Six answers for Billy Collins

Do you truly believe you were doing the original author a favor in this rewrite? (from Alison’s blog)

Billy Collins is doing someone a favor, but it isn’t the original author—well, not directly, anyway. By rewriting the poem, he’s showing the poet how futile their strategy is, and, in turn, teaching the readers of his poem an important lesson on word choice and meaning. He’s also expressing his disinterest for poems of that style.

By making this poem are you trying to criticize the original poem or is it for a different reason? (from Amanda’s blog)

Billy Collins’ strategy here is to highlight an important concept in writing: that meaning is better attained through precise and concise wording. That’s not to say that he’s rejecting artful construction—he embraces it in his parody. He’s merely rejecting the habits of lovestruck poets, and consequently implying that writers shouldn’t fall into the trap of using grandiose metaphors.

Why did you incorporate metaphors about yourself in the poem? (from Jill’s blog)

It is a function of Collins’ humor to alter the speaker’s attention from his/her lover to himself/herself. Not only is it funny, but it summarizes Collins’ feelings toward poets embracing this style: that they may be self-indulgent or self-centered by using words in such a show-off manner.

The World... as New York sees it

Discuss.

Response to sample essays

“It Gives You Wings”
Sample G


The pros

1. Well-integrated sources lead to a varied reading experience
2. Claims are well-supported
3. Implications of fast-paced lifestyles are satisfactorily explored
4. Word choice is varied

The cons

1. Sentence structure is choppy, hard to follow
2. Lots of cop-out or general claims like “We are among the top producers as well as top consumers of a multitude of products” in the introduction paragraph
3. Repetitive conclusions, lack of depth in analyzation
4. A paragraph wholly dedicated to “Holy Shit”
5. Overuse of third-person plural in reference to “American society”
6. Some citations, like the one on page 5, contribute little to the discourse

Apple’s iPod: I’ve Got the World on a String (Shaped Earphone Chord [sic])

Sample H

The pros

1. Varied word choice
2. Interesting background information on Apple products

The cons

1. Use of “etc.”
2. Little to no analyzation; paper is merely a summary of Apple product offerings
3. The claim at the end of page 4 is both poorly constructed and not supported with proper evidence
4. Page 4 is a sea of quotation marks that make me think the writer likes to use “air quotes” in real life
5. On page 3, content about podcasting is plagiarized from the Wikipedia article on the topic
6. Copious amounts of speculation and irrelevant personal addenda

Why conform? A response to Will M.’s point of view

In a previous post, titled “Why conform? A not-so-short discourse on ‘proper’ manuscript-writing,” I examined the advantages and disadvantages of enforcing compositional rules in academic writing. This post is a follow-up.


The question is: are academic writers “prevented from making certain choices about the medium for their expression for good reasons”? What constitutes a good reason?

In terms of the technical justifications for style rules, the reasons are very good—in the academic world, keeping formatting rigidly uniform is the key to determining content length (as I’ve said). Past that, there’s really only one other good reason for rules like MLA and APA, and it lies in the prevention of plagiarism. When citing sources becomes a “big deal” (i.e., college), having the skill to properly reference external information saves you (and your instructor) lots of academic trouble.

But what if a certain assignment doesn’t have a set content length? And what if that assignment doesn’t include outside sources?

Will M., in the short video above, claims that society is to blame (or credit) for academic uniformity. How, though, is beyond the scope of the video.

“Paper specificities are based off societal norms.”

I disagree, and think it’s the inverse: society is more likely to follow from the restrictive efforts of language associations when it concerns controlling the form of academic content. Students, if more heavily restricted in their ways of expressing ideas, are more likely to keep up habits they developed in school around these rules, and begin to apply them to daily life as adults.

“When writing a serious paper, a writer should not see what the writer is feeling by visuals; instead, the writer should paint a picture with words.”

As a creative writer, I agree, but disagree while taking the position of a more visually-inclined student. Sometimes students can more effectively use visuals to do what natural-born writers and speakers do. By discouraging alternative methods of expression, the restriction can hurt these students’ academic performances.

“Society has set these rules. By not following them, one can become outcast and less accepted.”

Definitely—and it happens. I’m more inclined to believe that this is a problem in contemporary society. American culture is rapidly changing, moving to accept more liberal ideals—but still, the classroom is where social rejection most frequently occurs, and more often than not toward students who can’t express themselves in the ways they feel are most natural.

