Blog #2: James Paul Gee, the Identity Kit, and Mushfaking When You Have No Idea What You Are Doing
I am an introvert. I'm incredibly nervous in large crowds. I don't adapt well to new social situations--or job situations. I feel awkward. Like I don't know how to fit in. Because I don't know how to fit in. Like I don't know how to behave. Because I don't know how to behave.
So I sit back and observe: What are the existing power structures? When do people talk? When don't they talk? What kinds of things do people say? What kind of vocabulary do they use? How loudly do they speak? How do they dress? How do they walk?
And then, gradually, I venture into conversations, a few people at a time.
By the time people actually notice me, I have mastered some things, and I seem like I know what I am doing, so people have no idea how awkward I actually feel. That's good.
I was terrified my first day as an instructor of RWS100 at SDSU. I was a grad student, and I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. Because I literally had no idea what I was doing. But I knew I needed to look what I was doing.
I hadn't had a chance to observe other professors teach RWS 100, so I had no idea what identity I should adopt. I had observed what other professors wear, so I picked out an outfit accordingly. I wanted to appear smart and professional. Current but not too young. Or too old.
I wanted to project a knowledgeable yet approachable tone. But I wasn't sure exactly how to do that. I didn't want any of my students to know this was my first day in the classroom, and so I had to pretend like I knew what I was doing. I didn't lie, but I did try to project a note of confidence, as if I belonged in the classroom. I was pretty sure it was obvious that I didn't feel that way, but maybe not. My students were all freshmen who had no idea who they needed to be either.
And then gradually I figured out who I needed to be by conferring with other professors, by finding mentors, by reading pedagogical theories and stories about teaching, by experimenting in the classroom, by actually interacting with students and colleagues.
There's a point to this story. In order to seem like a teacher, I needed to create what James Paul Gee identifies as "sort of an 'identity kit' which comes complete with appropriate costume and instructions on how to act, talk, an often write, so as to take on a particular role that others will recognize" (119). Until I know how to do that, I need to pretend, to engage in what Gee calls "mushfake discourse."
In this blog, talk about your experience in acquiring a new discourse or develop a new identity kit, how you pretended, how you felt, what you did. Or how someone helped you. Talk about mushfaking and how mushfaking turned into the real deal. Or how you are still mushfaking. BE SURE TO REFERENCE GEE!
So I sit back and observe: What are the existing power structures? When do people talk? When don't they talk? What kinds of things do people say? What kind of vocabulary do they use? How loudly do they speak? How do they dress? How do they walk?
And then, gradually, I venture into conversations, a few people at a time.
By the time people actually notice me, I have mastered some things, and I seem like I know what I am doing, so people have no idea how awkward I actually feel. That's good.
I was terrified my first day as an instructor of RWS100 at SDSU. I was a grad student, and I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. Because I literally had no idea what I was doing. But I knew I needed to look what I was doing.
I hadn't had a chance to observe other professors teach RWS 100, so I had no idea what identity I should adopt. I had observed what other professors wear, so I picked out an outfit accordingly. I wanted to appear smart and professional. Current but not too young. Or too old.
I wanted to project a knowledgeable yet approachable tone. But I wasn't sure exactly how to do that. I didn't want any of my students to know this was my first day in the classroom, and so I had to pretend like I knew what I was doing. I didn't lie, but I did try to project a note of confidence, as if I belonged in the classroom. I was pretty sure it was obvious that I didn't feel that way, but maybe not. My students were all freshmen who had no idea who they needed to be either.
And then gradually I figured out who I needed to be by conferring with other professors, by finding mentors, by reading pedagogical theories and stories about teaching, by experimenting in the classroom, by actually interacting with students and colleagues.
There's a point to this story. In order to seem like a teacher, I needed to create what James Paul Gee identifies as "sort of an 'identity kit' which comes complete with appropriate costume and instructions on how to act, talk, an often write, so as to take on a particular role that others will recognize" (119). Until I know how to do that, I need to pretend, to engage in what Gee calls "mushfake discourse."
In this blog, talk about your experience in acquiring a new discourse or develop a new identity kit, how you pretended, how you felt, what you did. Or how someone helped you. Talk about mushfaking and how mushfaking turned into the real deal. Or how you are still mushfaking. BE SURE TO REFERENCE GEE!
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