Christopher (“Kit”) Marlowe was an Elizabethan poet, playwright, and likely spy – perhaps working both sides of the Catholic/Protestant fence in England and Europe. He ran with a crowd of freethinkers who Shakespeare supposedly called “The School of Night” (LLL 4.3.275) and was a rumored heretic. Ultimately, crown agents tortured his flatmate and fellow dramatist Thomas Kyd to obtain a “confession” of Marlowe’s atheism. Before Marlowe could be prosecuted (if that was the Crown’s plan), he was killed with his own dagger, stabbed through the eye just outside London in May 1593. Interested? Yes, so were the students enrolled in the General Education, Interdisciplinary Learning Community I co-taught when the Kit Marlowe Project (kitmarlowe.org) spontaneously took shape in 2017. Marlowe’s biography works like “Cupid’s golden hook” (“Hero and Leander” 333) to incite curiosity and help students relate to a historical moment that much resembles our own. During Marlowe’s day, early modern print culture brought about an information revolution that resulted in global socio-political upheavals bearing a strong resemblance to those wrought by the internet. The Kit Marlowe Project emerged from students’ discoveries about early information technologies and collaborative literary production in Marlowe’s time, discoveries which they transformed into an open-access knowledge base. This essay describes the project’s inception and evolution in the context of complexity theory, reflects upon the roles of metacognition and assessment in digital pedagogy, and concludes with a brief discussion of the project’s metamorphoses.1
The project arose from a Fall 2017 interdisciplinary Learning Community (LC) course I co-taught with Scott Hamlin at Stonehill College in Easton, Massachusetts. Stonehill’s LC model brought together instructors from different disciplines to co-teach on a theme or concept. From the English Department, I brought Shakespeare’s contemporary and some-time collaborator, Christopher Marlowe. Hamlin had recently joined Stonehill as Director of Educational Technology and Support Services, and is a Co-Director of TAPAS, the TEI Archiving, Publishing, and Access Service, which is hosted by Northeastern University Library’s Digital Scholarship Group; he generously agreed take lead teaching the text-encoding portion of the class. The course, “A Rogue’s Progress: Mapping Kit Marlowe’s Social Networks,” extended what I learned as a Map of Early Modern London (MoEML) Pedagogical Partner working with Janelle Jenstad and Kim McLean-Fiander.2 Jenstad and I taught cognate courses at the University of Victoria and Stonehill College in Spring 2016 that were grounded in experimental, research- and project-based learning (RBL and PBL), and that culminated in a TEI (Text Encoding Initiative) project. Although it changed later, I will outline my original plan for the class: students’ work products in that class would be considered for publication on the MoEML site pending peer review. Our successful collaboration directly inspired “A Rogue’s Progress.” During the first half of the course, students would post their research about Marlowe’s life and works on a class WordPress website, and with Hamlin’s help, we would publish a TEI encoding project on TAPAS.3 That was the plan.4
The 2017 “Rogue’s Progress” course was grounded in “student-scholar” research- and project-based learning models that decentralized professorial authority and reallocated it among students. Assignments invited students to explore topics based on their interests and make group decisions about what shapes their work product might take.5 Mark J. Caprio has rightly observed that most students arrive in our classrooms believing that knowledge is certain and that someone “else” is the authority; that is to say, knowledge-transmission flows one way, from professor to student (Caprio 147). As Jenstad, McLean-Fiander, and Kate Montcrieff explain, RBL models disrupt this flow of linear transmission:
RBL entails inviting students into a community of learners where the instructor and the students are all pursuing an unanswered question together. The professor is neither the “sage on the stage” nor the “guide on the side” but a fellow investigator who offers mentorship to an apprentice investigator. RBL offers students a high stakes learning opportunity, gives them tools to ask and answer legitimate questions, cultivates a spirit of collaboration, and allows them to take ownership of the knowledge they produce (“Praxis”).
By repositioning students as fellow explorers pursuing an open problem and disrupting linear trajectories of classroom authority and content conveyance, teachers can introduce positive turbulence into the classroom, and invite unpredictable outcomes.