Have you heard of Readability?

I find this really useful—maybe you do, too.



Readability is an add-on for your browser that can make reading any cluttered news article or blog post on the Internet much easier. If you encounter a news article with ads, banners, navigation, links to social media, and other junk cluttering up your view of the article, you can click on Readability’s icon and it uses fancy algorithms to take out the stuff and leave only the article—and you can customize the colors, typefaces, and font size.

You can find Readability (for free) at their website.

They also have a monthly subscription service that will help you keep your articles organized (you can quickly press a button labeled “Read later” and it will keep all the articles you want to read together. What’s cool about the subscription is that 70% of the money goes to supporting good writing on the Internet. But who am I kidding? We’re broke college students).

Freewrite

Today it is forty-eight degrees and I’m about to miss my train.

Slipping through crowds with less than optimal speed, I’m clutching my baggage to my chest, knowing that if I stop for even a moment, I’d be on the platform seconds after the train chugs away. This could have been easier if the wheels on my suitcase weren’t broken—somewhere between 36th and 38th they broke—and I’ve been lifting it with my right arm just enough to let the broken axels spin as they skim the concrete. My backpack is open, but I don’t realize that, and my red notebook is about to slip out of the small pocket, open like a bird in flight, and release more than fifty loose pages of character outlines into the depths of Pennsylvania Station.

I’m not thinking about that, no—in fact, I’m choosing to think about how I’ll know if I miss the train: if, by some

Six questions for Billy Collins

1. Do you think badly of this literary strategy of comparing a belovéd to a multitude of objects?
2. How many common metaphors do you address in this poem, or do you stick to purely random creations?
3. In the last three stanzas, what motivated you to turn the speaker’s attention to him/herself?
4. At the end, you interject “somehow” into a line with which you began. Is this meant to trivialize the entire poem’s concept?
5. Is the poem’s title, “Litany,” a reference to the poem itself, or a style which you are imitating?
6. At times, the speaker seems to reference his or her own literary strategies. Is this meant to further depict the poem as overtly contrived?

Why conform? A not-so-short discourse on “proper” manuscript-writing

When writing academic papers, why conform? Why restrict yourself to a certain paper size, orientation, typeface, or color? These questions usually don’t enter the minds of university students, as they have been told to follow formats like MLA or APA, so maybe this question is more relevant: why do our professors ask us of this injustice? And why have we been taught, since high school, to strictly obey these “standards”?

I was interviewed on this topic, by the lovely Annik Spencer, who prodded me on the meaning of these choices. Many others, too, were asked of their opinions—but some, as I later heard, felt unprepared to answer: why should they have to answer for something they were instructed to do by some auspicious association of modern writing? I don’t blame them for feeling uneasy, but perhaps this is a way to widen their understanding of what these standards are and why they exist.

Take MLA guidelines, for example. The MLA guidelines at Purdue University’s famed website bullets these general rules to follow:

• Type your paper on a computer and print it out on standard, white 8.5 x 11-inch paper.

Devil’s advocate     Standard paper sizes should be used because, if paper size wasn’t regulated, writing professionals wouldn’t be able to consistently determine the length of manuscripts. Of course, this depends on whether you follow the rest of the guidelines, as full compliance makes it easier for instructors to easily specify content length in pages instead of specifying in terms of word count or character count (length in pages is much friendlier; it prevents students from trying to inflate the word count by writing simpler sentences). Also: if instructors need to photocopy a document, standard Letter size paper is the most widely used paper format in the United States. Additionally, white paper & black ink is both practical and easy to read. Anything else would be hard on the eyes.

To hell with standards!     Standard paper sizes shouldn’t be used because it corners students into monotonous, claustrophobic spaces that seriously limit creativity. Imagine the variety and expressiveness of essays on paper formats anywhere between 8x10 and poster paper: sure, they wouldn’t all be uniform, but students could be able to explore creative options that many would take advantage of to create true visual and lingual arguments. And for those who choose to take a more formal route: standard Letter size would still be available. As for the introduced difficulty of photocopying and printing—worthy tradeoffs, I say.

