Reviewed are: A Place to Stand: Politics and Persuasion in a Working-Class Bar, by Julie Lindquist Literacy and Racial Justice: The Politics of Learning after Brown v. Board of Education, by Catherine Prendergast.

In the critically acclaimed movie 8-Mile, Future, a host for the rap battles held in a Detroit neighborhood, proffers the above encouragement to his charge, an aspiring white rapper, played by recording sensation Eminem. Aside from the connections, real and imagined, between the emergence of Bunny-Rab bit, the character Eminem portrays, and his actual rise in the hip-hop community, the movie evokes a number of interesting quandaries about discursive strategies? voices historically ascribed to and inscribed by African Americans. Facets of Eminem's language appear to resonate with that of African American rappers, not to mention the larger oral tradition from which hip-hop discourse derives, though his existen tial experience surrounding that language cannot. Moreover, rappers speak of neigh borhoods plagued by economic disenfranchisement, disenfranchisement that some whites, like Eminem, have experienced as well. Still, Future's exhortation raises at least two questions: can a language performer (irrespective of genre) of one race truly participate in the discursive community of another? Given the material op pression that has accompanied the socially constructed denigration of African phe notypic features, can the sound of blackness be ultimately divorced from the sight of blackness?1

The author uses a discussion of Van Vechten’s Nigger Heaven to argue that cross-racial voicing on the part of white writers may in fact express an attempt to acknowledge and perhaps explore the rhetorical efficacy of a black ethos. At the same time, the author suggests that English studies scholars of all races need to create forums where cross-racial voicing can be explored, that white English professors must continue to interrogate hegemonic attempts to control and colonize African American discourse, and that teachers should design assignments that help students gain insights into the historical and contemporary struggles blacks face to characterize their own discursive practices.

Review Essay: Language, Identity, and Citizenship Keith Gilyard Black Identity: Rhetoric, Ideology and Nineteenth-Century Black Nationalism Dexter B. Gordon, Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 2003 Literacy and Racial Justice: The Politics of Learning after Brown v. Board of Education. Catherine Prendergast, Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 2003 Latino/a Discourses: On Language, Identity and Literacy Education, Michelle Hall Kells, Valerie Balester, and Victor Villanueva, eds., Portsmouth, NH: Boynton, 2004.

In this essay, I address the problem of White racism in the classroom, proposing a way of reading racist discourse that takes into account its emotional dimensions and hence its persuasive appeal for White students.

After summarizing typical criticisms of multicultural composition readers, the author draws on work in “New Literacy Studies” to point toward composition pedagogies that encourage multicultural interactions beyond selections in assigned readers The author suggests that what is ultimately needed is a productive critical frame not only for refining critical assessments of multicultural readers, but also for opening composition to “transcultural” understandings.

Taking the 1969–74 classroom “dramedy” Room 222 as a case study, and setting it in the context of a range of portrayals of teachers and teaching from the period, the author raises the questions about the positive portrayals of committed teachers. These portrayals, along with positive views of community involvement and a multicultural environment, might have progressive aspects not allowed for by assumptions that such realist commercial productions inevitably co-opt any urge toward radical critique. She argues that such a rethinking might also offer teachers a way to reconsider and communicate with our students about current popular culture.

In the five years of a newspaper project involving high school and university students that publishes an annual special edition exploring a diversity issue within the local community, several key pedagogical, political, and economic revisions have been made. Nevertheless, the bedrock principles of service-learning and civic journalism have remained constant. The project history shows that a sound theoretical foundation rooted in student and community education and awareness can withstand pressures of censorship by school administrators, ethical and pedagogical concerns that balance student safety with product integrity, and the economic need to become self-sufficient.

