A Hellscape of Unsavory Experiences

The bogus “Momo challenge” internet hoax, explained
https://www.vox.com/2019/3/3/18248783/momo-challenge-hoax-explained

A flurry of TV reports, along with both local and national news, began breathlessly advising parents on ways to “protect kids from a disturbing internet game.” Lost in any coverage, however, were any examples of the authenticated versions of the Momo challenge, including screenshots of “threatening messages” or confirmed videos promoting violence.

It shouldn’t be too surprising that a viral urban legend (and likely hoax) targeting kids would be able to sweep the globe. The internet can be a hellscape of unsavory experiences for anyone; parents face the added challenge of wrestling with how to adequately protect their kids without being overbearing. Indeed, inappropriate content often does make it past automated platform security and monitors — just look at YouTube’s persistent struggle with combating child exploitation, online bullying, or extremist conspiracies.

I taught a class called “Demonic Women in Japanese Fiction” last semester, and some of my students were obsessed with the Momo Challenge. I have vague memories of the Blue Whale Challenge from an old group conversation on WhatsApp, but I didn’t pay any attention to it then, so it was interesting to watch this urban legend spread and develop in real time this past spring. I wonder, will the Momo Challenge be a bit of internet ephemera that people will forget ever existed, or will it eventually resurface and take on a life of its own?

By the way, maybe this is just me being weird, but I think Momo is actually kind of cute.

Performative Environmentalism

Sustainability vs the Mason Jar Aesthetic
https://thebibliosphere.tumblr.com/post/175923334416/sustainability-vs-the-mason-jar-aesthetic-joy-on

I guess the point of this lengthy ramble is a complaint that the aesthetic of sustainability is actually more popular than actual ethical sustainable practices. Too many people are concerned with looking like they care, but don’t actually want to get into the nuance of things. And I get it, I do. It’s nice to feel like you’re doing something good. Who doesn’t want to feel like they’re taking responsibility for their time on this earth and being the best version of themselves?

But it has to require thought, and method, and looking beyond the narrow scope of your own four walls (metaphorical or otherwise) and what that one person on YouTube said, while merely swapping one form of consumerism for another because it looks and feels ethical, but not actually exacting any kind of global change.

And that’s the difference between using a mason jar to drink out of, and the Mason Jar Aesthetic. Being aware of your impact on the earth and doing what you can within your limits and means (and respecting the means of others), vs wanting to be seen as such. And it’s an important distinction and one that requires self reflection and a great deal more thought than buying into an aesthetic.

This is some good writing.

Here is a true story, which I promise is related.

In the Spring 2018 semester I taught an upper-level seminar about the intersections between culture and the environment. I set up the course to examine the main issues involved from multiple angles, but the conclusion of all of the scholars and analysts we read was more or less the same: An overwhelming majority of people around the world are extremely concerned about environmental issues and are strongly in favor of “greener” public policy. Unfortunately, the reason these desires are not accurately represented in the policy enacted by many governments is because the laws that direct what these governments can do and how they can do it were written in historical eras with vastly different concerns than our own, and it is not in the interests of the people who are already in power to change these laws. (The Electoral College system in the United States is a representative example of what I’m talking about.) Therefore, before we can change public policy, we need to reform the laws that shape the scope of our national governments.

For fourteen weeks, in class after class after class, we talked about how local governments, media producers, citizens’ groups, and individual people are already quite environmentally conscious, and we also talked about why policy regulating the vast majority of pollution and resource management needs to be enacted at the national level. Individual actions regarding the environment are important and meaningful, of course, but the harmful excesses of global neoliberal capitalism are larger than any one person can combat on their own.

So, at the end of the semester, I got a course evaluation (which is basically a standardized form that students can use to give the university feedback about a class and its professor) from a student who wrote, in all caps: THE PROFESSOR PRINTS OUT THE WEEKLY QUIZZES ON PAPER, THIS IS VERY WASTEFUL AND DISRESPECTFUL TO THE ENVIRONMENT.

……………

On a completely unrelated note, I’m really interested in what this writer is doing with her Patreon.

“Patreon” is one of the words I’ve muted on Twitter because I’m uncomfortable with the growing trend of everything on social media becoming a transaction. This doesn’t mean, however, I’m not still trying to figure out a way that a system like Patreon can work ethically and without commercializing personal relationships.

