Scenes Of Instruction Research Articles

Understanding in the canine classroom: learning to ‘lean’

ABSTRACT Using an ethnomethodological approach, we examine a particular case of a dog and its handler learning the ‘lean’ command. In this scene of instruction, we come upon a place where the uses of a word are taught to both dog and human. Revisiting Vicki Hearne’s influential book on animal training, we reflect on animals in conversation with their trainers, and the interconnected problems of understanding and of a dog’s specific rights. We describe the establishing of a new command as a body position, location and duration. The opening and closing of a door, as part of learning the new command, poses a puzzle of both instruction and rights for the dog as pupil. Our findings begin to contribute to the ‘missing what’ of dog training and question the limits of animal geographies in relation to the ethics in, and of, training and education with animals. In addition, we show how animal geographers can learn from and describe the public availability of intersubjective practices. Specifically, we describe the witnessable organisation of learning new commands, as part of which, we acknowledge and are attentive to the dog’s work, thereby contributing to studies of animal training, cross-species communication and classrooms.

Affordances of a New Language: Abbas Khider’s Claim to Community inGerman for Everyone

Affordances of a New Language: Abbas Khider’s Claim to Community in<i>German for Everyone</i>

Filmic Disciples and Indigenous Knowledges: The Pedagogical Imperative in El abrazo de la serpiente (Ciro Guerra, 2015)

The cinematic scene of instruction highlights forms of knowledge-transfer in films from Abiayala/Latin America and crucially responds to different pedagogical motives. This article analyzes different film "scenes" and economies of learning in El abrazo de la serpiente [The Embrace of the Serpent] (Ciro Guerra, 2015). Drawing not only on diegetic scenes of instruction from El abrazo but also on paratextual sources—the press kit, interviews, script, and other scholars' published analyses of the film—I argue that the screened relationships in and across the film model forms of tutelage that shape the audience's approach to "learning" and understanding of their right to discover Indigenous knowledges.

Gregory of Nyssa’s Shifting Scenes of Instruction

Gregory of Nyssa’s emphasis on constantly stretching (epektasis) desire into an ever-deepening darkness is one of the best-known aspects of his thought. And yet, scholars continue to struggle to understand how this stretching theorizes Christian perfection or how it orients growth in virtue. This article turns to one of Gregory’s earlier texts, The Treatise on the Inscriptions of the Psalms, which patterns much of Gregory’s later works. It argues that Gregory’s literary practice of writing what Mark Jordan calls “scenes of instruction” sheds light on what expanding desire might look like. Gregory frames the journey through a series of accommodated, shifting scenes in order to orient and entice Christians to continue onward in perfection.