In Teaching Shakespeare and Marlowe: Learning versus the System, Liam E. Semler describes how positive turbulence introduces unpredictability into conventional learning, engendering what complexity theorists call pedagogy at the edge of chaos (32–37). Borrowed from the sciences, Complexity Theory can help one understand complex systems at play in both early modern literary works and in pedagogy.6 As Claire Hansen explains, complex systems are created from multiple elements, agents, or individuals that influence and are influenced by one another in a discursive, non-linear manner. Hansen further defines complex systems as “self-organising, dynamic, evolving networks that operate without any centralized control. They are organized spontaneously and are composed of ongoing interactions between different parts” (Hansen Complexity 8–9). This decentralization creates an environment of bounded instability, in which a system is disrupted and becomes unstable, yet is still recognizable. At this moment of disruption, the system generates novel outcomes and behaviors that may act upon a system and contribute to its evolution. The term “emergence” describes the generation of such serendipitous outcomes and behaviors. In the 2017 “Rogue’s Progress” class, “emergence” manifested itself as The Kit Marlowe Project.
During this course’s first unit, students introduced themselves to Marlowe by embarking on an online scavenger hunt using combinations of keywords and their individual birth dates to select search results and then analyzing their credibility. The search parameters were structured yet random, insofar as each student started with keywords which I had suggested and selected results based on the day or month of their birth. For example, someone born on 23 April would consult results 23 or 4, and choose whichever result appeared most promising. Selecting results based on their birthdays personalized the process and kept most from clicking on the first item that appeared. My goal was for them to find a diverse array of materials. We aimed to create an annotated bibliography that offered a critique of the sources they found during their searches. But this system produced something entirely unpredictable: a lack of online Marlowe resources.
I was as surprised as my students to find few reliable or comprehensive digital resources dedicated to Marlowe.7 Furthermore, those we discovered were often incomplete or self-contradictory. On the internet, as in many anthologies of early modern English literature, Marlowe appears positioned adjunct to Shakespeare or as a kind of footnote to Shakespeare’s career. At this stage of students’ research, they’d swallowed Marlowe’s “golden hook” and were eager to learn more. But the internet had failed them. I half-jokingly suggested that we repurpose our course to build a public site for all things Marlowe, and my students took me up on the offer.
The interactions between myself and my students in the first unit resulted in what I now recognize as a complex system, one that meets the criteria of having become self-organizing, dynamic, and evolving. Additionally, the shift from creating a course-driven WordPress website to The Christopher Marlowe Project fuelled collective investment in our classwork and willingness to engage in intellectual risk-taking – we were all in. The class decided they wanted to create a site where students like themselves could find reliable information about Marlowe’s works, life, and times. Serendipitously, we had space and support in Unit 2 to broaden our scope; I already had enlisted my colleague Scott Cohen and his team at Stonehill’s Digital Innovation Lab to help build a class WordPress website.8 Cohen’s students were also excited at the prospect of raising our game. One got right to work designing the site banner and logo.
Ovid’s conception of “chaos” best describes the moment and materials at students’ disposal when embarking on our next project:
In all the worlde one onely face of nature did abide,
Which Chaos hight, a huge rude heape, and nothing else but even
A heavie lump and clottred clod of seeds togither driven,
Of things at strife among themselves, for want of order due
(Golding trans., Metamorphoses, 6-9).
The bibliography students had collectively generated by the end of Unit 1 did indeed resemble “a huge rude heape.” Extending this analogy, I believe my students would identify as “seeds togither driven,” their groups sometimes “at strife among themselves,” and all “for want of order due.” Students collaborated in small groups determined by their seating arrangements in a curiously designed computer lab with fixed stations facing windows and walls, not the room’s centre.9 The first unit did not require a strong group dynamic, but this second phase did. Groups were free to choose research topics and methods based on their interests, and on what would complement those chosen by their peers.
In the context of Complexity Theory, that freedom led us to the edge of chaos, instability bound within the system of Marlowe, while “Marlowe” would, in turn, be reshaped by the materials students created. When students accepted their authority, and strong leaders emerged in their groups, they efficiently established their aims, allocated tasks, and thrived on the challenge. But when students politely fell prey to the “ok, but what do you think” paradigm, they paralyzed productivity. These groups required more coaching to select a topic that interested them, and then determine roles and responsibilities. Thereafter, I encouraged the groups to play to their strengths and interests as they licked their bibliographic bear cubs into research-driven web exhibits.
