Classroom Assessment and Grading That Work

Classroom Assessment and Grading That Work by Robert J. Marzano
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This book wasn't/isn't as spectacular as I had hoped. Probably the best part of this book is the distinction between "failure-avoidant" and "success-oriented" students. It's a bit reminiscent of Carol Dweck's "fixed" versus "growth" mindsets. Nevertheless, it does contain some helpful advice for teachers on how often one should assess students. It also gives guidance on utilizing specific objectives to create effective assessments that measure growth. Overall, it's a bit expensive, and I'm not sure it is worth the cost. One can find this information in various other places for free. That said, there isn't much ground-breaking material in here.

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The Will Power Instinct

The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do To Get More of It by Kelly McGonigal
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The Willpower Instinct, by Kelly McGonigal is a fairly decent book on the human will. It discusses ways one can become more mindful of one's will, but it lacks a certain inspirational "something" that motivates one to continue thinking about the will. Ultimately, this is what's required in order to continue to cultivate the will. There are other books available that not only get one thinking about the will. This book reads like an academic wrote it who is trying to appeal to the masses, which is fine for those who are conducting research and need some good citations, but for those who desire an inspirational book that can be applied to daily life, they might look elsewhere. For the most part, this is a good primer on the willpower instinct. But, I had to put it down several times and read other, more inspirational books, during my venture through it.

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Imaginative Premise, Ruined By Obscenity

Imajica by Clive Barker
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Imaginative Premise, Ruined By Obscenity

Imajica, by Clive Barker, is an interesting story about inter-dimensional power, social, financial, and sexual power. Though Barker is adept at keeping a narrative on track and somewhat interesting (I like his allusions to esotrica, magic, and his integration of the preternatural), but he loses my interest in his explicit excursions into obscenity and deviance. For some, explorations of chopped meat or explicit sex may be cathartic, but for others they tend to disgust. I wanted to enjoy the world of Imajica, because the story premise seems promising and imaginative, but Barker's seeming inability or at least unwillingness to rein in his own penchant for the "gross-out" ruins the atmosphere of the novel and seems to hinder the development of the characters. I'll give Barker another chance with The Great and Secret Show and Weaveworld.

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Update on Beneath a Smuggler's Moon

     So far, this summer, I've been diligently working on Beneath a Smuggler's Moon. I've got enough for a novellete so far. My goal is to have enough words for a novella before the school year begins.
     As I continue to pound it out, I've learned that the novel writing process is a lot like painting. At first, I look for shapes in the language, just getting down the story without getting bogged down with details. Similarly, a painter just gets his scene captured by sketching out general shapes on the canvas. Once a definitive picture is in place, the painter switches tools and starts refining details.
     I like separating each scene with a horizontal line within the document in order to create a strict demarcation between sequences. This is much like the way dreams work, except there is often no diving line between scenes. They just seem to blend together like a montage.
     I also use titles for each scene. Each scene has its own plot-line and definite beginning, middle and end. They are short stories in and of themselves, but they must relate to the overall story as a whole. I've found that by making each scene contain all the elements of plot, based on Freytag's pyramid, it becomes much more interesting for the reader. That means each scene must have a complication and crisis, no matter how minuscule, in order for it to remain interesting for the reader.
     As a fan of the mystery genres, I've been re-reading Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code as a guide. Brown enhances suspense by leaving readers with partial clues to a bigger picture that he answers after intermittent chapters. Not only are his plot devices effective in keeping readers interested, he also uses classical images embedded in contemporary myth to create a mood of beauty.
     I've been inspired to write a series of stories having to do with the Vatican. These stories have been rushing forth from the unconscious (my Muse), and it often feels like I'm not able to get to them in time, before they dissipate. I need to hurry and finish Smuggler's Moon and begin anew.
     Anyway, I made a goal of getting the novella completed by the end of August, at least the first draft. I'll go back in and refine the prose during the second draft, deeping character, enhancing mood, etc. If I can't get enough words for a novella, I'll extend my deadline to Christmas, but I should have enough for the entire novel completed by then. It all depends on the characters and what they want me to say.
     So far, because of the types of characters being born, the story is morphing into a pretty exciting and suspenseful narrative. The pastiche of images are dreamy, and the characters just keep pouring forth depths that give dimension to the overall story. What makes me most interested in keeping going is the magical elements that crop up here and there. There is a certain type of amulet that keeps popping up in the story, and I'm curious to find out what it means. More about that in a future post.

