New Literacies

So, at its most basic level, to think about new literacies is to think about the literacies that a person has engaged in throughout a lifetime. As Hawisher and Selfe point out, some literacies have definite lifespans. Others are destined to outlive us and, quite possibly, to redefine literacy for future generations of readers and writers.

I was intrigued by the idea of tracing a lifetime of literacy (a la Brandt) by first identifying childhood literacies and then following the paths of two women as they discovered new literacies and grew personally and professionally through new forms of communication. I loved this idea so much that I couldn't resist thinking about my own literacy journey.

Is there anyone out there who can say that they did not realize the potential of their literacy skills until well after her K-16 education? I certainly can. The reading and writing of elementary school were not remarkable. Spelling tests. The occasional friendly letter or book report. Maybe it was the time (the 70s), or maybe it was the environment, but reading and writing events were not memorable. I must confess that I was not an avid reader or writer, but I was successful in the small tasks required by my teachers.

Middle school was the black hole of literacy development. Enough said about that.

High school promised to be very much like middle school, but through the grace of two very inspiring journalism teachers, I learned to love the power of words and pictures. I worked on both the newspaper and yearbook staff, and I loved the responsibility of producing texts to be read by hundreds of classmates. (Thanks, Bonnie Broughton and Roberta Thornton!)


I remember that it was during high school that my gathering of knowledge strayed from the very egocentric world of lunchroom conversations and lengthy notes written in geometry class and entered a much larger world - the world described by Dan Rather each evening on the CBS news. I do not know how or why my adolescent attention was diverted, but I became absorbed in headline stories such as John Lennon's assassination and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. I watched every news report and read every newspaper account I could find. I was not only absorbed by the plots, but I felt a strong need to follow each story to its completion, to tune in each day until the story was done.


The Iranian Hostage Crisis undoubtedly held my attention for the greatest length of time (and quite possibly became an obsession). Why this event? Maybe it was the first time it occurred to me that events of the world could affect me and that the actions of a President, an Ayatollah, and a group of radical militants really did matter. I read, I wrote, and I talked about the hostages until they were released. When the crisis was over, I was mentally exhausted, and I questioned the personal cost of becoming absorbed in national affairs. (Well worth it.) It was a strange way to discover the power of reading and writing, but the literacy events of my junior and senior years had a purpose and gave me a voice. In fact, I distinctly remember thinking, "So this is me. This is how I sound when I write." What a powerful moment.