Looking back at my first Pedagogy Statement (Jan. 27), I see how much I have learned in this class. I am now certain that technology needs to be used in the writing process. Furthermore, I wouldn't use literature (you know, the "classics") as the basis of my writing instruction process. My experiences working with high school students have led me to believe that there needs to be a lot more teacher & student collaboration upfront (in the process of discovering a topic, conducting research, and forming an opinion) than time spent at the end (in grading).
I would like to create a process of writing instruction that models the process of writing itself. Good writing does not come from a disengaged writer, and I don't think good writing instruction comes from a disengaged teacher. The teacher and student must be in it together, with learning possible for both. This requires a basic foundation of dignity and respect, as well as shared goals and commitment to the process.
I would like to use technology in the pre-writing or pre-visioning part of the process. Perhaps blogging and texting would be useful in topic selection and opinion statement. Of course, computers are invaluable in the research process. I think the annotated bibliography is a wonderful tool in the pre-visioning stage, and would teach and require it.
Most of the students I work with begin by looking for a topic they think the teacher will like. Then they look for quotes that say something tangential about the topic. They they write the paper. They they look for facts they can cite. Then, if forced, they take a position. Most of the time, they are inclined to write reports, not essays or papers, and it's impossible to find the writer in these reports. I want to teach my students to have a voice and make their position known in their writing. They can't do that if they aren't investigating the conflicts inherent in their topic, so they need to be taught that as well.
I want my students to know about good writing by reading and studying examples of it, but not necessarily literature. I am impressed with a lot of the short fiction (Flash Fiction) I have been seeing lately, and there are hundreds of fabulous articles that would serve just as well in the writing classroom. And who can leave out poetry? I don't think it is all that important what is the subject, I think it is important that the work be well-written. There's no doubt in my mind that we all can learn from good examples.
I believe peer review and workshopping, when handled properly, can be invaluable to the revision process, so I would include them always. Furthermore, I believe guided self-reflection on the work is a powerful tool, and it is one I would also include.
I think my processes would be fairly time-intensive, for both teacher and student, but I think they would yield many benefits, to both the writing and to the student's future as a writer. It is important work -it should take some time.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Kathleen Blake Yancey
As past president of NCTE, Kathleen Blake Yancey recently authored a report called Writing in the 21st Century. In that document, she explores how technology is starting to take writing in a different direction. The new methods of writing (email, text message, and blogs) allow people to engage in self-sponsored writing, something that belongs to the writer and not to any school or job. It seems that people have a desire to be heard, and technology gives them an outlet.
Yancey asserts that people not only write to share their ideas and encourage dialogue, they write to participate in society. Technology is taking the place of "the commons". Yancey's corollary idea is most fascinating. She predicts that in the 21st century, writers will become writers not through formal instruction, but through an "extracurricular social co-apprenticeship."
Yancey says we need to move past a sequential model of composition (spelling, then grammar, then writing) and away from our print-based models of writing to welcome the use of technology and encourage the development of complex thinking. This will be challenging, because it requires teachers to abandon many of their go-to classroom strategies and to question their practices. For instance, could there be a place for visual elements in a formal composition? Is there any need to use a red pen on a student's work? Could writing be a subject of its own, separate from English concerns like spelling and grammar?
Lots of ideas here. I'd like to know more.
Yancey asserts that people not only write to share their ideas and encourage dialogue, they write to participate in society. Technology is taking the place of "the commons". Yancey's corollary idea is most fascinating. She predicts that in the 21st century, writers will become writers not through formal instruction, but through an "extracurricular social co-apprenticeship."
Yancey says we need to move past a sequential model of composition (spelling, then grammar, then writing) and away from our print-based models of writing to welcome the use of technology and encourage the development of complex thinking. This will be challenging, because it requires teachers to abandon many of their go-to classroom strategies and to question their practices. For instance, could there be a place for visual elements in a formal composition? Is there any need to use a red pen on a student's work? Could writing be a subject of its own, separate from English concerns like spelling and grammar?
