I just read "Personality and Individual Writing Processes" by George H. Jensen and John K. DiTiberio. I really should have read it before making my final blog post for English 620, as it relates importantly to my own teaching philosophy.
I'm splitting this post into two parts because I have entirely too much to say. Part 1 is just going to be me analyzing myself and part 2 is going to be me applying type theory to teaching writing. At least, that's the current plan. I have a tendency to become dissatisfied with my initial choices in organization.
All right, first, I don't like thinking of the four dimensions (Introversion/Extraversion, Intuition/Sensing, Thinking/Feeling, Judging/Perceiving) as functining independently. Jensen and DiTiberio, though they point out the problem in doing so (296), do so throughout the entire paper. I also disagree with the way they present "interaction"--as a simple hierarchy--but I understand the limitations of the scope of their paper.
I do not believe that Introversion/Extraversion and Judging/Perceiving are "functions"--I don't believe that they are ways of approaching the world or the self. Rather, I believe that they are ways of using the actual functions, Thinking/Feeling and Intuition/Sensing. Hence, I think it's problematic to speak of a "judging" way of writing.
I usually identify as an INTJ, but that's more than simply being introverted/intuitive/thinking/judging. Instead, let's divide it into the functions and how they are used (in order):
Introverted intuition
Extraverted thinking
Introverted sensing
Extraverted feeling
Major disclaimer: That's not the "proper" INTJ personality profile, it's my personality profile.
You see, it doesn't simply matter what order the functions come in. It's not that I go around prefering to using introverted intuition. I actually hate to use that function--in extraverted contexts. The direction of the functions is crucial.
For example, my husband is an INTP (again with a slightly rearranged profile). So we have the same preferences but in different directions:
Introverted thinking
Extraverted intuition
Introverted feeling
Extraverted sensing
As an extraverted thinker, I have to talk out every decision. I have to reason out loud why one brand of salsa is preferable to another, which annoys my husband, an introverted thinker. On the other hand, he is much better at theorizing in extraverted contexts, having extraverted intuition, where in an extraverted situation I stick closely to analysis, as an extraverted thinker.
I think the theory has a lot more predictive value when you think contextually. Preferences have a lot to do with the situation. Everyone is able to use each function (T/F/N/S) (though their fourth function usually causes or results from anxiety). But we often almost lack the ability to use a function in the opposite direction from our preference.
Work Cited
Jensen, George H., and John K. DiTiberio. "Personality and Individual Writing Processes." College Composition and Communication 35.3 (1984): 285-300.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Imitating Identity
Robert Brooke argues that imitation is a viable way of learning to write well not because students internalize forms, but because they identify with writers they respect. Students want to write like a specific writer, and they follow the person as a model, not the person's works.
True, the works are usually the only way that they know the person, unless they are imitating a classroom teacher. But it does seem reasonable that social creatures find it more intuitive to model their writing identities after another writing identity than to model their behavior after a written product.
I'm not convinced, however, by Brooke's case studies. He seems to be testing the students, not the pedagogy. For instance, of a student who disliked the text for the class Brooke says, "As a reader and writer, Clark seemed unable to handle the kind of thinking about experience Laurence's book provided" (29). I see. Clark is mentally handicapped; that's why he wasn't as excited about the course as Brooke expected. It might have been more fair to cast the sentence in terms of the pedagogy's failure than of Clark's.
Brooke's conclusion is not entirely prepared for. For the entire paper he's insisted that building an identity based on a successful writer is an effective way to become a good writer. But in the end he says that "the teacher, no matter how exciting a model she presents, just isn't in control of the identity the student will develop" (38), using the fact that the method wasn't as successful as he had hoped to justify giving instructors the job of molding students' identities.
True, the works are usually the only way that they know the person, unless they are imitating a classroom teacher. But it does seem reasonable that social creatures find it more intuitive to model their writing identities after another writing identity than to model their behavior after a written product.
I'm not convinced, however, by Brooke's case studies. He seems to be testing the students, not the pedagogy. For instance, of a student who disliked the text for the class Brooke says, "As a reader and writer, Clark seemed unable to handle the kind of thinking about experience Laurence's book provided" (29). I see. Clark is mentally handicapped; that's why he wasn't as excited about the course as Brooke expected. It might have been more fair to cast the sentence in terms of the pedagogy's failure than of Clark's.
Brooke's conclusion is not entirely prepared for. For the entire paper he's insisted that building an identity based on a successful writer is an effective way to become a good writer. But in the end he says that "the teacher, no matter how exciting a model she presents, just isn't in control of the identity the student will develop" (38), using the fact that the method wasn't as successful as he had hoped to justify giving instructors the job of molding students' identities.
Works Cited
Brooke, Robert. "Modeling a Writer's Identity: Reading and Imitation in the Writing Classroom." College Composition and Communication 39.1 (1988): 23-41.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Balancing Expression with Structure
One of my students interviewed me a few weeks ago for another class. She asked me what one thing I’d tell freshmen. I told her that freshman needed to know that they have good ideas. My students might not always have brilliant ideas, but they always have something worth saying. They can’t write like scholars until they think like scholars. And scholars don’t think “I wonder what my professor wants my to say.” They consider their audience, but they write with the mantle of authority.
This week two of my students handed in papers with entire plagiarized paragraphs, and a third with plagiarized sentences. I had hoped that if I showed I believed in them they would take responsibility. I don’t know to what extent the plagiarism was intentional. But either way, it shows that my teaching philosophy isn’t fool-proof.
How do I know that they plagiarized if I showed trust in them? You’d better believe it was painful to get up and walk over to the computer to plug a student’s sentence into Google when my suspicion was based on the quality of the writing.
Either my students didn’t care that I trusted them or they didn’t believe that I cared about their ideas.
I sound like an expressivist. I want my students to use their unique subjectivity to tell the truth as they understand it. Although I like expressivism, I don’t know that it adequately describes my feelings about writing.
I believe that expressivism doesn’t work for all writers. I happen to find Peter Elbow’s methods helpful, but Muriel Harris cinched it for me--some people write just fine when they start with outlines and write every sentence carefully. Others don’t. So I can’t just teach them how to get in touch with themselves through writing. And I’m teaching academic writing. My course is designed to help students in future courses. So I owe it to my students to help them learn to write for teachers, not just for themselves.
I have tools to offer my students. I help them learn how magically topic sentences work to help your reader follow your argument. I can show them how important it is to keep lifeless words out of sentences. I can even give them outlines for how to structure their papers. I don’t think an expressivist would do that. But I don’t force my students to follow strict guidelines for how to write a paper. If they can come up with another way that works, I accept that. I rejoice at that. I write comments on their papers about how well they’ve expressed their subjectivity.
I don’t think that models suppress creativity. If I use models as tools while encouraging students to make their own way, I give them a starting place. Creative genius can be found when writers twist models to serve their own purposes or when they use readerly expectations to trick an audience. Even if there is mystery behind good writing, there are still tricks of the trade worth teaching. On the other hand, even if good writing is based in following conventions, playing by the rules too strictly without an attempt at creativity won’t result in something worth reading.
