Defamiliarizing the

Typography in the Composition Classroom

DefaultAshley M. Watson Watson | 1

am not a huge fan of Comic Sans. Not a lot of people are. In the fall of 1999, Holly Sliger, a design student at the Herron School of Art and Design of Indianapolis, began the Ban Comic Sans Movement. In a Wall Street Journal article, Sliger reflects on a museum gallery job that requested the . She I says, “It was like hell for me. It was everywhere, like an epidemic” (Steel, “Typeface Inspired by Comic Books Has Become a of Ill Will”). A documentary film by Gary Hustwit explored another popular typeface in which the movie is named, . The documentary recreates the ongoing conflict between modernist typographers that love Helvetica’s ability to unify people, and the postmodern typographers that believe its quotidian nature robs the public of their individual expression. Negative responses to Helvetica and Comic Sans stem from their popularity and their presence in our everyday backdrops. In this essay, I turn the focus to a typeface popular in the public sphere—but also in the academic—Times New Roman. Times New Roman differs from Helvetica and Comics Sans in the fact that it serves as a default in software programs and is also required for most academic papers.

In “The Politics of the Interface: Power and Its Exercise in Electronic Contact Zones,” Cynthia Selfe and Richard Selfe urge instructors to “adopt a more critical and reflective approach to their use of computers,” in order to realize the “effects of domination and colonialism associated with computer use” (482). These “effects of domination and colonialism” should extend to the discussion of default . With the growing integration of technology in writing classrooms, students are coming into contact with an increased number of typographic choices. Unfortunately, composition instructors and students blindly follow academic requirements or limited software type choices. Although textbooks and instructors focus on the personality and readability of type, the historic and ongoing debates over typeface ownership remains esoteric knowledge. Students continually represent their work in the ubiquitous Times New Roman: a type required in most classrooms, and until recently, the default on Microsoft Word. But, how often do we examine the typeface we require our students to use? How often do we question Times New Roman’s authority?

I use the word defamiliarize, because students and instructors are well aware of the presence of Times New Roman, but we have never questioned why it is so ubiquitous. Times New Roman was created for the purpose of containing a text, rather than distracting the reader with out-of-the-ordinary typographic features. Its universality enhanced its familiarity, and thus its invisibility. In the essay I hope to ask what Times New Roman is, who created it, why it was created, and why it is the default. Further, I hope to explore what these answers mean to the field of composition, especially after Times New Roman’s recent replacement by Calibri as the Microsoft default.

I will look at John Trimbur’s “Delivering the Message: and the Materiality of Writing” from Carolyn Handa’s collection Visual Rhetoric in a Digital World (2004). The piece argues against the process movement’s neglect of the modes of production and circulation in writing, which took away focus from the material and visual content of writing. The essay serves as an essential proponent for typography in the composition classroom, using typography as a location to rematerialize and revisualize writing. Using Trimbur as support, I will next explore how typography is currently discussed in the composition classroom using popular textbooks and handbooks.

After arguing for types’ illumination, I will next use prominent theories and histories to illuminate typography in the composition classroom. I will dissect Times New Roman, looking at its beginning as the typeface of the British newspaper, The Times, to its recent replacement by Calibri as the Microsoft default. Lastly, I will reenter the composition classroom analyzing Times New Roman in a pedagogical context.

Essentially, I argue the following:

1. no typeface is invisible when its narrativity, origins, and intended purposes are revealed Watson | 2

2. defamiliarizing typefaces, especially ubiquitous typefaces such as Times New Roman, can give students more power over the production of their compositions 3. successful illumination of typography in the classroom will only happen after pedagogical resources are improved

I am not hoping to add another step to the writing process, or change the universal requirement of Times New Roman. Rather, I hope to explore a historic moment—a change of a default. Such a change does affect the composition classroom, since we have come to rely on Times New Roman as our own default. Calibri was created for a pleasurable and easy on-screen reading experience. Microsoft decided to redefine its norm, which will in turn affect an already established norm, Times New Roman. While Times New Roman’s typographic kingship is being challenged by a sans-serifed1 newcomer, we should take the time to explore what this tells us about typography as a location of power.