Lots of ideas here. I'd like to know more.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Cynthia Selfe
I once heard that English majors were a unique kind of nerd - and they thought there were better than the other nerds.
Over the years, among English students, grad students, and professors, I have sensed a certain resistance to technology, not just from the older people. There is a romanticism to English - reclining on a garden swing while reading from a beautifully-bound volume of essays, hand-writing a 3-inch thick manuscript in a dimly-lit attic, banging away for hours on a manual typewriter, spending years "in the stacks" in libraries, shopping for the proper pens and paper, etc. We love to pretend we are Jane Austin. Are we afraid that technology will steal the soul from our beloved language arts?
In a 1999 essay from College Composition and Communication, Cynthia Selfe said,
"A central irony that has shaped my professional life for as long as I can remember goes something like this: the one topic I actually know something about - that of computer technology and its use in teaching composition - is also the single subject, in my experience, best guaranteed to inspire glazed eyes and complete indifference in those portions of the CCCC membership which do not immediately open their program books to scan alternative sessions or sink into snooze mode."
I don't think they are bored - I think they are afraid.
It is interesting to note that Selfe didn't set out to become a computers in composition guru. She was in the right place at the right time and didn't shy away from a challenge. She says, "Someone showed me how to code my dissertation on the university mainframe because I didn't have enough money to have it typed. So in 1980 that made me a specialist. At my first job, PCs were just coming in; I've had a career contemporaneous with personal computers in education."
I'm in awe of this woman!
Over the years, among English students, grad students, and professors, I have sensed a certain resistance to technology, not just from the older people. There is a romanticism to English - reclining on a garden swing while reading from a beautifully-bound volume of essays, hand-writing a 3-inch thick manuscript in a dimly-lit attic, banging away for hours on a manual typewriter, spending years "in the stacks" in libraries, shopping for the proper pens and paper, etc. We love to pretend we are Jane Austin. Are we afraid that technology will steal the soul from our beloved language arts?
In a 1999 essay from College Composition and Communication, Cynthia Selfe said,
"A central irony that has shaped my professional life for as long as I can remember goes something like this: the one topic I actually know something about - that of computer technology and its use in teaching composition - is also the single subject, in my experience, best guaranteed to inspire glazed eyes and complete indifference in those portions of the CCCC membership which do not immediately open their program books to scan alternative sessions or sink into snooze mode."
I don't think they are bored - I think they are afraid.
It is interesting to note that Selfe didn't set out to become a computers in composition guru. She was in the right place at the right time and didn't shy away from a challenge. She says, "Someone showed me how to code my dissertation on the university mainframe because I didn't have enough money to have it typed. So in 1980 that made me a specialist. At my first job, PCs were just coming in; I've had a career contemporaneous with personal computers in education."
I'm in awe of this woman!
Erika Lindemann
Rebecca's presentation came at an opportune time in my life, and I am particularly intrigued by the debate on literature as the vehicle for teaching writing.
In undergrad, I took a class called THE RUSSIAN NOVEL. In 1 semester, we read Anna Karenina, The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, and War and Peace, and wrote a paper on each. I will concede that this was a literature class, not a writing class, but the writing part was pretty intense, and included conferences and multiple revisions of the 4 required papers. It was a very difficult class, mostly because of the sheer volume of reading and then because of the richness of the literature, which demanded some study of history and religion. I did get all the reading done, but I know there were many who didn't. I also knew a number of people who didn't write all the papers, and perhaps didn't pass the class.
If composition teachers are going to use literature as the thing the students write about, they can't be sure everyone will have had the same reading experiences. So they have to pick some piece of literature for everyone to read. Wouldn't it be great if the teacher could be assured that everyone who graduated from high school in the U.S. had read Hamlet or The Great Gatsby (or how about something written in the teacher's lifetime, or the student's)? The teacher could then really teach writing, and there wouldn't be any burdensome reading for the students (although all would have to re-familiarize themselves with the text). Slow and poor readers are truly penalized in college; many of them are quite smart, but lack that quick eye and mind that good readers have.
