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.
Monday, December 11, 2006
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).
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