Reviews Roxanne Mountford. The Gendered Pulpit: Preaching in American Protes­ tant Spaces. Studies in Rhetorics and Feminisms Series. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2003. xii + 194 pages. The Gendered Pulpit makes a significant contribution to rhetorical studies, investigating the heretofore largely overlooked issue of how gender affects rhetorical performance in sacred spaces. Roxanne Mountford employs multi­ ple lenses—including rhetorical theory, feminist historiography, church and homiletic tradition, personal experience, and ethnography—and produces a sweeping, comprehensive, and compelling analysis of her subject. The first two chapters identify masculinist biases embedded within the spatial and sermonic conventions of the Protestant church. In chapter one, Mountford introduces an original and sure to be influential conception of "rhetorical space/' which includes not only the architectural setting and physical props incorporated into an oratorical performance but also entirely non-material elements: "rhetorical spaces carry the residue of history within them . . . [and so are] a physical representation of relationships and ideas" (17). Thus, culture, tradition, and ideology inhabit rhetorical space and shape speakers' performances. Mountford illustrates this point via the pulpit, an object/space imbued with "masculine" connotations that pose challenges to women preachers. First, the pulpit is designed for male rather than female bodies. One woman minister studied by Mountford must stand on a foot­ stool in the pulpit because of her small stature; even so, she is so dwarfed by the furniture that only her neck and head are visible to the congregation. Second, the pulpit enforces a distanced, hierarchical relationship between the preacher and the audience, spatially encoding the speaker as the authority and the listeners as silent, passive recipients of "his" wisdom. Mountford argues that this type of relationship is unappealing to women preachers, who tend to prefer a "populist" stance and seek more intimate connection with the congregation. Third, because of its strong masculine associations, the pulpit automatically casts women ministers as misfits in that sacred space. To overcome the gendered obstacles posed by the pulpit, women often opt to deliver sermons in alternative spaces, for example, leaving the pulpit and speaking from the church floor or preaching outside of the church entirely. Rhetorica, Vol. XXIII, Issue 4, pp. 401-404, ISSN 0734-8584, electronic ISSN 15338541 . ©2005 by The International Society for the History of Rhetoric. All rights re­ served. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press's Rights and Permissions website, at www.ucpress.edu/journals/rights.htm. 402 RHETORICA Women also confront problematic gender assumptions within preaching textbooks. Nineteenth-century manuals, for example, encouraged ministers to develop an authoritative, heroic, manly character that would empower them to save the world one person at a time, an irrelevant and inappropriate ethos for women. Twentieth-century manuals, while not as overtly mascu­ line, failed to address gender directly and instead promoted "a generic ideol­ ogy of gender" that left traditional masculinist biases intact (63). Women's strategies for overcoming the gender biases inherent to sacred spaces and traditions are examined concretely in the book's remaining chapters. Chapters three, four, and five examine the intersections of rhetorical performance, space, and the body through the practices of three contem­ porary and very different Protestant preachers, all of whom are the first women to lead their respective churches: Patricia O'Connor, pastor of a large and affluent suburban Lutheran church; Barbara Hill (Rev. Barb), minister to a struggling church located in a strip mall and serving a low-income, African-American community; and Janet Moore, leader of an urban and deeply divided Methodist church composed of conservative, aging, white, working-class core members and liberal, young, prosperous, gay and lesbian professionals. Although possessing varied gifts and serving dissimilar con­ gregations, the three women pursue a similar goal in their ministries, which Moore describes as creating "a community of Christians dedicated to peace, social justice, and diversity" (137). This "populist" purpose, so at odds with that promoted in conventional preaching manuals and traditions, inspires the women to develop new rhetorical strategies. One of the most significant is their use of sacred space to create a sense of community. As noted, tradition places the authoritative, male preacher in the pulpit and promotes...