I'm with Lindemann - there is no need to be teaching literature when you are supposed to be teaching writing. And there is no need to saddle students with a bunch of reading that takes up most of everyone's time, and leaves little energy for working on writing. I'm sure there are plenty of subjects students can write on, and there's shorter and more accessible literary work that could be used, if necessary.
In undergrad, I took a class called THE RUSSIAN NOVEL. In 1 semester, we read Anna Karenina, The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, and War and Peace, and wrote a paper on each. I will concede that this was a literature class, not a writing class, but the writing part was pretty intense, and included conferences and multiple revisions of the 4 required papers. It was a very difficult class, mostly because of the sheer volume of reading and then because of the richness of the literature, which demanded some study of history and religion. I did get all the reading done, but I know there were many who didn't. I also knew a number of people who didn't write all the papers, and perhaps didn't pass the class.
If composition teachers are going to use literature as the thing the students write about, they can't be sure everyone will have had the same reading experiences. So they have to pick some piece of literature for everyone to read. Wouldn't it be great if the teacher could be assured that everyone who graduated from high school in the U.S. had read Hamlet or The Great Gatsby (or how about something written in the teacher's lifetime, or the student's)? The teacher could then really teach writing, and there wouldn't be any burdensome reading for the students (although all would have to re-familiarize themselves with the text). Slow and poor readers are truly penalized in college; many of them are quite smart, but lack that quick eye and mind that good readers have.
I'm with Lindemann - there is no need to be teaching literature when you are supposed to be teaching writing. And there is no need to saddle students with a bunch of reading that takes up most of everyone's time, and leaves little energy for working on writing. I'm sure there are plenty of subjects students can write on, and there's shorter and more accessible literary work that could be used, if necessary.
Kenneth Bruffee
Thanks, Thomas, for a very thorough presentation on Kenneth Bruffee. I was inspired to go to an early article by Bruffee, from College English, in 1984. The article, Collaborative Learning and the 'Conversation of Mankind', let me to a very interesting statement about writing:
"If thought is internalized public and social talk, then writing of all kinds is internalized public and social talk made public and social again. If thought is internalized conversation, then writing is internalized conversation re-externalized."
I think Bruffee is saying that thought is talk going on inside one's head. I can't completely agree - I have many thoughts that are beyond language, and I would struggle mightily to force them into the restrictive bounds of talk. Surely Bruffee is not saying that thought is entirely socially constructed.
It seems logical and obvious that language is socially constructed, so any study of the language arts would be improved by using social tools, such as peer tutoring and collaborative learning. Working in a high school, I know how much the students and staff learn from each other. I have no doubt that the peer tutoring movement's most prized achievement is the Writing Center. I know many people who have benefited greatly, some as student writers and some as tutors.
"If thought is internalized public and social talk, then writing of all kinds is internalized public and social talk made public and social again. If thought is internalized conversation, then writing is internalized conversation re-externalized."
I think Bruffee is saying that thought is talk going on inside one's head. I can't completely agree - I have many thoughts that are beyond language, and I would struggle mightily to force them into the restrictive bounds of talk. Surely Bruffee is not saying that thought is entirely socially constructed.
It seems logical and obvious that language is socially constructed, so any study of the language arts would be improved by using social tools, such as peer tutoring and collaborative learning. Working in a high school, I know how much the students and staff learn from each other. I have no doubt that the peer tutoring movement's most prized achievement is the Writing Center. I know many people who have benefited greatly, some as student writers and some as tutors.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Richard Lanham
I especially like Lanham's idea that the term rhetoric should be retired, and perhaps communication could take its place. He had this to say in a 1996 interview:
Rhetoric, for most of its 2,500-year history, was the name for how the Western world taught its children to speak and write, and to think about speaking and writing. We might think of it as teaching “the art of expression,” or more grandly “the means of conscious life.” Nowadays, we call it “communication,” and its importance is, I think, universally acknowledged. The historical study of rhetoric has been the discipline that tries to chart this ground and lead us through it. We could, and maybe we should, just drop the word rhetoric as too soiled and use communication or some other word. What I’ve been trying to do, in The Electronic Word and elsewhere, is to project the computer’s expressive world onto the screen of that history. Digital expression is the latest chapter in a long history, and it makes much more sense when viewed in terms of that history. (Davis, Rod. Computer Greek: an Interview with Richard Lanham. American Way, 29.22)
I'm very interested in thinking more about how digital technologies are part of the long history and tradition of rhetoric. Perhaps a day will come when we no longer refer to "visual rhetoric" because there will be a visual component to everyday rhetoric - only likely to happen in digital environments.