• Double-space the text of your paper, and use a legible font (e.g. Times New Roman). Whatever font you choose, MLA recommends that the regular and italics type styles contrast enough that they are recognizable one from another. The font size should be 12 pt.

Devil’s advocate     Double spacing the text makes it much easier for instructors to mark up the content, providing the student with valuable feedback. A legible serif typeface like Times New Roman is very readable at comfortable reading range, and Times New Roman at 12 points is widely regarded as “standard” (not to mention being the default character style for Microsoft Word documents before Office 2007). 11 points would be too small and 13 too large. These guidelines also make specifying content length easy, as long as each student follows the same formatting rules.

This ain’t your father’s essay!     Double space, double schmase. If we wanted your feedback, we would have come to you before we passed the paper in. As for your Times New Roman at 12 points—let me tell you how much I loathe Times New Roman at 12 points. Seeing the same face set in the same point size on the same paper size since the sixth grade is tiring. Yes—it’s really, actually visually tiring—and I’d like to think that I’ve amassed enough graphic design and typography knowledge to understand that setting my paper in 16 point Comic Sans MS is a bad idea (actually, Comic Sans MS is a bad idea at any point size—I’m not the only designer who thinks so). Besides, how can you instructors stand it? You’ve been reading text set in 12 point serif type much longer than we have... how are you not complaining? What about—just for once—allowing us to set our paper in 12 point Helvetica, double spaced? I guarantee that everyone would love it. A breath of fresh, sans-serif air. Quote me.

• Leave only one space after periods or other punctuation marks (unless otherwise instructed by your instructor). Set the margins of your document to 1 inch on all sides.

Devil’s advocate     Spacing should be specified uniformly to maintain accurate estimation of content length. The habit you have for putting two spaces after a full stop comes from the days of typewriters with monospaced type: with a monospaced typeface, every character has the same width, even the period. Adding two spaces after each period made it easier to distinguish among sentences. You don’t need to do this with Times New Roman, or any other proportional typeface. 1-inch margins exist, again, to maintain uniformity that allows instructors to determine content length. That guideline also exists to make sure photocopies are not cut off.

Na, na-na boo-boo.     Who are you to tell me what not to do after periods or other punctuation marks? And as for margins: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen my friends change the page margins from 1.0 inches to 1.01 inches or 1.03 inches—that stuff works miracles.

• Create a header that numbers all pages consecutively in the upper right-hand corner, one-half inch from the top and flush with the right margin. (Note: Your instructor may ask that you omit the number on your first page. Always follow your instructor's guidelines.)

Devil’s advocate     A header with consistent placement ensures that instructors will always know where to look when sorting pages. If you type your last name into the header, it will help keep your pages together in the event of a de-stapling or an instructor spilling coffee all over your papers (it happened to me in Intro to Ethics last semester).

*blows raspberry*     I realize that I’m getting increasingly belligerent, but these rules really deserve this treatment. Excuse my elementary conduct.

As you may be able to tell, I am of two minds here. Two... really diverging minds. I think we, as students, understand the nature of these requirements, but following them takes perseverance (and, in my case, suppression of intrinsic potty language).

3.37 Inches by 2.125 Inches of Impersonality

Hofstra freshman Krista Camacho’s bright, kiddish smile shrinks when asked about her personal gift-giving traditions, especially about her habit of buying gift cards. When asked how frequently she buys the plastic cards of convenience, she answers sheepishly: “I try not to.”

Krista isn’t alone—she is one of many Americans who buy into the gift-carding tradition, forgoing personalized gifts for the go-to standard in quick gifting. For her, buying these cards unwraps the struggle of purchasing that perfect present. “They can choose what they want. It’s like giving them money, only with more of a purpose.”

While the benefits of choosing gift cards over more personalized gifts are compelling, they may be encouraging people to do the very opposite of what is beneficial about acts of charity: denying them the emotional and social growth that gifting can provide. At the same time, the overuse of this apparently insignificant solution represents something about the whole of American culture and consumerism: something to which not many readily admit.