Reviews 403 faith not only to sustain the congregation but also to encourage it to confront social injustice and work for racial uplift. Collectively, these women's spatial and rhetorical strategies point to an alternative method for crafting effective ethos and promoting Christian community. The epilogue addresses whether or not the "populist" preaching prac­ tices employed by O'Connor, Hill, and Moore are "feminine" ones. While acknowledging that a number of male church leaders (including Henry Ward Beecher, post-Vatican II priests, and African American preachers) have used similar methods, Mountford argues that women's abandonment of the pul­ pit, disclosure of the personal, and efforts to level hierarchy represent a significant "ritual transgression of sacred space" and tradition (156). In other words, women preachers choose alternative discursive methods and de­ livery styles in order to create ethos in a place and position traditionally antithetical to them. The Gendered Pulpit represents an important step toward understanding how gender affects discourse and rhetorical performance. Mountford con­ cludes by inviting other feminist rhetoricians into the new theoretical home afforded by a refigured fifth canon of delivery, and she encourages them to build upon her foundation and undertake further studies of women min­ isters in sacred spaces. Mountford's fine work makes a convincing case for the fifth canon as a promising site for investigating gender and rhetoric and, ultimately, for making the entire discipline inclusive and comprehensive. Lindal Buchanan Kettering University Cheryl Glenn, Margaret M. Lyday, and Wendy B. Sharer, eds., Rhetor­ ical Education in America. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2004. 245 pp. This volume reconsiders contemporary rhetorical education from the perspective of the history of rhetoric. The editors provide a helpful intro­ duction (Glenn) and afterword (Lyday and Sharer). Many of the essays were plenary presentations at a Penn State Rhetoric Conference organized by the editors. The volume's most successful essays link a study of how rhetoric was historically taught with how it might be taught today. In "Lest We Go the Way of the Classics: Toward a Rhetorical Future for English Departments," Thomas P. Miller reviews the history of composition teaching as a history of crises of literacy, and suggests that we now need a curriculum that will move us from the traditional interpretive stance of the critical observer to the rhetorical stance of the practical agent involved in negotiation. Shirley Wilson Logan, in "'To Get an Education and Teach My People': Rhetoric for Social Change," examines the self-help schooling of nineteenth-century African 404 RHETORICA Americans for clues to help today's disenfranchised communities. Logan calls for "consilience," that is, a linking of knowledge across disciplines, and a rhetorical education that concentrates as much on critiquing and evalu­ ating contemporary discourses as on producing writing. With meticulous scholarship, in "Parlor Rhetoric and the Performance of Gender in Postbellum America," Nan Johnson reveals the conservative réinscription of gender roles in the potentially liberating growth of manuals for parlor rhetoric after the Civil War. Gregory Clark reminds us of the range of American rhetorics in his examination of the national park as a public experience establishing a shared sense of national collectivity, a training ground for citizens who need to respond to public conflict with transcendence. Essays by William Denman and by Sherry Booth and Susan Frisbie are not as strong. Denman argues that rhetoric lost its civic purpose during the nineteenth-century expansion that attempted to keep out the vulgar and the foreign by policing the borders of oral and written communication, but he ignores the growth in specialized textbooks and conduct-book rhetoric that offered rhetorical education to working class and female students. Booth and Frisbie argue that metaphor should be central to rhetorical education and analyze their qualified success in teaching metaphor to their students, but they mistakenly suggest that Aristotle did not find metaphor important to rhetoric and their claim that Renaissance rhetoric emphasized style not content has been significantly revised in recent scholarship. Other essays offer perceptive variations on the collection's theme of the history of rhetoric as a guide to future teaching. Susan Kates links James Raines's revision of the history of English to include respect for Appalachian English...

Abstract Focusing on a seacoast New Hampshire African American burying ground and the grave of a white woman buried in a Massachusetts rural cemetery, this article considers how the essential nature of the cemetery makes it both a very usual and unusual memory place. Considering de Certeau's distinctions between space and place as well as Foucault's definition of a heterotopia, this paper argues that the paradoxes of the heterotopia combined with the symbolism and materiality of the grave make the cemetery a particularly potent lieu de mémoire for those otherwise forgotten in public memory.

exploded, as more works by writers of color and white women writers have entered it (while very little work by white male writers has exited-the dire predictions of opponents of multiculturalism notwithstanding). In turn, syllabi, anthologies, curricula, and scholarship have changed to include a far more diverse array of writers, texts, voices, and experiences than had been included even ten, let alone thirty or forty years ago. Most universities' student bodies have become much more diverseculturally, ethnically, linguistically, experientially, socioeconomically. Although faculty diversity has not increased nearly as much and while not all teachers and disciplines have been equally influenced by multiculturalism, for the most part, what is taught-to whom and by whom-is very different in 2005 than it was in 1960.1 For some, these changes signal the victory of multiculturalism-although its supposed victory is greeted with sorrow or anger by some, and with gladness by others. For some, multiculturalism has gone too far; for others, multiculturalism has

Surveying the current state of our “plural and dynamic multiculturalisms” and directing attention to valuable resources in anthologies and criticism, the author suggests that multicultural studies might now focus more on resistance and creativity in the face of oppression than on oppression itself; more on the multiple intersections and interactions of different groups, positions, and experiences than on single (sometimes essentialized) groups; and more on existing power relations and social inequities, and the structural nature of racism and oppression, than on individual behavior.