Type in the Classroom | Trimbur, Textbooks, and Technology

With the growing pertinence of visual rhetoric in composition, typography exploration is opportune and essential. In the early twenty-first century, sessions on visual rhetoric and new media topics appeared throughout the program of the Conference on College Composition and Communication: “Composition teachers are thinking about the visual, considering theories historicizing the separation of words and images, and understanding the place of classical rhetoric, design studies, and cultural studies in our pedagogy” (Handa 2). Though strides have been made in incorporating visual rhetoric into composition, there is still much work to be done. In 2004, Visual Rhetoric in a Digital World served as a theoretical “launching pad” for future teaching and researching practices of visual rhetoric.

In Visual Rhetoric’s introduction, Handa argues that students are “technologically sophisticated yet rhetorically illiterate” (3). While students understand that a variety of visual and textual elements make- up a website, they may not understand or consider the rhetorical questions needed to create a website. Instructors in return, need to adapt to emerging technologies. By becoming users of technology and implementing technologies into our own scholarship, we can become better teachers of it. Further, scholars such as Cynthia Selfe and Richard Selfe argue that instructors should also rhetorically analyze the technology present in our own classrooms.

While visual rhetoric invites instructors and students to analyze the world around them, it also invites analysis of the spaces we compose in. In “The Politics of Interface,” Selfe and Selfe view computer interfaces as “cultural maps of computer systems,” maps which are designed with a certain set of historical and social values (485). Selfe and Selfe explore varieties of interface as map, but I want to look specifically at interfaces as maps of capitalism and class privilege. Computers often map the virtual world as a desktop (manila folders, files, documents, telephones, etc.), which is associated with “corporate culture and values of professionalism” (486). These maps of capitalism and class privilege also include spaces which are increasingly legislated and controlled (487). Students continue to rely on library systems and information databases, which are becoming more expensive, and thus aligned with class privilege and capitalism (488).

1 Sans- typefaces are those without “the feet” at the end of the strokes. For example, Times New Roman (notice the horizontal lines at the end of the strokes) is a serif typeface and Arial is a sans-serif typeface. Watson | 3

Selfe and Selfe write: “Currently, most teachers of composition studies at the collegiate level are educated to deal with technology not as critics but as users” (496). Becoming critics of computer interfaces allows scholars to:

acquire the intellectual habits of reflecting on and discussing the cultural and ideological characteristics of technology—and the implications of these characteristics—in educational contexts. With such a realization, we maintain, English composition teachers can begin to exert an increasingly active influence on the cultural project of technology design. (484)

Selfe and Selfe essentially argue for an increased understanding of computer interfaces in education and interface design so that humanist scholars can voice their perspectives in a location dominated by computer scientists (498).

I hope to further critique the interface, looking specifically at typography, something not mentioned in the article. Critiquing, and not just using, typography will give both instructors and students power over the visuality of their interfaces and their public and academic writing. John Trimbur’s “Delivering the Message: Typography and the Materiality of Writing” argues for the re-emergence of typography as an effective tool in the production and circulation of student writing. His chapter serves as a typographic, theoretical launching pad in Handa’s call for new practices of composition teaching and research in visual rhetoric.

Trimbur and Typography

In “Delivering the Message: Typography and the Materiality of Writing,” John Trimbur argues that major components of the process movement (voice, cognition, conversation), while auditory and mental, “neglect the materiality and the visuality of writing” (263). Aligning writing with speech, the movement fails to view writing as a “typographical and rhetorical system of sign making” (262).

John Trimbur places two historical obstacles to seeing the materiality of writing: the essayist tradition of the early modern period and the Alphabetic Literacy Narrative. The essayist tradition favored “rhetoric of reproduction,” or “a programmatic effort to reduce the figurative language of writing, minimize the need for interpretation, and thereby make the text more transparent” (261). The Alphabetic Literacy Narrative—present in the work of Harold Innis, Jack Goody, Eric Havelock, and Walter Ong—reduces syllabic and logographic writing systems, pictographs, and images to a status of illiteracy (261). Trimbur argues against this theory:

[…] the irony of the grand narrative is that it suppresses the full upshot of its own discovery— namely, that writing amounts to be less a recording of speech than a visual coding system that communicates by employing a range of nonphonetic elements such as spacing, , frames, and borders, not to mention the eccentricities in codes […] (262)