Out of the Woods: Seeing Nature in the Everyday by Julia Corbett

Reviewed by: Out of the Woods: Seeing Nature in the Everyday by Julia Corbett John Tallmadge Julia Corbett, Out of the Woods: Seeing Nature in the Everyday. Reno: U of Nevada P, 2018. 232 pp. Paper, $17.95. "He's out of the woods," the doctor said to Julia Corbett as she waited for news of her father, felled by a stroke in the trees behind his house (71). He had loved those woods, and a week later, scattering his ashes there, she reflected on all the ironies packed into that simple phrase. Corbett lives in Salt Lake City, where she teaches at the University of Utah, and summers in a Wyoming cabin, getting away, à la Thoreau, for a closer view of society and its environmental discontents. Salt Lake City may seem pretty far from the woods, but it's full of provocative scenes of instruction on the interplay of nature and culture. In this sense, "out of the woods" might simply refer to the urban location of these lucid, captivating essays, or to the author herself, who comes around to a deeper, more complex environmental consciousness. To be "in the woods" implies confusion, bewilderment, and a restricted view. The subtitle, "seeing nature in the everyday," suggests an expanded view but also the arc of a journey. Corbett has seen things she hadn't or couldn't before. But why not? Most city dwellers don't think of nature as part of where they live and work; they think of it "out there" in places like Wyoming rather than "right here" in places like Salt Lake City. Moreover, nature is as much an idea as a biophysical reality, and an abstract idea at that. It's often construed as part of an opposition: nature/art, nature/humanity, nature/nurture. So it makes sense that we habitually ignore or undervalue urban landscapes and focus our environmental aspirations toward the remote and glamorous wilds. But Corbett knows we're embedded in the ecology at local, regional, and continental scales, and she wants to raise our environmental consciousness beyond simplistic, received dichotomies. The [End Page 465] more-than-human world keeps intruding on her consciousness as she travels around town, noticing, for example, the junk piled on the curb during monthly trash days when the city will pick up everything. Corbett is dismayed by how much good stuff people throw away, but she takes comfort at the thought of recycling. Turning plastic water bottles into fleece jackets has to be a good thing. But what happens when the jacket wears out, or when it starts shedding fibers into the wash? Where does all that plastic eventually go? Into the ocean, of course, where it clogs the guts of plankton and the bellies of birds and whales. So recycling doesn't really eliminate waste; it just converts it into other forms. Corbett realizes that's not a sufficient strategy. Sustainability requires something more like composting, where one creature's waste is transformed into another's food and all the energy, nutrients, and information are kept circulating within the system. Other delightful and provocative essays take us through bear encounters in Wyoming, the flower and vegetable beds where she dances with wildness and welcomes native plants into her "freedom lawn," and even the huge new indoor mall opposite Latter Day Saints headquarters that features a simulated trout stream meant to bait shoppers into the "Buyosphere." In "A Regular Day for the Moon," pondering lunar cycles and moon landings leads her to reflect on what is routine and expected, like daybreak, versus what is unique and troubling, like the Anthropocene or extinction. In "The Big Hum," animal, insect, and bird calls remind her that our habitual sound environments have become littered and confused, with noise usurping not only meaning but also our ability to hear and pay attention. "Speaking a Shared Language" explores how the words we use color, distort, or light up our ideas about how to connect with nature: as the old Chinese sages recognized, a "rectification of names" seems requisite for a sustainable world order. Written in a refreshingly readable and engaging style, with plenty of illustrative vignettes and examples, this book gives...

The Pedagogy of the Aesthete: Oscar Wilde and Harold Bloom

The Pedagogy of the Aesthete:Oscar Wilde and Harold Bloom Daniel Rosenberg Nutters (bio) Cecily. I keep a diary in order to enter the wonderful secrets of my life. If I didn't write them down, I should probably forget them all. Miss Prism. Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry with us. —Oscar Wilde (1965, 57) In an interview given several months before his death, Edward Said comments, "any sign, in my opinion, of defeatism or dandyism or aestheticism à la Harold Bloom with his pathetic imitation of Oscar Wilde…is to be resisted" (Mallios 2005, 299). Such mockery is not an uncommon reaction to the invocation of Bloom's name in contemporary academic circles. I speak only of my own experience as one who proudly declares his Bloomian inheritance. In our time of political urgency, however, a moment of unending academic crises and the apparent actualization of doomsday prophesies from yesteryear, Bloom can be diminished to a caricature. To find it coming from Said is surprising given Bloom's importance for the worldly critic's thinking about beginnings and each critic's shared debt to Vico and agonistic vision of history. But when Bloom decries that he is tired of hearing about the political responsibilities of the literary critic and longs for a book on the literary responsibilities of the politician, the frustrated groans from recent generations of scholars might drown out the subtle continuity his "imitation of Oscar Wilde" has with Said's own understanding of criticism as performance. If we amended Bloom by substituting intellectual for politician, surely a reader would be liable to assume it is a quote from Said! Nevertheless, at least since the publication of The Western Canon and his full-scale attack on the school of resentment, Bloom is associated with the worst of aestheticism and it is easy to see him as a latter-day Saul Bellow searching for an African Tolstoy when he quips about literary studies denigration into lesbian Eskimo studies. How might we assess his legacy in this context? If Bloom thinks of himself as a comic critic fated to get all the serious reviews, how can those serious critics miss the element of (trivial) play within his prose? Like few others, Bloom's writing perfects the truth of masks and self-reinvention. Throughout [End Page 333] his career, he has been a Blakean rebel contesting the dominance of Eliotic New Criticism, a master-theoretician and systematizer in his tetralogy, a high priest of the Western canon, and, starting with the publication of The Anatomy of Influence, or maybe a bit further back with Where Shall Wisdom Be Found? or How to Read and Why, Bloom has transformed himself again. His late style is somber yet always humane and life-affirming, highly self-conscious, introspective, and wary of his previous guises. In The Anatomy of Influence, for example, Bloom opens with a section entitled "The Point of View for My Work as a Critic." The three chapters it contains offer a powerful defense of literature and criticism that reveals a pervasive continuity throughout his corpus. His focus on the sublime, otherness, and estrangement suggest that from the beginning of his career Boom's interest has simply been literature's ability to "transpor[t] us beyond ourselves, provoking uncanny recognition that one is never fully the author of one's work or one's self" (Bloom 2011, 20). This is a sentiment we find not only in the work of Bloom, but many of his peers in the so-called Yale School, not to mention others who write under the aura of French theory. I recall my M.A. advisor, a scholar of Derridean persuasion, reminding me to cultivate my "scene of writing." My dissertation advisor would confidently substitute "scene of instruction." Whatever the technical differences between Derrida's reading of Freud and Bloom's counter-reading, those critics we associate with theory demonstrate an unrelenting commitment to literature that enables transport. The devotion to the sublime as that which transcends the human is a deeply anti-humanistic sentiment. For Emily Dickinson, transport engenders pain and, for Bloom, it provokes the "uncanny recognition" that selfhood remains...

