Category: unit 2

Minha Hossain

Professor Wilson

English 2150

5 November 2023

Self-Reliance in College: A Comparative Analysis

The concept of self-reliance in higher education is essential, serving as both a skill and a crucial mindset for students to navigate newfound freedom, independence, and responsibility. This essay undertakes a comparative analysis of two distinct sources. Alex Phuong’s narrative essay “Becoming Self-Reliant: A Lesson I Learned From College” shares an autobiographical account of the author overcoming initial struggles to gain self-reliance and maturity in college. In contrast, Kerry A. Schwanz et al.’s research article “Self-Reliance and Relations with Parents as Predictors of Anxiety and Depression in College Students” objectively presents an empirical study quantitatively analyzing self-reliance among college students. While both articles convey the importance of self-reliance in college, they employ distinct rhetorical strategies to present their arguments.

Phuong employs a personal narrative approach to convey his transformative personal experience intimately.  He provides nuanced characterization as he chronicles his emotional arc from an immature teenager struggling with freedom to a self-reliant adult. For instance, he candidly describes behaviors like being depressed and angry, struggling to make new friends, and not being able to do responsibilities early on. This honest portrayal helps readers build trust and invest in Phuong’s coming-of-age story. The choice to introduce this personal perspective immediately establishes an intimate, conversational tone and provides a relatable human perspective likely to generate an emotional response in readers.

In contrast, Schwanz et al. do not utilize narrative storytelling techniques or personal perspectives in their research article rather follow the conventional format of a psychology research paper. While the study does feature college students, these individuals remain anonymous and are characterized using aggregated statistical descriptions rather than as fully realized individuals. For instance, the article states: “The average age of participants was 21.83 (SD = 1.65).” The researchers exclude specific sensory details, settings, and chronological events in favor of general numerical representations befitting their scientific genre. Their tone matches and reinforces the scholarly nature of their quantitative analysis. While Phuong uses narrative as the substance itself, for Schwanz et al., the narrative is merely a tool used judiciously in service of academic aims.

A significant contrast between the two pieces is their rhetorical appeals to persuade readers. Phuong’s narrative primarily employs pathos by sharing vulnerable details about his struggles adjusting to college, including problems with loneliness, depression, weight gain, and dropping grades. His self-disclosure elicits empathy and understanding from readers who likely faced similar challenges. For example, Phuong describes the “infamous Freshman 15,” his “obsession” with McDonald’s, and the “greatest joy” of good health in tangible terms that are easy to visualize and connect with the character. Phuong highlights how he overcame these issues through cultivating self-reliance, inspiring readers to believe they can also learn to rely on themselves. His mentions of respected thinkers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and his college literature professor establish credibility, appealing to readers’ ethos. However, pathos is his dominant rhetorical appeal.

Conversely, Schwanz et al. rely heavily on logos by presenting copious statistical data and analysis, which logically proves the correlation between higher self-reliance and lower anxiety and depression in college students. Tables of regression analysis, correlation coefficients, means, and standard deviations build academic authority. They also leverage ethos as university researchers publishing in a peer-reviewed journal to portray scholarly credibility. Their use of logos and ethos contrasts sharply with Phuong’s pathos-driven narrative. Schwanz et al. incorporate slight pathos when describing college anxiety and depression using words like “distress” and “impairments.” However, the style remains objective overall. The study uses precise, technical language like “hierarchical regression analysis” and “at-risk scores” alongside the detached third-person voice, emphasizing conveying factual information over persuading readers. Sentences like “self-reliance explained 27% of the variance ” typify the formal, data-driven prose (Schwanz, Kerry A., et al.).

Finally, the structural arrangements differ significantly. Phuong arranges his narrative chronologically to highlight his arc of maturation. Beginning with confessions of his initial struggles makes his later self-reliant transformation more impactful. Cause and effect relationships also emerge as Phuong links his early lack of self-reliance to problems like isolation and weight gain. In contrast, increased self-reliance later enables health and happiness. This order maximizes the inspirational impact of Phuong’s journey. Conversely, Schwanz et al. organize their article into conventional research sections. The introduction establishes background literature before the methods detail the study procedures. The results and discussion sections then impartially report and interpret the data. This predictable structure facilitates reader comprehension and reinforces the researchers’ scientific authority. However, it lacks the dramatic chronological build of Phuong’s narrative. These differing arrangements suit the respective aims – Phuong crafting an engaging personal tale, and Schwanz et al. methodically building an academic argument.