As graphic designer Adolf Loose believes, there is a visuality of writing: “One cannot speak a capital letter.” To rematerialize writing, Trimbur writes that “we need to recast the figure of the composer and its essayist legacy—to see writers not just as makers of meaning but as makers of the means of producing meaning out of the available resources of representation” (262). In a popular digital literacy age, this is attached to concept of “production” and “delivery,” those neglected by the process movement. In order to salvage and rematerialize, Trimbur turns to typography:

For one thing, typography—quiet literally—“writing with type”—can help rematerialize literacy by calling attention to the visual design of writing, be it handwritten, print, or electronic. Typography enables us to see writing in material terms as letterforms, printed pages, posters, Watson | 4

computer screens. It helps to name the available tools of representation that composers draw on to make their own means of production […] (263)

Trimbur further suggests that typography is crucial in a developing civic rhetoric, and should not be marginalized as “afterthoughts or professional training” (266). Typography’s proliferation in the public space and its accessibility has opened opportunities for “non-designers” to become typographers. Yet, we instructors and students are limited by academic restrictions, which hinder our chances of practicing typography. Trimbur draws from three issues in typography theory and practice that could be of interest in writing studies: narrativity of letterforms, the as a unit of discourse, and the division of labor. Essentially, there is a complicated history of letterforms of “changing philosophies, technologies, and the social issues of writing” (266). Narrativity of letteforms, will be addressed at length in later sections.

Page as a unit of discourse. Trimbur asserts that the essayist tradition disregarded “the page,” suggesting readers should follow the writer’s thoughts, rather than focusing on the visual design of the page. Typography calls attention to the page and treats letterforms as visual elements (267). Trimubr points out poets such as Stephane Mallarme and Filippo Marinetti that use the page as a location of play, varying type and format. He further points out the work of designers such as April Greiman and Katherine McCoy (Cranbrook Academy of Art) that utilize new digital technologies to add depth to the page by overlapping images and text. Trimbur sees the value of looking at the page as a unit of discourse in writing studies— “about how, say, the juxtaposition of articles, photographs, and advertisements on a newspaper or magazine page creates larger messages than any one single item can convey” (268). In essence, scholars and instructors should explore and create their own reading paths to create instances for reading, rather than browsing, as normal formats do. As writers challenge format norms, readers must adapt and slow down their reading so that they may get the writer’s intended message.

Division of labor. In the beginning of printing, typography was a craft or an artisan’s labor. Printing spread, transforming the master printer into a “hybrid figure” (an entrepreneur, editor, cultural impresario, etc.). In the twentieth century, Trimbur points out typography’s new location “under corporate capital, becoming a career path for graphic artists in design studios, publishing, the media, advertising, and academia—another profession with its association and publications” (269). Though, with the rise of , “the divison of labor is beginning to flatten, and distinctions between author, designer, printer, are starting to collapse” (269).

I would also like to add that these divisions of labor, in regards to typography, will continue to flatten if we reveal the presence and power of typography in students’ and our own writing. By continuing to enforce Times New Roman, power is still in the hands of designers, typographers, printers, and more importantly interface designers. By giving students power as “producers,” a power accessible to them with desktop publishing, they regain control over the tools of representation.

While Trimbur makes a pertinent theoretical argument here about typography’s visibility and importance in writing studies, instructors must begin putting this in practice and discussing its outcomes. I will next explore how typography is already addressed as a rhetorical tool in composition textbooks, although the information is limited. The study of typography is often used to reach a rhetorical means, rather than being rhetorically analyzed itself. To fill in the gaps left by textbooks, I will explore briefly typography theory and history. I do so in response to Carolyn Handa’s initiative to explore other fields in order to develop our understanding of the visual. This history will lead us to a typeface we encounter most often in our profession—Times New Roman. I argue its recent replacement as a default serves as a good opportunity to explore in-depth historical and cultural significances of type.

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Textbooks

The analysis is short, since composition textbooks that address typography are limited. Textbooks meant for higher-level English courses, specifically those in technical and professional writing, provide longer typography lessons, although these too are limited in their typographic narrativity.

The Everyday Writer (4th edition, 2009). Under the subject heading “Type” in the “Using format effectively” section, The Everyday Writer provides a general overview of typeface and the tone it can set for a document. The book suggests using a 10- to 12- serif font for college writing (without really explaining the difference between serif and sans-serif). To illustrate the tone or personality of a typeface the sentence—“Different convey different feelings”—is written in a variety of typefaces: a script, a commonplace serif, a bold block, and a Comic Sans-ish type (114). An explanation of what tones these typefaces convey is not provided.