All that aside, it’s always good to see a writer with a successful Patreon. Based on the small handful of other popular Patreon sites managed by authors that I’ve encountered, the secret to success seems to have something to do with monster romance.

This might be a good thing to keep in mind for the future.

An Informal Statement of Teaching Philosophy

Although I strongly believe in the value of education, I hate how unapologetically elitist the American university system is, and one of my goals as a professor is to resist and undermine this ideology.

This is one of the main reasons I put a lot of energy into a commitment to give every single student in every single one of my classes a grade in the “A” range. The way I see it, different students have different strengths and talents; and, as a professor, it’s my job to figure out what these strengths and talents are and reward them instead of punishing people for failing to meet some sort of arbitrary, idealized standard. I want my students to feel excited about reading and thinking and learning, and I want them to get a sense of accomplishment and empowerment from my classes.

This isn’t always easy, but I’ve gotten much better at it. I managed to pull off giving every student an “A” in the fall semester, and I was almost able to do it in the spring semester as well. (At the end of the spring semester, many students are dead tired and make the decision – as is their right – not to turn in their final project, as they will get a passing grade and graduate regardless.)

One of my life goals (and I understand how small and unimportant I am, so I know this is ambitious) is to make quality higher education at least a little more accessible to anyone who’s interested in pursuing it at any level and for any length of time. In order to make college-level material more accessible, I think you have to account for a range of diversity in your students, their learning styles, and their goals, and you also have to respect their limited levels of time and energy.

I think it’s important to make people feel heard, validated, and appreciated. And let’s be real, given the state of higher education at the moment, it’s also important that students feel like they’re actually getting something in return for the massive amount of money they’re borrowing. If I skew the university’s numbers and averages by accommodating and supporting my students, so be it.

Of course I can’t write any of this in the formal statement I submit along with my tenure file at the beginning of June, but this is the fundamental truth of where I’m coming from.

The First Day of Class

The worst campus interview I ever had was at Michigan State University, which is located in the sad city of East Lansing, Michigan. I was living in Indiana at the time, and I made an executive decision to drive through a snowstorm (instead of flying through a snowstorm) to get there. Despite leaving as early as I possibly could, I still arrived at the scheduled welcome dinner 45 minutes late, and the search committee was not happy with me. Things went downhill from there.

I made it through the three-day dog and pony show of the campus interview by telling myself that there was a comic book store in East Lansing that I would visit once everything was over. MSU has a strong Visual Arts program, and the university library has the largest collection of zines in the United States. Many comic book stores sell zines created by the local community, and I was excited to see what sort of cool things the store right next to MSU would have.

So after a great deal of misery this awful, harrowing process is finished, and the last lunch has filled me with so much anxiety that I spend a good fifteen minutes crying in the restaurant bathroom after everyone else has left, but finally I can go to the comic book store. I get there, and it turns out to be a small box of a room with stained carpet and fluorescent lighting and a few cheap particleboard bookshelves from Target displaying a depressing collection of the most mass-market graphic novels you can think of, like The Complete Far Side and the first five volumes of Naruto.

Thinking that it’s rude to walk in only to then immediately walk out again, I go to one of the shelves and pretend to look at the titles. I start counting in my head, like, “One Mississippi, two Mississippi,” reasoning that maybe it will be okay to leave after three minutes. I pick up Watchmen or something, and I begin to zone out, replaying some particularly mean thing someone said to me during the interview or some cringeworthy thing I said in response, and then the store clerk comes up to me.

“Do you need any help?” she asks.

“No,” I reply, panicking. “I already have everything in the store.”

She looks at me, and I look at her, and then I suddenly become aware that I smell like I just spent fifteen minutes crying in a restaurant bathroom. I put down the book I’m holding and walk right out the door. I already have everything in the store. I wonder if she still tells people that story sometimes, you know?

Anyway, sometimes I get nervous about the first day of class, but it’s comforting to know that at least it won’t be as awkward as this one exchange I had with a clerk in the comic book store of East Lansing, Michigan.

Video Games and Japan

This semester I’m teaching a class about The Wind Waker! I commissioned the artist Visi Herman (@visicolors on Instagram) to create the image above to use on promotional posters and flyers, which I hope to use to try to nudge the GMU Game Design program into crosslisting my “Video Games and Japan” course in the future. If you’re interested, I’ve posted a syllabus for this semester’s class here:

https://kathrynhemmann.files.wordpress.com/2019/01/japa-370-syllabus-spring-2019.pdf