Socratic Seminars in English Literature Classes

While teaching a college-level Forms of Literature course at a local community college and an AP Literature and Composition course at a local magnet medical academy, I've found the technique students most respond to, in all classes, is the Socratic seminar, preceded by a literature circle.

After having read a few books on Socratic seminars and undergone several trial and error methods in several classes, I've modified the traditional format to one that works best in my classes. Here is my best practice, so far.

Within a block-schedule class structure, I first assign a reading for homework. Once upon entering class the day after the reading, students take a five-minute recall quiz (in a Google Form online) to determine whether they are ready to participate in the Socratic Seminar. I quickly grade the results in the Google Form, using the add-on Flubaroo. If 70% of students pass the recall quiz, I know it will be a somewhat fruitful discussion, so I let them proceed with the literature circles. If 70% of the class do not pass the recall quiz, I use an alternative "back-up" assignment, which includes some group work, ferreting out some literary concept from the text and giving a presentation at the end of class. Students typically don't like giving presentations, so they tend to try harder for the seminar (hee-hee).

After the recall quiz, in the literature circles, I separate students into groups of three and give them about ten minutes to generate five open-ended discussion questions on the assigned reading. They must share these questions with me in a Google Document, so I can vet the questions before they are used in the actual Seminar. Sometimes these discussion questions need a little work to make them relevant to learning objectives. I play relaxing electronic music on YouTube while they are engaged in this group activity to help relax them in their groups. Other teachers have walked in on us while this is going on and have commented on how "chill" the vibe was in the classroom. I have older students, so I don't usually have to worry about students losing focus. After the discussion questions get generated, we proceed with the seminar.

After dividing the class in half, I assign one half to be in the inner circle (where the actual seminar will take place). Students in the inner circle engage in discussion for a minimum of fifteen minutes. (Yes, I turn the music off during the seminar, and I stay completely out of the seminar discussion). If a good discussion ensues, I let it continue. Sometimes the discussions are so powerful and meaningful, students have had to excuse themselves from elicited emotions.

Anyway, before the discussion takes place, I assign the students in the outer circle to one peer within the inner circle. The student being evaluated (in the inner circle) does not know who is evaluating him/her. This creates a sense of anonymity that avoids potential conflict, while at the same time creates a greater sense of accountability within the student in the Seminar. I've found this method to be very effective in engaging typically timid and unmotivated students. For example, I've seen introverts become quite animated, because they know the instructor is not giving them a grade for this activity; they seem to perform better for an anonymous peer evaluator. The difference in motivation between performing for a peer and the instructor is an interesting dynamic I intend to explore later.

For students in the outer circle, I have a pre-built Google Form with scaled questions that ask the student to evaluate his or her assigned peer in the inner circle. Peer evaluators do not know what kind of grade s/he is giving his/her peer. All s/he knows is the five-point scale. Ultimately, this eliminates potential bias. The anonymity in peer evaluation encourages honesty and fairness in the evaluator. Not only that, the peer who is being evaluated does not know who evaluated him/her, which helps to mitigate possible grade inflation by a peer who may be trying to "help out his buddy."

Though students in the inner circle do not know who evaluated them, I do. I make all peer evaluators put their own name next to the person whom they evaluated, just in case there is a conflict, I can go back into the Google Sheet and see who evaluated whom. I created a formula in the Google Sheet that receives the peer evaluator's scaled responses that converts the five-point scaled total to a 100-point grade. After the first group completes their seminar, the two circles switch and the same process is repeated.

After getting students to sign a media consent form at the beginning of each semester, I also record the seminars with cellphones or my camcorder in order to archive the discussion or to have students go back and reflect on their own performances later on.