I also have been considering learning styles and how they apply to rhetoric. In the days of Plato, argument was in the form of spoken words. I assume that auditory learners would have done well with this type of rhetoric. Later, when printed material was readily available, good readers gained the upper hand in rhetoric. With digital technologies, there are opportunities for visual learners, auditory learners, and good readers. It might change our definition of "smart".
Rhetoric, for most of its 2,500-year history, was the name for how the Western world taught its children to speak and write, and to think about speaking and writing. We might think of it as teaching “the art of expression,” or more grandly “the means of conscious life.” Nowadays, we call it “communication,” and its importance is, I think, universally acknowledged. The historical study of rhetoric has been the discipline that tries to chart this ground and lead us through it. We could, and maybe we should, just drop the word rhetoric as too soiled and use communication or some other word. What I’ve been trying to do, in The Electronic Word and elsewhere, is to project the computer’s expressive world onto the screen of that history. Digital expression is the latest chapter in a long history, and it makes much more sense when viewed in terms of that history. (Davis, Rod. Computer Greek: an Interview with Richard Lanham. American Way, 29.22)
I'm very interested in thinking more about how digital technologies are part of the long history and tradition of rhetoric. Perhaps a day will come when we no longer refer to "visual rhetoric" because there will be a visual component to everyday rhetoric - only likely to happen in digital environments.
I also have been considering learning styles and how they apply to rhetoric. In the days of Plato, argument was in the form of spoken words. I assume that auditory learners would have done well with this type of rhetoric. Later, when printed material was readily available, good readers gained the upper hand in rhetoric. With digital technologies, there are opportunities for visual learners, auditory learners, and good readers. It might change our definition of "smart".
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Dr. Hugh Burns
It was a real pleasure to have Dr. Burns in class last week. His low-key approach and thorough coverage of the history of rhetoric were very helpful to my understanding. Maybe I can catch up to all you brilliant and well-educated scholars . . .
I was especially interested in Dr. Burns’ rhetorical theories as they apply to computers and composition, and so I went looking for what some other people have said about the work Dr. Burns has been doing for so many years.
In his 1987 essay The User-Friendly Fallacy, Fred Kemp makes a compelling case for the type of research and programs that Hugh Burns was working on. Kemp addresses the User-Friendly Fallacy (the notion that computers must seem to behave like humans in order to have maximum efficiency in the teaching of writing) and exposes its limitations in helping student writers. He focuses on the pre-writing process, and holds up Dr. Burns’ TOPOI program as a model for helping students explore and define their topic and their argument, and thus improving their writing.
Kemp says, “. . . programming effort should concentrate on the nature of the thought prompts, the sequence and structuring of the prompts, and the response review mechanism. The writing instructor must direct the programmer, and instructional effectiveness must direct the technology . . . but people continue to expect that sophisticated instructional programs should, in some way, be more human, more like computerized teaching assistants complete with lively patter and foolproof electronic grading. As long as instructional software is judged in terms of the power of the technology - that is, on the basis of how human it makes the machine or how clever the program mechanism is - open-response software will continue to seem modest and unexceptional, especially in light of the powerful technical achievements of text analyzers and word processing.” (College Composition and Communication, Vol. 38, No. 1, February 1987. 32-39.)
I recall Dr. Burns talking about how the heuristic approach to writing software asks open-ended questions that are only designed to help the writer dig into the topic more thoroughly, and perhaps offer the writer opportunities for a creative look at existing information.