Compose, Design, Advocate (2007). Compose, Design, Advocate devotes a number of pages to type, even defining and explaining the field of typography: “Typography is the study of how lettershapes—on paper or on screen—work functionally and rhetorically” (279). The anatomy of letterforms is explained with helpful images, explaining terms such as height, serif, bowl, etc. They categorize typefaces: typefaces for extended reading and typefaces for at-a-glance . The book uses a table to enumerate the typefaces that fall under these two categories, providing a short history and design rationale for each. For example, the blurb provided for is as follows:

In the early nineteenth century, Napoleon invaded Egypt. His army included historians and artists who brought back samples of Egyptian art and writing to France. This started a craze in Europe for all things Egyptian—including typefaces that looked like they came from the Nile area. These typefaces were originally called “Egyptienne.” Notice how the serifs are straight slabs with no curves softening how the serif joins the body of the letter. These typefaces often look informal. (282)

This section of the book is titled “Pathos of Type,” and is essentially meant to explain the personalities of typeface. Although limited in its typographic scope, it does go beyond merely pointing out type to explaining what personalities suit a given situation. It makes a stronger argument for typography’s visibility and role, stating, “In order to make effective rhetorical choices with type, you need therefore to know something about the details of type and about its conventional (and not so conventional) uses […]” (279). The book effectively situates itself by pointing out the very typeface used in the book, Productus, and explaining their rationale for choosing it.

I appreciate these chapters for even including typography and recognizing its role in the writing process. Though, I believe Compose, Design, Advocate’s stories of letterforms are rather limited and innocuous. Ink has been spilled in the history of typography. Yes, Napoleon’s army was inspired by Egypt, but only after invading it. Typeface doesn’t come without a price:

• Edgar Allen Poe, educated in typography and , spent much of his career trying to circumvent traditional typography. In his chapter in Illuminating Letters, Leon Jackson writes: “The ‘truth’ of the printed word, Poe came to believe, was not always the truth of the author’s pen. Books were not only manufactured objects but also mediated, and many technologies stood between an author’s manuscript and the publisher’s text” (141). Poe’s reviews of other’s literature often included a commentary on the printing style. His concern for typography can be linked to a printer’s marring of his early work with bad type choices. • In the same book, Megan Benton explores gender issues in typography in her chapter “Typography and Gender: Remasculating the Modern Book.” During the late nineteenth century and twentieth centuries American and British male typographers, including Theodore Low De Watson | 6

Vinne, argued that typefaces and book illustrations had become “feminine,” along with the process of making books. He blames this feminization on mechanized processes; there was a movement from hand-presses to steam-presses. De Vinne appreciated the “manly” quality of manual labor, favoring hand-presses. He also equated the feminization to new aesthetic qualities of book; no longer were books just “text,” but decorated “girly” text. De Vinne began to create hand-pressed books, which—because of their lower production quantities—were sold to only a few rich men. • Hilter’s Third Reich’s authority extended to typeface, favoring the Germanic typeface. (Trimbur 267)

What these narratives begin to tell us is that type is never truly invisible when we begin to uncover its narrative. We should not only take typeface at face value. To uncover the narrative further, the next two sections use typography theory and history to analyze a typeface most often seen in the composition classroom—Times New Roman.

Typography | Illuminating the “Unmarked”

An overview of typography is not complete without homage to Beatrice Warde, typography scholar and wife of Times New Roman creator, Stanley Morrison. Her crystal goblet theory only buttresses Times New Roman fame, believing that book typography should merely contain the written word much like a crystal goblet contains wine without distraction. In a 1932 speech, Beatrice Warde proclaimed, “The mental eye focuses through type and not upon it […] type which, through any arbitrary warping of design or excess of ‘color,’ gets in the way of the mental picture to be conveyed, is a bad type” (Gutjahr and Benton 2). Simply put, typeface should contain text rather than distract the reader with a “personality;” an invisible presence and a utilitarian purpose are key.