I've shown students the back end of how all of this works, and they absolutely love it; so much so, they show great disappointment when we don't do Socratic seminars. Some have even commented that they wish other teachers would do the same thing.

Yale's Dead White Male Poets

Recently, Yale University English Department learned of a student petition to "decolonize" the English department by no longer requiring students to study "white male poets" (http://goo.gl/LJn0LV). The petition's use of the term "decolonize" seems to imply a correlation between early American and British colonization of indigenous cultures and today's students of color. For instance, the petition claimed that the requirement to read English poets "create[d] a culture that is hostile to students of color . . . that [the course,] Major English Poets [should] be abolished." What's lost on these students is the fact that the petitioners have ironically engaged in scapegoating--the very discrimination to which they presume to be victims.

In defense of the petition, one student, Adriana Miele, wrote in the Yale Daily News that in forcing students to take the Major English Poets, the English "department actively contributes to the erasure of history." Funny: Hasn't the course been taught at Yale since around 1920? And the petitioners want it abolished? 

By claiming the study of these major English poets creates a hostile environment, the petitioners outright reject a rich literary tradition, one that shows the evolution of a culture's language, and they ignore the purpose of engaging with the text. As such, in their "collective call to action," the petitioners seek to inhibit their own fluency in their native tongue. The assumption is that the "hostile environment" is spurred by the English poets. If so, this is a good thing, typical of a college English literature seminar. The texts are supposed to spur discussion. But, this is less a problem with the poets and more a by product of literary criticism and interpretation. Disagreements meted out during class discussion may be the result of differentials in identity and status among students at Yale, but it isn't a problem with the poets or their texts. In other words, students from different walks of life are going to read the texts differently, they're going to get into arguments; that's the discipline: students learn through making and defending arguments. To dismiss the cultural construction of these poets is to deliberately wear blinders that stubbornly ignores one's own past ,which does not enhance the shaping of one's identity. Ironically, it hinders one's shared cultural identity, creating a truly hostile tyranny of the one-sided argument.

This controversy revolves more around literacy levels than race, both of which form identity politics. Within the past decade or so, it seems the functionally illiterate have usurped American political correctness, persistently seeking to destroy institutions that seem to represent "white wealthy male power." Studying the Major English poets does not represent "whiteness," nor does it represent wealth or masculine power, because true poetry represent the human condition, something that transcends identity politics. Specifically, these texts represent a literary tradition that has shaped the language we speak, read and write today. 

I understand why some students might resent the wealthy white male, but it is not a reason to dismiss engagement with their "discourse" via well-reasoned arguments, one of the core skills of a rigorous English education. Just because one finds it difficult to relate to Donald Trump's "political incorrectness," (i.e. his language), doesn't mean one should abandon reason and riot in the streets. One still must engage in reasoned argument.

Spoiled Rich Kid, Saves World?

Trump is looking stronger in the polls, which might imply Americans seem focused more on not re-electing the typical DC politician who speaks "political-ease" and "newspeak," those who've mastered the art of "plausible deniability." The latest polls show that many Americans admire Trump, not so much because of what he is actually saying, but because he seems to speak "truth to power." Whether one agrees with his claims, which is a minor area of dispute, what's most admirable--in many Americans' opinions--is that Trump doesn't kiss DC tail. He actually seems to enjoy stirring up the hornet's nest. It's a sort-of "Spoiled Rich Kid, Saves World" meme.

"They Are All Gone Into the World of Light!" by Henry Vaughan

I'm thinking of putting together an anthology of poems on the theme of light called Poems to Light the Way. Here's one by Henry Vaughan (1622-1695).
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"They Are All Gone Into the World of Light!"

They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit lingering here;
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is dressed
After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days;
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.

O holy hope, and high humility,
High as the heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have showed them me
To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous death! the jewel of the just,
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know
At first sight if the bird be flown;
But what fair well or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.

If a star were confined into a tomb,
Her captive flames must needs burn there;
But when the hand that locked her up gives room,
She'll shine through all the sphere.

O Father of eternal life, and all
Created glories under Thee!
Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall
Into true liberty!