I 'm glad we don't know whether Chaucer raped one of my brightest students exclaimed, because if he did, I couldn't like And I want to like him if I'm going to read him. The student was responding to my lesson on Chaucer's biography. Within the scope of my upper-level undergraduate Chaucer course, I include pertinent information about his participation in fourteenth-century English social and political life, and I thought it worthwhile to mention that, according to court documents, Cecily Chaumpaigne in 1380 released Geoffrey Chaucer from omnimodas acciones tam de raptu meo tam [sic] de aliqua alia re velcausa-'actions of whatever kind either concerning my rape or any other matter' (Howard 317). I explained to the class that no certain interpretation of this inscrutable event exists. Because raptus could refer to either a kidnapping or a rape, medievalists can do little more than conjecture about the events that transpired between Chaucer and Cecily Chaumpaigne.' My student seized this ambiguity and therein found sufficient wiggle room in her reaction to Chaucer that she could continue to enjoy his literature without having to commit herself to liking the works of a rapist. For her, the potential ethical ramifications of aligning a personal affection for Chaucer and his literature with her contemporary social and political beliefs were alleviated by a welcome gap in historical knowledge. As happens so frequently in the classroom, we moved beyond this moment, but my student's words stuck with me uncomfortably. What if Chaucer had indeed been a rapist? How would I encourage my students to negotiate the difficult readerly terrain of enjoying great literature written by bad people? Other literature professors face similar uncomfortable moments with, for example, Malory's rape, Spenser's violent diatribes against the Irish, Byron's incest, Yeats's and Pound's Fascist sympa-

The author considers cases of literary figures whose ethics might make readers uncomfortable—Geoffrey Chaucer’s possible rape of a young woman, Flannery O’Connor’s possible racism—and argues that, even though postmodernism has “killed” the author as an object of critical inquiry, careful attention to questions of authorial and readerly ethics can still play an important role in both our students’ development as critical and engaged readers and our own.

Examining a range of visual images of executions, both legal (the executions of convicted murderers) and extralegal (the lynchings of innocent African Americans), in still photographs and in Hollywood films, the authors suggest that while such images may flatten and neutralize the popular debates and politics surrounding the issues, this is not inevitable, and that if we work at sustaining careful attention to its operations the image is neither self-evident nor doomed to obscure the political.

Research Article| April 01 2005 Uncommon Ground: Narcissistic Reading and Material Racism Barbara Schneider Barbara Schneider Search for other works by this author on: This Site Google Pedagogy (2005) 5 (2): 195–212. https://doi.org/10.1215/15314200-5-2-195 Cite Icon Cite Share Icon Share Twitter Permissions Search Site Citation Barbara Schneider; Uncommon Ground: Narcissistic Reading and Material Racism. Pedagogy 1 April 2005; 5 (2): 195–212. doi: https://doi.org/10.1215/15314200-5-2-195 Download citation file: Zotero Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest filter your search Books & JournalsAll JournalsPedagogy Search Advanced Search The text of this article is only available as a PDF. © 2005 Duke University Press2005 Article PDF first page preview Close Modal Issue Section: Articles You do not currently have access to this content.

This article draws on the principles of linguistic theorist Mikhail Bakhtin to analyze and explain discursive diversity in organizational Web pages. Organizational Web sites must typically appeal to multiple audiences, a condition that often results in different discourses being juxtaposed within the same interface. To analyze and explain the effects of such juxtapositions, this article adapts to the Web the principles that Bakhtin developed to conceptualize discursive diversity in the novel, in particular his concept of dialogism. To illustrate their efficacy, the article applies these principles to analyze a pair of government Web sites about forests, the forest industry, and the environment. Whereas the homepages of the two sites project divergent approaches to the discourses of their diverse audiences, a dialogic analysis of the new site's deeper levels reveals how the government's discursive strategy appears to favor one audience at the expense of others. Drawing on this case study, this article discusses how an approach informed by Bakhtin's principles can illuminate our analysis of organizational Web discourse.

