Walkin' Uphill At Barnes
As friends, family, and colleagues both here and back in Oshkosh or Las Cruces can attest, I spend a lot of time at Barnes & Noble. As corporate as I'm sure some would attack, I love it. It has always been a perfect place to read, look for random books, skim new comics, gander at poetry, stay mesmerized in the map section, sample some soup, sip a caffeinated beverage, get some writing done, procrastinate with homework, and even chat with friends.
Some of the B&N I have worked at have been split level, with escalators either flanking an atrium type area or making up one side of an open square. The three I frequent in Milwaukee (Brookfield, Mayfair, Bayshore) all have escalators. And while I have observed the phenomena I about to discuss many times previous, today it stuck with me.
(Almost as profound as sharing a table with an older gentlemen today who slowly inched all of his reading materials across the surface as if claiming land in a great battle. Since I am typically in massive Peter Brooks introverted time, I wasn't interested in pushing back. Yet, my friend across the plane of books and drinks also struck me profound given who he was...and something I will write about later after I've had some time to reflect on his humbling presence.)
Kids, at B&N, love to walk in the opposite direction on escalators. I'm sure this isn't uncommon at many places with escalators. And as I said, I've seen this for the longest time.
(Unrelated to my main point, but interesting to note are the different approaches each location has; Brookfield staff will make a large, non-specific PA announcement: "No playing on the elevators please."; Bayshore, where I was today, merely yells at the kids as professionally as possible; Mayfair, the most intimidating as one of the staff will stand on one entrance and stare at the kid until they make eye contact, then point, then guide them in the proper direction.)
As a kid, I am more than certain I have done this as well. And why not? It's a moving staircase. In some places I still do this. Airports. Especially when I have late night flights or if I'm walking with someone. I know I even once tried to out run the speed of the steps and make it to the top of down-escalator.
No staff to yell at me. Just mom.
The incident today reinforced the concept of rules, something I have been studying a lot about lately in concern with writing. Why do we have rules? How do we enforce them? How and why do we break them? What happens when they go away? How do new rules appear?
The escalator rule, in many ways, is the best example of the structural function of rules.
First, let's look at the basic (presumed) rule: Do not "play" on the elevators. Play here of course is more than likely defined as going against the grain of motion. If you're going up, don't go down. If you're going down, don't go up. You can increase your steps in one direction (something I always do going up but never going down because I still hold this irrational childhood fear my shoelaces will get caught in the bottom teeth; highly associated to the Getting My Toenails Cut anxiety, I'm sure...thanks Dad). But, you cannot go against the motion.
Second, is the generic use of the word play in stated language to represent something specific. Obviously, the rule would also include "horsing around" and "general tomfoolery" but the motions for the most part are the same; there's not a lot of other "abnormal" movements you can make on an elevator. It's either stand, walk with, or walk against. I guess you could jump, but I haven't seen many folks do that. You can sit, yet strangely, sitting on the steps is not playing.
(It's also incredibly brave. At least in my eyes. I'm scare as shit my feet will get cut off, can't imagine what would happen if my butt got chomped on the escalator teeth.)
Third, ties closely into my second point, which is where it's posted that people can't do this? It's not. And yet, only a small number of kids, and a smaller number of teens, ever do this. Anecdotally, I would say it happens about once every ten or so times I'm at a B&N (and I got about 1-2 times a week or more during the school year). But the rule does not have to be stated for a large majority of people not to do it. I'm interested in how do we learn the rule if A. we don't violate it just by doing or B. we don't see someone else violate it?
My fourth thought on this is, why do we have the rule? I could ask a B&N worker, but I'm also sure it's fairly obvious: playing on the escalator will likely result in obstructing the traffic and flow of people, as well as potentially injure yourself or others. It just makes sense. It's the same principle behind not stopping your car in the middle of the road for no reason. Or walking at someone without getting of their way. Or not trying to cram through the same door space when others are. Simply put, don't stop.
Legally, I'm sure corporations and businesses would be more afraid of the injury. If I don't tell you to stop, and your but gets chewed up by the elevator, then I could be liable. I've seen a handful of kids stop before they are even reprimanded. And I've never seen someone actually hurt or hurt others. Usually, once a kid spots someone coming the other way, he/she stops. The only thing I've ever seen happen, is the elevator itself just shut down.
Finally, why do we mostly obey the rule and, inversely, why do we break it?
I feel the the answer to the first part explains why we tend to follow rules most of the time: it is the safest and easiest thing to do. I don't want to get hurt, I don't want get sued, and, to be honest, I probably have bigger things on my plate than to see if I can make it up the steps. It's not a time waster.
I think about this in writing sometimes as well. It's easiest to write a five paragraph essay with a traditional introduction and conclusion. It's easiest to do a quote sandwich. It's most practical--especially if my end goal is to get a good grade and again not waste my time.
Yet people still break these small rules.