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective still as they pass;
Or else remove me hence unto that hill
Where I shall need no glass.

(1655)

Was Cormac McCarthy's Judge Holden Inspired by the "Horror of it All"?

     In Cormac McCarthy's novel, Blood Meridian (1985), there is a character called Judge Holden, who represents the horror of 19th century expansion of settlers into the Texas-Mexico borderlands.
     As a white, bald, philosopher of war, Judge Holden, (a.k.a "the Judge") argues throughout the novel for a "might makes right" view of the Wild West, exemplifying a sort of Nietzschean "will to power." This will to power seeks to cease judgement by crushing judgment, thus creating an ironical passing of judgement on all those who cross the warrior's path.
     In Francis Ford Coppola's film, Apocalypse Now (1979), there is a character, Colonel Kurtz (based on Joseph Conrad's character of the same name in Heart of Darkness), who closely resembles Judge Holden in appearance and philosophy. Also large, white and bald, Kurtz is depicted by the actor, Marlon Brando, who channels a monologue on violence, often called "The Horror of it All" speech. In his speech, Brando muses on the inability of the American soldier to win the war in Vietnam, mostly because the American soldier doesn't have the will to win; not like the enemy, who not only has the will to win, but has the heart to be as ruthlessly violent as necessary to win, as well.
     Though it is well-known that McCarthy found inspiration for Judge Holden in Samuel Chamberlain's My Confession: Recollections of a Rogue (1956), in this blog post, I explore the similarities between these two characters and propose the possibility that Cormac McCarthy found inspiration in Brando's improvised performance of Colonel Kurtz, and used this monologue as the model for Judge Holden's character in Blood Meridian. To find a possible connection between McCarthy's inspiration for Judge Holden, it might help to look at Brando's inspiration for Kurtz.
     As reported by Dennis Hopper and Francis Coppola in an interview on the Making of Apocalypse Now, Marlon Brando didn't read Heart of Darkness. I don't consider it as inspiration for Brando's interpretation of Colonel Kurtz. However, in considering the recent release of the documentary "Listen to Me Marlon," which explores the practice of talk therapy, whereby Brando would record his own voice, seemingly to help himself talk through his problems. Though this is a believable interpretation of Brando's talk sessions, it could possible be that this practice of recording himself may well have incidentally helped Brando brainstorm his subconscious in search of Colonel Kurtz. It could have been a sort of character identification, a tool of method acting whereby actors get closer to the character they are trying to portray. But, that's a secondary point I'll develop in a future blog post.
     It is my contention here that Brando may have been exploring his subconscious mind via the recorded monologues, during the time of the filming of Apocalypse Now, and the effect creation was Colonel Kurtz. He relied on his intuition on the set, which produced much consternation and conflict with other actors and the director. He knew, after many years of successful acting, to rely on his instincts. He knew how to explore a character. Even though some have alleged that "he was crazy" (Rita Moreno), it may be possible that this was a technique Brando used to delve deeper into character. Brando refused to confine his creativity to the script. At one point, Coppola even decided to just roll tape during all of Brando's improvisational monologues, hoping for a few gems to keep for the final cut. After sifting through tapes of recorded film, Coppola decided on the following lines.
     In a conversation between Brando's character, Colonel Kurtz, and the lone soldier sent to kill him, Brando states, "Have you ever considered any real freedoms, freedoms, from the opinions of others, even the opinions of yourself?" It seems here that Brando is focusing on the problem of conscience in the mind of a mass murderer. Later on, Brando/Kurtz, speaks of the violence of the Vietnam War:
     "I've seen horrors, horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that. But you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face. And you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was with Special Forces, seems a thousand centuries ago, we went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after . . . and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile, a pile of little arms. And, I remember, I-I-I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And, I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized, like I was shot, like I was shot with a diamond...a diamond bullet right through my forehead...And I thought: My God...the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters...These were men...trained cadres...these men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love...but they had the strength...the strength...to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral...and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling...without passion... without judgement...without judgement. Because it's judgement that defeats us."
     As Kurtz is killed by Willard, Kurtz utters his final words, "The horror. The horror."
     Imagining Cormac McCarthy saw this film, and was deeply moved (I haven't asked him, so I only presume this happened), he might have modeled Judge Holden on the powerful presence portrayed by Brando's Kurtz.
     In Blood Meridian, the narrator describes Judge Holden's band of scalp-hunters as “A legion of horribles . . . death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of Christian reckoning.”
     When the Judge declares, “It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way."
     “A man seeks his own destiny and no other, said the judge. Wil or nill. Any man who could discover his own fate and elect therefore some opposite course could only come at last to that selfsame reckoning at the same appointed time, for each man's destiny is as large as the world he inhabits and contains within it all opposites as well. The desert upon which so many have been broken is vast and calls for largeness of heart but it is also ultimately empty. It is hard, it is barren. Its very nature is stone.”
     “A man's at odds to know his mind cause his mind is aught he has to know it with. He can know his heart, but he dont want to. Rightly so. Best not to look in there. It aint the heart of a creature that is bound in the way that God has set for it. You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow. A creature that can do anything. Make a machine. And a machine to make the machine. And evil that can run itself a thousand years, no need to tend it.”
     “He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.”
     “Whatever exists, he said. Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent."

