Response – Week 7
Robb Garner
I found James Paul Gee’s book to be absolutely wonderful. I say this as a person who would certainly not identify themselves as a gamer. I (still) believe video games are a massive waste of time, but I admit I do, on occasion, get a big kick out of beating my friends at a game of virtual soccer and then lecturing them on my manifest greatness. At any rate, there are a number of passages I’d like to respond to and I’ll try and limit myself to a few and be concise about it.
To me, Gee’s learning and identity section (chapter three) was the most profound. I found it to be the most crucial to his argument (identity being an essential element—if not indistinguishable from—a person’s relationship/indebtedness to their culture) as well as the most illuminating. His description of playing Arcanum had such a direct parallel to learning: “Your adventures in Arcanum start with catastrophe… Your quest begins… By the time you finish, your character is very different” (p.48). In the classroom, you have a problem, the assignment is to finish it, and hopefully a conclusion that alters your thinking / knowledge in some way. Gee expands this concept into the four-stage “probe/hypothesize/reprobe/rethink” education process, which applies to both children and “expert practitioners” (p.92). As an undergrad I studied the epistemology of Lonergan (in Catholic circles he is a famous philosopher) and much of his theories on how and why a person acquires knowledge are a facsimile of this same basic formula. I found this really impressive. I remember reading that Gee is Catholic, so maybe this is not by mistake. I was also very taken with the insight that students want to—or can be encouraged to—take on the identity “they are playing” in the classroom (p.62). I wonder if any studies have been done to test whether or not a student’s ability to assume the role of “scientist” (to use his example) increased if the student were to don a white labcoat every time he/she engaged in some scientific activity. I feel like I would have liked that very much as a child; it would have been like playing scientist rather than doing biology (ick). Maybe we should just give kids cloaks and tell them that grammar is language magic?
For a book with such a radical title, Gee’s method and argument were balanced and self-aware. His notes on progressive pedagogies (p. 137-138) that do not “set a good foundation for later learning,” is a good example of this. For me, though, he glossed over the fact that a great number of gamers are not “good gamers,” that a lot of people who play video games play them “the wrong way.” An example of this might the latent gamer who enjoys video games solely and arrogantly as a competitive platform. But it seems to me that if video games do indeed recreate the learning process in such a profound and direct way than the development of the “bad gamer” must have some greater insight as well. In particular, I wish Gee touched on the addictive nature of videogames. Gamers become (and have a reputation for becoming) possessed—they become inundated in their games in a way that is normally reserved for eccentrics like the mad scientist or self-destructive writer. When Gee says that the potential for video games is as great as our awareness of their cognitive impact is small, I wonder what kind of a response research into the latter would make to Gee’s claims about the former. Is learning addictive? Or is only this hyper-visual split-second powerfully-created-fantastical-world of magnificent stimuli addictive? Can we reduce their possessive capacity to identity?… If I had to, I’d posit that good video games create an environment where our inherent “desire to know” (this is Lonergan) is indeed stimulated in a way that facilitates learning along the staves our cognition is inherently tuned to—but that this stimulation engages us at some cognitive level (I lack the proper vocabulary to shape / articulate this thought) that is disturbingly similar to addiction. The relationship between videogames and THC is also a phenomenon that needs to be researched. Ask a 16 year old about being high and assuming the role of whoever the character is in the latest GTA. I mention all this because even the “poor video player,” the one that doesn’t learn, explore, or build—but does repeatedly (the ubiquitous Call of Duty player)—nevertheless engages in the virtual, social, and personal identities that a videogame presents. Even the “bad gamer” takes pride in his virtual virtuosity, an interest in his character, and displays an effort to enter the virtual by way of the physical. For many young men, this is putting on a gasmask that has been converted into a bong or some other small teleportational amulet. I don’t know why I find this so fascinating, but it seems an insight worth harking on: Interest and identity seem to be the inextricable core of Gee’s theory on learning. Finally, I think you could take a lot of Gee’s study and rethink it in regards to lifting weights. I think Gee would agree with this. There’s a brilliant universe there too, and it is one populated by a stereotype which oddly parallels that of videogames.
I appreciate that Gee points out that gamers, far from being social recluses, are extremely social individuals who simply operate within a society separate from the one that identifies them as antisocial. Gee calls gamers an affinity group, I believe, but “the group” is too large and the dedication too great for either “affinity” or “group”; gaming is a society and it has a language, practice, and economy to verify it. My mother’s best friend’s son (I know that is a mouthful) is one of these guys; I’m pals with him, and I have to credit him with opening me up to not only this reality but to a number of different perspectives. Unlike my friends who spend a massive amount of time playing videogames—most of it high—and who are part of this culture passively, Jake is involved in all the ways Gee praises; he builds, comments, refines, reflects, and most importantly engages. The exchange between cultures when one of my friends and Jake get to playing online is hilarious. Like most male banter, it is largely profane and occasionally endearing. To me, it serves as further evidence of Gee’s claims on identity and culture. Like high school though (and I totally agree with Gee’s “pessimistic” description of America’s public education), I’m afraid most people are too fucked up to get the message.