Students developed exhibits based on what they felt The Christopher Marlowe Project needed. I offered suggestions throughout but credit them with striking a surprisingly effective balance between historical and biographical contexts and literary output. One group jumped right into the conspiracy theories surrounding Marlowe, and another engaged enthusiastically in refuting those theories. Another was eager to explore Marlowe’s supposed career in espionage, and yet another chose to follow the course title, build a Prezi, and map Marlowe’s social networks. The absence of a comprehensive locus for Marlowe’s corpus of both poetry and drama led one cohort to create a “Works” exhibit, and the group at the tip of our horseshoe computer lab chose to illustrate Marlowe’s Family Tree. Some of these exhibits may have taken shape if we had stayed with our “LC 347A: Rogue’s Progress” WordPress website, but The Christopher Marlowe Project’s broader audience raised the stakes and manifested the transformation from what David Wiley has called “disposable” assignments to renewable ones (Wiley). Students had learned first-hand that there were gaps in Marlowe-related online knowledge bases, and now they were taking concrete steps to redress them.10
At the time, I was least enthusiastic about Marlowe’s family tree because the scholar in me thought it failed the “who cares” test. Marlowe’s dad was “only” a cobbler from Canterbury with no impressive literary or historical connections. But our subject’s humble origins captured students’ imaginations and piqued their interests. This group of students worked assiduously not only to map the connections among the Moore, Arthur, and Marlowe families from which Christopher descended, but also to bring these individuals to life through hand-drawn illustrations. The group’s artist would regale me with an imaginative (fictional) backstory for each person as he drew them. Although this exhibit has minor artistic idiosyncrasies, like the six-year-old Mary Marlowe looking rather adult, it is a favourite among site users and serves and an ongoing object lesson for me. I am not the project’s target audience; it is a site created by students for students. It was also during this second unit that we felt The Christopher Marlowe Project was too stuffy a title for our student-generated site. Marlowe’s friends called him “Kit,” and so would we.
The first two units sustained bounded instability that produced serendipitous results, creating momentum that carried us through the final project. We transcribed and encoded excerpts from Francis Meres’ 1598 Wit’s Treasury and John Davies’ Epigrammes, that prefaced the 1599 publication of Marlowe’s translation of Ovid’s Elegies. At this time, neither text was publicly available online in a transcribed or an encoded reading edition. The Meres text is a key witness to the evolution of early modern English poetry and drama, featuring the first direct mention of Shakespeare alongside a catalogue of his contemporaries, and including a description of Marlowe’s sensational death. Davies’ Epigrammes is of interest both because it is in conversation with Marlowe’s translation, and is explicitly named in the 1599 Bishop’s Ban.11 Unit pedagogy followed The Map of Early Modern London’s (MoEML) editorial best practices and teaching materials, which Scott Hamlin and I had grown familiar with when I was a Pedagogical Partner (Praxis).12 We continued our student-scholar paradigm as we taught diplomatic transcription, text encoding, and editorial methods to help students shape the Meres’ and Davies’ texts for twenty-first century online readers.
After the texts had been transcribed, and the in-line features and forme works had been tagged, students annotated persons and places. These annotations again tested students’ reading and research skills. For example, does “Cythera” point to a Greek island? The goddess Aphrodite? Or, is it a lute? Because our students were not versed in classical literature, creating these notes was frequently frustrating. Like most puzzles, once their research revealed a correct deduction, irritation was replaced with satisfaction. Katherine Rowe has discussed the impact multiple online reading editions have had in her classroom, noting that “[w]ith heterogeneous glosses in the room, the students’ sense of independent expertise and responsibility for glossing has deepened far beyond the usual [and the] shift in glossing authority from text to reader has been marked” (Rowe 148). When working with multiple modern variants, students recognize how their selection of one gloss over another informs interpretation, and subsequently the text itself. By practicing transcription and TEI encoding in the classroom, this recognition is exponentially magnified, especially when students generate the annotations, as we did when we created the “ographies.”
