Jon's Excellent Adventure - an ePortfolio

My first English course since high school has been quite a challenge. Having graduated in 2003 and moved on to full-time adult life, including marriage, divorce, military service, and raising a son changed my mental dynamic. This course forced me to not only re-learn basic essay skills, but also to change writing habits and styles on demand. The obstacles placed in my way varied from analytical thinking to a timed writing assignment to group discussions; I found myself transitioning from editing a team member’s paper to writing a blog post and varying my writing style accordingly. To those who have not attempted this, I bear words of caution: this is not as simple as it sounds!

For example, “you”, “yourself”, and “your” have been my mortal enemies for the last two months. With the exception of this letter addressed to my readers and future admirers, the use of “you language” has been withheld from my vocabulary by threat of poor grades. Though some may view this as borderline fanaticism, this rule alone has enabled me to become a better, more analytical writer; no small feat, as I've never considered myself as a writer, let alone a good one. This aspect, coupled with an idea I will remember forever are the two biggest influences introduced by this course.

Wrap your head around the following, and ask yourself if this sentiment makes more sense than anything you've seen on television lately: Humans are “looking to be told what group they belong to, then once they do that, they want to know, 'What are the rules?'”. Wow! No one but David Berreby, the author of some required reading, could have captured such a simple truth and slapped me in the face with it. Berreby's, It Takes a Tribe, left a lasting mark on myself that will travel with me through life as well as influence future writing.

In fact, I was so focused on Berreby, my essay on the subject of community completely wandered off prompt. However, the synthesis and analytical thinking exhibited in my community essay, Leaders are Essential, saved my grade. Another essay of interest, my timed writing assignment, Red Lobster, was the piece which I'd wanted to revise the most; I finally have that satisfaction. Two more pieces showcase my tongue-in-cheek writing style and general disregard for academic writing; Capital One IS in my wallet, but only from time-to-time, my first blog post and And that's the way it was..., my first forum post both grant readers an insight into the depths that are Jon. This e-portfolio displays my best analytical writing, the essay most likely to warrant revision, an example of writing for a specific audience, and a writer’s choice piece, and marks the completion of my journey through this rocky, online terrain. In the end, I feel I've reached the summit, only to find another, taller peak.

This “Excellent Adventure”, so profound that the phrase deserves to be capitalized, demanded the best of myself. Finally, during the twilight of the course I am to share that bit of me; these wanderings are Jon's greatest hits, and I hope you enjoy reading them more than I did writing them.

Best Regards,
Jon

Synthesis and Analysis Make the Grade!

I have to chuckle at my second essay, Leadership is essential.  This piece is my absolute best example of critical thinking, simply based on the fact I should've have received a failing grade, but managed a "C".  Looking back, I completely strayed from the prompt of, "As a result of your readings and interview, how can you argue for a specific function of communities in our lives?"  As you will see, I argued for a specific function of leadership in communities; according to one of the professors, my use of synthesis and analysis rescued the essay from it's seemingly inevitable fate.

Leaders are Essential

The human animal has always felt a need for leadership. Kings, presidents, even chief executive officers are not allowed to lead the masses solely based on the fact that they are chosen or elected. The masses crave it. In every community, these people-in-charge fill a job, a position which would not exist if humans didn’t require such direction. Humans would be lost as a group without a leader, be it a country or a book club. Big or small, communities depend on the few to provide direction to many.

This direction comes in different forms; strict rules or implicit proper behavior, firm choices for the future or a suggestion of things to accomplish, are some of the methods these community monarchs drive their respective tribes towards a goal. Whether the goal is good or bad, the actions of a given community are sculpted by their leader’s vision. David Berreby cut to soul of the phenomenon in It Takes a Tribe, with “Humans are looking to be told what group they belong to, and then once they do that, they want to know, ‘What are the rules?’(123)”. 

 

The rules my father, Steven King, remembers from his brief stint in the United States Army have a lot to do with Georgia. My father’s drill instructor was from the state of Georgia and considered it the greatest state in America. My father, not necessarily enjoying this new leadership foisted upon him chose to respectfully disagree with his drill instructor, which lead the drill instructor to respectfully request my father and the rest of the platoon dig a large tree stump from the ground so they could “learn to love the smell of Georgia clay (King)”. Towards the end of the day, the drill instructor would require the men to re-bury the stump, because “his” stump was cold, and “wished to be back in the arms of its native, Georgia soil (King)”. The men needed to follow someone, and the US Army gave them someone to follow. And though the drill instructor was not the men's choice of an excellent leader, they obeyed his orders because “someone had to be in charge (King)”. This tale uncovers a truth even in a small, temporary community during basic training. The conclusion drawn from my father’s memory is obvious- communities obey the rules of one man for the sake of following them, because people need rules.