     What is this monster, the Judge? Who is this Col. Kurtz? I will further compare these two characters in future posts. 

Is Metadiscourse Possible? (A Flashback)

Here's something I wrote in 1998. Looking back on it now, I wonder what in the world I was thinking. I obviously had a limited understanding of point of view.
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Andrew Keating
Rev. Rechtien
EN 3362W
November 2, 1998

Is Metadiscourse Possible?

      When characters within a story engage in the anomaly of metadiscourse, they can easily get caught in an infinite regression. This regression can interestingly be guided by other characters within the same story. In Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “Polzunkov” a man and his audience discuss this very notion; they talk about the way the man is telling a story.
      Characters in a story may get caught in a brief regression as they tell a story of their own. An infinite regression is what philosophers call “the method of infinite descent.” For the purpose of this analysis, an infinite regression is when a character discourses the plot of one story within the framework of another story, which inevitably leads to the telling of another story within the original story as well. As confusing as it may seem, similarly, in mathematics this concept applies when “it can be shown that for any number, if [the original number] satisfies the condition then there is a lesser number that does also, the method of infinite descent then allows the inference that no number satisfies the condition” (Flew 174). Within one story may contain the intriguing subsumation of infinitely many stories (numbers).
     The regression can and must be guided by other characters within a story or metadiscourse to be effective. When talking about the discourse of a story while still inside the story, a character is doing what one might do when standing between two mirrors; the person’s reflection (metadiscourse) may seem to go on forever. When the man--Osip Mihalitch--finally begins to tell his story, a crowd gathers around giving him responses as to how to tell the story. For instance, Osip begins his discourse with: “gentlemen, allow me to tell you something. I can tell you a good story about Fedosey Nikolaitch” (432). The crowd responds with: “tell it, Osip Mihalitch, tell it” (432). The crowd responds with the demand and guideline of “no puns!” (432). It seems the characters in the audience serve are a heuristic guideline in that a pun--a humorous use of a word to suggest another that sounds the same--should not be used, otherwise Osip’s story will continue to go on forever.
     Dostoyevsky’s story is about a character--Osip--who tells a story about how he is going to tell his story, wherein another character within Osip’s story will begin to do the same, and so on.

Salvation Comes by Keeping Faith: An Analysis of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Young Goodman Brown”