In her 1994 study, The Visible Word, critic Johanna Drucker furthered Warde’s argument, delineating two categories of text: marked and unmarked. Unmarked text, often associated with literary text, “bears no obvious typographic manipulation” (Gutjahr and Benton 5). Marked text, used for commercial purposes, manipulates type to serve a purpose beyond simply containing the text (think typeface with a personality, i.e. Chiller). Paul C. Gutjahr, Megan L. Benton, and contributors argue in Illuminating Letters that literary typefaces are just as marked as commercial typefaces. Their introduction states:

Once given visual form, any text is implicitly coded by that form in ways that signal, however subtly, its nature and purpose and how its creators wish it to be approached and valued. A stage production of Hamlet in modern dress may seem more “marked” than another that adheres scrupulously to conventions of Shakespearean costume, staging, and so on, but it is not. Each feature of both productions represents an interpretative choice made by a director, actor, or stage manager, and is filtered through the physical and verbal skills and qualities of actors. The words may be Hamlet’s but the uniquely inflected body and the voice are Branagh’s or Olivier’s. The body and the voice make a difference. Type and typography make a difference. (6)

Following essays in Illuminating Letters produce a rich history of marked literary text. Much of these histories, along with others collected over time, are discussed below in hopes of illuminating text that often goes unnoticed. I explore a brief and overarching history of typography, focusing on the most crucial periods and typefaces of : the Renaissance and its humanist fonts, the Enlightenment and its “systems of oppositions,” Modernism’s Helvetica, and Postmodern responses to Helvetica.

The earliest types, attributed of course to Johannes Gutenberg, mimicked letterforms of the time. These letterforms for print, most commonly referred to as “gothic” or “blackletter,”2 were indistinguishable

2 A blackletter typeface looks like this: blackletter. Watson | 7 from the handwritten letterforms of medieval scribes. Such typefaces are most commonly associated with The Holy Bible, even after the more humanist typefaces became the norm. Robert Barker, first printer of the King James Bible (1611), “carefully manipulated his typographical choices to make clear to his readers what was written by the hand of God and what was not” (Gutjahr 21). Barker used the traditional blackletter for the text of The Bible, and (a humanist type) for chapter summaries and marginal notes. Even after the replacement of God’s type for more “readable” types, the blackletter typeface still appears on many Bible covers.

Italian scribes in the latter half of the fifteenth century created the first humanist3 fonts, representative “of the aesthetic philosophy of the humanist Italian Renaissance” (Dodd 21). The first humanist typefaces still showed some Gothic influence, until a Frenchman (settled in Venice, 1468), Nicholas Jenson, created the first “perfect” version of a roman typeface. The Italian Renaissance is also accredited for the first type style we now know as italic. A classical influence continued into the seventeenth century, when Louis XIV imposed a rational grid inspired by the Roman alphabet. The outcome was the romain du roi, which “was meant to embody authority of scientific method and bureaucratic power” (Trimbur 266).

The Enlightenment period broke away from classically inspired typography, resulting in Giambiattista Bodoni4 and Francoise Didot’s “system of oppositions”—“a thick and thin, vertical and horizontal, serif and stem” (Trimbur 266). Not working for commercial purposes, Bodoni had the luxury of creating letterforms for the purpose of art alone, although it was at the expense of readability. Such letterforms showed drastic experimentation. Strong experimentation would be prevalent in following centuries by typographic additions of the fat-face and slab-serif Egyptians5.

The twentieth century produced the two most ubiquitous types: Times New Roman and Helvetica. Thinking about modern typography is often tantamount to thinking about Helvetica6. Helvetica was seen by designers as a typeface that could clean up the wreckage left by the Second World War. The typeface showed little contrast, and is often seen surrounded by white space. Its lack of contrast represents sameness or unity. Proponents of the typeface praise it for its ability to say “everything,” and it became the most commonly used typeface in 60’s advertisements (and beyond). Helvetica is seen on tax forms, government agencies’ paperwork, HPV commercials, and even on the side of the United State’s space shuttle.

As mentioned in the introduction, the movie Helvetica discussed the modern proponents and postmodern opponents of the typeface. In the film, typographer David Carson discussed his struggle as a beginner typographer. His rebellious typography practices did not fit the neatly-packed, geometric system of type design, such that had created Helvetica. He famously quotes, “Don’t mistake legibility for communication.” Using the page as a location of play, his work shows that communication can still flourish without an unmarked, legible typeface. Another typographer, Paula Scher sees Helvetica as a corporate, fascist typeface. She thought Helvetica was clean, but “like cleaning up your room.” Carson and Scher both challenged the typography norm, even when their field disagreed with their rebellious design. In the next section I will look at a typeface we encounter in our field and what challenging it can do for the field of composition.