This week two of my students handed in papers with entire plagiarized paragraphs, and a third with plagiarized sentences. I had hoped that if I showed I believed in them they would take responsibility. I don’t know to what extent the plagiarism was intentional. But either way, it shows that my teaching philosophy isn’t fool-proof.
How do I know that they plagiarized if I showed trust in them? You’d better believe it was painful to get up and walk over to the computer to plug a student’s sentence into Google when my suspicion was based on the quality of the writing.
Either my students didn’t care that I trusted them or they didn’t believe that I cared about their ideas.
I sound like an expressivist. I want my students to use their unique subjectivity to tell the truth as they understand it. Although I like expressivism, I don’t know that it adequately describes my feelings about writing.
I believe that expressivism doesn’t work for all writers. I happen to find Peter Elbow’s methods helpful, but Muriel Harris cinched it for me--some people write just fine when they start with outlines and write every sentence carefully. Others don’t. So I can’t just teach them how to get in touch with themselves through writing. And I’m teaching academic writing. My course is designed to help students in future courses. So I owe it to my students to help them learn to write for teachers, not just for themselves.
I have tools to offer my students. I help them learn how magically topic sentences work to help your reader follow your argument. I can show them how important it is to keep lifeless words out of sentences. I can even give them outlines for how to structure their papers. I don’t think an expressivist would do that. But I don’t force my students to follow strict guidelines for how to write a paper. If they can come up with another way that works, I accept that. I rejoice at that. I write comments on their papers about how well they’ve expressed their subjectivity.
I don’t think that models suppress creativity. If I use models as tools while encouraging students to make their own way, I give them a starting place. Creative genius can be found when writers twist models to serve their own purposes or when they use readerly expectations to trick an audience. Even if there is mystery behind good writing, there are still tricks of the trade worth teaching. On the other hand, even if good writing is based in following conventions, playing by the rules too strictly without an attempt at creativity won’t result in something worth reading.
Friday, December 01, 2006
I'm disappointed that we're not going to be able to talk about Matt Barton's "The Future of Rational-Critical Debate in Online Public Spheres," because I felt this article was saying more than the previous articles this week.
Barton compares online writing to public communication in the 18th century, using Juergen Habermas's analysis of the past to explain the present. Blogs compare to letter writing and diaries (185). Blogs are directed to an audience, but have a very subjective nature. I hate blogging. Blogging requires being able to talk at length without input from others. I need interaction to have something to say. Sure, people can comment, but comments on a blog aren't a particularly good way to have a conversation. Blogs (according to Barton) build subjectivity, a necessary condition for the ideal public forum (185).
You want a conversation, use a message board. I still post at a message board for classes at Drury. Message boards encourage discussion, debate. People talk to each other, not at each other as in a blog. Message boards privilege arguments, not people. For this reason, Barton feels that blogs should come before boards. Before one gets caught up in arguments, one must have a clear sense of self. I think this is an issue of personality type. I think many people do fine jumping straight to argumentation. I feel that my time spent on Dr. Panza's discussion board helped clarify my sense of self quite well, as I'm an argumentative type. But I'm sure there are people who are more comfortable with a sense of ownership that comes with blogs.
But I love the lack of ownership in wikis. After a couple of weeks editing Wikipedia, I noticed that I didn't feel attached to my contributions. I was just giving my input, doing what I could to further the goal of the encyclopedia. But not every contributor feels that way, hence Wikipedia has a policy on the "ownership" of articles, to explain to newbies that it is not "their" article simply because they have worked on it.
I think these are great categories, but we can also remember that they overlap. Some blogs have active comment sections which behave much like discussion boards, with people talking to each other. I've participated in discussion boards which made use of "journal" threads, creating a thread author/owner, much like a blog. And Wikipedia has a strong behind-the-scenes community that features user pages (owned like blogs) and talk pages (for debates like discussion boards). So clearly we can't get away from all the different needs.
Barton compares online writing to public communication in the 18th century, using Juergen Habermas's analysis of the past to explain the present. Blogs compare to letter writing and diaries (185). Blogs are directed to an audience, but have a very subjective nature. I hate blogging. Blogging requires being able to talk at length without input from others. I need interaction to have something to say. Sure, people can comment, but comments on a blog aren't a particularly good way to have a conversation. Blogs (according to Barton) build subjectivity, a necessary condition for the ideal public forum (185).
You want a conversation, use a message board. I still post at a message board for classes at Drury. Message boards encourage discussion, debate. People talk to each other, not at each other as in a blog. Message boards privilege arguments, not people. For this reason, Barton feels that blogs should come before boards. Before one gets caught up in arguments, one must have a clear sense of self. I think this is an issue of personality type. I think many people do fine jumping straight to argumentation. I feel that my time spent on Dr. Panza's discussion board helped clarify my sense of self quite well, as I'm an argumentative type. But I'm sure there are people who are more comfortable with a sense of ownership that comes with blogs.
But I love the lack of ownership in wikis. After a couple of weeks editing Wikipedia, I noticed that I didn't feel attached to my contributions. I was just giving my input, doing what I could to further the goal of the encyclopedia. But not every contributor feels that way, hence Wikipedia has a policy on the "ownership" of articles, to explain to newbies that it is not "their" article simply because they have worked on it.
I think these are great categories, but we can also remember that they overlap. Some blogs have active comment sections which behave much like discussion boards, with people talking to each other. I've participated in discussion boards which made use of "journal" threads, creating a thread author/owner, much like a blog. And Wikipedia has a strong behind-the-scenes community that features user pages (owned like blogs) and talk pages (for debates like discussion boards). So clearly we can't get away from all the different needs.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Pedogogy of Mixing Up the Epistemology
You could say it's a cop out that when asked whether I teach writing to emphasize subjective, objective, or transactional theories of knowledge of truth (as James Berlin categorizes them) that I say, All three. But it's more than just teaching them in balance, it's teaching them which style is appropriate when, and how to mix them.
I think the assignments in my English 110 class lend themselves to teaching a variety of approaches. Some of the assignments are implicitly subjective, some objective, and some transactional.
The memoir assignment is basically subjective. The student writes about how a personal event shaped who they are. The subjective approach captures inner knowledge and records it. The epistemic end of subjectivists would have the process of writing also be a process of learning, but at it's core, the knowledge is inside the writer and is transcribed. When I grade memoirs I look for students to express their feelings.
The annotated bibliography is basically objective. After researching a topic, the student creates a list of sources which summarize and evaluate the material in the source. Objective approaches use language to document external reality. The use of language is very similar to the subjective approach--language is fundamentally a passive medium used to record truth. But the truth is not based in the writer's psyche, it's based in the outside world. When grading bibliographies, I'm looking for sufficient information about the sources. The sources exist apart from the writer (I pretend that summary is not an act of interpretation), and the writer records what is in them.
