Sunday, October 31, 2010

Re-Revised Old Paper. Ugg I hate academic writing.

Critics and readers alike have criticized Jane Austen’s Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility. Such people have even gone as far as citing Ferrars as cowardly and feeble – one of the weakest men in Austen’s novels. What was Austen trying to say when she had Elinor Dashwood, heart beating with the author's own brand of feminism [NOUN-ABSOLUTE], marry Mr. Feebility, Edward Ferrars [APPOSITIVE], in the novel’s concluding chapters? The answer is simple: Austen wanted to show that true heroism can be accomplished through honor, integrity and the willingness to stand firmly on one’s resolve. Austen (the baffler of generations) [APPOSITIVE] characterizes Edward Ferrars as Sense and Sensibility’s romantic hero.

Before Edward’s heroic qualities can be examined, one must first determine how to define a hero. Writing about gender roles for the American Psychological Association [PRESENT PARTICIPLE], Alice H. Eagly and Maureen Crowley discuss male gender roles and the forms such roles take on. Explaining this concept further, Eagly and Crowley write: “One such form is heroic behavior, especially altruistic acts of saving others from harm performed at some risk to themselves” (Eagly and Crowley 2). Next, they cite a hero as a man who is distinguished by valor, noble acts, and brave deeds (Eagly and Crowley 2). By Eagly and Cowley's standards, Ferrars would not be identified as the best literary hero. However, he may exemplify the qualities of a romantic hero. While still exemplifying heroic characteristics, a male romantic hero faces a specific type of villainy: A look in the mirror – himself [APPOSITIVE]. In his essay, “Self, Society, Value, and the Romantic Hero,” Fredrick Garber classifies a romantic hero is a person who uses self awareness to stand up for what is right, many times against society’s maxims (Garber 213-218). Garber explains part of this when he writes: “Self-awareness, a recognition of the demands and complexities of his own private being, is, as we know, basic to the position assumed by the romantic hero” (Garber 213). To tie it all together, Garber writes that all romantic heroes have an “unresolved ambivalence toward those values in society that seem continually to press against the boundaries of the self and demand recognition” (Garber 217). Garber does admit that each hero varies in the strength of the stand he takes against himself and society’s maxims, but the stance has to be made nevertheless (Garber 217). So a romantic hero can be seen as a person who – through a deep knowledge of himself and societal norms – stands up, courageous and strong [ADJECTIVE OofO], for what seems right, even if society is in the opposition.

Edward Ferrars is the perfect romantic hero. However, not all hold this opinion to be true. Ferrars’s main flaw in heroic merit is his supposed cowardice. Critics see Edward, devoted [PAST PARTICIPLE], as cowardly and weak because he does not decide to leave his loveless romance with Lucy Steele for Elinor Dashwood: His true love [APPOSITIVE]. While this judgment can be a compelling argument, it is not looking at the whole picture. As the novel begins, Edward finds himself in a dire situation. He has a secret engagement to Lucy, but after meeting Elinor, he falls deeply in love. He finds himself torn by his honor and loyalty to Lucy and his heart. Even at this early stage in the novel, Edward shows the qualities of a romantic hero because at great personal expense, he chooses to honor his history and his pact with Lucy. In addition, he is kind and loving enough to not show Elinor any more affection than he shows the other Dashwoods. This act is an attempt to protect her feelings – an equally heroic act that shows his ability to perceive and protect the emotions of others. Furthermore, as soon as his engagement with Lucy becomes public, his mother demands that he sever the ties, or else she will disinherit him. Still true to his binding agreement with Lucy, and remembering all the sacrifice he had to endure as a result of failing to choose Elinor, Edward courageously tells his mother he will not leave Lucy. Here, Edward acts again as the romantic hero, standing up to societal standard without much care for his personal needs. This act of courage that he commits for Lucy is the carbon copy of what it is to be a romantic hero. If he had simply left Lucy for Elinor, as the critics suggest, he would be no hero at all. Rather, he would be yet another male who jilted his girlfriend, leaving her for someone better.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Forward: I do not know what a noun absolute is. Can someone help me out? Oh, and this is not the entire essay. Enjoy!

Edward Ferrars in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, has received criticism by critics and readers alike. Edward is cited as cowardly and feeble – one of the weakest men in Austen’s novels. What was Jane Austen trying to prove, then, when she had Elinor Dashwood marry Mr. Feebility, Edward Ferrars [APPOSITIVE], in the novel’s concluding chapters? The answer is simple: Austen wanted to show that true heroism can be accomplished through honor, integrity and the willingness to stand firmly on one’s resolve. Austen (the baffler of generations) [APPOSITIVE] characterizes Edward Ferrars as Sense and Sensibility’s romantic hero.

