Walking through Blackboard

            What ultimately matters in any writing classroom’s incorporation of Blackboard is not the visual design or the systemic structure, but rather the way that this space is really being used by our students. Throughout this essay we have indicated possible spots of tension between Blackboard’s projected expectations and students’ actual behavior. In order to turn these tensions to productive use, we move finally to Michel de Certeau’s discussion of the space of the city. De Certeau’s city is already connected to issues of writing and composition, in that he examines this image as it relates to formal language and its common rhetorical uses. In general, de Certeau’s insistence on an understanding of the consumer’s actual experience, over and against the producer’s intentions, seems especially helpful for considering the student’s interaction with Blackboard. The consumer’s experience is itself a creative engagement with social structures, so that when we interrogate a cultural representation, “we must first analyze its manipulation by users who are not its makers. Only then can we gauge the difference or similarity between the production of the image and the secondary production hidden in the process of its utilization” (de Certeau, 1984, p. xiii).

            What, then, might be some patterns of secondary production that emerge when an individual student or an entire class encounters Blackboard? Any statistics page, viewed at a glance, can tell us something about areas that are heavily visited and areas that are largely ignored, though as we have suggested, this information can be misleading insofar as it fails to tell us why our students went to a certain spot, how they got there, how long they stayed, or what they did once they arrived. In de Certeau’s (1984) terms, we can identify the “strategies” of the system but not the “tactics” of the individual users: strategies are rational, proper, indicative of an external reality, and thus associated with institutions; tactics are fragmentary, temporary, localized, and thus connected to the individual “other” (p. xix). In Blackboard, as in the spaces he discusses, any real user will improvise coping tactics for creating a personal trajectory through the system. Though they are vital for understanding how we relate to the system, tactics are ordinarily invisible. Tip #5

            If we understand Blackboard as a space that is comparable to a city, then what we are looking for is not a map of that city so much as a story of how a student moves through it. In other words, to understand someone’s real relation to any space, we have to inject a sense of time. To focus on the user of an urban space, de Certeau (1984) turns to the image of walking, which implies an unpredictable but important narrative: “The long poem of walking manipulates spatial organizations, no matter how panoptic they may be: it is neither foreign to them (it can take place only within them) nor in conformity with them (it does not receive its identity from them). It creates shadows and ambiguities within them. It inserts its multitudinous references and citations into them (social models, cultural mores, personal factors)….These diverse aspects provide the basis of a rhetoric” (p. 101).

            Blackboard’s organization does take time into account within a given page or screen, for instance in a file exchange or in a single thread of a discussion forum, but only in the narrowest sense does this capture the narrative of an individual using the space. Instead we might find the “shadows and ambiguities” of the walker in a connection between one day’s discussion forum and a paragraph in a paper that is being peer reviewed a week later. Since it does not have a search engine, Blackboard gives us no way to trace or encourage such connections, even if they constitute some of its more fruitful moments for both students and instructors. Tip #12

            In addition to the missed paths between its own discrete spaces, the Blackboard system ignores the “multitudinous references,” or the social, cultural, and personal contexts, that the walker brings to and through the space. As we have already suggested in our discussion of Blackboard as a space for dialogue, this omission could constitute a blind spot for the teaching of composition, and it challenges us to encourage our students to assert their full individuality. Tip #8 De Certeau points out that “the place of writing is ‘constantly altered by the inaccessible (t)exterior [hors-texte] which authorizes that writing’ (quoted in Crang, 2000, p. 143). Blackboard carries with it the full weight of its own hors-texte, namely the educational structures that enable it: notions of authority and hierarchy, assumptions about textuality and originality, drives towards surveillance and evaluation, all of which lead to “non-innocent borders” in the map of the computer system (Selfe & Selfe, 1994, p. 495). Each student brings to that institutional structure his or her own inaccessible exterior, however, and the combination that results will impact the student’s ability to write in this space. We would suggest, then, that students need to feel comfortable with this electronic space, not only by knowing its obvious monuments and street names, but by finding shortcuts, personal landmarks, and momentary places to rest and reflect—looking over a personal calendar, for instance, or using the electronic blackboard to make some private notes. Tip #4

