My Thesis Committee Chair, SuAnne, suggested that I read up on linguist James Paul Gee and his book, “What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy” about certain the idea of how the notion of “value” is often perceived differently by different people.
In the book, Gee points out that video games go beyond just helping children with their hand-eye coordination. Rather, the whole idea of video gaming requires a different kind of literacy — the kind that’s not even taught in schools these days. A good example he used was a simple sentence in basketball lingo. To someone who doesn’t understand the sport, s/he would simply read the sentence literally and superficially, completely missing the underlying message about the strategy or situation in which the basketball players are engaged in. On the other hand, to someone who is “literate” of basketball lingo, the seemingly simple sentence is much more profound and interesting.
The same can be applied in video gaming. Gee argues that each and every video game requires a different set of learning and literacy aquisition. Children understand the notion of themselves as the main character in the game. And they understand the difference in fantacy and reality (i.e. they are the character in the game but return to being themselves outside of the game). Furthermore, as game consoles become more and more sophisticated, so are the games. And they demand steeper learning curves. But children aren’t discouraged from playing them. Why? Because they are engaging, and they present problem solving possibilities that are simply not available in most schools.
Take for example, a game Gee’s six-year-old plays presents a few possibilities in confronting a sleeping enemy — wake him and confront him head on, sneak pass the enemy without awakening him or confront him and recruits help from other characters. This kind of problem solving skill is more engaging and involves critical thinking and planning. Compare that to what is being taught in typical American schools (I assume he was talking about schools in America), teachers and administrators are so stressed over testing and result-driven curriculum that they just want to get the “basics” down — reading, writing and arithmetic. But how do they apply the skills to the bigger picture of social literacy (which is a big theme in the book)? Children have learned to read and write so they can test well. But can they truly read and write in the social and interpersonal context?
Gee also reminds readers about what video game means to different generations of people. To the baby boomers, video games are a waste of time. And he’s not surprised. But he points out who are they to judge video games when they can’t even understand the literacy required to understand and play the games? He argues that this is where the problem is: People who don’t value social and inter/inner-personal literacy in children are making all the policies in education and running the schools. It’s no wonder that kids are failing at schools but doing exceptionally well when it comes to the most challenging games available. That makes the game designers the master teachers today, Gee concludes.
At one point the author ponders on an interesting question: What does it mean to have a rapper who can rap but can’t read or write? How does the academic world see someone who can rhythm but can’t read sheet music? Are they any more crippled than kids who can read and write but can’t pick up the meanings between the lines of songs that depict social issues?
James Paul Gee is a linguist and educator. Coming from points of views of liguistic development (in a broader sense) and education, he makes the book that much more interesting. Unfortunately the edition I read is plagued with misspellings and ongoing babel on certain points that make the reading a little distracting and confusing. But all in all, just the first two chapters alone are worth reading (the rest of the book is about his learning theories).