This paper was written sometime in 2002.
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  The Holy Bible, which was probably the most important text to the Puritans, declares that a woman is “saved through childbearing–if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety” (1 Timothy 9-15). Nathaniel Hawthorne, a nineteenth century romantic writer, explored the theme of salvation by faith in his short story, “Young Goodman Brown.” The story contains literary elements, such as symbol and personification that help to elucidate the process of faith and its subsequent process of sanctification that might have been in the mindscape of some Puritan men and women.
    Sanctification is a religious term that means “to consecrate, to make holy or to purify.” It is a sort-of spiritual cleansing, a washing away of a person’s sins after accepting as truth the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ. Today, when a person becomes a Christian, he or she takes a sacred oath to obey the laws of God. This is how the Christian proves that he loves God. In return, God blesses the faithful Christian with His love, which is an overpowering force of goodness within the heart of the Christian. It is a heavenly state wherein the faithful is “heaved up” into the realm of happiness. Because of his or her faith, the trusting Christian becomes a servant ready to reap the rewards of providence. Presumably, the Puritans believed the same process to be an important part of their religious life. Without faith, sanctification could not be possible.
    In “Young Goodman Brown,” a Puritan husband meets an ambiguous character in the wood, who forces him to question the fidelity of his wife, Faith. In this work, Hawthorne, a man who persistently reflected upon his own ancestor’s dealings with the devil (he was the great-great grandson of a judge who persecuted women for witchcraft) seems to explore the process of sanctification by which one comes to have faith in a higher power and how one can flee the bondage of sin.
     The Puritans were a group of people trying to escape oppressive Anglican persecution. One of their points of contention was that (wo)mankind can attain salvation by having faith in God and that salvation did not come through works or by the sanction of men, (an institution such as the Church of England). They believed The Geneva Bible was the divinely inspired Word of God, which meant that everything in it was the absolute truth. Therefore, it is consistent to assume the Puritans in Hawthorne’s works believed that “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrew 11:1). In other words, in order to be considered a faithful servant of God, a Puritan such as Goodman Brown must not waver between belief and disbelief. The very color of his name, neither black nor white, but somewhere in between seems to suggest he is in-between being faithful and unfaithful.
     In this sense, Faith is a personification of the concept of biblical faith in “Young Goodman Brown.” It is the object with which Brown struggles. In the literal sense, Faith is the flesh and blood wife of Mr. Brown. She embodies everything he cares for, everything he loves. She is his wife. According to the Puritans, when a man and woman join in the sacrament of marriage, they become one flesh, one person; their identities merge. They have both committed to a bondage to one another, what the Bible calls “being yoked.” Though some may argue this kind of bondage to be imprisoning, most believing Christians know that this is a type of bondage that is merely restricting, built upon the Christian virtues of faith, hope and love.
     In the figurative sense, Faith serves as a symbol to the biblical concept of faith, the assured confidence that God’s grace is real and a blessing conferred upon mankind for the redemption of sin. It isn’t a prison but a paradise where the walls of love protect inhabitants from the lures and snares of evil. Unfortunately, though, for those who waver, like Brown, they have not yet found the assurance needed to be considered one of God’s elect for salvation. Instead of trusting in God, the waverer is in a sense, still in bondage to distrust and doubt. In modern evangelical terms, he is still in bondage to sin, the Devil’s weapon of manipulation.
     The theme of this literature course was to focus on “captivity narratives,” wherein Puritan “wom[e]n st[oo]d passively under the strokes of evil, awaiting rescue by the grace of God” (Kirby) as if there should be some question to the Puritan avenue of salvation. In “Young Goodman Brown,” the husband, after seeing his wife’s ribbons in the woods, seems to question his “Faith.” He seemingly “falls” to evil within the woods. He doesn’t literally fall unto the weight of gravity per se, but the gravity of sin. He falls out of heavenly faith, that place of “heaved up happiness and contentment” into the hellish realm of doubt and despair.
     Upon looking up the etymology of the word evil in The American Heritage Dictionary, one notes that evil comes from the Old English word yfal, which one might say evolved into “I fall” or “I fell,” which phonetically sounds like “evil.” For instance, the word fell also comes from Old English fellan or fellen, which today means felon, “one who commits felonies” or “an evil person.” When applied to Brown, the “felony” he commits is merely falling from faith into the sin of doubt.