That denial cannot come easily: on a walk through any popular American supermarket or convenience store, one will see them—usually placed strategically near the check-out counter—and one cannot help but marvel in their consumer appeal. Gift cards of the Visa variety, the ones boasting compatibility wherever Visa is accepted, seem to be the most aggressive. “Visa gift cards are perfect for any occasion: smart, thoughtful, and always well received” (Visa). Confidently self-referential, the cards themselves already know how great they are and how they will be received: they take away that worry on the purchaser’s part, ensuring that the only tough decision concerns the denomination. And how curious that decision is—the fact that each card has a definite value asserts that the purchaser subconsciously evaluates how monumental or generous he or she wants to be at the till. That concept of value confounds its actual value, Krista speculates. “It looks like you put more effort into it than just giving them money.”

But why not give money? Visa’s website advertises its gift cards as “welcome at any of the millions of locations where Visa debit cards are accepted,” but there is something even more universally accepted than Visa cards: cold, hard cash. After all, these cards would be useless without the attachment of monetary value, and, if their advertising claims are to be believed, it is their function to replace cash with retail applications. With further research, however, it is clear that they do not resemble money in any clear way. All one must do is read the “cardholder agreement,” the lengthy legalese printed on minuscule scraps of paper that come with these cards, and special terms and fees are revealed. For a $25 Vanilla brand Visa gift card, a compulsory $4.95 “activation fee” must be paid in order to use the card—after purchase. These fees can rise as the denomination rises, reaching up to $7.95 for a $200 gift card. Even more inconvenient are their terms of use: these gift cards are non-reloadable, non-refundable, non-returnable bits of plastic with value that depreciates over time (Bancorp).

If these gifts are such impersonal impostors, misleading products, and unlikely to be the subject of someone’s pride, how could they become so wrapped up in American society? Perhaps the answer lies in the theories of Thorstein Veblen, American economist and sociologist from the early 20th century. Veblen introduced several groundbreaking social concepts in his life’s work, combining “survival of the richest” Darwinistic perspectives with then-new capitalist institutions. His most important contribution, however, was the concept of “conspicuous consumption” that dictated the socioeconomic actions of Americans on a grand scale, depicting them as beings who acquire social identity through the preference to purchase products that make themselves appear more attractive than they might really be (Elwell). In essence, his theories regarding economic activity boiled down to one vice: vanity. Such a vice contributes to the desire to buy these gift cards instead of gifting money; slipping cash into a greeting card is unsentimental, whereas gift cards can be more attractive and represent more conscious thought on the gifter’s part. If this is true, the stereotypes that fuel the international perception of American consumerism—excessive consumption; high-powered advertisements; cheap, fast, and unhealthy food choices—don’t only exist in criticisms of America, but are the very truths that define it. Something as insignificant as gift carding can have enormous cultural implications.

But not all of gift card buyers do so because of a suppressed desire to be attractive, nor due to a drastic change in social norms. As difficult as it is to swallow, gift cards can serve some rational purpose in the lives of Americans. As Krista puts it, “[gift cards are] safer during the holiday time, because you don’t know what other people are getting them. If you give them a gift card, they won’t buy the same sweatshirt their grandmother gave them.” This concept of gift collision is a commonly experienced dilemma during holidays and special occasions. Before the existence of gift cards, gift receivers would deal with duplicate gifts by either “regifting” or caching the gift. Later, with the advent of gift cards, the reception of gift cards themselves would perpetuate regifting: in a habit I can attest to observing, my brother would often send gift cards he found useless to other unknowing recipients. The futility of this was ironic: the person receiving his former gift would often find it just as useless. This phenomena contributes to the observation that gift recipients value personalized gifts more than their plastic, rectangular counterparts. Hofstra University student and blogger Jill Saba writes about her own personal observations concerning gift cards, especially her mother’s decision to buy them. After explaining her mother’s rationale for purchasing the cards, she writes: “she likes to feel that she put at least a smidgen of thought into the gift,” implying that which her mother does not seem to understand: gift card recipients feel that, when given the cards, they are not the object of the gift-giving thought they deserve.

Even the subtle act of receiving such a gift bereft of intention can be detrimental to a relationship’s basic moorings. In a New York Times article examining the effects of gift-giving on human relationships, consumer psychologist Margaret Rucker cites research that underlines the important of gift-giving on “strengthening” relationship bonds, and, conversely, “[signalling] that a relationship should end” (Parker-Pope). Jill Saba’s mother may be unknowingly “signalling” her gift card recipients that she doesn’t value their relationship because she gives gifts that they consider disappointing or not personal enough. Considering this research, the cliché flower-giving phenomena that is made use of in so many serious relationships may hold water as a real way to illicit psychological responses inherently in the act of gift-giving. With this, the American gift-giving tradition is tarnished by the overuse of gift cards because they send the wrong message to the recipients, potentially causing unintended repercussions that put relationships in danger.