(I get that people routinely break larger rules that feel like there's more common sense and more of a risk of harming yourself and others. It's these little small rules that, in all reality, don't have major consequence, or, if there is one, the odds of it occurring are so slim it's almost inconsequential. Hence why I also think about this with writing. The Oxford Comma is a great example. It doesn't matter if I write: cat, dog, and mouse OR cat, dog and mouse...the punctuation is correct either way.)
More importantly, we still have these small rules.
This whole little activity of going against the grain (other than the potential metaphor of individual spirit and triumph) made me realize that everything has a rule, even if it is small. The rule may not be stated, or obvious, but a rule does exist. Likewise, with the existence of a rule (or rules) there are the opportunities to break them, and begin to consider how the consequences affect those involved.
I believe this is why a very interested dichotomy exists in collegiate writing. On the one hand, there's essay writing. I see many students conform to a set of rules they learned in high school (again, there's no right or wrong with those rules or conventions). Personally, if a specific rule for them makes them comfortable, I don't try to push them out of it. Mostly, I am interested in why they make that rule.
Off the cuff, I find students make writing rules for two reasons: 1. Comfort and/or Mastery: either they did a good job with a specific approach or it's been the minimal amount that they needed to do to be successful so don't challenge it, i.e., if it ain't broke... 2. Fear: a teacher drilled into their heads that they MUST use the Oxford Comma reinforced by either a failing grade or some type of negative feedback.
I am also interested in why they don't want to break them when it comes to expository or academic writing, but, when it comes to creative writing, it's not uncommon for many students to be like "Eff, the rules!"
(On both side of the coin, this always reminds me of a teaching pet peeve of mine which is when an educator provides an example of extreme rule breaking and experimentation, only to condemn writing choices when trying to follow that lead. It's the "Don't try this at home" maneuver, which is ridiculous, especially since writing should be a space for experimentation and understanding why certain choices may or may not work.)
The usage of dialogue tags frequently gets broken by creative writers. I broke this rule often when I first started writing. I know that the desire to not use "he said" or "she said" is to achieve a speedier dialogue. Yet, I also learned, from doing so, that if you write a lot of dialogue, and have a lot of characters, shit gets confusing quickly without it.
So how do we discuss the rules of writing in such a way that doesn't A. Bore our students to death? B. Cause them to feel like the rules are 100% black and white? C. Alienate them from understanding why a rule exists; even if it is ridiculous.
Returning to the B&N escalators also brings to me a rule's lasting effect. Let's say someone does play on the escalator (like I did today). The worst that will happen, is that I will be removed from the store and sued if I hurt someone else in the process of being Superman flying up while the escalator is trying to take me down.
Yet, the escalator will still be there. And the rule with it. And, if anything, that one action, out of a million other actions, will only reinforce the rule more.
pb
Some of the B&N I have worked at have been split level, with escalators either flanking an atrium type area or making up one side of an open square. The three I frequent in Milwaukee (Brookfield, Mayfair, Bayshore) all have escalators. And while I have observed the phenomena I about to discuss many times previous, today it stuck with me.
(Almost as profound as sharing a table with an older gentlemen today who slowly inched all of his reading materials across the surface as if claiming land in a great battle. Since I am typically in massive Peter Brooks introverted time, I wasn't interested in pushing back. Yet, my friend across the plane of books and drinks also struck me profound given who he was...and something I will write about later after I've had some time to reflect on his humbling presence.)
Kids, at B&N, love to walk in the opposite direction on escalators. I'm sure this isn't uncommon at many places with escalators. And as I said, I've seen this for the longest time.
(Unrelated to my main point, but interesting to note are the different approaches each location has; Brookfield staff will make a large, non-specific PA announcement: "No playing on the elevators please."; Bayshore, where I was today, merely yells at the kids as professionally as possible; Mayfair, the most intimidating as one of the staff will stand on one entrance and stare at the kid until they make eye contact, then point, then guide them in the proper direction.)
As a kid, I am more than certain I have done this as well. And why not? It's a moving staircase. In some places I still do this. Airports. Especially when I have late night flights or if I'm walking with someone. I know I even once tried to out run the speed of the steps and make it to the top of down-escalator.
No staff to yell at me. Just mom.
The incident today reinforced the concept of rules, something I have been studying a lot about lately in concern with writing. Why do we have rules? How do we enforce them? How and why do we break them? What happens when they go away? How do new rules appear?
The escalator rule, in many ways, is the best example of the structural function of rules.
First, let's look at the basic (presumed) rule: Do not "play" on the elevators. Play here of course is more than likely defined as going against the grain of motion. If you're going up, don't go down. If you're going down, don't go up. You can increase your steps in one direction (something I always do going up but never going down because I still hold this irrational childhood fear my shoelaces will get caught in the bottom teeth; highly associated to the Getting My Toenails Cut anxiety, I'm sure...thanks Dad). But, you cannot go against the motion.