The project remains indebted to Hamlin for creating our personography templates, and later linking these to our encoded texts on the TAPAS site.13 Identifying persons in the Meres and Davies texts had already exercised students’ research skills; now they were required to press on and ascertain persons’ alternate names, genders, birth dates, and death dates, to write a one-line synopsis of their person, and to provide a hyperlink to an open-access resource containing additional information. In theory, these tasks were straightforward, but practice proved otherwise. Birth dates in many cases were approximations complicated by having to figure out which calendar year system was in use at a given time.14 Further, the mythological figures’ fluid embodiments and shapeshifting challenged the value assignment of “1” to males and “2” to females.15 Ovid’s Hermaphroditus offered us a productive case study for debate. We also puzzled over what one would do with a figure like Zeus, who takes on animal forms for extended narratives: when he visits Leda as a swan, is he still a person? Although the TEI is extensible and we could have gotten more creative with our tagging practices, to do so would have defeated the purpose. The primary reason for using TEI guidelines is to achieve consistency across encoded texts and interoperability [JK1] across platforms. Our encoded texts are ultimately datasets, and our goal remains to make them useful to ourselves and others as such.
By December 2017, the “heavie lump and clottred clod of seeds togither driven” had redistributed themselves into a surprisingly cohesive website that included research-driven web exhibits, a bibliography, and the Mini-Archive. The site’s cohesion and design are indebted to our collaboration with Cohen’s students, especially Amanda Beauregard (Stonehill) who attended several classes and helped students create their posts and design their web exhibits. At the semester’s end, when students wrote metacognitive reflections about their experiences, many claimed to have exceeded personal expectations by learning how to use basic and advanced digital tools and methods in the context of learning about early modern literary history. What had begun as an exploratory class enterprise had evolved into an ambitious, public-facing contribution to early modern literary studies. Heightening our sense of accomplishment was the fact that The Kit Marlowe Project had been accepted as one of ten competitively chosen digital exhibits for the 2018 Shakespeare Association of America (SAA) annual meeting.16
The Kit Marlowe Project was scheduled to launch in Los Angeles at the April 2018 SAA meeting, but the site was not yet ready for public use. As my experience working with MoEML had taught me, student-generated content requires extensive post-submission editorial work and fact-checking, more than I had been able to keep up with to date. In fact, that experience had informed my initial decision to create a WordPress website with a limited audience, primarily composed of students enrolled in the LC. Had we stuck with that plan, reaching the bar for “good-enough” would have been manageable in a single semester.17 Raising the stakes for the project meant developing a strategy to ready both the site and the content to share with an international group of scholars in a matter of months. At the time, I was teaching five classes at three institutions and simply did not have time to copyedit (and fact check) the wealth of content we had generated. Stonehill generously awarded us a teaching assistant for the LC, and we were lucky to have star researcher and encoder, Rowan Pereira (Stonehill), from the Fall 2017 class on our team.18 But we still needed help. What if we extended our collaborative practices across classes?
A solution emerged whereby we situated the Fall semester work-product as a case study for learning advanced research and writing skills. Students began by researching, cross-checking, reviewing, and editing the unfinished bibliographies and personographies from the prior semester. By rigorously researching classical and early modern persons, and working in the templates, students simultaneously cleaned up existing documents and learned how to work collaboratively in Excel spreadsheets to manage their research. Additionally, they generated contextual knowledge for reading of Christopher Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus, which they used later while transcribing, encoding, and publishing two anonymous variants of The History of Doctor John Faustus Compiled in Verse, Very Pleasant and Delightful dated 1664 and 1696. Their newly acquired research rigor was an asset when they had the opportunity either to revise, augment and polish an existing web exhibit, or to create one anew.