In conclusion, while both texts make compelling cases for self-reliance among college students, Phuong seeks to inspire while Schwanz et al. aim to scientifically prove their argument. Phuong’s intimate first-person perspective, emotional vulnerability, and chronological sequence contrast with Schwanz et al.’s objective voice, data-driven logic, and conventional structure. Together, the personalized story and empirical data provide complementary perspectives on this crucial aspect of the college experience.

Distraction/Attention worksheet

Describe your overall ability to pay attention when it comes to school work (<100 words) On a scale of 1 – 10, indicate how addicted you are to you phones

Ans- I generally have a good ability to focus on schoolwork, and I would rate it around 8 or 9. I am committed to my studies and strive to minimize distractions. However, I do find my phone tempting at times, so I would say my phone addiction is around 4. While I try to stay disciplined, it’s not always easy to resist the lure of my phone. Often there would be a text notification that would challenge my attention and before I knew it, I would find myself engrossed in texting on my phone for several minutes uninterrupted.

While reading “My Distraction Sickness” please note how long it takes you to get through the piece (Google says it’s a 45 min read); also, count the number of times you get distracted (for whatever reason) and tally them at the end.

Ans- I started reading ‘My Distraction Sickness’ at 11:00 AM and finished at 12:08 PM. I got distracted twice: once for getting water and once due to a text notification that tempted me to reply back.

Describe the tone of all three articles, how do they differ? (<100 words)

Ans- “Defense of Distraction” by Sam Anderson has an informative tone, addressing the changing nature of attention in the digital age. “My Distraction Sickness” by Andrew Sullivan conveys a reflectional tone as the author reflects on his personal journey from internet addiction to mindfulness. “The Distracted Student Mind” by Rosens adopts a more critical and analytical tone, highlighting the negative consequences of digital distractions and their pervasive presence in our lives.

What are Sam Anderson’s primary arguments in defense of distraction? (see part III of In Defense of Distraction) Do you find them convincing? Why or why not (<150 words)

Sam Anderson’s primary arguments in defense of distraction can be summarized as follows: o   Distraction can be a valuable way to explore and follow one’s attention, leading to unexpected discoveries and insights.  Focus and distraction are interconnected and essential to each other.  Modern technology and the new generation of “net-gen” individuals, who are accustomed to managing multiple tasks and sources of information simultaneously, may have cognitive advantages. I find Sam Anderson’s arguments in defense of distraction quite reasonable as I can relate them to my own experiences. I have often found myself going down internet rabbit holes and encountering unique stories or information that I would not have encountered with a more structured approach. I think, learn, and remember best when I have allowed my mind to wander and make unexpected connections between seemingly unrelated concepts. Anderson’s reference to Marcel Proust’s madeleine moment is a perfect illustration of how distraction can lead to profound revelations.  To me distraction is a refreshing change, allowing us to see a subject from various angles.

After reading all three articles, what are your thoughts on this “epidemic of distraction”? (<50 words)

I feel excessive distraction can be harmful, but my thoughts have slightly changed as the articles shed light on the benefits of distraction in the digital age.

Please annotate “My Distraction Sickness” – highlight at least three instances for each of the following rhetoric concepts: ●      Invention ●      Style ●      Memory ●      Pathos ●      Ethos Invention:   “But the rewards were many: an audience of up to 100,000 people a day; a new-media business that was actually profitable…”  “And the engagement never ends. Not long ago, surfing the web, however addictive, was a stationary activity.”  ” The smartphone then went and made the rabbit hole portable, inviting us to get lost in it anywhere, at any time, whatever else we might be doing.” Style: “But it sure does represent a huge leap from even the very recent past.    “By rapidly substituting virtual reality for reality, we are diminishing the scope of this interaction even as we multiply the number of people with whom we interact.”    “But, as Nicholas Carr has noted, it has led to our not even seeing, let alone remembering, the details of our environment…” Memory: “We almost forget that ten years ago, there were no smartphones, and as recently as 2011, only a third of Americans owned one.   “Things that usually escaped me began to intrigue me. On a meditative walk through the forest on my second day…” “Just look around you — at the people crouched over their phones as they walk the streets, or drive their cars, or walk their dogs, or play with their children.””Just look around you — at the people crouched over their phones as they walk the streets, or drive their cars, or walk their dogs, or play with their children.” Pathos:   “I duly surrendered my little device, only to feel a sudden pang of panic on my way back to my seat.”    No wonder we prefer the apps. An entire universe of intimate responses is flattened to a single, distant swipe. We hide our vulnerabilities, airbrushing our flaws and quirks; we project our fantasies onto the images before us. Rejection still stings — but less when a new virtual match beckons on the horizon.”    “Remember,” my friend Sam Harris, an atheist meditator, had told me before I left, “if you’re suffering, you’re thinking.” Ethos:      “A small but detailed 2015 study of young adults found that participants were using their phones five hours a day, at 85 separate times.” “That figure reaches 85 percent when you’re only counting young adults. And 46 percent of Americans told Pew surveyors last year a simple but remarkable thing: They could not live without one.”          “There are burgeoning signs of this more human correction. In 2012, there were, for example, around 20 million yoga practitioners in the U.S., according to a survey conducted by Ipsos Public Affairs. By 2016, the number had almost doubled.”