This paper presents a cross-case comparison of experiences from organizational adoption and use of e-collaboration technologies in two large, global companies. Challenges in the global implementation process were found to increase with the organizational and geographical scope of the implementation, level of autonomy in the adoption process, cultural diversity, technological heterogeneity, and the level of work process support embedded in the system. Alignment with existing collaborative work practices resulted in faster adoption of the technological solution. Highly competitive conditions restricted the resources available for training and experience transfer between projects. Clients' preferences for co-located project operations served as a potential barrier to the very concept of global e-collaboration. The study increases our understanding of the adoption and use of permanent e-collaboration infrastructures at the organizational level, thus expanding the focus of global e-collaboration research beyond the level of ad hoc, virtual teams.

Tracing the revisions Frederick Douglass made as his Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (1845) metamorphosed into My Bondage and My Freedom (1855) and ultimately into the Life and Times of Frederick Douglass (1881, 1892), the author suggests that, while much attention has focused on Douglass’s seizing a “forbidden literacy” in transforming himself from object to subject, the crucial, and ever-increasing, role of African American vernacular traditions in his writing should be recognized.

hile much of the critical attention paid to Frederick Douglass addresses his use of literacy to find voice and being in his ascendancy from slave to man, his employment of vernacular tradition to tell his story in his own way often goes unnoted.1 An examination of the revisions Douglass made as his Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (1845) metamorphosed into My Bondage and My Freedom (1855) and ultimately into the Life and Times of Frederick Douglass (1881, 1892) reveals a skilled writer giving increasing attention to traditions within the circle that validate the cultural legitimacy of his African American antecedents. From edition to edition Douglass expanded scenes in which an African-derived presence manifested in vernacular atavisms became an alternative to the logocentrism that erased or devalued African American expression. Why, then, do most readings of his life story focus mainly on Douglass's relationship to the written word? typical critical paradigm reads Douglass as a black object transforming itself into subject by seizing a forbidden literacy. A sampling of some of the many fine scholars espousing this view includes Lisa Yun Lee, who notes, The connection between the power of thinking and speech is realized as Douglass the silent marginalized man transitions to active individual when a mistress cracks an opening in the white discourse. She offers to teach him to read(55); such a sampling would also include Eric Sundquist, who observes that Douglass's autobiographical writ-

Fahnestock and Secor’s “The Rhetoric of Literary Criticism” characterized literary criticism of the 1970s as conservative and self-celebratory. However, although literary theory has since undergone significant change, few rhetorical analyses of recent literary criticism as the preferred genre of a disciplinary discourse community have been conducted. This analysis of 28 articles of literary criticism published between 1999 and 2001 reveals that because of their flexibility, the stasis and special topoi conventions of earlier literary criticism continue to function. However, the shared values assumed in literary criticism have shifted away from a preference for isolated meditation on textual particulars. Instead, criticism is now portrayed as a conversation in which knowledge about literary texts and their historical contexts is socially negotiated and accumulative. Moreover, this scholarly project is frequently assumed to work toward social justice. The article ends with implications for understanding how knowledge is built within disciplinary communities.

Recognizing that critical thinking is enhanced by an engagement with diversity, the author illustrates how race can usefully be addressed in a predominantly white classroom through a local pedagogy that respects and addresses the complexities of students’ often contradictory experiences of race, rather than essentializing whiteness or identifying it only with white privilege.

Aer they are admitted, many students find actually joining the university to be disorienting and even daunting, especially those whose socioeconomic, racial, ethnic, linguistic, and/or educational worlds differ markedly from the academic world they encounter in college. We know that writing centers play a key role in helping students make this transition, serving as crucial conduits of adjustment for otherwise marginalized students. But exactly how we help tutors to help these students is less familiar ground. Tutors are not usually considered when composition scholars characterize the ways in which writing professionals help students belong. Nevertheless, tutors as well as teachers are party to a process seen variously as assimilation, accommodation, separatism, acculturation, translation, or repositioning (Severino; Bruffee-, Lu, ''Writing as Repositioning"), and the students tutors work with must undergo a process that can be positively characterized as "going native" (Bizzell, "Cognition" 386), quizzically understood as invention (Bartholomae), or negatively viewed as conversion 0-Harris io3; Lu, "Conflict") or initiation (T. Fox). Clearly, there is no consensus among these many "camps"; rather, what we have is provocative, useful discussion on the pedagogical processes of belonging. But many a tutor who finds herself on the frontlines with a lost student will not have the benefit of knowing this discussion. As a writing center administrator who has worked in two urban institutions with ethnically and linguistically diverse student populations, I have struggled to formulate tutor training that urges tutors to consider the complexities of belonging. I believe the tutor needs to understand the paradoxical ways in which writing and academic literacy more generally are instruments of belonging that can constrain as well as liberate.