Different communities comply with a small ruling body’s commandments for fear of being jilted from a group. Amish church districts sometimes use “shunning” as a method of negative reinforcement for members which have disobeyed its Ordnung. The Ordnung of a modern Amish district can be highly restrictive as evidenced by John Hostetler in his reading, The Amish Charter, and is essentially the rules by which the community abides. According to Erik Wesner, another surveyor of Amish culture, each Amish district is led by its chosen Bishop, the man who’s “role is one of deciding which issues should be put to vote—for example, to decide if a new technology, currently under trial, should be accepted into the district’s Ordnung”. An Amish bishop is “the head of the individual church district (Wesner)”, and as such, dictates the direction of the Ordnung and therefore community itself. This bishop and his ministers and deacons, determine the flow of the entire district, including marriages, shunning, and spirituality. That a large people, such as the Amish, allow their lives to be bound with the rules enforced by a few men illustrates the case made for the few leading the many. 

 

This trend carries over to a smaller scale- a Barbie collector’s community. In Shari Caudron’s essay, Befriending Barbie, she describes around 150 people standing in line wearing “psychedelic clothing (169)”. This observation hides two directions of the aforementioned subtle type, the most obvious being “wear a certain type of attire”, and the second “wait in line until we decide to open the doors”. Approximately 150 people agreed to be dressed in a certain fashion and to wait in a line for a period of time because that is what the lead event organizers (presumably much less than 150) chose to expect of them. The direction laid out for that community function implied a dress code. The rules for that community function required that group to wait until a prescribed time. These rules and directions from a group of organizers were followed for the good of the event, likely happily, but were obeyed nonetheless by a throng of people.

The collection of Barbie lovers probably enjoyed their organizers’ suggestions. The Amish respect the Bishops decisions. My father and his platoon hated the drill instructor’s orders. All these communities had different reactions to the direction of their leaders yet shared one commonality: every community took direction from a source much smaller than the whole. The human animal will always feel a need for leadership, the masses will crave it, and big or small, communities will continue to depend on the few to provide direction to many.

I Wrote That?

The timed writing assignment based on a movie was a disaster.  Essentially, I was to watch the film, District 9, several times, take notes, then write an essay based on a surprise prompt; the prompt of course being, "Using the film discussion and your viewing notes, develop a thesis-driven essay of 3-5 paragraphs that demonstrate HOW the film defines what it is to be an outsider (avoiding unnecessary plot summary). In the second part of your essay, discuss how the film and group discussion that ensued challenged or affirmed your own perceptions of what it is to be an insider or outsider".

I've never considered myself a wordsmith, and adding a time limit to the equation did not help my stress levels.  My main goals were to stay on prompt, avoid summarizing the film, and to add a little shock value for the reader; the film was shocking and the analysis deserved the same.  I've been afforded the opportunity to save this poorly-written piece, Red Lobster, and for that I am grateful.  However, though I've done the best I can to resuscitate this horrible draft, I still feel the best option is to bury it with dignity, and forget Red Lobster ever existed.

Red Lobster

The Original:

The film, District 9, immediately brings to mind eras which humanity would rather pretend didn't happen. Whether the film illustrates thoughts on the ghettos and concentration camps of World War II, the slavery and segregation of blacks in America, or the forced evictions and treatment of people in District 6, Cape Town, during the apartheid regime, District 9 forces its viewers to remember a simple about being an outsider. Being too different creates a target for disdain and gives rise to humanity's natural xenophobic tendencies
.

These human tendencies to unite against something perceived as different is what caused such awful treatment of the alien residents of District 9, otherwise known as "prawns". The concept of a large community holding a smaller group of beings in contempt and restriction truly illustrate what it means to be an "outsider", as those beings are outside the community both in location and status. This "rally 'round the wagons" attitude may have originated in ancient Man as a survival instinct, but is now used in cruel ways, even verbally dismissing the alien beings by the title of prawn.

Nigger, spick, gringo, and chink were all accepted at one time as common, and are all an effort to distance the majority from the minority. The slur, "prawn", is no different from humanities other derogatory names from the past. The film gives us insight, however, in that we can actually view footage of this slur being used absentmindedly, and completely accepted in everyday conversation. The community of Johannesburg views the aliens as self-serving, dangerous insects, without ever trying to understand or work with them. When shunning an outsider because he is different, humans often forget that outsiders have value too.

Instead of hating these new visitors and feeling gracious for giving them a small piece of dirt, I wonder what could have happened had the people of Johannesburg simply embraced these aliens and treated them as proper guests. These beings are capable of space travel. They are able to reconfigure the DNA of a human like Wikus. The wonders we could have learned via space exploration, and the possible cures to cancers and other diseases are only two of the possible outcomes had humans acted as proper hosts.

Alas,in the end we are what we are. The human race has evolved over the centuries, but every time we act in this ignorant and hurtful manner, it sets us back years. Our species has moved out of the proverbial cave but still retains anachronistic instincts which helped us survive many years ago. Until humans can shed those downfalls and inbred hostilities, we will always be cavemen, and there will always be outsiders not welcome in the cave.