During my teenage years, I had the privilege of witnessing a pivotal moment in my son’s life. It unfolded not in a classroom but in our cluttered garage, a space I had come to know as the sanctuary of tools and tinkering. The memory of that day still warms my heart, for it marked the beginning of a transformation in my son, one that would shape his perspective on life in profound ways.

The day began with the dramatic entrance of a wounded bicycle, an unfortunate twist of fate for my son who had grand plans for an exciting bike ride with his friends. As any teenager would, he had reached the peak of excitement when his two-wheeler decided to betray him with a flat tire, precisely when it was least convenient.

In his moment of frustration, he turned to me, expecting his dad, the supposed master of all things fixable, to swoop in and save the day. But instead of instantly repairing the bicycle, I did something that might have surprised him. I handed him a toolbox, and I told him to try fixing it on his own. Perhaps he expected me to come to his immediate rescue, but I had a deeper lesson in mind.

I recall the look on his face, a mix of disbelief and annoyance, as he realized he had to be his own bike mechanic. I watched as he reluctantly made his way into that dimly lit garage, surrounded by the scent of old oil and a myriad of unfamiliar tools hanging on the walls. He clenched his fists, frustration mounting, and bit his tongue to suppress his impatience. The garage was a foreign world to him, and he saw those tools as mysterious artifacts from an outdated era.

As his father, I stood by his side, toolbox in hand, offering guidance and support. I wanted him to experience the challenge, the uncertainty, and the growth that comes from solving problems on his own. It was a moment of great tension, and as his frustration peaked, I decided it was time to impart a lesson that would echo in his heart for years to come.

I told him, “There may come a time in life when you will have people for all sorts of tasks, but always remember that in your toughest moments, you’ll be on your own.” At 14, the full weight of those words may not have struck him, but it was a seed planted for the future.

I then asked him about the most challenging thing he had ever encountered. His response, “exams,” confirmed the wisdom in my approach. As we worked together, I patiently explained the purpose and use of each tool, from the tire levers to the wrench. We worked on the mechanics of the bicycle, discussing how the tire and tube fit together and why proper inflation mattered. We faced hurdles along the way, such as stubborn bolts and a tire that seemed impossible to seat, but my guidance and encouragement remained unwavering.

That day, my son conquered the unruly bicycle, a small triumph that filled him with pride. However, the greater victory was in the treasure trove of lessons he acquired – a newfound self-reliance and problem-solving ability that would become the foundation of his character. I knew that life would continue to throw “flat tires” his way, and I wanted him to be well-prepared, armed with the skills and mindset to tackle any challenge that crossed his path. This, in my perspective, was the true essence of that memorable day in the garage.

 

The world of abstract art in the early 20th century witnessed a profound transformation, as artists tried to break free from the shackles of traditional representation. Giacomo Balla’s ” Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences 1913.” and Wassily Kandinsky’s “Abstraction Blue 1927” are two remarkable artworks from this era.

The title of an artwork often serves as the first point of engagement with the viewer, and it significantly shapes the interpretative experience. “Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences” hints at its subject matter, immediately guiding the viewer’s attention to the dynamic aspects of the piece. In contrast, “Abstraction Blue” implies an abstract, serene composition dominated by the color blue. Furthermore, the artists’ contexts provide valuable insights. Balla’s work reflects the dynamism of the early 20th century,  a time of rapid technological advancement and political upheaval in Europe, while Kandinsky’s piece comes out from a post-World War I period when the world was seeking stability, comfort, and meaning.

In both artworks, the absence of text is a notable feature. This omission allows the viewer to engage solely with the visual elements. In ” Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences 1913.” fragmented lines and shapes suggest motion and restlessness, emphasizing the absence of the need for explanatory text. Likewise, “Abstraction Blue” relies on the interaction of geometric forms and colors to convey its message without the reliance on textual cues. The use of color in both works plays a crucial role in influencing the viewer’s emotions. In  Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences.” vibrant, contrasting colors such as bold yellows and blues evoke energy and vitality, connecting the viewer with the rapid movement of swifts and stimulating feelings of excitement and change. In contrast, “Abstraction Blue” predominantly employs blue tones, which convey a sense of calm and serenity. Blue, a color often associated with spirituality, effectively appeals to viewers’ emotions and encourages a contemplative response.

