Since October 2016, I've disabled comments on my posts. This decision was made rather hastily and comes primarily from the fact that I didn't want to engage with what others had written in what I had written. That is, I didn't want to spend my writing time writing about what I already wrote when I had more to to write that wasn't being written. Glad we cleared that up.
Anyway, I keep the comments off and, though I post my essays on both Twitter and Facebook, I don't usually engage much beyond a like or favorite of comments these essays generate. This stems from a reluctance I have to engage in public conversation. My teaching style is heavily focused on dialogue, discussion, and exploration of ideas; it is called, after all, Socratic Seminar. So why don't I want the same online? For the same reason I don't leave my door open during class and encourage people to walk in and start talking.
I get the sense that people don't read through a conversation, particularly on Facebook, before launching in with their opinions and interpretations. Reading an article is rare, and though I believe a lot of people--maybe even the majority--who comment on my essays did the reading, I don't trust that they necessarily read all of the preceding comments. And sometimes nothing said before pertains to what a commentator wants to say, which can cause concurrent commentaries. That's too chaotic for me, a person who is used to the control he can exert in the classroom to keep the class on topic or progressing toward an end goal.
That's another thing about the comments I get about these essays: They're topics that mean something to me (otherwise, I wouldn't write about them), but that doesn't mean that I know why I'm writing them. In class, I have, over the course of nearly a decade, refined what I wish to learn, what I wish to teach, and what I wish to have the students investigate and consider. This process lets me use the conversations to further my curricula and come to conclusions--or more questions--that I would like to see the students arrive at. In short, I have a pretty specific sense of direction and purpose in what I do in my class. I don't have that for these essays. I'm too scatter-shot, too raw and unedited in these essays to have that kind of vision.
That isn't to say that comments or feedback wouldn't be valuable--they absolutely would--but only if I were looking to improve, change, clarify, or expand on these ideas. Were I to, say, publish a collection of my essays? Yes, I would certainly solicit feedback.
But with my essays really being a thought-journal that I put out there as an exercise in learning to not fear publication? With this an extension of my thinking that I can give to a small sliver of the world with a simple caveat of "take it or leave it", an as-is record of my thoughts? In that sense, I don't really feel compelled to open up comments on my blog or respond in depth to what's written in the fora in which my thoughts are published.
THAT ISN'T TO SAY that you if you feel like saying something about my essays you now ought not to. You're welcome to speak up, share, or like what I've written. But in terms of me responding to questions or comments? Well, it's not a very likely scenario.
Ideal situation? What I say so excites (or incenses) you that you have to write your own response. I would love it if what I wrote caused more writing, more thinking. Long form (even a short bit of long form, like this essay) writing has its own merits and value, far beyond a quick rant. People don't usually go to Facebook for lengthy screeds anyway, but if you write something large--even if it's to show me where I'm wrong and why I'm the primary cause for the impending apocalypse or whatever--then I think we've both benefited.
Second best? If you want to talk to me privately--email or direct message--about what I've written, that's cool. I'm bad at answering that way quickly, but I don't mind the exchange of ideas on a personal, not-on-display way. That prevents interruptions and people jumping into the conversation whom I neither know nor can read.
A quick example: My uncle took me up on this request after reading my piece on Nephi, and we've gone back and forth a little exploring the hermeneutics of our moralities. He can attest that I'm very slow on the response front, but it has been much more pleasant (for me) to talk in a private, rather than exhibitory, way.
So, yeah. That's why I don't read the comments.
Anyway, I keep the comments off and, though I post my essays on both Twitter and Facebook, I don't usually engage much beyond a like or favorite of comments these essays generate. This stems from a reluctance I have to engage in public conversation. My teaching style is heavily focused on dialogue, discussion, and exploration of ideas; it is called, after all, Socratic Seminar. So why don't I want the same online? For the same reason I don't leave my door open during class and encourage people to walk in and start talking.
I get the sense that people don't read through a conversation, particularly on Facebook, before launching in with their opinions and interpretations. Reading an article is rare, and though I believe a lot of people--maybe even the majority--who comment on my essays did the reading, I don't trust that they necessarily read all of the preceding comments. And sometimes nothing said before pertains to what a commentator wants to say, which can cause concurrent commentaries. That's too chaotic for me, a person who is used to the control he can exert in the classroom to keep the class on topic or progressing toward an end goal.
That's another thing about the comments I get about these essays: They're topics that mean something to me (otherwise, I wouldn't write about them), but that doesn't mean that I know why I'm writing them. In class, I have, over the course of nearly a decade, refined what I wish to learn, what I wish to teach, and what I wish to have the students investigate and consider. This process lets me use the conversations to further my curricula and come to conclusions--or more questions--that I would like to see the students arrive at. In short, I have a pretty specific sense of direction and purpose in what I do in my class. I don't have that for these essays. I'm too scatter-shot, too raw and unedited in these essays to have that kind of vision.
That isn't to say that comments or feedback wouldn't be valuable--they absolutely would--but only if I were looking to improve, change, clarify, or expand on these ideas. Were I to, say, publish a collection of my essays? Yes, I would certainly solicit feedback.
But with my essays really being a thought-journal that I put out there as an exercise in learning to not fear publication? With this an extension of my thinking that I can give to a small sliver of the world with a simple caveat of "take it or leave it", an as-is record of my thoughts? In that sense, I don't really feel compelled to open up comments on my blog or respond in depth to what's written in the fora in which my thoughts are published.
THAT ISN'T TO SAY that you if you feel like saying something about my essays you now ought not to. You're welcome to speak up, share, or like what I've written. But in terms of me responding to questions or comments? Well, it's not a very likely scenario.
Ideal situation? What I say so excites (or incenses) you that you have to write your own response. I would love it if what I wrote caused more writing, more thinking. Long form (even a short bit of long form, like this essay) writing has its own merits and value, far beyond a quick rant. People don't usually go to Facebook for lengthy screeds anyway, but if you write something large--even if it's to show me where I'm wrong and why I'm the primary cause for the impending apocalypse or whatever--then I think we've both benefited.
Second best? If you want to talk to me privately--email or direct message--about what I've written, that's cool. I'm bad at answering that way quickly, but I don't mind the exchange of ideas on a personal, not-on-display way. That prevents interruptions and people jumping into the conversation whom I neither know nor can read.
A quick example: My uncle took me up on this request after reading my piece on Nephi, and we've gone back and forth a little exploring the hermeneutics of our moralities. He can attest that I'm very slow on the response front, but it has been much more pleasant (for me) to talk in a private, rather than exhibitory, way.
So, yeah. That's why I don't read the comments.