     It is interesting to note the article by Paul Hurley. He states that some readers might infer the man in the woods to be the devil: “I believe the reader has every right to wonder if the townspeople are actually cohorts of the Devil” (Hurley 2). If so, the kind of evil in Brown’s mind must be a kind of tempting for him to attend some kind of dark gathering in the dark places or back of his mind, whether in reality or through some dark subconscious fantasy. “The man of integrity [faith] walks securely, but he who takes crooked paths will be found out” (Proverbs 10:9). It seems Brown’s excursion into the wood may be apt, especially when Hawthorne writes that Brown “passed a crook on the road” (Hawthorne 540).
     If merely fantasy, one might say Brown’s thoughts are wanderings through a mind scape of dark caverns of his own discord and distrust. He is wondering about the fidelity of his wife, really projecting onto her his own infidelities. “His [Brown’s] visions are the product of his suspicion and distrust,” (Hurley 2) which indicates that he has not only questioned his wife, Faith but also the grace of God. Just as the devil was cast out of heaven and fallen to the earth, and as Adam and Eve fell from the Garden of Eden, it seems the point of Hawthorne’s narratives is to explore the process of moving from trust to distrust, and to show how a person may fall to the temptations of evil and lose faith. Hawthorne includes much of this in his text.
     In the beginning of the story, Brown and his Faith depart. She pleads for him to stay home, because “A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts that she’s afeard of herself sometimes” (Hawthorne 540). Brown then asks her, “ . . . dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married?” (Hawthorne 540). Both of these comments seem to foreshadow the wanderings of the mind from faith to doubt. The comments seem to allude to man’s general tendency to slip into sin, to take for granted the truth of salvation in faith. Then, as Brown turns to see Faith watch him leave, Brown thinks to himself, “Poor little Faith,” (Hawthorne 540) as if to say to himself in guilt, “I have such little faith (in God),” whereby “his heart smote him” (Hawthorne 540). It is that term, “smote” that indicates the heavy descent of man into sin, wherein “Goodman Brown felt justified in making more haste on his present evil purpose” (Hawthorne 540).
     In The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne claimed to write “the truths of the human heart.” Yet, “the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. I, the Lord, search the heart and examine the mind to reward a man according to his conduct, according to what his deeds deserve” (Jeremiah 17: 9-10). But, the heart of Goodman Brown is mistaken; it is fallen into the felony of sin. The very name “Goodman Brown” seems to be an anagrammatic allusion to the blasphemous taking of the Lord’s name in vain. Moreover, the name “Good Dame” is also an allusion to the same cursing of God. It seems Hawthorne is merely alluding to what lurks beneath the mind of mankind, clouded in the sub layers of language.
     When Brown enters the wood, he begins to imagine fearful things: “‘What if the devil himself should be at my very elbow!’” (Hawthorne 540). It is this fearful imagining that seems to have conjured the devil in Brown’s presence, whether mentally or physically. Hawthorne seems to show that it is at the crucial point wherein fear replaces faith that mankind begins to fall. When Brown passes a “crook of the road,” (Hawthorne 540) Hawthorne is writing ambiguously, stating in one sense the “crook” is a bend in the path, but also a “felon” of sin, the devil. When Brown notices the man dressed in “grave and decent attire,” (Hawthorne 541), again the play on words indicates a deeper level of darkness in the character on the road.
     When the old man, who is presumably the devil states that Brown is late, the latter responds, “Faith kept me back awhile” (Hawthorne 541) indicating that faith in God was what delayed Brown’s fall to the devil’s grip. All things considered, Hawthorne’s short story is really an allegorical tale of mankind’s tendency to fall to evil. It is the call of the elect to decide whether to allow their faith in the things unseen to keep them in the arms of Christ or to let the devil of doubt deter us from the Lord.
   

Works Cited

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. “Young Goodman Brown.” Concise Anthology of American Literature, 2nd Edition. Ed. George McMichael. Macmillan Publishing Company: New York, 1985.

Hurley, Paul J. “Young Goodman Brown’s Heart of Darkness.” American Literature. Vol. XXXVII, No. 4. January, 1966, pp. 410-19.

“Proverbs.” The Holy Bible. The New International Version. International Bible Society: New York, 1984.

“Jeremiah.” The Holy Bible. The New International Version. International Bible Society: New York, 1984.