Walking through this virtual cityscape, students are not alone. To the extent that we or our students activate the topography of Blackboard as we use it individually, we are also activating that same space collectively as we add to it all semester. Tip #3 Here de Certeau’s focus on an urban space rather than a more isolated one is significant. Whether in a city or in Blackboard, the overall patterns that develop and emerge across spaces are never under any one person’s control or influence. Certainly, like an urban planner, the instructor directs the flow of information from the start, both by tailoring the page to the course and through specific assignments as the term progresses. So, for instance, one professor could disable the virtual classroom function while another might require weekly peer review exercises in group folders. But as instructors, we too occupy our own point in space, one that can influence the way we interact with the system of the course, as Cynthia and Richard Selfe (1994) point out:

Scholars who use technology and educators who teach with technology will, no doubt, find it difficult to study the maps of computer interfaces in a critical light to identify the many layers of culture and ideology they represent. As Denis Wood suggests, the greatest difficulty of all comes when we understand that we must locate ourselves in relation to the map (p. 494).

In the meantime, what the students users do with the space will include vagaries, detours, and even unexpected traffic. In one of our classes, another course was invited into our Blackboard space for two weeks in order to discuss a book both courses had in common.  The host class, which was used to an active Discussion Forum once a week, quickly lost interest after the text had been read, but the visiting class continued a lively conversation there until the end of the semester. In another instance, a lab exercise in a small group shifted over to a discussion of the basketball team’s prospects for the season, and that conversation carried on for two days until the instructor intervened.  Together, all of a space’s uses can constitute a developing story by a collective subject, contributing perhaps to what Cooper (1999) understands to be knowledge in a postmodern setting: “the construction in language of partial and temporary truths by multiple and internally contradictory individuals” (p. 143). Meanwhile, for the individual walker, or the individual student in Blackboard, the landscape shifts, grows, and presents new information to be incorporated into a personal trajectory over the course of the semester.

            One element of experience that walking includes but that the map ignores is memory. Unlike the lists of precise time markers assigned to Blackboard postings, a narrative put together with memory can evaluate, privilege, associate, and subsume ideas. Michael Crang (2000) describes the role of memory in de Certeau’s tactics: “It forms an anti-museum, which does not catalogue and place events, but takes fragments and propels them into the present. ….The alterity is that these memories do not just contain events, but still carry the remains of different conceptual systems from whence they came. These then are the ghosts in the machine. They bring the immediate and the millenary, the novel and the permanent into contact" (p. 150). Our students will of course experience these “ghosts in the machine” whether or not we are attentive to the role of memory in their encounters with our Blackboard class. A classmate’s name might remind one student of a relative; an assigned text might resonate with something another student has read in different setting.  However, many aspects of this tactical approach to space seem especially pertinent to the teaching of writing. De Certeau’s walker achieves what we often hope for in our best student essays: a combination of the proven and the new, an awareness of existing structures but a refusal to merely conform to them, a rich fund of useful and at times unexpected references.

If we encourage our students to become aware of themselves as virtual walkers in the Blackboard space, we are also implicitly encouraging them to borrow from this new spatial rhetoric when they turn to the more conventional rhetoric of a composition class.  Of course, the act of walking—or walking as metaphor—is not itself enough for the student who would become a capable writer. An essay composed only of tactics, without strategies, would be very difficult to read, as would be its opposite. One reason Blackboard is a successful course system is students need the skills that it foregrounds: organizing and tracking documents, participating in a community discussion, sharing work with peers, claiming a voice through writing. But teaching effectively with Blackboard also means recognizing exactly the skills that Blackboard cannot encompass: finding patterns, being sensitive to rhetorical nuance, remembering related ideas, making independent connections. Ultimately, tracing new paths through the space of Blackboard is about actively and creatively engaging virtual space, not just within its designated areas, but across and beyond them.