The position paper is basically transactional. The transactional approach is not a mix of objective and subjective, but it is a bridge. Objective and subjective use language to record truth and secondarily to find truth, but in the transactional approach the truth that is found is not internal or external, it's in the exchange. The position paper requires the writer to set forth their opinion, based on a research of external reality, conveyed in a way to convince a reader. If the position paper was subjective, it would be an op/ed. If it was objective, it'd be a research paper. Instead it bridges the two and finds truth in the communication among writer, reader, and reality.
It's the mixes that can be an unexpected hangup. Students often want to take one approach and stick with it, but they can't. The I-search teaches students to cross boundaries within a single piece. It is a research paper (objective). But it also about the writer's experience with the research (subjective). The I-search isn't really transactional, though. Primarily the students are recording truth, they aren't using language to find truth.
I want my students to be able to do it all, because for most majors, they'll have to. We can say all writing outside the English department is objective, but that's not true. Subjective assignments are given by all kinds of teachers from art history to math. But even if my students only go on to write "objective" research papers, I want them to be able to do it without being boring. That involves moving your focus beyond recording external reality and thinking about how human beings actually interact with it.
I think the assignments in my English 110 class lend themselves to teaching a variety of approaches. Some of the assignments are implicitly subjective, some objective, and some transactional.
The memoir assignment is basically subjective. The student writes about how a personal event shaped who they are. The subjective approach captures inner knowledge and records it. The epistemic end of subjectivists would have the process of writing also be a process of learning, but at it's core, the knowledge is inside the writer and is transcribed. When I grade memoirs I look for students to express their feelings.
The annotated bibliography is basically objective. After researching a topic, the student creates a list of sources which summarize and evaluate the material in the source. Objective approaches use language to document external reality. The use of language is very similar to the subjective approach--language is fundamentally a passive medium used to record truth. But the truth is not based in the writer's psyche, it's based in the outside world. When grading bibliographies, I'm looking for sufficient information about the sources. The sources exist apart from the writer (I pretend that summary is not an act of interpretation), and the writer records what is in them.
The position paper is basically transactional. The transactional approach is not a mix of objective and subjective, but it is a bridge. Objective and subjective use language to record truth and secondarily to find truth, but in the transactional approach the truth that is found is not internal or external, it's in the exchange. The position paper requires the writer to set forth their opinion, based on a research of external reality, conveyed in a way to convince a reader. If the position paper was subjective, it would be an op/ed. If it was objective, it'd be a research paper. Instead it bridges the two and finds truth in the communication among writer, reader, and reality.
It's the mixes that can be an unexpected hangup. Students often want to take one approach and stick with it, but they can't. The I-search teaches students to cross boundaries within a single piece. It is a research paper (objective). But it also about the writer's experience with the research (subjective). The I-search isn't really transactional, though. Primarily the students are recording truth, they aren't using language to find truth.
I want my students to be able to do it all, because for most majors, they'll have to. We can say all writing outside the English department is objective, but that's not true. Subjective assignments are given by all kinds of teachers from art history to math. But even if my students only go on to write "objective" research papers, I want them to be able to do it without being boring. That involves moving your focus beyond recording external reality and thinking about how human beings actually interact with it.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Grammar
This is related to composition theory, if not related to the readings for the class.
I suppose I could talk about audience awareness in reference to the guest speaker in 603 this morning, but I'd rather talk about grammar. I'd usually rather talk about grammar. (Do I mean I'd rather talk about grammar than talk about something else, or do I mean I'd rather talk about grammar than listen to a talk about grammar?)
One thing that concerns me is a near dismissal of value-related questions. Tim Hadley made a reference to "African American English" and how he won't devalue it as a spoken language, but he would teach speakers "standard written English." There's a couple things that concern me about this (which I'd've loved to have discussed at the time, given the chance).
1) What is standard written English? Am I to believe that all professional and academic forms of written English are the same? I know better. I suppose I could counsel business students in the writing center to take on the discourse of the creative writing students. But it seems that there is no one standard written English. The professional English in business is different from the professional English of creative writing, on the level of the word, the sentence, and organization. So which written English should I be teaching?
2) Is is really value neutral to teach children which form of English is "standard"? My dad would say yes. But I think if you're obligated to accept the child's spoken language as valuable, then the same goes for their written language. Why do we say that spoken language can't be judged? Well...we didn't talk about that. I'd like to know exactly what Hadley thinks about that, to be sure. My inclination is that it's because the accepted dialect is accepted for social reasons. There's nothing inherently better about the different ways of talking.
So...what's inherently better about the different ways of writing? Writing tends more towards standardization because in print, you can't go back and explain your meaning if your audience is confused. And you can't share nonverbal clues about meaning (beyond such things as scare quotes). So there's more incentive for standardization. The problem is, I don't believe there is a single standard. So while I think we should teach standard forms of written English, I don't believe we should act as if they are value neutral and not based on social convention.
In conclusion, I really want to know what the difference is between teaching a student to use a standard dialect in writing and teaching students to avoid split infinitives. Both are social rules, aren't they? Why is one okay and not the other?
I suppose I could talk about audience awareness in reference to the guest speaker in 603 this morning, but I'd rather talk about grammar. I'd usually rather talk about grammar. (Do I mean I'd rather talk about grammar than talk about something else, or do I mean I'd rather talk about grammar than listen to a talk about grammar?)
One thing that concerns me is a near dismissal of value-related questions. Tim Hadley made a reference to "African American English" and how he won't devalue it as a spoken language, but he would teach speakers "standard written English." There's a couple things that concern me about this (which I'd've loved to have discussed at the time, given the chance).
1) What is standard written English? Am I to believe that all professional and academic forms of written English are the same? I know better. I suppose I could counsel business students in the writing center to take on the discourse of the creative writing students. But it seems that there is no one standard written English. The professional English in business is different from the professional English of creative writing, on the level of the word, the sentence, and organization. So which written English should I be teaching?
2) Is is really value neutral to teach children which form of English is "standard"? My dad would say yes. But I think if you're obligated to accept the child's spoken language as valuable, then the same goes for their written language. Why do we say that spoken language can't be judged? Well...we didn't talk about that. I'd like to know exactly what Hadley thinks about that, to be sure. My inclination is that it's because the accepted dialect is accepted for social reasons. There's nothing inherently better about the different ways of talking.
So...what's inherently better about the different ways of writing? Writing tends more towards standardization because in print, you can't go back and explain your meaning if your audience is confused. And you can't share nonverbal clues about meaning (beyond such things as scare quotes). So there's more incentive for standardization. The problem is, I don't believe there is a single standard. So while I think we should teach standard forms of written English, I don't believe we should act as if they are value neutral and not based on social convention.
In conclusion, I really want to know what the difference is between teaching a student to use a standard dialect in writing and teaching students to avoid split infinitives. Both are social rules, aren't they? Why is one okay and not the other?
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Monkeys and Bartholomae
I think David Bartholomae's "Inventing the University" plays into some of what's going on in my class now. As I mentioned before, in my students' textual analysis papers (and more recently, their annotated bibliographies) they are reaching out for that academic voice. And Bartholomae, apparently, would be proud. But I want them to stop. If academic prose is necessary, it can come later, when they've internalized it more completely. But right now I want them to use a style of prose they are comfortable in.