Language Strange: The Romantic Scene of Instruction in Twenty-First-Century Turkey

Reflecting on my experience of teaching British Romantic literature at a Turkish university, this essay addresses the current conversation about global English by exploring the intersections among second-language literary study, translation theory, and Romantic aesthetics. It begins with a reconsideration of orientalism that traces a foreignizing impulse in canonical Romanticism, links this with Victor Shklovsky's concept ofostranenie(“estrangement”), and goes on to propose foreign language study as the exemplary instance of Romantic or Shklovskian aesthetic experience. Turning next to recent accounts, by Emily Apter and others, of Istanbul as the birthplace of “translational transnationalism,” I juxtapose the utopianism of contemporary translation theory with Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poetic ideal of “untranslatableness.” I conclude with a reading of Orhan Pamuk's novel Snow, particularly its homage to Coleridge's “Kubla Khan,” as a meditation on translatability, before briefly revisiting the Turkish Romantic classroom and its global English futurity.

Six Scenes of Instruction in Stanley Cavell’s Little Did I Know

Stanley Cavell’s memoir, Little Did I Know , ends with an enigmatic conversation at his father’s hospital bedside entitled “To put away—perhaps not to discard—childish things.” Published responses to Little Did I Know have left the ending unexamined, which means we are still some distance from understanding the book as a whole. In this essay I read the ending alongside several other key episodes in the text as “scenes of instruction,” a term essential to Cavell’s account of Wittgenstein. Doing so helps make sense not just of the memoir but of its place in Cavell’s work.

What Did Disciples Do?: Dizi 弟子 in Early Chinese Texts

The Confucian “scene of instruction” is the most influential model of discipleship for the Warring States through the Han period. It portrays the collective identity of master and disciples ( dizi ) as derived from the production, recitation, and transmission of texts. However, examination of how pre-Qin texts depict discipleship as a social phenomenon suggests that learning to read and write was not a universal aspiration of dizi . Moreover, attention to emplotment, motifs, wording, and tone in historical narratives about the master-disciple relationship shows increasing similarities over time to the patron-retainer relationship, including the potential for aggression and expectations of material returns. Discipleship, however, apparently created a permanent mutual obligation not shared by retainership. Further research is needed to understand the broad range of social roles expected of dizi in early Chinese texts. 摘要: 在許多學者的心目中，孔子與其弟子的集體認同源自他們對文本的創作、 複述和傳遞，然而學會閱讀和寫作並非一般弟子的普遍志向。有關孔子和弟子間 的關係的歷史記載所採用的編撰風格體現出這一關係越發相似於養士者與食客間 的關係。

Questions from the Rough Ground: Teaching, Autobiography and the Cosmopolitan “I”

In this article I explore how cosmopolitanism can be a challenge for ordinary language philosophy. I also explore cosmopolitan aspects of Stanley Cavell’s ordinary language philosophy. Beginning by considering the moral aspects of cosmopolitanism and some examples of discussions of cosmopolitanism in philosophy of education, I turn to the scene of instruction in Wittgenstein and to Stanley Cavell’s emphasis on the role of autobiography in philosophy. The turn to the autobiographical dimension of ordinary language philosophy, especially its use of “I” and “We”, becomes a way to work on the tension between the particular and the universal claims of cosmopolitanism. I show that the autobiographical aspects of philosophy and the philosophical significance of autobiographical writing in ordinary language philosophy can be seen as a test of representativeness—a test of the ground upon which one stands when saying “I”, “We” and “You.”

