I've pointed out here before, in various entries, that the irony of the lecture on modernism has become increasingly obvious and disabling. The problem will be to define or at least describe an alternative.
Although he was not writing about teaching when he wrote this, Bruce Andrews imagines a specific practice when he expresses the hope “for a revived radicalism of constructivist noise or athematic ‘informal music’” in the world of poetry and poetics. In the spirit of this, I wonder if the poetry classroom could be filled such noise. The “use” of new technologies to aid the teaching of poetry is not going to make a bit of difference unless some sort of fundamental pedagogy change accompanies it, and I believe the quality of that changed environment might indeed sound something like Andrews’s athematic informal music.In modernism's materials must at least implicitly be a meta-pedagogy. The trick is in bringing out that implication.
"I teach horizontally, meaning that while I might begin with a fixed idea of what I'm going to teach that day, I let it drift rhizomatically way off topic, often pulling it back when it gets too far. I rely on non-fixed materials to teach this way; the whole world is at my fingertips. Should I go off on a tangent about John and Rauschenberg and their love relationship as expressed in Rauschenberg's bed, an image of that bed is always a click away. From there, we can head anywhere into the non-fixed universe, be it film, text or sound. And of course, that always takes us elsewhere. As Cage says, 'We are getting nowhere fast.'" 
that anyone has yet got the imaginative measure of that terrifying day six years ago. Certainly our Tolstoy has not crawled out of the rubble. The closest we have, Don DeLillo, succeeded as an essayist-journalist ("In the Ruins of the Future: Reflections on Terror and Loss in the Shadow of September,” Harper’s, December 2001) but, to my mind, failed as a novelist ("Falling Man"). One reason, perhaps, is that the remembered emotion was instantly buried under a pile of cultural junk.' - Tod Gitlin in his review of Susan Faludi's The Terror Dream (written for 