The composition of each artwork serves as a potent storyteller, guiding the viewer’s gaze and mood. “Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences 1913” features dynamic lines and shapes that vividly represent swifts’ paths of movement which he had learned from photography. Balla’s bold, angular lines reduce the birds to their essential, energetic forms, mirroring the turbulence of the era in which it was created. On the contrary, “Abstraction Blue” utilizes the use of blue and geometric forms arranged harmoniously and rhythmically, inviting viewers to explore profound inner peace and spirituality. The distinct framing choices further enhance the intended mood, with Balla’s work creating a 3D-like dynamism, reminiscent of EEG waves, and Kandinsky’s employing a tall, white frame that imparts a spiritual aspect, resembling angel wings from a distance.

The artwork’s rhetorical situation encompasses its intended message, audience, and purpose. “Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences” aims to inspire viewers, encouraging them to embrace change during the fast-paced, uncertain times. It particularly targets those interested in abstract art and the Futurist movement. “Abstraction Blue,” on the other hand, seeks to provoke contemplation, resonating with individuals seeking spiritual and emotional depth during a turbulent period. Viewing these artworks in a museum setting strengthens the immersive experience, making it easier for the audience to connect with the intended emotions and ideas.

In conclusion, “Swifts: Paths of Movement + Dynamic Sequences” by Giacomo Balla and “Abstraction Blue” by Wassily Kandinsky, while visually distinct, share a common thread in their use of titles, absence of text, composition, and rhetorical context to influence viewers. These artworks transcend their temporal origins to resonate with contemporary audiences who, like those of the early 20th century, navigate rapid changes and seek inner peace and freedom.

In the Baldwin v Buckley Debates, James Baldwin and William F. Buckley Jr. employed markedly different structural arrangements to present their arguments. James Baldwin’s argument unfolded in a linear and eloquent fashion, beginning with an acknowledgment of the historical context of racial inequality in America. He skillfully articulated the idea that black and white people coexist in the nation and have collectively contributed to its development. Baldwin’s structure emphasized unity, emphasizing the need to move beyond divisive narratives and concluding with a heartfelt call for growth and progress together.

In contrast, William F. Buckley Jr.’s argument took on a more fragmented and reactive structure. Rather than presenting a cohesive narrative, Buckley’s approach was characterized by frequent interruptions through interaction with the audience. His underlying logic seemed rooted in the preservation of what he considered the unalienable nature of American liberty and tradition. Buckley seemed to have a sarcastic tones at time in which he would almost mock and bring down the points made by Baldwin.

James Baldwin

Ethos:

1. James Baldwin established his ethos by demonstrating his intellectual prowess and deep knowledge of American history and racial issues. As a renowned writer and thinker, he was widely respected in academic and literary circles. His credibility as an intellectual lent weight to his arguments, making them more persuasive.

Logos:

2. Baldwin used logos by presenting a logical analysis of American history and its racial dynamics. He carefully outlined the historical context of racial inequality in the United States, citing specific events and patterns of discrimination. His logical appeal aimed to convince the audience through a well-reasoned argument.

Pathos:

3. Baldwin incorporated pathos by sharing personal anecdotes and emotional stories related to racial discrimination. He described the pain, fear, and suffering experienced by black Americans, including himself, due to racism. These emotional appeals were intended to evoke empathy and stir the audience’s emotions, making them feel the human impact of racial injustice.

William F. Buckley Jr.

Ethos:

1. William F. Buckley Jr. had established himself as a prominent conservative intellectual and commentator. He founded the National Review and was well-known in conservative circles. His ethos was rooted in his credibility as a conservative thinker and writer, which lent authority to his arguments.

Logos:

2. Buckley used logos by presenting logical arguments based on conservative principles. He articulated his concerns about potential legislative changes and the consequences they might have on American liberty. His arguments were structured and intended to appeal to the audience’s sense of reason and logic.

 

Pathos:

3. Buckley incorporated pathos by appealing to the audience’s emotions through a defense of traditional American values and ideals. He evoked a sense of nostalgia for a perceived era of American greatness and liberty. By tapping into the audience’s emotions and love for their country’s history, Buckley aimed to strengthen his argument against certain changes.