I want to see their ideas, and they muddle their ideas by thinking too much about audience or discourse communities, even if they're not thinking in those words. I am trying to acclimate them to academic discourse, but I don't think they can learn how to differentiate summary from analysis and evaluation if they can't even keep their ideas clear for trying to sound scholarly. The prose style cannot come first.
I've got one student who emails me all the time with questions about the assignments, wanting to change topics, and so on. She's very self-conscious about her I-search topic: monkeys. I think it's a great topic and I have told her she can change it if she wants, but she really doesn't need to. She found good sources for her annotated bibliography and she has a personal interest--she wants a monkey for a pet, like Ross had on Friends.
This student is embarrassed of her desire itself, and more embarrassed to be writing a paper about it. The other students are tackling such topics as AIDS in Africa and alternative fuel sources. She wrote me an email an hour ago because she has writer's block and the first draft of the paper is due Friday. I'm thinking, Err...it's just a draft, and it's not due till Friday. But here's what get's me: "Its really hard to make my reasoning as to why I'm interested in monkeys sound professional."
My advice? Don't. She's working with this assumption that her paper should sound "professional," and as such, she realizes she has nothing to say. She has defeated the I-search, which is supposed to validate her experience, by turning it into an exercise in academic discourse.
See, Bartholomae? I want my students to know that they have something to contribute. I think the best way to acclimate them to the academic discourse community is by validating their style as much as possible. There is a sense in which they remain outsiders if they don't talk the talk, but only if we teach them to value "the talk" more than the ideas behind it. If we encourage them to be comfortable (within the bounds of articulate), then they don't have to feel like their failing simply because they can't make it sound "professional."
I want to see their ideas, and they muddle their ideas by thinking too much about audience or discourse communities, even if they're not thinking in those words. I am trying to acclimate them to academic discourse, but I don't think they can learn how to differentiate summary from analysis and evaluation if they can't even keep their ideas clear for trying to sound scholarly. The prose style cannot come first.
I've got one student who emails me all the time with questions about the assignments, wanting to change topics, and so on. She's very self-conscious about her I-search topic: monkeys. I think it's a great topic and I have told her she can change it if she wants, but she really doesn't need to. She found good sources for her annotated bibliography and she has a personal interest--she wants a monkey for a pet, like Ross had on Friends.
This student is embarrassed of her desire itself, and more embarrassed to be writing a paper about it. The other students are tackling such topics as AIDS in Africa and alternative fuel sources. She wrote me an email an hour ago because she has writer's block and the first draft of the paper is due Friday. I'm thinking, Err...it's just a draft, and it's not due till Friday. But here's what get's me: "Its really hard to make my reasoning as to why I'm interested in monkeys sound professional."
My advice? Don't. She's working with this assumption that her paper should sound "professional," and as such, she realizes she has nothing to say. She has defeated the I-search, which is supposed to validate her experience, by turning it into an exercise in academic discourse.
See, Bartholomae? I want my students to know that they have something to contribute. I think the best way to acclimate them to the academic discourse community is by validating their style as much as possible. There is a sense in which they remain outsiders if they don't talk the talk, but only if we teach them to value "the talk" more than the ideas behind it. If we encourage them to be comfortable (within the bounds of articulate), then they don't have to feel like their failing simply because they can't make it sound "professional."
Friday, October 13, 2006
Screwing up a single draft
In “Composing Behaviors of One- and Multi-Draft Writers” Muriel Harris talks about multi- and one-draft writers. I've had a lot of thoughts about the implications of this piece. I'm trying to be more open-minded about the idea of starting with clear ideas in mind. I've tended to see these as bad. It's limiting and boring...the writing process is just like filling out a form. But I'm trying to understand that it works for some people. But certainly not everyone.
Failed writing can come from bad single drafting or bad multi-drafting. There's the kind that start with a thesis and don't get anywhere, and the kind that just start off writing and don't get anywhere.
Maybe it's just because I don't understand them, but I find it much harder to fix an essay that was constructed purely with the five-paragraph model in mind than one that starts out just writing. Starting with the thesis, for inexperienced writers, can get you off track fast. They frequently choose entirely too broad a topic, then divide it into three unmanageable subpoints which they treat very generally. These writers need to do more "invention" to fix their papers--something they don't want to do after they've finished the draft. They have to come up with more to say about a narrower topic. Revision means starting over, in a sense.
I see a lot of papers in the writing center that have the opposite problem. They start writing without a thesis and don't quite find one. This is usually easy to fix. Figure out your thesis--every paper has a point, even if you didn't explicitly state it at the end of your introduction. What are you trying to get across to your readers? Read each paragraph and figure out how it relates to your thesis. Why did you include this paragraph? Add a topic sentence to tie the paragraph explicitly to the thesis, or cut the paragraph altogether.
Now maybe this is just me. Maybe I find it easier to help students do what I already do myself. But it's not like I never start with a thesis and subpoints. Frequently I do, I'm just not tied to them. And I usually get there after a little preliminary freewriting. It just seems like it's a lot farther from done when you screw it up that way.
Failed writing can come from bad single drafting or bad multi-drafting. There's the kind that start with a thesis and don't get anywhere, and the kind that just start off writing and don't get anywhere.
Maybe it's just because I don't understand them, but I find it much harder to fix an essay that was constructed purely with the five-paragraph model in mind than one that starts out just writing. Starting with the thesis, for inexperienced writers, can get you off track fast. They frequently choose entirely too broad a topic, then divide it into three unmanageable subpoints which they treat very generally. These writers need to do more "invention" to fix their papers--something they don't want to do after they've finished the draft. They have to come up with more to say about a narrower topic. Revision means starting over, in a sense.
I see a lot of papers in the writing center that have the opposite problem. They start writing without a thesis and don't quite find one. This is usually easy to fix. Figure out your thesis--every paper has a point, even if you didn't explicitly state it at the end of your introduction. What are you trying to get across to your readers? Read each paragraph and figure out how it relates to your thesis. Why did you include this paragraph? Add a topic sentence to tie the paragraph explicitly to the thesis, or cut the paragraph altogether.
Now maybe this is just me. Maybe I find it easier to help students do what I already do myself. But it's not like I never start with a thesis and subpoints. Frequently I do, I'm just not tied to them. And I usually get there after a little preliminary freewriting. It just seems like it's a lot farther from done when you screw it up that way.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Textual Analysis
I graded my students' critical analysis papers this week. On the whole, they weren't as good as their memoir papers. Most of them had a good handle on the concept of "analysis." But it was the style that was really lacking.
On their memoir papers, most of my students got A's or C's. I thought the lack of B's was weird, but I understand now why. A lot of the difference between an A paper and a B paper is style. It's the way the student makes the paper compelling.