The key to maintaining rigor was collaboration. Students stayed in the same groups all semester, learning to recognize one another’s strengths so that they could complete their tasks efficiently. Much as in the prior term, some groups managed better than others. Holding team meetings at the beginning of each class and giving groups time to set goals for our time together helped much. One student reflected that I had “harped” on teamwork, but also had come to recognize that learning to collaborate effectively with peers was an asset that would benefit him beyond graduation.19
Although students characterized many of the necessary tasks required to prepare the site for public use as “tedious” in their metacognitive reflections, they were also overwhelmingly “proud” of the work they had accomplished.20 Recent pedagogical theories, especially those surrounding the teaching of digital literacies, also emphasize affective learning, especially insofar as it intersects with cognitive, behavioural, and metacognitive learning. Trudi E. Jacobson and Thomas P. Mackey recently developed a framework build on synthesizing these learning components that they call “Metaliteracies” (Mackey Jacobson.) Most theories of development divide along the lines of cognition, behaviour, and affect, or perhaps combine two or three domains. Metacognition is rarely— if ever— prioritized as an assessment outcome, let alone employed as a mode of assessment. Yet engaging in metacognitive reflection helps students realize their concrete takeaways from classrooms characterized by positive turbulence and bounded instability.
At the October 2017 New England Digital Humanities Collective conference entitled, “Making it Digital: Classroom Pedagogies and Assignments,” much discussion reflected how conventional modes of assessment often punish educators who teach digital humanities. Standard course evaluations do not ask questions about competencies like collaboration or learning exploratory research methods. Many aim to assess organization and recognizable alignment with fixed learning objectives which experimental pedagogies grounded in complexity consciously complicate. Those teaching DH confessed that they consistently score poorly on standard course-evaluations. Although they passionately believe in their pedagogical innovations, they worry about job security. Students ticking box after box of closed-system questions grow increasingly disoriented; the questions do not reflect their experiences and they begin to wonder: did I do something wrong?
The cognitive dissonance between institutional assessment and lived experience in classrooms driven by experimental digital pedagogies must be made transparent to students. Regular metacognitive reflections can help them recognize real growth as learners over the course of a semester.21 By asking students to reflect on specific skill acquisitions in the context of how such skills may transfer to additional areas of their life, they have an opportunity to recognize not only the value of whatever we may be teaching them, but also their own best practices as learners. A well-designed prompt may also actualize students’ achievement of “metaliterate” learning outcomes, of cognitive, behavioral, affective, and metacognitive competencies. Students’ metacognitive reflections often reveal further unexpected outcomes resulting from complex classroom systems.
One of the most startling outcomes I experienced teaching with Jenstad and the MoEML team—and again with Hamlin—was the impact our coursework had on students’ habitual reading practices. Much as conventional trajectories of knowledge transmission from instructors to students were disrupted by the course pedagogies, the creation of edited, annotated texts and our complementary personography database disrupted the simple linearity of “reading.” When Jenstad and I taught our Spring 2016 TEI units, it was exciting to witness how students’ reading practices were disrupted by the painstaking transcription, attention to detail, and decision-making about how best to render what was on the page of the blackletter edition of Thomas Dekker’s Gull’s Hornbook we were encoding. Not only is blackletter a challenge in and of itself, but students had to learn about interchangeable characters which my colleague Sarah Connell at Northeastern University calls “vujis.” This involves the substitution of “u” and “v,” “i” and “j,” as well as special characters including the Latin lowercase “ſ.” Although the Meres and Davies texts my 2017-2018 students created were in Roman fonts, they still grappled with early print’s special characters, as well as its uneven spelling and abbreviation practices, especially the use of a macron to indicate missing letters from a word. The trick here is to guess how many and which letters have been omitted as one puzzles over the word in question. Densely interspersed with Latin tags, the Meres text compounded the challenge of “reading” that students working with Davies experienced. With Meres, they constantly had to deduce whether they were working in Latin or in English. In both cases, one needed to sound out syllables to decipher letters and words and turn to the OED to confirm their hypotheses.
Ultimately, the students’ metacognitive reflections revealed that they no longer recognized “reading” as a one-way transmission system whereby the text is the authority and the reader a content recipient. “Reading” emerged as an active practice involving critical decision making, research, and consulting peers to confirm one’s hypotheses about individual letters and words. This kind of “slow reading” led many to reflect that their regular reading habits might benefit from more time and effort, a learning outcome with benefits across the curriculum.