Despite this, gift cards were ranked as the second most given gift by Americans in 2006 (Consumers), and the gift card-buying habit doesn’t seem to be stopping. A substantiation for the product’s momentum might be the economic environment Americans find themselves in. With the American economy in slow recovery, consumers now find themselves with tighter budgets—and gifting is the first cost to take reductions. Rather than devote extra time and money into personalized gifting, Americans can turn to gift cards as a manageable, universally-applicable, and time-saving present. Speaking from personal experience, Krista Camacho sees the retail gift card market benefiting from the recession. “You’ll decide to buy gift cards because you set the cost. Gifts will vary in price, but not gift cards. The time spent buying personalized gifts is spent working instead.”

With this in mind, it seems that traditional gift-giving is on a downward trend. The reasoning behind this conclusion is clear, but the implications of its meaning is disquieting. How does this change how Americans convey their gratitude and appreciation of friendship? If this is to reflect how cost-conscious and cash-dependent Americans are, then the stereotypes are true. As an educated nation, we make the choice to buy plastic loaded with fees and hidden terms, with associated social stigmas and cultural admonishment, only to serve ourselves in acts of selfish frugality. The very existence of gift cards, in terms of their consumer appeal and market significance, reveals something about the American public’s attraction to quick solutions to difficult questions. Still, it is clear that the gift-giving tradition is an important one due to its relevancy in crafting and strengthening relationships and establishing good social grammar—so gift-giving is something we cannot overlook as a nation. Even in economic hardship, there are personalized solutions to the gift-giving problem that can better communicate the feelings that a gift should—and steer people clear from the tantalizing guise of an easy out.


The Bancorp Bank, ITC Financial Licenses, Inc. and IH Financial Licenses, Inc. Vanilla Visa® Gift Card Cardholder Agreement. 15 Sept. 2010. Legal contract.

Camacho, Krista R. Personal interview. 12 Feb. 2011.

Consumers Union of U.S., Inc. “Avoid Gift Card Pitfalls.” ConsumerReports.org. Dec. 2007. Web. 15 Feb. 2011.

Elwell, Frank. Veblen’s Sociology. Rogers State University, 2003. Web. 15 Feb. 2011.

Parker-Pope, Tara. “A Gift That Gives Right Back? The Giving Itself.” The New York Times 11 Dec. 2007. nytimes.com, 11 Dec. 2007. Web. 13 Feb. 2011.

Saba, Jill. “Gift Cards.” Web log post. Here and Now. 3 Feb. 2011. Web. 14 Feb. 2011.

Visa Inc. “Prepaid & Gift Cards.” Visa.com. Web. 15 Feb. 2011.

The spiral game: the miracle of human efficiency

What immediately fascinated me about the “shell game” was how well it worked: one shell from a box of nearly identical other shells could be quickly identified and distinguished from the others. One of the impossibilities of this feat stems from the fact that the distinctions were made using questions, not characteristics.

One might argue that a question like “why is the shell so blue” isn’t a question at all, but a statement implying: “the shell is blue.” Still, reliable identifications were made from questions much more confusing, like “does someone miss you?” This yes/no question could have implied that no one missed the shell, or that someone did. The efficacy behind this question is that the answer actually doesn’t matter—either way, there was a sea creature involved, and that creature may or may not have missed its shell, so the observational implications were that the shell could have been home to a sea creature.

As I later discussed with the Doc, what’s even cooler is the lightning-quick judgement that the human brain exercises while narrowing down the selections after hearing questions. I immediately imagined a computer trying to do this selection: with such confusing questions, and a computer’s inability to find distinctions in the shells, it would be impossible. It reveals a fundamental aspect of what separates us from computers.

A question like “why does the shell look so spiral-y,” to a computer, wouldn’t be very helpful. How does a computer know what “spiral-y” means? The spiral on a shell’s surface isn’t actually a spiral (despite how geometrically precise nature can be), and a computer wouldn’t have enough prior reasoning experience to determine that a shell would generally resemble a spiral. The technical limitations would begin at imaging and end in the computer’s logic—how, even, would a programmer begin to teach a computer how to continually learn, amass useful knowledge, and be able to apply conceptual understanding of a spiral to an identification game? If it’s hard enough for humans to do it, it would have to be near impossible for a computer to (considering we program them).