The memoir paper was an opportunity for the students to share an important experience from their own lives. They wanted to tell these stories, and they did what they could to tell them well. But they were clearly less comfortable writing a textual analysis. A couple of them were really impressive. But a significant chunk of them understood the assignment, but didn't like it. They were wordy. They would say things like, "All things considered, in my opinion Carter appears to be using his past as a former president to kind of boost his other arguments," hiding behind their words.
I am looking forward to the rest of the semester, now. I was concerned before, about all the research and stuff, but I'm not anymore. My students submitted topic proposals to me yesterday, and I read through them. Some of the topics would be hard to write a good position paper on. A couple of students wanted to talk about legalizing marijuana, another wanted to talk about video game violence, another wanted to talk about gun control. But I'm less concerned than I might otherwise be.
These are topics they want to learn about. One student said in his proposal that his "topic" was more of a question. I said, That's great. Having a question to research is a lot better than a topic. Then you're actually looking for something. But even my students who gave me "topics" probably really do have a question in mind, even if they didn't articulate it. So they might need guidance, but they're not starting their papers yet. I told a lot of them that they should just start their research with the broad topic in mind, and see if something comes up that they would want to focus on in their I-search papers.
I didn't think I was going to like the idea of an I-search paper followed by a source-supported position paper. But I do. I felt a lot more okay with my students taking on topics that have been overdone, because it forces them to take the informative approach first--to learn about the topic first. Then hopefully they'll have the background necessary to write well on a position (especially if I help them narrow it down to something manageable).
On their memoir papers, most of my students got A's or C's. I thought the lack of B's was weird, but I understand now why. A lot of the difference between an A paper and a B paper is style. It's the way the student makes the paper compelling.
The memoir paper was an opportunity for the students to share an important experience from their own lives. They wanted to tell these stories, and they did what they could to tell them well. But they were clearly less comfortable writing a textual analysis. A couple of them were really impressive. But a significant chunk of them understood the assignment, but didn't like it. They were wordy. They would say things like, "All things considered, in my opinion Carter appears to be using his past as a former president to kind of boost his other arguments," hiding behind their words.
I am looking forward to the rest of the semester, now. I was concerned before, about all the research and stuff, but I'm not anymore. My students submitted topic proposals to me yesterday, and I read through them. Some of the topics would be hard to write a good position paper on. A couple of students wanted to talk about legalizing marijuana, another wanted to talk about video game violence, another wanted to talk about gun control. But I'm less concerned than I might otherwise be.
These are topics they want to learn about. One student said in his proposal that his "topic" was more of a question. I said, That's great. Having a question to research is a lot better than a topic. Then you're actually looking for something. But even my students who gave me "topics" probably really do have a question in mind, even if they didn't articulate it. So they might need guidance, but they're not starting their papers yet. I told a lot of them that they should just start their research with the broad topic in mind, and see if something comes up that they would want to focus on in their I-search papers.
I didn't think I was going to like the idea of an I-search paper followed by a source-supported position paper. But I do. I felt a lot more okay with my students taking on topics that have been overdone, because it forces them to take the informative approach first--to learn about the topic first. Then hopefully they'll have the background necessary to write well on a position (especially if I help them narrow it down to something manageable).
Friday, September 29, 2006
Textual Ownership
What I really wanted to talk about concerning Andrea Abernethy Lunsford's “Feminism, Rhetoric, and the Politics of Textual Ownership” was Wikipedia. I spent my free time this summer editing Wikipedia. Obviously I no longer have such time, so that’s firmly in the past. Of course, the word “editor” sounds authoritative to some people, but Wikipedia is, after all, “the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit.”
My contributions to Wikipedia put me in a position to actually think about copyright, fair use, and ownership of my words and ideas.
On Wikipedia, by editing, you license your contributions to be used in any way that falls under the GNU Free Documentation License. Whoever uses the content is required to give credit to the contributors, but the contributors don’t have a say in how the content is used, except that it has to stay under the same license.
I like this arrangement. The information is free, but attributed.
I contributed substantially to the article on Christina Hoff Sommers and was involved in working out some issues regarding certain classifications of her stance. We worked out a way to express the fact that CHS is not usually considered a mainstream feminist, but reappropriates the term for herself.
Then I visited the German Wikipedia. Quotations that I had supplied and sentences I had constructed had been carried over and translated. That’s great, that’s what Wikipedia is about, sharing information. But the person who did this gave no attribution to those of us who had worked on it at the English Wikipedia. Conventionally, this is covered by a simple edit summary that says information is being merged from another article, so a person can go back and look at the attribution page for the other article. But no such edit summary was given. As such, it appeared as if this person had written the paragraphs without help.
That’s what I care about. I want information to be free. I want fair use to be simple. But I want attribution to be maintained. If it’s not your words, not your ideas, I want to know whose they are. I don’t think Lunsford is as strict on this as I am. She views every work as collaborative, every idea as a reflection of culture as much as individual. But as an individualist, I’m taking my stand.
My contributions to Wikipedia put me in a position to actually think about copyright, fair use, and ownership of my words and ideas.
On Wikipedia, by editing, you license your contributions to be used in any way that falls under the GNU Free Documentation License. Whoever uses the content is required to give credit to the contributors, but the contributors don’t have a say in how the content is used, except that it has to stay under the same license.
I like this arrangement. The information is free, but attributed.
I contributed substantially to the article on Christina Hoff Sommers and was involved in working out some issues regarding certain classifications of her stance. We worked out a way to express the fact that CHS is not usually considered a mainstream feminist, but reappropriates the term for herself.
Then I visited the German Wikipedia. Quotations that I had supplied and sentences I had constructed had been carried over and translated. That’s great, that’s what Wikipedia is about, sharing information. But the person who did this gave no attribution to those of us who had worked on it at the English Wikipedia. Conventionally, this is covered by a simple edit summary that says information is being merged from another article, so a person can go back and look at the attribution page for the other article. But no such edit summary was given. As such, it appeared as if this person had written the paragraphs without help.
That’s what I care about. I want information to be free. I want fair use to be simple. But I want attribution to be maintained. If it’s not your words, not your ideas, I want to know whose they are. I don’t think Lunsford is as strict on this as I am. She views every work as collaborative, every idea as a reflection of culture as much as individual. But as an individualist, I’m taking my stand.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Teacher as Audience
After reading Dr. Cadle's blog entry, I started to think about the role my students may have cast me in as a reader of their papers. I've tried to give them a lot of cues. I explicitly downplay technical concerns. It's true that they are going to need to pay attention to formatting and grammar issues to do well in other classes. But those aren't really too hard to master. They really don't need too much of my help with that.
I tell them I want them to make a point, to tell me something in their papers, no matter what kind of paper it is. Any piece of writing has to have a point (whether or not it has a thesis statement at the end of the first paragraph), or else the reader will simply say, "So what?" Everything else is simply a matter of how well they make their point. Does the paper lack focus? Then it can't make its point. Is the language too general or loaded with private meanings? Then the reader can't figure out where the paper is trying to take them.