The Kit Marlowe Project travelled with me to Framingham State University in Fall 2018 and has served as a use-case for creating an interdisciplinary Digital Humanities minor that launched in Spring 2021, yet another unexpected outcome.22 In the absence of having designated courses to generate student site contributions, I have experimented with RBL assignments to offer students in my Shakespeare and British Literature courses opportunities to contribute to the site. We have enjoyed success starting with 1 Henry VI, a collaboration between Marlowe, Thomas Nashe, William Shakespeare, and an anonymous author. The play served as both a model for collaboration, and a starting point for students’ research that has so far included a curated collection of streaming performances, a post on collaborative authorship in early modern England, and a Buzz Feed quiz that determines which 1 Henry VI character one resembles. During the 2019/2020 academic year, I used start-up funds to hire Andrew Jeromski (Framingham) as a project assistant. Jeromski’s class was the first at Framingham that contributed to the site in Fall 2018. Our initial plan was that he would help with basic site maintenance, (a task made necessary by then-recent bot attacks), a WordPress update, and with fact-checking and copyediting earlier content submissions.
When COVID-19 struck and our university shifted to remote instruction in March 2020, Jeromski and I had been working with one of Framingham’s Education Technology gurus, Stacy Cohen, to create “how to” videos for researching and creating posts in WordPress.23 I had wanted to streamline technical instruction so that I could spend more time helping students develop concepts and ideas for content in the classroom. After creating a few videos to help students with the basics of creating posts, and tagging their categories, we changed tack to think about how best to support students’ research during the shift to synchronous remote instruction. My class assignments are grounded in exploratory research using discipline-specific digital databases, each requiring radically different approaches to finding information. Teaching students to navigate different platforms during in-person workshops is relatively easy, not least because they have their peers there for support. These tasks were initially challenging in a remote setting. I asked Jeromski if he would be interested in creating research tutorials using discipline-specific databases he’d had experience with during our Fall 2018 Shakespeare class. Happily, he was keen, and brought a student’s perspective to the following questions: What would I use this site for? What do I want to do with what I find? How do I cite what I find? Together, we worked through July 2020 to create twelve videos that support basic and advanced student-directed research using discipline-specific databases including The Folger Digital Image Collection powered by LUNA), Folger’s “A Digital Anthology of Early Modern English Drama”), The Map of Early Modern London (MoEML), “Early English Books Online” from the Text Creation Partnership, and Six Degrees of Francis Bacon.24
Originally shaped by gaps in online knowledge bases, The Kit Marlowe Project has evolved into a dynamic system of knowledge creation. The Mini-Archive currently features six unique-to-the-web transcribed and encoded digital mini-editions of Marlowe-Related texts that I have had the great pleasure of assigning to students in my early modern literature courses —where else can they download Meres’ rare contemporary discussion of early English poets? Or witness how Sir Philip Sidney’s coterie manuscript of “Astrophel and Stella” was brought into print by Francis Flowers and Thomas Nashe? —Our ever-expanding encyclopaedia entries also pepper my syllabi; most recently I assigned Julia Hanson’s (Framingham) “Shakespeare and Rome” post to complement a class reading of Titus Andronicus. Now that I will have the opportunity to teach digital humanities’ approaches to text analysis, I am eager to offer students opportunities to generate projects using computational research and visualization methods, and to continue building our Mini-Archive of TEI-encoded texts.
When Semler reflects on the passion that drives teachers to perpetuate positive turbulence in our classrooms, he also describes what – in my experience – we get from our collaborations with students, namely “rushes of oxygen and love that uplift and encourage [us]… Moments of giving that exceed routines of demand. Petrol poured on talent and beauty on desire” (Teaching Shakespeare and Marlowe 32). The Kit Marlowe Project has been fuelled by these rushes, by these moments of giving, that have helped us engage in sustained metamorphoses, and that I deeply hope shall continue to do so moving forward
Bennett, Kristen Abbott, director. The Kit Marlowe Project. Framingham State University, kitmarlowe.org.
———. “Editorial Methods & TEI.” The Kit Marlowe Project, 6 March 2021, kitmarlowe.org/editorial-methods-tei/6562/.
———. “Post-launch Reflections, May 2018: Joining Students in Metacognitive Reflection,” The Kit Marlowe Project, 30 May 2018, kitmarlowe.org/post-launch-reflections-may-2018/4094/.
———. “Students Reflect on Dangerous Knowledge, March 2018,” The Kit Marlowe Project, 8 March 2018, kitmarlowe.org/students-reflect-dangerous-knowledge-spring-2018/3364/.