Each book is distinctive. The Allyn and Bacon Guide is a textbook for a tutor-training course, guiding students through several weeks of activities such as observing tutorials, being tutored themselves, conducting their first conferences, and analyzing transcripts of conferences. The St. Martins Sourcebook is a

Review of Inner Lives: Voices of African American Women in Prison by Paula C. Johnson. New York: NYU Press, 2004. Paperback $19.00.

Between Ivy and Razor Wire describes a capstone senior seminar in rhetoric entitled Writing for Social Justice, Writing for Change, which included direct correspondence between students and inmates around the country. The essay explores some of the many pedagogical challenges of teaching and learning in the long, dark and highly charged shadow of law and order ideology. Excerpts from letters by both students and inmates are presented in the context of analytical reflections on the class.

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It s no secret that, in most American classrooms, students are expected to master standardized American English and the conventions of Edited American English if they wish to succeed. Language Diversity in the Classroom: From Intention to Practice works to realign these conceptions through a series of provocative yet evenhanded essays that explore the ways we have enacted and continue to enact our beliefs in the integrity of the many languages and Englishes that arise both in the classroom and in professional communities.Edited by Geneva Smitherman and Victor Villanueva, the collection was motivated by a survey project on language awareness commissioned by the National Council of Teachers of English and the Conference on College Composition and Communication.All actively involved in supporting diversity in education, the contributors address the major issues inherent in linguistically diverse classrooms: language and racism, language and nationalism, and the challenges in teaching writing while respecting and celebrating students own languages. Offering historical and pedagogical perspectives on language awareness and language diversity, the essays reveal the nationalism implicit in the concept of a standard English, advocate alternative training and teaching practices for instructors at all levels, and promote the respect and importance of the country s diverse dialects, languages, and literatures. Contributors include Geneva Smitherman, Victor Villanueva, Elaine Richardson, Victoria Cliett, Arnetha F. Ball, Rashidah Jammi Muhammad, Kim Brian Lovejoy, Gail Y. Okawa, Jan Swearingen, and Dave Pruett.The volume also includes a foreword by Suresh Canagarajah and a substantial bibliography of resources about bilingualism and language diversity.

Using Burkean theory, I claim that Malcolm X brilliantly exposed the rhetoric and epistemology of whiteness as he rejected the African American jeremiad—a dominant form of African American oratory for more than 150 years. Whiteness theory served as the basis for Malcolm X’s alternative literacy, which raises important questions that literacy theorists have yet to consider.

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From the early 1990s to the present, Ruth Frankenberg, David Roediger, coauthors Thomas Nakayama and Robert Krizek, and other academics have focused on race by uncovering, interrogating, and theorizing as a largely unacknowledged but vastly important rhetorical and epistemological system. Nakayama and Krizek consider relatively unchartered territory that remained invisible as it continues to influence the identity of those both within and without domain (291). Whiteness, they claim, wields power yet endures as a largely unarticulated (291). Further, they argue, whiteness has assumed the position of an uninterrogated space (293). Many whites, they argue, refuse to acknowledge their ethnicity, claiming simply to be human, thereby erasing from its history and social

Understandings of the ways home and school languages shape classroom dynamics and influence development, identity, and subsequent school success are important for teachers of both bilingual and African American students. This article builds a link between these complementary bodies of research by analyzing interactions in a second grade mainstream classroom in which the language development of bilingual and African American children were simultaneously relevant. We focus on two qualitatively different kinds of classroom language use: when instruction was solely in English, and when Spanish became a tool for instruction. Our findings suggest that the latter language practice subsequently marginalized the participation of English monolingual students; this especially affected the African American students in the classroom, who were interactionally delegitimized as participants in bilingual interaction despite their desire to participate in both languages. This study suggests the need to ensure that multilingualism is brought into the classroom as a resource for all students. Recognizing this need, however, necessitates interdisciplinary research that crosses the fields of second language acquisition, bilingual education, and sociolinguistics. Such disciplinary boundary crossing can usefully inform teachers and researchers looking for new understandings of language learning in contemporary classrooms.