3 Times New Roman is a humanist, roman typeface. 4 He created the typeface Bodoni. 5 Fat-face typefaces look like this: Fat-face; and Slab-Serif like this: T. 6 Helvetica looks like this: Helvetica. Watson | 8

Times New Roman | “Type should not ape ”

The following section narrates the rise and inevitable fall of Times New Roman. Since its “fall” can be attributed to Microsoft’s new default Calibri, there are issues of politics involved here. Also, students’ familiarity with Times New Roman will evoke interesting conversations on typography in their own lives. So, let’s start at the beginning. Times New Roman is a product of the 1930s, created by Stanley Morison after the British Times challenged him to create a more versatile typeface for the publication.

TIMES. The Times approached Morison’s employer, Monotype, to sell ad space. To make the offer more enticing, The Times’s advertising editor offered to set the type for the advertisement. Morison was insulted by such a suggestion: “He announced he’d rather pay them not to set it, so poor did he consider the current state of the paper’s typography” (Loxley 130). In the end, The Times challenged Morison to create a better typeface. He created a lengthy proposal, “which put his case for the improvements to the paper’s typefaces; making proposals in the light of type history and the qualities of various type designs, and introducing ideas from the latest research on legibility” (Dodd 109). In Type: The Secret History of Letters, Simon Loxley writes of a proposal submitted to The Times by Morison titled, “No ‘arty’ types required in The Times,” where Morison states:

It is hoped that the experimental fount now in preparation for scrutiny by the Committee will have at least the merit of being free from all that is academic or “arty” [… ] Type should not ape calligraphy; it should first and last, look like type, but good type—i.e., good for its purpose. (131)

Since Morison was not a draftsman, he enlisted Victor Lardent, a artist from The Times, to create a new typeface (Dodd 109). The typeface took several years to complete and was introduced on October 3rd, 1932 in The Times.

NEW ROMAN. Times New Roman replaced Times Old Roman as The Times typeface. As both their names suggest, they are both classified as “roman” typefaces. Times New Roman adapted well to a newspaper setting. Morison “achieved this by studying the various aspects of a daily newspaper’s contents: the main text of the newspaper, the articles, and reports” (Dodd 110). The typeface needed to adapt to a variety of sizes, from captions to headings. In From Gutenberg to Opentype, Robin Dodd goes into further detail:

The overall color is strong, causing the type to stand eloquently out from the page. The roman letterform is compact, which is essential for newspaper use, allowing it to function well in narrow columns while not being condensed. The italics have a regular, moderate slope. Times New Roman is a sturdy, well-proportioned face that, in spite of its specialized concept, has proved to be suitable for an enormous variety of uses and this flexibility is a key reason for its germinal status. (111)

Thus, Times New Roman’s popularity can be attributed to its versatility. While such a typeface shoots for an unmarked status, Dodd attributes it to more, making it rather marked:

In the days before the Second World War, The Times newspaper was considered the voice of the British establishment. As a result, when Times New Roman was made available to the general printing industry, it quickly became appreciated as a typeface that expressed authority and dignity. (111)

Now it is 2010, and until recently, Times New Roman served as the default typeface for Microsoft Word. The typeface made for easy digitalization and could withstand the high speed of printing. Times New Roman is also supported by italics, semibold, and bold, with related italics and extra bold, hence its Watson | 9 versatility. In the latter half of the section, I will further explore Times New Roman in the context of academic and public spheres. As scholars and instructors, we have most often seen Times New Roman in our work, but also in the piles (both paper and digital) of student papers. Thus, we are quite familiar with this typeface and are contributors of its continued proliferation.

Software products entrenched Times New Roman as a universal default. Times New Roman has been used in copies of Microsoft Windows since version 3.1. While serving as the default in programs such as Microsoft Word, Times New Roman, in 12-point, serves as the default font in web browsers (Morgan, “Font Styles”). Times Roman, a typeface inspired by Times New Roman was introduced in 1945 by Linotype. Times New Roman, and typefaces inspired by it, became the most ubiquitous typeface in business and home computing. Interestingly, Times New Roman replaced Courier New as the typeface of all US diplomatic documents in February 2004. Now, though, Times New Roman has a new challenger— Calibri.