———. “Syllabi,” The Kit Marlowe Project, 2018, kitmarlowe.org/syllabi-2/6646/. Accessed 23 February 2021.
Brown, Meaghan, Michael Poston, and Elizabeth Williamson, editors. A Digital Anthology of Early Modern English Drama, Folger Shakespeare Library, emed.folger.edu. Accessed 13 October 2020.
Caprio, Mark J. “Student publishing: future scholars as change agents.” OCLC Systems and Services: International digital library perspectives, 30.3, pp. 144-157, 5 August 2014, Emerald Insight, doi.org/10.1108/OCLC-01-2014-0003.
“Early English Books Online,” Text Creation Partnership. University of Michigan and ProQuest, textcreationpartnership.org/tcp-texts/eebo-tcp-early-english-books-online/. Accessed 15 October 2020.
Folger Digital Image Collection. Folger Shakespeare Library, luna.folger.edu/luna/servlet/s/j6j770. Accessed 15 October 2020.
Hansen, Claire. Shakespeare and Complexity Theory. Routledge, 2017. doi.org/10.4324/9781351967433.
Jenstad, Janelle, et al. “The MoEML Pedagogical Partnership Program.” Digital Humanities Quarterly, vol. 11, no. 3, Oct 2017, digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/11/3/000302/000302.html.
Jokinen, Anniina. “Christopher Marlowe.” 16th Century Renaissance English Literature, Luminarium Encyclopedia, 2010, digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/11/3/000302/000302.html. Accessed 13 October 2020.
Mackey, Thomas P., and Trudi E. Jacobson. “Reframing Information Literacies as Metaliteracies.” Association of College and Research Libraries, vol. 72, no. 1, 2011, pp. 62-78. crl.acrl.org/index.php/crl/article/view/16132/17578. doi.org/10.5860/crl-76r1.
MacInnes, Ian. Ian’s English Calendar. 17 April 2017, aulis.org/calendar/welcome.html.
Marlowe, Christopher. Hero and Leander. Facsimile of the First Edition, London, 1598, Introduction and Commentary by Louis L. Martz, The Folger Shakespeare Library, 1972.
“DOER Fellows Renewable Assignments,” Open Education Group, 2018, openedgroup.org/doer-fellows-renewable-assignments, Accessed 13 October 2020.
Ovid, Naso Publius. The Metamorphoses, translated by Arthur Golding, edited by Frederick Nims, Paul Dry Books, 2000.
Praxis. The Map of Early Modern London, edited by Janelle Jenstad, U of Victoria, 15 Sep. 2020, mapoflondon.uvic.ca/praxis.htm.
Rowe, Katherine. “Living with Digital Incunables, or a ‘Good-Enough’ Shakespeare Text.” Shakespeare and the Digital World: Redefining Scholarship and Practice, edited by Christie Carson and Peter Kirwan, Cambridge University Press, 2014, pp. 144–59, https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781107587526.016.
Semler, Liam E. Teaching Shakespeare and Marlowe: Learning versus the System. Shakespeare Now! Bloomsbury, 2013.
---. “Prosperous teaching and the Thing of Darkness: Raising a Tempest in the Classroom.” Cogent Arts & Humanities, edited by Kate Flaherty, 3:1, 2016, doi.org/10.1080/23311983.2016.1235862.
“<sex>.” Text Encoding Initiative, P5: Guidelines for Electronic Text Encoding and Interchange. 9 Apr 2021, tei-c.org/release/doc/tei-p5-doc/en/html/ref-sex.html, Accessed 13 October 2020.
Shakespeare, William. Love’s Labor’s Lost from The Folger Shakespeare. Edited by Barbara Mowat, Paul Werstine, Michael Poston, and Rebecca Niles. Folger Shakespeare Library, 7 October 2020, shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/loves-labors-lost/.
Warren, Christopher, Director. Six Degrees of Francis Bacon. Carnegie Mellon University, sixdegreesoffrancisbacon.com, Accessed 15 October 2020.
Wiley, David. “What is Open Pedagogy?” Improving Learning, , 21 October 2013, opencontent.org/blog/archives/2975.