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Challenging views of working-class white students that either displace all white racism onto them or, at best, see them as having exchanged class consciousness for race privilege, the author argues for a critical race pedagogy that includes a more complex image of poor and working-class whites. She argues for both deconstructive pedagogies that can expose the role of language in maintaining racist and classist structures and reconstructive pedagogies that can provide students with the rhetorical tools for employing language transformatively.

Nineteenth-century concepts of race were closely tied to the terminology used by scientists and others to delineate human differences. The definition of a scientific concept constrains not only its meanings but also its potential relationships to other concepts. Ethnologist James Cowles Prichard redefined the taxonomical terms species, variety, and permanent variety in order to change the scientific and social meanings of racial difference. In doing so he laid claim to the "problem of race" on behalf of the young science of ethnology.

Reviews L art de parler: Anthologie de manuels d'éloquence, Philippe-Joseph Salazar, ed., Paris, Klincksieck, 2003. xxi+362 pp. In his introduction, Salazar points with envy to the United States for the liveliness of our rhetorical tradition and practice compared with France, especially the continuous place of rhetoric in higher education. Looking with corresponding envy from this side of the Atlantic, one advantage I see in this anthology over comparable American anthologies: greater apparent continu­ ity. Greece and Rome—I was glad to see an excerpt from Tacitus, an unjustly neglected source for the history of rhetoric—lead seamlessly into the Middle Ages; Erasmus and Calvin lead to French renaissance authors such as Ramus and Amyot. We see rhetoric employed in the education of princes (Amyot, la Motte le Vayer), and diplomacy (Lancelot). The rhetoric of the academy (Patru), of lawyers (Dubois de Bretteville), of literary studies (Rollin), of bu­ reaucratic reports (Andrieux), and even how bourgeois mothers should talk and their children listen (Mme. Dufrenoy) all have their place. The continuity of French rhetoric is also nicely emphasized by selections from the rhetoric of preaching not only from medieval and renaissance authors but writers up to the 20th century (Augustine, de Basevorn, Erasmus, Calvin, Maury, Bouchage, Morice). The diversity of places where rhetoric is exercised leads to interesting insights and surprises. For example, the short excerpt from Lancelot's Le Parfait Amassadeur is entitled, "one cannot be a good ambassador without being a good orator," and draws interesting connections between, as Salazar puts it, the art of speaking and the art of speaking in the name of someone. As he says in his introduction, rhetoric from the time of Gorgias has connected the art of speaking with the art of speaking in the name of someone. We only get three pages of Lancelot (1642), and that is a translation of a work of Zuniga (1620), but the treatment of the ambassador as the complete orator is enough to raise stimulating questions about personification, representation, and disguise. It would be worth connecting this handbook for speaking in the name of someone with current rhetorical problems of how to be a representative and how to be an advocate. Similarly, the selection from Olivier Patrus' Discours de reception (1640) introduces the peculiarly French rhetorical genre of the academic oration. Intellectuals occupy a different place in French culture from their role in Rhetorica, Vol. XXII, Issue 4, pp. 401-407, ISSN 0734-8584, electronic ISSN 15338541 . ©2004 by The International Society for the History of Rhetoric. All rights reserved. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press's Rights and Permissions website, at www.ucpress.edu/journals/rights.htm. 401 402 RHETORICA Anglophone culture, and proficiency in this genre should be part of the accounting of the difference. Unusually, this anthology does not neglect the last part of rhetoricaction or delivery—and so we see excerpts from texts on pronunciation and self-presentation. This is the first time I have ever found the art of delivery interesting. Instead of looking to politics, where rhetoric should flourish, Salazar wisely looks at where rhetoric has flourished, and produced a fascinating anthology. Some of the selections will be as unfamiliar to French readers as they are to this American one. (The editor reports that the selection from Basevorn is here translated into French for the first time.) This anthology is exciting reading not only for readers interested in learning about rhetoric in a distinct tradition, but for anyone interested in the diversity of appearances that rhetoric has taken over the ages. The theme of his introduction is, I think, at odds with this ecumenical approach to the selections themselves. Rhetoric, Salazar notes, had a demo­ cratic birth. He claims that the persuasive tradition and practical politics of the west are fused with rhetoric, eloquence, the art of speaking, the art of oratory (vii). "Democracy gives each citizen the right to defend himself, by speech, if he sees himself injured, but which imposes on others, between equal citizens, to judge the case....Speech replaces violence" (ix-x). Conse­ quently, Salazar argues, rhetoric is a phenomenon unique...

