Harris’ narrative, especially his emphasis on his high school English teacher, certainly brings to mind Deborah Brandt’s (2001) idea of literacy sponsorship, which she defines as “. . . any agents, local or distant, concrete or abstract, who enable, support, teach, and model, as well as recruit, regulate, suppress, or withhold, literacy—and gain advantage by it in some way” (Brandt, p. 19). And though it’s difficult to know for sure what specific advantage Harris’ English teacher gained in presenting and discussing “American Pie” in his English class, it is clear, in the telling of this narrative, that the advantage that Harris gains in his retelling of the event is a characterization of literacy as an interpretive act. To be sure, even a brief search of literacy narratives on the DALN will lead you to stories with similarly expanded views of literacy—definitions of literacy that emphasize the acts of encoding and decoding—behaviors that constitute the act of interpretation more generally. But what we are struck by in Harris’ narrative is the way in which he somewhat unconsciously emphasizes the idea of luck. If you recall, Harris specifically remembers being told that he was “lucky” to have ended up in the English class with the instructor who teaches “American Pie.” The enthusiasm in his retelling of this narrative suggests that to this day Harris feels fortunate and somewhat lucky to have had this experience with literacy in the first place.
Related to the idea of chance and literacy is the language that Harris uses to begin his narrative when he remarks that he was first “absorbed” by reading and writing well into high school. David Barton (2006) reminded us that the metaphors we use to discuss literacy and nonliteracy can be particularly revealing of embedded ideologies and predispositions. In this case, Harris’ characterization of literacy as something that absorbed him reveals an expansive view of literacy, one that, in a way, makes possible his characterization of the identity he possessed in high school and the one he constructs in recalling that experience today. In other words, it is clear that the way he chooses to tell and construct his literacy narrative helps him make sense of how and why he has come to value interpretive acts, culture, and literacy in the way he does—an understanding and narrative that has undoubtedly developed and changed with time. The standard thinking about compulsory schooling has it that formulaic, linear, less progressive interactions and characterizations of literacy make possible highly regulated pedagogical environments defined by testing and drill. There’s certainly some truth to these characterizations as the history of higher education, scholars of literacy studies, and many narratives on the DALN demonstrate (Barton, 2006; Harker, 2015; Rose, 2009). So often, especially on the DALN, uneven, spontaneous, and unpredictable characteristics and consequences of literacy are attributed to events that occur outside of compulsory schooling. However, Harris’ emphasis on luck should remind us that chance, fortune, and providence make possible alternative and often disregarded paths to literacy, especially in the context of compulsory schooling.
Perhaps another reason luck and chance play such important roles in this narrative is because, for Harris, the experience of providing an audio literacy narrative throws into relief differences between alphabetic and multimodal forms of composition. “You give up a certain level of control,” he states, “and what I think I like about writing is the ability to go back and make every sentence as perfect as I can.” While Harris definitely values the sense of control that comes with alphabetic or print-privileged composition, he ultimately seems to recognize the value of giving up what he describes as “meta-control” and embracing a willingness to “just go with the flow of words”—a disposition and attitude toward both technology and writing that depends heavily on serendipity.
Given the commitment of DMAC to changing participants’ attitudes about technology, composition, and literacy, we think it is important to examine narratives like Harris’. His story stands prominently among other narratives on the DALN as a powerful example of how sharing a literacy narrative and briefly reflecting on that process provides evidence of a shift in thinking about the role of technology in different composing processes. The idea behind the visiting DMAC scholars program at The Ohio State University is to enrich the experiences of faculty members and graduate students participating in the initiative. To be sure, Harris’ lessons about chance and compulsory schooling are valuable in the context of the DALN, but his point about letting go of “that level of meta-control” in the composing process may provide the best evidence of DMAC’s effectiveness and an enriching example of professional development for future visitors to the DALN archive.