Before Edward’s heroic qualities can be examined, one must first determine how to define a hero. Writing about gender roles for the American Psychological Association [PRESENT PARTICIPLE], Alice H. Eagly and Maureen Crowley discuss male gender roles and the forms such roles take on. To explain this further, Eagly and Crowley write: “One such form is heroic behavior, especially altruistic acts of saving others from harm performed at some risk to themselves” (Eagly and Crowley 2). They then cite a hero as a man who is distinguished by valor, noble acts, and brave deeds (Eagly and Crowley 2). A romantic hero, then, is a subtype of a hero. While still exemplifying heroic characteristics, a male romantic hero faces a specific type of villainy: A look in the mirror – himself [APPOSITIVE]. In Fredrick Garber’s essay, “Self, Society, Value, and the Romantic Hero,” which appears in Victor Brombert’s The Hero in Literature, a romantic hero is a person who uses self awareness to stand up for what is right, many times against society’s maxims (Garber 213-218). Garber explains part of this when he writes: “Self-awareness, a recognition of the demands and complexities of his own private being, is, as we know, basic to the position assumed by the romantic hero” (Garber 213). To tie it all together, Garber writes that all romantic heroes have an “unresolved ambivalence toward those values in society that seem continually to press against the boundaries of the self and demand recognition” (Garber 217). Garber does admit that each hero varies in the strength of the stand he takes against himself and society’s maxims, but the stance has to be made nevertheless (Garber 217). So a romantic hero can be seen as a person who – through a deep knowledge of himself and societal norms – stands up, bravely [ADJECTIVE OofO], for what seems right, even if society is in the opposition.

Edward Ferrars is precisely such a hero. However, there are multiple critics that think the opposite. The main fault found in Edward’s heroic merit is his supposed cowardice. It is believed that Edward, devoted [PAST PARTICIPLE], is cowardly and weak because he does not decide to leave his loveless romance with Lucy Steele for Elinor Dashwood: His true love [APPOSITIVE]. While this can be a compelling argument – and certainly an easy one to make – it is not looking at the whole picture. As the novel begins, Edward finds himself in a dire situation. He has a secret engagement to Lucy, but after meeting Elinor, he falls deeply in love. He finds himself torn by his honor and loyalty to Lucy and his heart, which belonged to Elinor. Even at this early stage in the novel, Edward shows the qualities of a romantic hero because at great personal expense, he chooses to honor his history and his pact with Lucy. In addition, he is kind and loving enough to not show Elinor any more affection than he shows the other Dashwoods. This is an attempt to protect her feelings – an equally heroic act that shows his ability to perceive and protect the emotions of others. Furthermore, as soon as his engagement with Lucy becomes public, his mother demands that he sever the ties, or else she will disinherit him. Still true to his binding agreement with Lucy, and remembering all the sacrifice he had to endure through not choosing Elinor, Edward courageously tells his mother he will not leave Lucy. Here, Edward acts again as the romantic hero, standing up to societal standard without much care for his personal needs. This act of courage that he commits for Lucy is the carbon copy of what it is to be a romantic hero. If he had simply left Lucy for Elinor, as the critics suggest, he would be no hero at all. Rather, he would be yet another male who jilted his girlfriend, leaving her for someone better.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Swiping Dora's Exploration

First of all, when I read Dora’s journey through writing, all can picture is Dora the Explorer. You know, the little Mexican-American cartoon girl on television. She yells things like, “Swiper no swiping!” and, “We did it! We did it! We did it!” Dora the Explorer is a children’s television program that is supposed to encourage children to problem solve, think critically, and never be afraid to learn.

SINCE I was picturing Dora (the cartoon) while reading the article about Dora the writer, I couldn’t help but imagine the article as another episode of Dora the Explorer. As I watched Dora progress, I imagined her jumping up and down saying: “I did it! I did it! I did it!” I saw her celebrations and her frustrations, but loved her determination. I found myself rooting for her, cheering her on. I wanted to exclaim: “You’re doing it! You’re doing it! You’re doing it!”

In the television show, there is a character named Swiper who likes to steal things. To keep him from thievery, Dora yells: “Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping!” In the same way that Swiper shouldn’t steal the various things that Dora holds dear, educators mustn’t swipe a child’s ability to learn. As I was watching Dora explore punctuation, I knew that I must refrain from stepping in and telling her exactly what to do. The teacher in the story was correct when she let Dora develop hypotheses her own. If the teacher had sat down with Dora and told her everything she had done wrong, a chorus of ‘Swiper no swiping’ should have sounded in the room, because that teacher would have been swiping Dora’s chance to learn.

How do we, as teachers, promote an environment of self-discovery?