In 2004, Microsoft’s ClearType Font Collection introduced six new typefaces: Cambria, Candara, Constantia, Corbel, Consolas, and Calibri. The Cleartype Font Collection responded to Bill Gates desire for a more enjoyable on-screen reading experience. The collection was backed by lots of research “to improve the structure and the clarity of the letterforms” (Wagener, “The Next Big Thing”). The team of type designers utilized the effective ClearType technology, which was “a very neat trick to increase the resolution of screen hardware using software alone” (“A Case Study”). The collection was first introduced to the public in the operating system Windows Vista, also replacing Times New Roman as the default in its Office Suite.

The most obvious difference between Calibri and Times New Roman is that Calibri is a sans-serif typeface. Calibri also differs from other popular sans-serif typefaces, such as Arial and Helvetica, because of its soft rounded edges (Wagener, “The Next Big Thing”). Such edges are said to enhance the reading experience. As stated in a case study by Calibri’s designer Lucas de Grout: “Its proportions allow high impact in tightly set lines of big and small type alike” (“A Case Study”). He adds, “The font is suitable for documents, e-mail, Web design, and magazines.”

People intrigued, angered, or simply confused by the change took to the web to discuss the changing face of their typed words. These sources are not “expert,” per se, but they nonetheless provide some insight into user response of this recent typographic change; responses I have also overheard in hallways, bathrooms, or in conversations with colleagues. In a January 26th, 2007 blog entry, “Times New Roman vs Calibri…the Word 2007 Default Font Showdown, “The New Paperclip” writes (in Times New Roman):

Traditionally Serif fonts (the ones with feet) like Times New Roman were better for printed documents, and Sans Serif fonts (no feet) are better for documents to be displayed on screen. Is Microsoft making the assumption that most documents are now viewed on screen and not printed? In a commercial environment I would suggest that is very accurate (do you print all your emails? and all your word documents at work???).

Paperclip is not alone in this typography philosophy; I have heard this rule from designers and design instructors. The article continues by providing step-by-step procedures for changing the default font in Word. The interesting part of this blog post is the comments that follow. Along with the typical IT-type questions, fellow bloggers share their responses to Calibri:

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The new documents all open in [Calibri] size 11. And it is a big nuisance for me, because I have to follow the style sheet prescription of international journals. All the international journals prescribe that the researchers use Times New Roman font 12. It is very frustrating and sad that Microsoft has added non-sense font with non-sense font size as the default. And then they design the office such that you are not able to change the default font.I just can’t imagine what kind of blokes run that billion dollar company! (Pranesh)

Times New is an UGLY and MESSY font! I am so glad it is gone! (Eric)

i don’t really care which one i use, but my college teacher wants nothing but Times New Roman.. he says the feet on the bottom help carry the eye while reading, so its easier to follow along. (Tyler)

As we see here, bloggers and blog readers are beginning to wonder about the fate of Times New Roman as a default and requirement in their everyday lives. In this blog, three solutions provided by Paperclip and readers are as follows: (a) adapt to the typeface, (b) change the default to something you want, or (c) back to Times New Roman.

In a 2006 Fadtastic: the web design trends journal article, Andrew Whitacre wonders the very things our bloggers have. In “The End of an Era for Times New Roman?,” Whitacre writes:

But what will happen to Times New Roman? In ten years, will it be just another term-paper alternative? Will instructors’ syllabi accept Calibri, or will they stand firm with Times because so many Word documents are still printed out to be read? Would you ever write a paper in Calibri because it’s easier to read on a screen, and then change it to Times at the last moment for your print reader? [...] In general, what are we in for if the font-king is dead?

The font-king still reigns over MLA guidelines, for now. I, along with others, require 12-point Times New Roman in the student papers we assign. There are (well, seem to be) good reasons for this. First, Times New Roman is versatile, readable, and familiar. Second, Times New Roman in 12-point, is so familiar that the trained composition instructor eye can catch students increasing font size in order to reach the required page number. Third, it is convenient and accessible; the typeface (or its “twins”) can be found on most programs. As of recently, I have noticed a change in my students’ responses, essays, papers, etc. The students, aware of the universal Times New Roman requirement, still choose to use the new Word default—Calibri. There is no better time than now, while the default changes the face of Word documents, to push the question of the role of typeface in the composition classroom.