Artes y Medios en transe

A status report and an overview on the history of media arts. Considering the idea of TRANS applied to the artistic practices we analyse the audiovisual in relation with contemporary art. A reflection on the use of technological media along the XX century the text focuses on the scenes of instructions and the development of avangard hybrid audiovisual practices in Brazil throughout the last decades.Keywords: Media arts: experimentation, hybridisation, scenes of instruction

Coda

Research Article| September 01 2013 Coda Jeff Dolven Jeff Dolven Princeton University jdolven@princeton.edu Jeff Dolven teaches poetry and poetics, especially of the English Renaissance, at Princeton University. He is the author of Scenes of Instruction (Chicago 2007), a study of poetry's entanglement with school in the sixteenth century, and Speculative Music (Sarabande 2013), a book of poems. He has published essays on Renaissance metrics, Edmund Spenser, Shakespeare's reading, Fairfield Porter, player pianos, and other subjects. He is also the director of Princeton's Interdisciplinary Doctoral Program in the Humanities (IHUM), and an editor at large at the magazine Cabinet. Search for other works by this author on: This Site Google English Language Notes (2013) 51 (2): 143–144. https://doi.org/10.1215/00138282-51.2.143 Cite Icon Cite Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn MailTo Permissions Search Site Citation Jeff Dolven; Coda. English Language Notes 1 September 2013; 51 (2): 143–144. doi: https://doi.org/10.1215/00138282-51.2.143 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 JournalsEnglish Language Notes Search Advanced Search The text of this article is only available as a PDF. Copyright © 2013 Regents of the University of Colorado2013 Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content.

Re-Sounding Folk Voice, Remaking the Ballad: Alan Lomax, Margaret Walker, and the New Criticism

From the British Romantic period through the first decades of the twentieth century the literary ballad was a commonly practiced form, some working within the broadside tradition in recounting or imagining narratives with a thinly veiled socio-political aim, others imitating the ancient ballads with their mystical elements. This poetic practice was inspired by and coincided with the development of ballad studies, initiated in the eighteenth-century antiquarian work of Bishop Percy and Robert Burns, among others, formalized in the mid-nineteenth century by the unsurpassed scholarship of Harvard professor Francis Child, and reoriented, in the 1930s with recording technology and anthropological approaches to field work. It's fair to say that scholarship and poetics have often converged in the ballad, and that folk revivals are scenes of instruction as well as creativity and preservation. This is the general context for the specific moment in modern balladry that is the occasion for this essay--a moment in which the ballad captured the attention of archivist, poet, and teacher alike in their attempts to sound folk voice and put it to use. Three poetic projects of the US 1930s and early '40s brought literary and folk balladry into close proximity: the mid-1930s field recordings of Southern folk ballads gathered by John and Alan Lomax for the Smithsonian, subsequently issued in 1942; the 1939 publication of Cleanth Brooks and Robert 'Penn Warren's influential textbook Understanding Poetry, in which literary balladry serves a critical role for close-reading instruction; and the literary ballads of Margaret Walker, composed in dialect, collected in the middle section of her 1942 book For My People, and later recorded for Smithsonian Folkways. The proximity of these projects is serendipitous, insofar as it calls our attention to the ways that technology and racial politics reshaped folk voice and its representations at mid-century, whether incidentally or by design. From the many, sometimes surprising points of contact among the recordings, the textbook, and the dialect poetry, the ballad emerges as a dynamic modern form in which ideals of American folk voice were being contested. In this essay, I will begin by showing that Alan Lomax's project challenged the limitations of print as a medium for representing folk voice generally, and the ballad in particular; his appeal to the US public to attend to its folk heritage depended on his faith in sound recording as an authentic inscription of folk voice. Like Lomax, whose recordings were positioned as educational, Brooks and Warren presented the ballad as a point of entry into a scene of instruction, in which the ballad was a rudimentary poetic genre on a continuum that progressed toward complexity and ambiguity. Variations on the ballad James Harris in the Lomax recordings, however, complicate Brooks and Warren's important textbook version, highlighting how the medium of presentation influences meaning, form, and reception. This crucial difference notwithstanding, the projects converged in their assumptions about high and low art and, more troublingly, about race and voice. Margaret Walker's print and recorded work offers a provocative solution to the dilemmas presented by Lomax and Understanding Poetry. For Walker recognized that folk voice is a performance, and by giving voice to a marginalized people in her dialect balladry--written and spoken--she staged a critique of racist assumptions about black character and artistry. As I hope this essay will demonstrate, our evolving critical understanding of the ballad and folk voice benefits from an analysis of the performed as well as the written text, an. analysis that brings both under the careful scrutiny of close reading and listening.' Developments in poetry at mid-century cannot be adequately assessed without research into the variety of institutions and materials in which it manifested. Recording and reviving: the Lomax projects In 1942, the Library of Congress issued the first of a series of 78RPM albums featuring music collected under the leadership of John and Alan Lomax for the Archive of American Folk Song. …