“All About Birds,” but you’d never know it

Don Stap writes an incredible article about the migratory patterns of the Numeniini shorebird Bar-tailed Godwit and its yearly 7,000-mile trek to wintering sites from Alaska to New Zealand—but you’d never know it. Stap’s rhetorical writing strategy encompasses a number of strategies that he shares with Jonah Lehrer, a highly-talented neuroscientist and author. These strategies include the ability to write effective hooks lacking in scientific jargon, painting accurate portraits of his interviewees, and maintaining a reader’s dwindling attention.

Perhaps the most surprising tool that Stap utilizes (and something Lehrer doesn’t possess, or, maybe chooses not to) is his talent for imagery. Take, for example, Stap’s first paragraph of Flight of the Kuaka, All About Birds:

In February, at 37 degrees 12 minutes south latitude, the sun sets late, but night has fallen and the darkness is thick and close. In the hills to the west I see a few dull globes of light from distant houses. Above, the stars glimmer like chipped ice, but they cast little light, and I would like very much to see where I’m stepping. I am in a shallow pond about 100 yards west of the Firth of Thames on New Zealand’s North Island. And I am up to my shins in mud as slick as lard. Having given up all pretense of grace, I wave my arms about with each step, as if I’m on a tightrope. I hope not to fall into this black goop—the manure-enriched runoff from a cow pasture—as two people near me did moments ago.

There’s no understating Stap’s penchant for using descriptive words to capture an audience, but what’s interesting here is his ability to weave factual information into his descriptions: in the first paragraph, we discover time of year, physical location, and the fact that he’s accompanied by others. All this with a dazzling description of the starlight and New Zealand countryside.

Like Lehrer, Stap includes a short portraiture of the article’s main figure:

In his early 60s, with close-cropped white hair, Gill is the senior member of an international team of scientists analyzing the migration of godwits and curlews as part of a four-year project funded largely by the David and Lucile Packard Foundation. Gill’s voice rises with enthusiasm when he speaks of the bar-tails, and here in New Zealand his spirit is all the more buoyant because he’s wearing shorts and sandals; when he left Alaska two days ago, it was 10 below.

In a way nearly identical to Lehrer, Stap crafts an image of a sweet Bob Gill. But, in a way that is uniquely Stap, including factual information about his research project, and the source of it’s funding.

Lehrer article response

Mark each time Lehrer offers a definition. How elaborate is each definition? What does the sequence of these mean in aggregate?

“There is something deeply contradictory about Walter Mischel—a psychologist who spent decades critiquing the validity of personality tests—inventing the marshmallow task, a simple test with impressive predictive power.” (paragraph 18)

““Young kids are pure id,’ Mischel says. ‘They start off unable to wait for anything—whatever they want they need. But then, as I watched my own kids, I marveled at how they gradually learned how to delay and how that made so many other things possible.’” (paragraph 19)

“What, then, determined self-control? Mischel’s conclusion, based on hundreds of hours of observation, was that the crucial skill was the ‘strategic allocation of attention.’ Instead of getting obsessed with the marshmallow—the ‘hot stimulus’—the patient children distracted themselves by covering their eyes, pretending to play hide-and-seek underneath the desk, or singing songs from ‘Sesame Street.’” (paragraph 22)

This is the first occurrence of a scientific definition—and it’s relatively far into the text (22 paragraphs in), so it’s likely that the readers who have read this much are willing to trust Lehrer as he delves into the scientific underpinnings of the article.

“‘If you’re thinking about the marshmallow and how delicious it is, then you’re going to eat it,’ Mischel says. ‘The key is to avoid thinking about it in the first place.’ \ In adults, this skill is often referred to as metacognition, or thinking about thinking, and it’s what allows people to outsmart their shortcomings.” (paragraph 23)

Again, a technical definition, but Lehrer doesn’t allow the definition to break up the text’s flow, he quickly and simply defines the term, allowing it to contribute to the meaning of the text, and continues to analyze.