“As if the problem of racism outside of the academy isn’t enough,” the author says, “try thinking about the ways it has informed the very notion of academy and maintains a presence in our academic institutions.” He reflects on his own position in the academy as racialized subject, educand, and educator, departing from Mary Louise Pratt’s notion of an “autoethnography” to engage in a “selfiography,” in the process interrogating not only notions of “blackness” but also the too-often-naturalized assumptions of whiteness.

blood American Indians/Alaskan Natives, while just over four million designate their racial identity as mixed-blood.2 In my home state of North Carolina, records indicate that fewer than 100,000 people are full-blood American Indians/Alaskan Natives, while over 130,000 people are mixed-bloods. Russell Thornton suggests that the substantial increase in the Native American population since the turn of the twentieth century is due to several factors, including increased life expectancies, higher fertility and birth rates, and decreased stigmatizing of people of mixed ancestry who admit such status. I am one of the mixed-bloods who comes from a background where people attempted to hide their origins (see Bizzaro). My family's effort to avoid being jailed for evading the evacuation of the Cherokee led them to hide in the mountains of Georgia and deny their heritage in an effort to blend into the dominant culture.

Looking at arguments put forth by courts, the State of Hawai‘i, and Native Hawaiian sovereignty activists, as well as constructions of Hawaiianness by Native Hawaiians and Locals on the mainland, the author analyzes a rhetorical shift from celebrations of cultural identity to assertions of nationhood and sovereignty on the part of Native Hawaiians that has at times made nonnative Locals feel displaced in the only “home” they have known. Both groups have had to deal with a legacy of U.S. imperialism and injustice, placing them at times in coalition to confront racism and at times in conflict.

In this article, the author builds on McHenry and Heath’s study of the “literate” and the “literary” and McHenry’s research on “forgotten readers” by examining the often undocumented literacy traditions and practices of men and women of African descent. First, the author traces the legacy of blended traditions of both written and spoken words in African American writing and activism. Continuing with an examination of Black literary and social movements, the author asserts that the recent renaissance of activities around literacy, such as spoken word poetry events as well as writing collectives, contributes to a historical continuum. Ultimately, the author shows the importance of the inextricable link between history, literacy studies, and the teaching of language arts.

The author suggests that attending to the publishing history of Larsen’s novel and the resulting indeterminacy of its ending(s) offers a concrete example of a materially oriented pedagogy that can illuminate the racial politics behind textual production and its relation to particular historical and cultural moments. He suggests that such a pedagogy offers both another way of understanding the textual contingency emphasized in contemporary theory and a way of further opening up questions of textuality and meaning for students.

ella Larsen's Passing has become one of the most widely read New Negro Renaissance novels in recent years, but no one really knows how it ends. By this I do not mean critics have not determined how much guilt to assign Irene Redfield in Clare Kendry's fatal fall, or to what extent the narrative is actually a lesbian story as a racial one. I mean the ending is actually unknowable, because the original last paragraph disappeared from the first edition's third printing, and no extant evidence can explain this change. There is no conclusive answer to the question of presenting this textual crux correctly-despite assumptions to the contrary by Larsen's editors-but I argue this textual problem itself bears an important lesson: the best response to a gap in textual knowledge is to acknowledge the absence and its causes, not to produce editions and teach classes gloss over such gaps, thereby passing on the social and cultural elements of these textual histories. More generally, I argue students and teachers can always benefit from attention to textual scholarship, and minority texts particularly need such study for what it reveals of the social and cultural interactions between minority writers and predominantly white, male publishers. The unbalanced power dynamics of this relationship produce what Gilles Deleuze terms a literature: that which a minority constructs within a major language (152). By focusing on the production history of the texts themselves, we can study the material evidence of this minor language.

“Should we make our tape about police brutality and youth crime or about how to become a hip-hop star?” (23). For Steven Goodman, founder of New York’s Educational Video Center (EVC), this question reveals a conflict that low-income minority students face when representing their experiences in collaborative, inquiry-based video projects.

Combining service-learning with multicultural literature study in a general education first-year course can encourage students to theorize difference from multiple perspectives.