed, and now it is very unclear whether I'll be getting those books (I don't know if you've heard, but public schools are not currently rolling in the money.) I still plan on using Understanding Comics, even if I can't get the 20-ish copies, but it's an annoying setback.

I currently have one copy:

Good news: I emailed eight major comics publishers (Pop Quiz! Can YOU name eight American comic book publishers?) asking if they ever donated comics for educational purposes. So far I've gotten two replies, one of which said no, but said it very politely, and the other of which said maybe. I'm optimistic about that second one, and there are still six more publishers to hear from.