“The early appearance of the ability to delay suggest that is has a genetic origin, an example of personality at its most predetermined.” (paragraph 26)

“Two of the experiments were of particular interest. The first is a straightforward exercise known as the ‘suppression task.’ Subjects are given four random words, two printed in blue and two in red. After reading the words, they’re told to forget the blue words and remember the red words. Then the scientists provide a stream of ‘probe words’ and ask the subjects whether the probes are the words they were asked to remember.” (paragraph 30)

“In the second, known as the Go/No Go task, subjects are flashed a set of faces with various expressions. At first, they are told to press the space bar whenever they see a smile. This tasks little effort, since smiling faces automatically trigger what’s known as ‘approach behavior.’” (paragraph 31)

“Approach behavior” is the most interesting term here, letting its connotative meaning shine.

“For the most part, the regions are in the frontal cortex—the overhang of brain behind the eyes—and include the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, the anterior prefrontal cortex, the anterior cingulate, and the right and left inferior frontal gyri. While these cortical folds have long been associated with self-control, they’re also essential for working memory and directed attention. According to the scientists, that’s not an accident. ‘These are powerful instincts telling us to reach for the marshmallow or press the space bar,’ Jonides says. ‘The only way to defeat them is to avoid them, and that means paying attention to something else. We call that will power, but it’s got nothing to do with the will.’’” (paragraph 33)

A very complex set of definitions, this paragraph has the heaviest scientific content; this is because Lehrer is listing brain regions, and systematically revealing their function. But he doesn’t let these definitions scare readers off because he introduces a quotation directly after. It’s almost as if he anticipates that readers will skip past the scientific jargon and go straight to the interview research, but those who are straining clinical content out of the article can still benefit.

Have you found any metaphors in this text?  Did you expect to find metaphors or metaphoric language in a scientific text?


“Others start kicking the desk, or tug on their pigtails, or stroke the marshmallow as if it were a tiny stuffed animal.” (paragraph 3)

As early as the third paragraph, metaphors are used. This is curious to find in an article written by a researcher, but not so hard to understand after much more of Lehrer’s writing is read.

“One of Mischel’s favorite metaphors for this model of personality, known as interactionism, concerns a car making a screeching noise. How does a mechanic solve the problem? He begins by trying to identify the specific conditions that trigger the noise. Is there a screech when the car is accelerating, or when it’s shifting gears, or turning at slow speeds? Unless the mechanic can give the screech a context, he’ll never find the broken part.” (paragraph 19)

Bad news for idea conveyance

In thinking about a certain idea, many sentences and ideas can be drawn by using detailed words within this idea.

This sentence, although it’s intentions are good, has no kinetic motion—it doesn’t drive the reader any closer to understanding the whole point. It’s general because of it’s futile use of the word “many,” but that’s not it’s major failing: the second clause details a condition that “can” occur if the writer himself uses “detailed words.” Don’t narrate that good things can come from descriptive writing, show readers that they can.

And what is this “certain idea?” Chances are, if you’re writing this, you know what this idea is, and you shouldn’t cop out by not choosing one. Try this:

In thinking about the significance of reading to your children, there are a multitude of exciting benefits that come to mind.

There. Hapless generality (if that’s your thing) doesn’t do squat...!

Inkshedding experiment

“One of Mischel’s favorite metaphors for this model of personality, known as interactionism, concerns a car making a screeching noise.”

The car making a screeching noise represents the child masking its eyes to hide from the marshmallow. (a) Screeching noises can distract from other immediacies, as can noise from a child who wants to delay their gratification. (b) This is particularly relevant in Lehrer’s discussion of delayed gratification, because the child-subject can learn or be taught strategies to forestall gratification. These skills can be mastered, resulting in all kinds of future benefits for the tested. (c) These benefits stem from the possible metaphor of the screeching car, or the young child covering his or her eyes. (d)


A psychologist, in this example, represents a mechanic whose job it is to determine the source of the noise. Depending his observations (such as the origin of the sound, intensity, and other observational patterns)

Four Loko is the opposite of this study of self-control. Mischel wants his subjects to be able to fight their need of instant gratification, and be able to resist. Four Loko is completely and totally a sinful immediate form of gratification. (e) People need to “screech the car” by keeping their mind from Four Loko. (f)

Don’t! The secret of self-control: First thoughts

The concept of the marshmallow experiment, as a hook, is very effective. Thought-provoking and interesting, the article mirrors the experiment in a way that makes me want to skip to the end and see the conclusion, much like Caroyln Wiesz’s desire to eat the marshmallow.

