Saturday, October 15, 2016

Turn Up the Composition Class (Or Not)

“Turn up!” It’s an expression that has taken on a new meaning for millennials and listeners of hip-hop music.


Google ngrams, an open source which searches for word entries from Google’s archive of books spanning over 200 years, shows “turn up” first entering the lexicon in the 1892-93 edition
Of the United States Congressional Serial Set in an explanation of a dice game.  Whichever side is facing up is the side that has turned up.


The next semantic shift which intuition realizes is the advent of sound via electricity once people could turn up the volume of a radio or television.


Today, turn up may still be paired with volume, but not necessarily; today, turn up is a behavior.  If millennials say they’re going to turn up tonight, there’s a party.


So linguists would say in addition to semantic shift, there’s a shift in the agency of the verb. Originally, it was a transitive verb, as one could only turn up a direct object; now, it’s intransitive as the verb is self imposed.


I even see “turn up,” as a sub-genre of music, synonymous with party music.  Just search YouTube for “turn up music.”  So too the verb has become an adjective.


But who cares?  Why should an English teacher care about slang?  (That’s more of a rhetorical question, as any language instructor should be interested in the evolving language, but we’ll leave language ideology aside).


Using the language of your class establishes a connection with students.  If the instructor uses the language of the students, not only is the student experience validated, students are entertained and more likely to listen and engage.


If I want to teach students about diction and display Shakespeare, students yawn aloud, but if I play a Youtube video of Kendrick Lamar, students jump out of their chairs, asking “This is academic?”  The answer to that question will vary depending on which teacher you ask, but we’ll leave cultural ideology aside too.


Case in point: I’ve created a literature analysis assignment sequence in which students begin applying literary terminology (e.g. symbolism, plot, theme) to a song they already know.  Benefits abound: students don’t mind engaging with the content, they already have an idea of the song’s meaning, and coming to class with this background knowledge, they’re only challenged with understanding new terminology, rather than being additionally burdened with a Petrarchan sonnet or any other classic (but dated) poetic form.  I’m surprised every semester but how well students can suddenly understand English jargon when applying it to something they already love.


But there is one stipulation about the assignment; students can’t choose just any song.  Namely, students may not choose any “turn up” music for their analysis.  I’m not naive; most music from pop culture is about nothing more than sex, drugs, and parties.  Students think it’s hilarious when I tell them, “No turn up music is allowed for this assignment.  There is a time and place for party music, but it’s not this assignment.”  These two sentences are two separate language choices.  First, misogynist, drug-centric themes are artistically flat and lack the depth needed for the academy a 750 word analysis.  Second, I don’t want to offend students, so I offer the concession as it relates to different rhetorical situations; there is a time and place for most any communicative act.

This is not to discount Shakespeare or any other artist of the English language; this is an argument for where an instructor should start his/her lessons.  Start from where the students are; then, when they’ve proven to themselves they’re capable, introduce any bard of choice and witness the student thrive.