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by Lester Smith
| Lester Smith is a Writer/Technologist at Sebranek, Inc., parent company of Write Source. He is a 1989 graduate of Illinois State University with a BA in English, Magna cum laude, Honors in English, University Honors Scholar, and with a minor in Spanish. In 1985, while pursuing his degree, he began working as a writer and editor for Game Designers' Workshop in Normal, Illinois, which led to a design position with TSR (publishers of the Dungeons & Dragons® game) in 1991. He joined the staff of Sebranek, Inc. in 1998 as an assistant writer and Webmaster. In 2000 he led the creation of the company's e-Publishing Department. Currently he maintains the company's Websites and podcasts, troubleshoots technology issues, and contributes as a writer and editor to various projects. In his spare time, he is president of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets. |  |
My first publishing job was as a hobby game designer. That position paid my way through college and kept my family in beans and bacon for about fifteen years prior to my finding employment at Write Source. But early on as a game designer, I struggled with guilt over writing in the entertainment industry—a field our pastor at the time condemned as part of "America's sinful preoccupation with fun." Then I started seeing the letters parents sent to game designers like Gary Gygax, letters praising hobby games for giving their children a reason to read, a reason to care about math, a new interest in history, a new venue for their own writing. (Many young hobby fans end up publishing articles in hobby magazines both online and off.) And I met the kids themselves at conventions, teenagers who were often painfully shy and who felt they had no place in the world, until they discovered a community of gamers in their area. Any sense of lingering puritanical shame I might have had faded away as I watched young people have fun, socialize, and even learn something.
Fun in Education
Today while driving to work, I was mulling over that perceived schism between fun and productivity, between enjoyment and learning. And suddenly the example of "Leeroy Jenkins!" put it in a new perspective. In the "massively multiplayer online role-playing game" (MMORPG) World of Warcraft, Leeroy Jenkins is a character who became notorious back in 2006 for ignoring the plans under discussion by his group (plans specifically to gain items for him, by the way) and charging headlong into battle—thereby getting the whole group of characters killed ignominiously. A video of the whole farce was subsequently published on YouTube (warning: the language is sometimes salty), and the story became an Internet phenomenon. Here's what struck me today about the Leeroy Jenkins story: First, the setting is entertainment—a "fun" setting, if you will. Second, within this setting, a group of roughly a dozen people is working out a resource-management strategy to accomplish a shared goal. At one point, you can even hear them doing number crunching to determine the percentage chance of success. These social, mathematical, and resource-management skills are the same tools used in real-world problem solving. Third, one character bent only on fun destroys it all. The contrast between productive fun and pointless frivolity is sharply outlined in this example. That's a distinction typically missed in discussions about education—even about writing and literature, in which creativity is assumed. Our puritanical roots seem to suggest that work or achievement (the whole "sweat of your brow" thing) is antithetical to fun and enjoyment. Granted, work can be difficult. But I thoroughly enjoy my job—I have fun at this thing called writing and with the topic of education. And I suspect you enjoy your job, too. Why? First, because this is work we care about. We enjoy nurturing these skills in young people. Second, it is work that involves problem solving. Just like the characters in the Leeroy Jenkins example, we have to apply the means at hand (our knowledge, available textbooks, class computer resources) within the constraints of the setting (class time, student backgrounds, admininistrative dictates) to achieve our goal (encouraging literacy and learning). This is, in effect, our playground, our game, our ball.
Engaging Students in School
If we want students to be equally engaged, we need to share the playground with them. This means not only involving them in problem solving but also allowing them work they care about. When it comes to assignments in writing, students care most when they are allowed to choose topics they're interested in and when they know their writing will find an audience beyond the teacher. Clever teachers can use this to their advantage. Take a look at the content you need to cover in a semester. In an English course, this might be a particular literary genre or form of writing. In a social studies course, it might be a particular geographical region or time period. In a science course, it might be cellular biology. Now have your students write proposals for specific topics within that realm. Tell them they can write about anything they like, as long as their proposals convince you (an exercise in persuasive writing) of its relation to the general subject. Once their topics are set, turn them loose to write (we recommend a workshop environment), with the understanding that their work will be shared with the class at large. In most cases, their writing will involve at least some research (even this blog entry required me to research the specifics of the Leeroy Jenkins story). While they're going through the writing process, you can be considering the class's topics as a whole, to determine what gaps might be left in the overall subject—gaps you may have to fill yourself. As students complete their writing, have them present it to the class as a whole. After each presentation, lead a class question-and-answer session, allowing the presenter to fill in details from his or her research, and—if necessary—adding details of your own. (Just remember to support, not overshadow, the student.) To be most effective, you can work yourself into the presentation rotation, sharing a piece of your own writing, followed by the same sort of question-and-answer session. (This is your opportunity to fill in the previously mentioned gaps.) In the end, the class will have covered a broader range of topics, in more depth, than if you had delivered the same material in lecture mode. Further, they will have done it in writing, with a real audience. And they will have a greater sense of ownership of the material. What's more, they will have had fun—without being merely frivolous. In the end, if we want to treat students like adults, teaching them the joy of accomplishment may be the most important lesson of all.