Revised Draft:

The film, District 9, immediately brings to mind eras which humanity would rather pretend didn't happen. Whether the film illustrates thoughts on the ghettos and concentration camps of World War II, the slavery and segregation of blacks in America, or the forced evictions and treatment of people in Cape Town during the apartheid regime, the film District 9, forces viewers to remember a simple truth about living as an outsider. Being too different, too alien, can create a target for disdain and give rise to humanity's darker natures.

The human tendency to unite against something perceived as different and create a common foe instigated the awful treatment of the alien residents of District 9, disdainfully known as "prawns". The concept of a large community holding a smaller group of beings in contempt and restriction truly illustrate what it means to be an "outsider"; those beings are outside the community, both in location and status. This "rally 'round the wagons" attitude may have originated in ancient man as a survival instinct, but is now used in cruel ways, including verbally dehumanizing the alien beings with the title of prawn.

Nigger, spick, gringo, and chink were all accepted at one time as common, and are all an effort to distance the majority from the minority. The slur, "prawn", is no different from humanity's other derogatory names from the past. The film gives us insight, however, in that we can actually view footage of this slur being used absentmindedly, and completely accepted in everyday conversation. The community of Johannesburg views the aliens as self-serving, dangerous insects, without ever trying to understand or properly communicate with them. When shunning an outsider because he is different, humans often forget that outsiders have value too.

Instead of hating these new visitors and feeling gracious for giving them a small piece of dirt, the people of Johannesburg could potentially have realized a tremendous boon simply by embracing these aliens and treating them as proper guests. These beings are capable of space travel. They are able to reconfigure the DNA of a human like Wikus. Their alien weaponry is far superior to our own. The wonders we could have learned via space exploration, the possible cures to cancers and other diseases we may have created, and the establishment of Johannesburg as a superpower are only three of the possible outcomes had the locals behaved as proper hosts.

Alas, we are what we are. The human race has evolved over the centuries, but lose ground every time we act in this ignorant and hurtful manner. Our species has moved out of the proverbial cave but still retains the anachronistic instincts which helped us survive many years ago. Until humans can shed these natures and inbred hostilities, we will always be cavemen, and there will always be outsiders not welcome in our caves.

Voiced for My Adoring Fans

The only time I enjoy the otherwise tedious task known as a writing assignment is when I can have some fun with it.  In response to the assignment "What's in your wallet", I wrote the blog post, Capital One IS in my wallet, but only from time-to-time.  I prefer a more relaxed, narrative essay opposed to scholarly papers as they are a ball to write, and more likely to gain a reaction from my audience.  Because this class is full of (mostly) young students, and the class is required to read these ePortfolios, I chose this blog post to represent my ability to pander to a specific audience.  Capital One IS in my wallet, but only from time-to-time is designed to be an easy read which invokes deeper thought and still manage to elicit a giggle or two.  Think and giggle away.

Capital One IS in my wallet, but only from time-to-time

If someone were to ask me, "What's in your wallet?", I would probably respond in a manner inappropriate to this assignment.  However, because this is for science, I shall oblige you.

Currently, my wallet contains:

1.  Two debit cards
2. A credit card
3. My driver's license 
4. Two outdated pictures of my son, a photo of my deceased grandmother, and a photo of my parents and I
5. An expired free haircut card (which is now in the garbage)
6. A business card from "shooting Sports Northwest"
7. A business card from "Reference Media", a high-end audio shop
8. Three Value Village discount stamp cards, two of which are filled out (Where do you think I REALLY get my audio gear from?)
   

 There!  Are you nosy people satisfied?  No?  You want to know what these trinkets have to do with me, and what may be missed from a casual perusal of my wallet's contents, huh?  That seems a little demanding, but I will acquiesce to your requests.

My bank cards show that I am prepared for financial situations while gallivanting 'round town, yet because the debit/credit ratio is 2/1, hints that I may be a good user of credit.  I am not.  My driver's license shows me to be a licensed driver (duh!), organ donor, mid-twenties, tall, and most notably, a rather attractive fellow.  the pictures in residence give up the fact I am a sucker for family, and hold these persons very dear.  The haircut card and thrift store discounts prove I am a cost conscious person, and lead to the fact I sometimes love hunting for treasure.  The range and audio shop cards point to some of my hobbies- shooting and vintage stereo gear.  What's missing, however?

The biggest piece of me that is missing is a picture of my long-time girlfriend.  She is part of my everyday life, and the reason I most look forward to coming home.  In addition, other qualities which comprise the "Jon" are missing.  I am a handy guy, a jack-of-most trades.  I play guitar and fix things.  I will break my back to help a friend, and the people I consider friends will do the same without question.  Though you can guess I have a son, you will not know I have a sister, because there is no photo of her.  Oops.

In the end, there are a myriad of conclusions someone can draw while looking through a stranger's wallet.  Some may be right, some may be wrong, some evidence may not be in residence.  After looking through my own and asking the prerequisite questions of the week, I've come to realize one thing-  A person's wallet may offer a snapshot deep into who he is or what he holds dear, but only the owner of the wallet will be able to truly reveal the stories and meaning of the objects.

Whoops- late addition!  A guitar pick just fell out!