I don't worry about plagiarism. I just don't. I'm not the kind of person who burdens myself with other people's ethical choices. When a student emails me to let me know they have a migraine and won't be coming to class, my skeptical side realizes that "migraine" could be code for "hangover". When they have to miss for a "family emergency", I know that it could be totally made up. But so what? They're only hurting themselves if they're lying. I'm not qualified to judge anything but the effectiveness of my students' writing. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who gives me advance notice about missing class has the opportunity to do make-up work. It's not like many people actually ask about make-up work, and it's usually easier just to come to class anyway.
When it comes to plagiarism, yeah, it has to be addressed. We worked on quotation integration Wednesday, and several worksheets they turned in had "paraphrases" which used the original authors actual words, just in a slightly different order. So we talked about what it means to use your own words. But I'm of the opinion that labelling every form of academic dishonesty as "plagiarism" is counter-productive. Hiding differences where they exist isn't a great idea. There's a difference between having trouble putting something in your own words and ripping off paragraphs out of laziness or desparation.
I simply want to make sure they're not desparate. I want them to feel like I want to hear what they have to say. There's got to be a benefit to having a discussion-oriented class, where the instructor shows interest in each student's opinion. There's got to be a benefit to working with students, not trying to scare them into writing good papers. I know some of my fellow TA's take that strategy. We want to make the students know they can't pull one over on us. Sure, I remind them that I can plainly see what font they're using, and biggerizing it won't magically develop their argument more fully. But I don't try to give them the impression that college writing is going to be a painful transition--they have a whole semester to learn. I don't try to make them feel like they have to pull off something really impressive just to get my approval. I don't want my students to feel like I think they're inadequate. I just want them to show me some good work, and we'll work a little harder when they aren't succeeding.
I tell them I want them to make a point, to tell me something in their papers, no matter what kind of paper it is. Any piece of writing has to have a point (whether or not it has a thesis statement at the end of the first paragraph), or else the reader will simply say, "So what?" Everything else is simply a matter of how well they make their point. Does the paper lack focus? Then it can't make its point. Is the language too general or loaded with private meanings? Then the reader can't figure out where the paper is trying to take them.
I don't worry about plagiarism. I just don't. I'm not the kind of person who burdens myself with other people's ethical choices. When a student emails me to let me know they have a migraine and won't be coming to class, my skeptical side realizes that "migraine" could be code for "hangover". When they have to miss for a "family emergency", I know that it could be totally made up. But so what? They're only hurting themselves if they're lying. I'm not qualified to judge anything but the effectiveness of my students' writing. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who gives me advance notice about missing class has the opportunity to do make-up work. It's not like many people actually ask about make-up work, and it's usually easier just to come to class anyway.
When it comes to plagiarism, yeah, it has to be addressed. We worked on quotation integration Wednesday, and several worksheets they turned in had "paraphrases" which used the original authors actual words, just in a slightly different order. So we talked about what it means to use your own words. But I'm of the opinion that labelling every form of academic dishonesty as "plagiarism" is counter-productive. Hiding differences where they exist isn't a great idea. There's a difference between having trouble putting something in your own words and ripping off paragraphs out of laziness or desparation.
I simply want to make sure they're not desparate. I want them to feel like I want to hear what they have to say. There's got to be a benefit to having a discussion-oriented class, where the instructor shows interest in each student's opinion. There's got to be a benefit to working with students, not trying to scare them into writing good papers. I know some of my fellow TA's take that strategy. We want to make the students know they can't pull one over on us. Sure, I remind them that I can plainly see what font they're using, and biggerizing it won't magically develop their argument more fully. But I don't try to give them the impression that college writing is going to be a painful transition--they have a whole semester to learn. I don't try to make them feel like they have to pull off something really impressive just to get my approval. I don't want my students to feel like I think they're inadequate. I just want them to show me some good work, and we'll work a little harder when they aren't succeeding.
Friday, September 22, 2006
The Existence of an Audience Matters...
"Audience Addressed/Audience Invoked" by Lunsford and Ede is one of the more intuitive perspectives I've seen on audience. Speaking only for my own intuition, of course. Usually when people talk about audience, they talk about teaching students to consider whom they're addressing--"Audience Addressed". Assignment sheets (such as those we got from the 2nd years) specify an audience.
Ede and Lunsford (they like to switch their names around, so I oblige) refer to Russell Long, who doubts how effective such methods are. I probably side with Long. It depends on the assignment. If I ask my students to write a textual analysis, what kind of audience should I propose? Ethically, I find it's best to consider myself their audience. Because I'm grading their paper, and no matter how I construct the assignment, in the end, they have to write to me. I might question their argument's effectiveness on people of varying ideologies, but I will not pretend to stand in as a reader other than myself. I can only offer suggestions about how it might be read by others.
Yes, audience matters. I think Linda Flower makes that point best in "Writer-Based Prose." It's important to recognize that we have an audience. In the Writing Center, I frequently tell clients to remember, "Readers are stupid." Actually, it's not that readers are stupid--it's that they're ignorant. They are ignorant of the processes going on in the writer's mind. What looks clear to the writer is not so clear to someone else. So remembering that you have an audience matters.
But I wouldn't overemphasize analyzing one's audience. Like Long says, I wouldn't get bogged down in trying to pin down their socioeconomic status or race. It depends on the piece's purpose. If it's a persuasive piece, then crap yeah. You have to know who you're trying to persuade. And even an informative piece has to decide what the readers already know. These are the audience addressed. But Walter Ong is right in that we always have to fictionalize/invoke an audience. He's simply wrong in thinking that it's a peculiarly written phenomenon. For one thing, we have to pick an audience. Our audience addressed by a persuasive piece might be very large, but we know we can't persuade everyone, and so we invoke a particular segment of that audience. We also give our audience cues to know how we expect them to be listening. Particularly in creative pieces, we write what we want for whom we want, and who cares who we're actually addressing?
Ede and Lunsford (they like to switch their names around, so I oblige) refer to Russell Long, who doubts how effective such methods are. I probably side with Long. It depends on the assignment. If I ask my students to write a textual analysis, what kind of audience should I propose? Ethically, I find it's best to consider myself their audience. Because I'm grading their paper, and no matter how I construct the assignment, in the end, they have to write to me. I might question their argument's effectiveness on people of varying ideologies, but I will not pretend to stand in as a reader other than myself. I can only offer suggestions about how it might be read by others.
Yes, audience matters. I think Linda Flower makes that point best in "Writer-Based Prose." It's important to recognize that we have an audience. In the Writing Center, I frequently tell clients to remember, "Readers are stupid." Actually, it's not that readers are stupid--it's that they're ignorant. They are ignorant of the processes going on in the writer's mind. What looks clear to the writer is not so clear to someone else. So remembering that you have an audience matters.
But I wouldn't overemphasize analyzing one's audience. Like Long says, I wouldn't get bogged down in trying to pin down their socioeconomic status or race. It depends on the piece's purpose. If it's a persuasive piece, then crap yeah. You have to know who you're trying to persuade. And even an informative piece has to decide what the readers already know. These are the audience addressed. But Walter Ong is right in that we always have to fictionalize/invoke an audience. He's simply wrong in thinking that it's a peculiarly written phenomenon. For one thing, we have to pick an audience. Our audience addressed by a persuasive piece might be very large, but we know we can't persuade everyone, and so we invoke a particular segment of that audience. We also give our audience cues to know how we expect them to be listening. Particularly in creative pieces, we write what we want for whom we want, and who cares who we're actually addressing?