By pushing against Times New Roman, we learn that not only is it readable and professional in tone, but also:

The default is a location of domination, capitalism, and class privilege. Although the default is an option, it is often the typeface users “choose,” because they either view type as invisible or they are writing a document they consider purely textual (a term paper, for example). Up until recently, Times New Roman was both a universal requirement in the academy and a default. That is a lot of Times New Roman. With Calibri replacing Times New Roman, how will documents’ appearances change in both the academy and in the public. Is Microsoft telling us it is time for a change? Or are they reinforcing their control over our typographic choices by implying that there is a typeface best for most occasions? Until we start thinking about the type, defaults will determine how we look at and represent our work. Although it has been replaced, Times New Roman continues to dominate our academic papers, also. Watson | 11

Even our textbooks are slowly making the change. The Everyday Writer only suggests Times New Roman, so why are we still requiring it?

Standard typeface is very accessible, but there are millions of typefaces beyond the pull-down menu. Pointing out the other options in the pull-down menu does not even touch the typographical surface. Outside typefaces usually come from the internet, both free and very expensive. There are issues of ownership and copyrighting in the typography community. Recently a Boston-based firm, the Font Bureau, Inc., sued NBC and CNBC for their unauthorized use of one of their typefaces. In an article of The Business Insider, “NBC and CNBC sued for Infringing Use of…FONTS,” Erin Geiger Smith writes: “To those who never venture past Times New Roman, $2 million in damages for font use may seem pretty crazy. But for graphic designers—who trade tweets about such things as new Pantone colors and type face innovations—fonts are big business.” Even if we give students the freedom to choose their typeface, their choice is still limited by program designers and the companies that house them.

There is an adaption to changing digital literacies. Bill Gates chose Calibri for a more pleasurable reading experience. Times New Roman is a print typeface. It was created for a newspaper in the 1930s, was it not? Bill Gates created the new typeface collection because it was easy to read on-screen, while some comment that the new default is not the best for lengthy print-outs. The focus went from print to on-screen readability, adapting to a change of literacy practices of their users. If we are preparing students to write with new technologies, and to reflect on these changing literacies, why hasn’t typography been included?

A Conclusion | An Argument for Typography

While software programmers and designers decide what typefaces we can use and will use, we must stop and think about what this means for the composition classroom. If we decide to move beyond the default, where do we even begin? For typography to become illuminated in the composition classroom, to move from theory to practice, we must think about the following things:

The discussion of typography in the field of composition needs to incorporate the knowledge of multiple fields outside the English Department such as art, graphic design, cultural studies, and history. By working with fields outside our own, we can begin to formulate a language to use when talking to students about typography. The abundance of typography resources in fields outside our own can provide the insights necessary to explore typography in composition. Since type origins are currently placed outside the field of English, we must initiate conversations with those that design, use, and study typography on a daily basis.

The development of resources for instructors is necessary for initiating typography discussions in the composition classroom. Giving our students freedom to choose a typeface is not enough. We must educate ourselves on typography theory and history, rather than just the personality of a typeface. By discussing typeface amongst ourselves we can begin to move into practice. For our students to become better users of typography, we have to be able to explain what they are actually using and what message it is conveying.

Research and scholarship on typography in composition will provide student perspectives on type. Once we begin talking about typography in the composition classroom, we can begin sharing outcomes in composition scholarship. Typography is complex in theory and rather bleak in composition Watson | 12 scholarship, so sharing classroom stories will clarify its practice and will produce interesting classroom activities and projects. Further, student voices on the issues of typography will help enhance it as a subject in the classroom. If these research studies are not implemented and shared, typography will stay in the realm of theory.

I hope you noticed when the typeface changed from Times New Roman to Calibri in this very document. If so, you noticed how a change in default can truly alter your perception of the document. At the least, I hope instructors and students can merely start to notice the typography around them. If Times New Roman is still your favorite, great. But as designer Cling Runge once said, “I try not to think out of the box anymore, but on its edge, its corner, its flap, and under its bar code” (Fishel 114). Keep using Times New Roman, but truly explore it, question it. Regain control. Watson | 13

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