Shakespeare’s Schoolroom: Rhetoric, Discipline, Emotion by Lynn Enterline

Reviewed by: Shakespeare’s Schoolroom: Rhetoric, Discipline, Emotion by Lynn Enterline Elizabeth D. Harvey (bio) Keywords Enterline, Shakespeare, Pedagogy, Rhetoric, Passions, Body, Gender, Queer Theory Lynn Enterline. Shakespeare’s Schoolroom: Rhetoric, Discipline, Emotion. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012. 208 pages. $45. How do early pedagogical practices become precipitates—shards of early impressions—that as fragmentary forms continue to catalyze imagination and being? Answering this question is the archaeological endeavor that motivates Lynn Enterline’s brilliant new book on the Renaissance schoolroom training that shaped Shakespeare and his contemporaries. She argues that, for some early modern writers, the youthful, formative experience of the English grammar school left an indelible imprint that marks the literature and theater of the period. My choice of the word archaeological to describe her method is meant to invoke Freud, for Enterline could not have approached her task with such results had she not joined her impressive archival and hermeneutic skills with a deft and sophisticated grasp of psychoanalytic principles. In a sense, her study is to early modern culture what childhood is to the individual subject; she investigates the cultural origins of the English (male) psyche through her examination of grammar school culture. Her analysis performs psychoanalytic work by attending to originary, sometimes traumatic, experiences that lie at the psychic root of the Renaissance human subject. She traverses terrain well-mapped by Sigmund Freud, Jacques Lacan, and Jean Laplanche, since the chronological moment of childhood she probes necessarily implicates language acquisition, early sexual fantasy and experience, the movement from a maternal or imaginary realm into a paternal or symbolic order, and perhaps most evocatively, rhetorical and pedagogical encounters with classical texts that were saturated by an intense physical experience of the passions. The book is organized into five chapters, each of which investigates different configurations of rhetoric and the passions. The first two chapters lay the groundwork for Enterline’s arguments by exploring a series of pedagogical texts [End Page 166] that range through early modern educational treatises (Erasmus, Ascham, Vives), schoolroom exercises that formed the humanist curriculum, popular plays and skits representing pedagogical practices, accounts of daily schoolroom life, and rhetorical and grammatical manuals (Lily’s Grammar, Cicero, Quintilian, Aphthonius’s Progymnasmata), both classical and early modern. As a learned classicist, Enterline’s ability to navigate the intricacies of the Renaissance double translation system allows her to recognize the jokes and subtleties at work. As the author of two influential books on poetics and the body, she illuminates here in often surprising ways the insistent presence of the somatic in these pedagogical practices. The effect of her analysis is to defamiliarize, to craft highly original readings of well-known plays or poems. She begins, for instance, by excavating the layers of Peter Quince’s exclamation to Bottom in Midsummer Night’s Dream, “Thou art translated!” (3.1.119), in order to reveal not only the passage from human to animal, from Mechanical to aristocrat, from emotion to fleshly embodiment of affect, from one register of perception to another, but also the literal foundation that many members of Shakespeare’s audience would have appreciated with visceral pleasure: the sixteenth-century practice of translating a Latin text to English and back again. Her evocation of these scenes of instruction informs her treatments of the Shakespearean texts or cluster of texts that she makes central to the final three chapters: Venus and Adonis, Hamlet, The Winter’s Tale, The Rape of Lucrece, and The Taming of the Shrew. Her arguments include by implication many works that she does not cite or has time to mention only briefly (The Tempest and Titus Andronicus are especially notable in this category); it is the mark of a groundbreaking book that it reaches out to enfold authors (Spenser and Milton, among others) outside its immediate purview, changing in important ways the landscape of interpretation. This book does just that by continually revealing the institutional forces that “trained up” boys to become masculine subjects and gentlemen. This is the most historically anchored of Enterline’s books. Whereas The Tears of Narcissus: Melancholia and Masculinity in Early Modern Writing and The Rhetoric of the Body from Ovid to Shakespeare both took Ovid, the...