Friday, September 15, 2006
Questioning the Oppressive Regime
Paulo Friere says that "[no] oppressive order could permit the oppressed to begin to question: Why?" (Pedagogy of the Oppressed 86). That is, a problem-posing method will always be liberating.
I'm not sure this is true. I'm not sure that we can't encourage students to question according to a particular philosophy. I mean, doesn't it matter a whole lot what questions you ask? Couldn't you pose leading questions?
And, really, is problem-posing universal? Couldn't we be imposing this method on students? Friere dismisses this idea easily. I think he's naive here. I'm just not convinced that this process can't be inauthentic, can't be forcing students into a particular way of thinking.
If I smell that my teacher is trying to liberate me, I resist them. Is it fair of them to be working from the mindset that I need to be liberated? Sure, Friere doesn't want them to force me. But I'm not talking about forcing me, I'm talking about being preoccupied with me supposedly being blind to the culture that oppresses me. Acting like I can't take responsibility for myself.
Here's what I don't like about this philsophy. It assumes that what the teacher has to offer is an enlightened perspective. That I, a grad student, owe to my students not my knowledge of how to construct an effective essay, not my knowledge even of MLA formatting. What I owe to them is the fact that I can help them break free of the culture bonds that hold them back.
Sure, Friere. That's better than thinking I actually know more about writing than they do.
I'm not sure this is true. I'm not sure that we can't encourage students to question according to a particular philosophy. I mean, doesn't it matter a whole lot what questions you ask? Couldn't you pose leading questions?
And, really, is problem-posing universal? Couldn't we be imposing this method on students? Friere dismisses this idea easily. I think he's naive here. I'm just not convinced that this process can't be inauthentic, can't be forcing students into a particular way of thinking.
If I smell that my teacher is trying to liberate me, I resist them. Is it fair of them to be working from the mindset that I need to be liberated? Sure, Friere doesn't want them to force me. But I'm not talking about forcing me, I'm talking about being preoccupied with me supposedly being blind to the culture that oppresses me. Acting like I can't take responsibility for myself.
Here's what I don't like about this philsophy. It assumes that what the teacher has to offer is an enlightened perspective. That I, a grad student, owe to my students not my knowledge of how to construct an effective essay, not my knowledge even of MLA formatting. What I owe to them is the fact that I can help them break free of the culture bonds that hold them back.
Sure, Friere. That's better than thinking I actually know more about writing than they do.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Immunity Preserves the Self
Charles Paine calls this book "The Resistant Writer" because he sees writing courses being taught to build students' immunity against bad arguments. When we teach argumentation, we often teach it from the Aristotelian view, explaining the concepts of logos, ethos, and pathos. This angle "demystifies" rhetoric. We can analyze it and deprive it of its power--show the students what an emotional appeal looks like so they won't fall for it.
Paine contrasts this with a Ciceronian model. The Ciceronian model is a positive model of rhetoric, which concentrates on how to persuade through language. It encourages social involvement.
This is the key to Paine's argument. Aristotle's model teaches us to distance ourselves, while Cicero's asks us to join in. This distance is intended to protect our selves from outside influence. We want to preserve ourselves exactly as we are. This is likened to a modern (opposed to post-modern) view of immunity. A modern view of immunity has the physical self being protected by the immune system, keeping out invaders.
But this view of the immune system doesn't work--that's not what defines a healthy immune system. To be healthy, we don't need an immune system to fight off all invaders, we need an immune system that responds appropriately to threats and non-threats. An overactive immune system is just as dangerous as an underactive immune system.
Correspondingly, too strong a defense against bad rhetoric may be just as bad as too weak a defense. We do our students harm if we make them too ready to reject ideas--too firm in keeping their identities untroubled by outside influences.
Thinking back to taking the Self and Free Will as an undergrad, these aren't unfamiliar concepts, though their application to composition theory is new to me. In Free Will, there was a bit of controversy about what the "self" was--am I some kind of mystical agent/mind/soul who is above causation, simply acting out my will on the physical world (see Roderick Chisholm)? Am I constituted of my actions (see Robert Kane)? Is my self the parts of my personality that I endorse (see Harry Frankfurt)?
I really always felt that these models, all of them, made my self less than I was. I feel myself to be everything--all my actions, all my beliefs, all my desires. Even the little things, like being in the mood for a Dr Pepper. It takes everything to be me.
This conception of the self (which is not so much common) means that my self is constantly changing. I'm not the me I was yesterday, or even five minutes ago. This forces me to believe in degrees of identity. Some of my beliefs, for instance, are not fundamental to my sense of self. When I found out my orange strawberry banana juice was mostly actually apple juice, there was a sense in which I changed, but not in a major way. I still interact with the world mostly the same as I did before, except where juice cocktails are concerned.
But some beliefs and desires are more basic. An Amy who wore makeup, for instance, though it seems like a small thing, would probably require a pretty different foundation...a different way of thinking about myself or human beauty.
If we think of the self as fluid, if we think of parts of ourselves as more important than others, then we don't have to be so scared of influence. We shouldn't be scared of change, because we change all the time. The parts of us that are easily influenced aren't the important parts anyway.
So I think it may be as much about our approach to the "self" as it is our approach to rhetoric. And I think maybe Paine is saying this, but I lost him when he got into the practical problems of building up resistance by exposing the students to new ideas.
Paine contrasts this with a Ciceronian model. The Ciceronian model is a positive model of rhetoric, which concentrates on how to persuade through language. It encourages social involvement.
This is the key to Paine's argument. Aristotle's model teaches us to distance ourselves, while Cicero's asks us to join in. This distance is intended to protect our selves from outside influence. We want to preserve ourselves exactly as we are. This is likened to a modern (opposed to post-modern) view of immunity. A modern view of immunity has the physical self being protected by the immune system, keeping out invaders.
But this view of the immune system doesn't work--that's not what defines a healthy immune system. To be healthy, we don't need an immune system to fight off all invaders, we need an immune system that responds appropriately to threats and non-threats. An overactive immune system is just as dangerous as an underactive immune system.
Correspondingly, too strong a defense against bad rhetoric may be just as bad as too weak a defense. We do our students harm if we make them too ready to reject ideas--too firm in keeping their identities untroubled by outside influences.
Thinking back to taking the Self and Free Will as an undergrad, these aren't unfamiliar concepts, though their application to composition theory is new to me. In Free Will, there was a bit of controversy about what the "self" was--am I some kind of mystical agent/mind/soul who is above causation, simply acting out my will on the physical world (see Roderick Chisholm)? Am I constituted of my actions (see Robert Kane)? Is my self the parts of my personality that I endorse (see Harry Frankfurt)?