Second, is the generic use of the word play in stated language to represent something specific. Obviously, the rule would also include "horsing around" and "general tomfoolery" but the motions for the most part are the same; there's not a lot of other "abnormal" movements you can make on an elevator. It's either stand, walk with, or walk against. I guess you could jump, but I haven't seen many folks do that. You can sit, yet strangely, sitting on the steps is not playing.
(It's also incredibly brave. At least in my eyes. I'm scare as shit my feet will get cut off, can't imagine what would happen if my butt got chomped on the escalator teeth.)
Third, ties closely into my second point, which is where it's posted that people can't do this? It's not. And yet, only a small number of kids, and a smaller number of teens, ever do this. Anecdotally, I would say it happens about once every ten or so times I'm at a B&N (and I got about 1-2 times a week or more during the school year). But the rule does not have to be stated for a large majority of people not to do it. I'm interested in how do we learn the rule if A. we don't violate it just by doing or B. we don't see someone else violate it?
My fourth thought on this is, why do we have the rule? I could ask a B&N worker, but I'm also sure it's fairly obvious: playing on the escalator will likely result in obstructing the traffic and flow of people, as well as potentially injure yourself or others. It just makes sense. It's the same principle behind not stopping your car in the middle of the road for no reason. Or walking at someone without getting of their way. Or not trying to cram through the same door space when others are. Simply put, don't stop.
Legally, I'm sure corporations and businesses would be more afraid of the injury. If I don't tell you to stop, and your but gets chewed up by the elevator, then I could be liable. I've seen a handful of kids stop before they are even reprimanded. And I've never seen someone actually hurt or hurt others. Usually, once a kid spots someone coming the other way, he/she stops. The only thing I've ever seen happen, is the elevator itself just shut down.
Finally, why do we mostly obey the rule and, inversely, why do we break it?
I feel the the answer to the first part explains why we tend to follow rules most of the time: it is the safest and easiest thing to do. I don't want to get hurt, I don't want get sued, and, to be honest, I probably have bigger things on my plate than to see if I can make it up the steps. It's not a time waster.
I think about this in writing sometimes as well. It's easiest to write a five paragraph essay with a traditional introduction and conclusion. It's easiest to do a quote sandwich. It's most practical--especially if my end goal is to get a good grade and again not waste my time.
Yet people still break these small rules.
(I get that people routinely break larger rules that feel like there's more common sense and more of a risk of harming yourself and others. It's these little small rules that, in all reality, don't have major consequence, or, if there is one, the odds of it occurring are so slim it's almost inconsequential. Hence why I also think about this with writing. The Oxford Comma is a great example. It doesn't matter if I write: cat, dog, and mouse OR cat, dog and mouse...the punctuation is correct either way.)
More importantly, we still have these small rules.
This whole little activity of going against the grain (other than the potential metaphor of individual spirit and triumph) made me realize that everything has a rule, even if it is small. The rule may not be stated, or obvious, but a rule does exist. Likewise, with the existence of a rule (or rules) there are the opportunities to break them, and begin to consider how the consequences affect those involved.
I believe this is why a very interested dichotomy exists in collegiate writing. On the one hand, there's essay writing. I see many students conform to a set of rules they learned in high school (again, there's no right or wrong with those rules or conventions). Personally, if a specific rule for them makes them comfortable, I don't try to push them out of it. Mostly, I am interested in why they make that rule.
Off the cuff, I find students make writing rules for two reasons: 1. Comfort and/or Mastery: either they did a good job with a specific approach or it's been the minimal amount that they needed to do to be successful so don't challenge it, i.e., if it ain't broke... 2. Fear: a teacher drilled into their heads that they MUST use the Oxford Comma reinforced by either a failing grade or some type of negative feedback.
I am also interested in why they don't want to break them when it comes to expository or academic writing, but, when it comes to creative writing, it's not uncommon for many students to be like "Eff, the rules!"
(On both side of the coin, this always reminds me of a teaching pet peeve of mine which is when an educator provides an example of extreme rule breaking and experimentation, only to condemn writing choices when trying to follow that lead. It's the "Don't try this at home" maneuver, which is ridiculous, especially since writing should be a space for experimentation and understanding why certain choices may or may not work.)
The usage of dialogue tags frequently gets broken by creative writers. I broke this rule often when I first started writing. I know that the desire to not use "he said" or "she said" is to achieve a speedier dialogue. Yet, I also learned, from doing so, that if you write a lot of dialogue, and have a lot of characters, shit gets confusing quickly without it.
So how do we discuss the rules of writing in such a way that doesn't A. Bore our students to death? B. Cause them to feel like the rules are 100% black and white? C. Alienate them from understanding why a rule exists; even if it is ridiculous.
Returning to the B&N escalators also brings to me a rule's lasting effect. Let's say someone does play on the escalator (like I did today). The worst that will happen, is that I will be removed from the store and sued if I hurt someone else in the process of being Superman flying up while the escalator is trying to take me down.
Yet, the escalator will still be there. And the rule with it. And, if anything, that one action, out of a million other actions, will only reinforce the rule more.
pb
posted by Peter Brooks at 4:40 AM
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