“It’s Easy Once You Get Them Lit”: Contemporary Issues within Modern Tlingit IdentitySmokin’ Fish. Produced and written by Luke Griswold-Tergis. Directed by, Luke Griswold-Tergis and Cory Mann, edited by, Maureen Gosling. Additional directing, photography, and editing by, Manolo Turri; additional directing and photography by, Holly Gray. Executive producer, Jed Riffe, 2011.

propriate that the focus is on the possibility of the autopoiesis of such a position, that such a subject not only endure but that one of the means of its duration be by way of a themitical conception of being the addressee of a claim to justness, a claim which could be heard, repeated, and practiced. Thus we come to what I think is the fundamental diagnostic challenge that opens up terrain for future work and that should be treated separately from the book’s model-theoretic fecundity: can reflection on the “ethical” transform breakdowns or interruptions of the “themitical”? Such breakdown may be as much routed in the indetermination of the terms of evaluative predication as in the acts evaluated themselves. An Anthropology of Ethics, as a scene of instruction, serves powerfully its aim of forming an anthropological practice with generalist intention. If this review has erred on the side of reproduction, it is because Faubion’s intervention deserves a wide audience in a discipline grappling with the conditions of existence of its objects and methods of inquiry. As I catch my breath, edified by the exercise, I defer the question of the autopoiesis of such a pedagogy, and thus of its transformation. Faubion leaves us, in conclusion, with a taste of the near future, which I recommend the reader to discover. We can look forward to what the domain of the anthropology of ethics will become.

Scenes of Instruction: The Beginnings of the U.S. Study of Film

Scenes of Instruction: The Beginnings of the U.S. Study of Film

Scenes of Instruction: Representations of the American Girl in European Twentieth-Century Literature

In Journey to the End of the Night (1932) by Louis-Ferdinand Celine, Lolita (1955) by Vladimir Nabokov, and Birthday Letters (1998) by Ted Hughes, the American girl is represented with ambiguous appeal. Three cultural constructions, the femme fatale , the nymph, and the femme fragile , emerge from these works in which the European intellectual attempts to educate the American girl. However, the American girl challenges her European benefactor through her New World independence and expressivity. Indeed, the American girl becomes the embodiment of everything Europe does not, cannot, understand about America, her femininity a marker of the unattainable, the obscure and the attractive.

Review of Terry Bolas, Screen Education and Dana Polan, Scenes of Instruction

In this review of books on the early years of film studies – Dana Polan's covering the hitherto obscure interwar epoch in the USA, Terry Bolas's the better known years that produced Screen in Britain – I take up Polan's argument that a perennially unstable faultline in the discipline is the distinction between scholarly and nonscholarly modes of discourse. I also criticize the caesural view of intellectual history, in some respects adopted by Bolas, suggesting the existence of a certain continuity in aims between post-Screen film studies and its forgotten antecedents.

Introduction

Stanley Cavell's thinking on music may appear an odd theme for a special issue of the Journal of Music Theory. According to Cavell, “although I have written very little explicitly about music... something I have demanded from philosophy has been an understanding precisely of what I had sought in music.” In this introduction, a brief history behind the issue is presented and a comparison is drawn between the tasks of music theory and Cavell's “demands” upon philosophy. By glossing Cavell's notion of the “scene of instruction,” questions of teaching, epistemic justification, intersubjective acknowledgment, and personal responsibility over one's critical language are introduced as central themes. One of Cavell's “scenes” involves David Lewin, and the friendship of these two figures is subsequently discussed. Lastly, these themes are related to the various articles in the issue, which are quickly introduced and loosely organized in groups for the benefit of the reader.

Scenes of Instruction: Representations of the American Girl in European Twentieth-Century Literature

Scenes of Instruction: Representations of the American Girl in European Twentieth-Century Literature