I really always felt that these models, all of them, made my self less than I was. I feel myself to be everything--all my actions, all my beliefs, all my desires. Even the little things, like being in the mood for a Dr Pepper. It takes everything to be me.
This conception of the self (which is not so much common) means that my self is constantly changing. I'm not the me I was yesterday, or even five minutes ago. This forces me to believe in degrees of identity. Some of my beliefs, for instance, are not fundamental to my sense of self. When I found out my orange strawberry banana juice was mostly actually apple juice, there was a sense in which I changed, but not in a major way. I still interact with the world mostly the same as I did before, except where juice cocktails are concerned.
But some beliefs and desires are more basic. An Amy who wore makeup, for instance, though it seems like a small thing, would probably require a pretty different foundation...a different way of thinking about myself or human beauty.
If we think of the self as fluid, if we think of parts of ourselves as more important than others, then we don't have to be so scared of influence. We shouldn't be scared of change, because we change all the time. The parts of us that are easily influenced aren't the important parts anyway.
So I think it may be as much about our approach to the "self" as it is our approach to rhetoric. And I think maybe Paine is saying this, but I lost him when he got into the practical problems of building up resistance by exposing the students to new ideas.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Bow to the Power Structures
Because if James Britton can quote himself, so can I.
It's hard for me to believe that no one else finds it problematic that the existent power structures should simply be accepted, and we should play by their rules simply because they are in a position to make the rules.
It's also hard for me to believe this argument flies with eighteen year olds.
For Wednesday, my class read Lunsford's excerpt from Mike Rose's Lives on the Boundary. We talked about the idea of a canon of literature, "Great Books." The class was split on the concept, but many people thought a canon was stupid. That reading was inherently educational, and there was no need to read specific books.
I asked what they thought about the argument addressed in the piece that if we don't teach the underprivileged Shakespeare, we're withholding from them a key to power in our culture.
The class was unmoved. Even the supporters of canonical literature didn't jump on the "key to power" bandwagon.
I'm not sure what Murray or expressivists would say about grading on format...they might use Dr. Cadle's model and ask for a revision. But I have trouble seeing a hardcore expressivist requiring a specific format for papers, and I wonder how they explain to their students that they want most of all to hear their voice--just as long as they put their name in the right place on the page. I owe it to my students to make sure they are familiar with MLA format and where to find formatting guidelines, so they can use them in the future. When someone else tells them they need to use it because it's the power structure already in place.
Certainly students can express themselves within the bounds of MLA format. Just as Shakespeare could express himself within the much more restrictive bounds of a sonnet. I don't question that. I question why we ask them to.
It's hard for me to believe that no one else finds it problematic that the existent power structures should simply be accepted, and we should play by their rules simply because they are in a position to make the rules.
It's also hard for me to believe this argument flies with eighteen year olds.
For Wednesday, my class read Lunsford's excerpt from Mike Rose's Lives on the Boundary. We talked about the idea of a canon of literature, "Great Books." The class was split on the concept, but many people thought a canon was stupid. That reading was inherently educational, and there was no need to read specific books.
I asked what they thought about the argument addressed in the piece that if we don't teach the underprivileged Shakespeare, we're withholding from them a key to power in our culture.
The class was unmoved. Even the supporters of canonical literature didn't jump on the "key to power" bandwagon.
I'm not sure what Murray or expressivists would say about grading on format...they might use Dr. Cadle's model and ask for a revision. But I have trouble seeing a hardcore expressivist requiring a specific format for papers, and I wonder how they explain to their students that they want most of all to hear their voice--just as long as they put their name in the right place on the page. I owe it to my students to make sure they are familiar with MLA format and where to find formatting guidelines, so they can use them in the future. When someone else tells them they need to use it because it's the power structure already in place.
Certainly students can express themselves within the bounds of MLA format. Just as Shakespeare could express himself within the much more restrictive bounds of a sonnet. I don't question that. I question why we ask them to.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Posting
I'm having a lot of trouble posting comments. I'm being somewhat superstitious here, hoping that a successful post in my own blog will let me successfully post elsewhere.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Comp Tales: You're a writing teacher
The moral is: Always remember that you're a writing teacher.
You take a story like #28. The student uses cliches to substitute for simply saying things in her own words. Her instructor marks every one he sees, to point out to her how much of her writing is being taken over by token expresssions. But his comments seem to have no effect--if anything, the problem gets worse. So he actually talks to her about it, only to find out that she never realized that he marked the cliches because he wanted her to use less of them. Never having been taught why to avoid cliches, the student had little reason to think she was doing something wrong--instead interpreting that he was enjoying the expressions.
That's the way I would tell the story, of course. The teacher who submitted it made it snappier, more entertaining. When Leon Coburn told it, it had a punchline.
You see, I find this story striking because it's from a writing teacher. As a writing teacher, it's his job to help the student communicate her ideas with words on paper. And the teacher himself totally failed to communicate his own ideas. The story, told in an entertaining way, doesn't explore this irony. As a writing teacher, it's Coburn's job to help his students understand why certain kinds of communication are more effective than others. I retell the story in a way that emphasizes that--using phrases like "actually talks to her", implying the communication is unusual, and "never having been taught", to point out that he's failed in his duty.
Nobody's perfect. But what strikes me most about this story is that the writing teacher doesn't express his ideas well on paper--he can't spare an extra few words to make a complete sentence which tells the student to reduce her use of cliches. But what's worse is why he can do that. He can assume that his students already know how to write. That all he needs to do is remind them of when they're breaking the rules. So he doesn't actually need to teach.
So that's what I get from this book. You're a writing teacher, so teach the students how to write.
You take a story like #28. The student uses cliches to substitute for simply saying things in her own words. Her instructor marks every one he sees, to point out to her how much of her writing is being taken over by token expresssions. But his comments seem to have no effect--if anything, the problem gets worse. So he actually talks to her about it, only to find out that she never realized that he marked the cliches because he wanted her to use less of them. Never having been taught why to avoid cliches, the student had little reason to think she was doing something wrong--instead interpreting that he was enjoying the expressions.
That's the way I would tell the story, of course. The teacher who submitted it made it snappier, more entertaining. When Leon Coburn told it, it had a punchline.
You see, I find this story striking because it's from a writing teacher. As a writing teacher, it's his job to help the student communicate her ideas with words on paper. And the teacher himself totally failed to communicate his own ideas. The story, told in an entertaining way, doesn't explore this irony. As a writing teacher, it's Coburn's job to help his students understand why certain kinds of communication are more effective than others. I retell the story in a way that emphasizes that--using phrases like "actually talks to her", implying the communication is unusual, and "never having been taught", to point out that he's failed in his duty.
Nobody's perfect. But what strikes me most about this story is that the writing teacher doesn't express his ideas well on paper--he can't spare an extra few words to make a complete sentence which tells the student to reduce her use of cliches. But what's worse is why he can do that. He can assume that his students already know how to write. That all he needs to do is remind them of when they're breaking the rules. So he doesn't actually need to teach.
So that's what I get from this book. You're a writing teacher, so teach the students how to write.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
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