But whatever happened to this rule?

He said that if she rang a bell on the desk while he was away he would come running back, and she could eat one marshmallow but would forfeit the second. Then he left the room.

It’s curious that there is no mention of test subjects using this button. It seems like they feel ashamed about their impulsive desire to eat the marshmallow, and would rather eat it in privacy. If this is true, it would also be also curious that they don’t think ahead to when the researcher enters the room again and finds the marshmallow gone. Marshmallows don’t disappear into thin air...

The scientists are hoping to identify the particular brain regions that allow some people to delay gratification and control their temper. They’re also conducting a variety of genetic tests, as they search for the hereditary characteristics that influence the ability to wait for a second marshmallow.

How hereditary is the impulse to eat the marshmallow? The fact that it affects them in later life is implied, but how important is “nature” when it comes to delayed gratification? I’m more inclined to believe that it’s a product of upbringing and family culture. In my experience, teens in the information age have all adapted to new technology, becoming addicted to cellphones, television, and social media. Are we following an evolutionary path toward becoming symbiotic with technology? Or are our children merely benefiting from a more tech-infused adolescence?

“The kids who couldn’t delay would often have the rules backwards. They would think that the best way to resist the marshmallow is to stare right at it, to keep a close eye on the goal. But that’s a terrible idea. If you do that, you’re going to ring the bell before I leave the room.”

For a child, perhaps. As children, I feel that we’re more closely in touch with our senses—i.e.,  noises quickly grow annoying, physical touch (like poking) soon becomes bothersome—so the sight of the marshmallow could cause it to take a hold on the child’s mind. Now, in adulthood, I find that ignoring what’s tempting to me will only make me want it more.

“We should give marshmallows to every kindergartner,” he says. “We should say, ‘You see this marshmallow? You don’t have to eat it. You can wait. Here’s how.’”

I’m not alone when I say I wish I could have been told such a thing in kindergarten...

Small object, large subject

Gift cards. Such slogans like “simplify gifting,” “ease of use,” “versatile,” and “just what they wanted.” These are the claims of the makers of American gift cards—that they are a one-time solution to a tough-to-please giftee... or an inexperienced or lazy gifter. Marketing professionals assert that gift cards fill a void in the American gift-giving tradition: by enabling people to let the giftees choose what to buy, they shift the responsibility of the gifter away from designing the ultimately crafted gift and toward gifting the plastic equivalent of cold, hard cash.

Visa gift cards are an example of this phenomenon. The fact that Visa is accepted “everywhere” suggests that the giftee would be able to redeem his or her gift at any time, in any store.

From personal experience, being the recipient of a gift card is something mildly disappointing, but at the same time, acceptable. Giving gift cards project that the gifter would rather not risk picking the wrong gift, and instead, choose the universally-applicable gift card.

The popularity of gift cards suggest the notion that American consumers choose a quick, easy solution to their gifting problems.

Response to Pantene commercial

The Pantene commercial’s ending slogan reads “you can shine,” a blissful idealism stemming from one of two factors: either the near-miraculous deaf violinist’s shining performance, or the fact that she used Pantene shampoo and conditioner hours before, that which launched her into stardom because of the incredible shine of her hair. Regardless, the advertising professionals responsible for the ad seem to know that both of these meanings are likely to get the viewers of the commercial to buy Pantene products: not only did Pantene have a great ad, but it was inspiring, too.

Or, perhaps the ad’s air of self-referential inspiration and its fairy-tale ending were not intended for welcome acceptance; maybe the ad’s over-the-top sense of miracle was intentionally campy, and the ending slogan merely confirmed the suspicions of its eye-rolling viewers. The slogan and meaning would then be interpreted differently, maybe as a playful joke to assert the idea: “you may not be a deaf violinist performing the piece of a lifetime, but you can have her shiny hair.” This idea is partly evidenced by the cinematography during her performance: spotlights shine on her beautiful, pin-straight hair and wind blows up from nowhere, letting the violinist’s hair shine more than a brand new million-dollar diamond ring.