I see this as a way to teach writers how to think better, which is certain to lead to better writing. Dr. Burns says, and I agree, that writing software needs to be a lot more than a spelling and grammar checker. The above-mentioned article also shares the results of a small study conducted by the author. One of the findings was that students who participated the open-ended questioning process of pre-writing had, to some degree, internalized the process after a number of times. Then their writing improved permanently. I think that is a profound result, and worthy of further exploration.
I was especially interested in Dr. Burns’ rhetorical theories as they apply to computers and composition, and so I went looking for what some other people have said about the work Dr. Burns has been doing for so many years.
In his 1987 essay The User-Friendly Fallacy, Fred Kemp makes a compelling case for the type of research and programs that Hugh Burns was working on. Kemp addresses the User-Friendly Fallacy (the notion that computers must seem to behave like humans in order to have maximum efficiency in the teaching of writing) and exposes its limitations in helping student writers. He focuses on the pre-writing process, and holds up Dr. Burns’ TOPOI program as a model for helping students explore and define their topic and their argument, and thus improving their writing.
Kemp says, “. . . programming effort should concentrate on the nature of the thought prompts, the sequence and structuring of the prompts, and the response review mechanism. The writing instructor must direct the programmer, and instructional effectiveness must direct the technology . . . but people continue to expect that sophisticated instructional programs should, in some way, be more human, more like computerized teaching assistants complete with lively patter and foolproof electronic grading. As long as instructional software is judged in terms of the power of the technology - that is, on the basis of how human it makes the machine or how clever the program mechanism is - open-response software will continue to seem modest and unexceptional, especially in light of the powerful technical achievements of text analyzers and word processing.” (College Composition and Communication, Vol. 38, No. 1, February 1987. 32-39.)
I recall Dr. Burns talking about how the heuristic approach to writing software asks open-ended questions that are only designed to help the writer dig into the topic more thoroughly, and perhaps offer the writer opportunities for a creative look at existing information.
I see this as a way to teach writers how to think better, which is certain to lead to better writing. Dr. Burns says, and I agree, that writing software needs to be a lot more than a spelling and grammar checker. The above-mentioned article also shares the results of a small study conducted by the author. One of the findings was that students who participated the open-ended questioning process of pre-writing had, to some degree, internalized the process after a number of times. Then their writing improved permanently. I think that is a profound result, and worthy of further exploration.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Recopying
My own writing experience has taught me that recopying is a valuable process. I, like Peter Kratzke, am a speedy typist, so it's really no big deal to retype a paper. I have had issues with versions of Word, and have ended up retyping things. I am always surprised how I improve the piece as I go along, not really having any intention of doing that. Another form of recopying, I think, is reading aloud. How often do we not notice poor grammar or multiple uses of the same word until we read aloud?
Any time I completely lose something I wrote, I figure it wasn't good enough anyway - it was a first draft, a pre-visioning of the final product. It can be so very empowering to get some words on a page. In some ways, it doesn't matter how good they are - it's just about getting started. I think, though, that there is a bad side. Sometimes I can never completely get away from what I have written - it hangs around and drags down my work. It resists my efforts to edit. I can change around the word order or substitute in another word that makes more sense, but ultimately I feel stuck with what I first wrote. There have been times I was glad to lose work so I could really start over.
Any time I completely lose something I wrote, I figure it wasn't good enough anyway - it was a first draft, a pre-visioning of the final product. It can be so very empowering to get some words on a page. In some ways, it doesn't matter how good they are - it's just about getting started. I think, though, that there is a bad side. Sometimes I can never completely get away from what I have written - it hangs around and drags down my work. It resists my efforts to edit. I can change around the word order or substitute in another word that makes more sense, but ultimately I feel stuck with what I first wrote. There have been times I was glad to lose work so I could really start over.
Peer Review: Invaluable or Invalid?
The whole idea of peer review of writing has always given me a sick feeling - one similar to the feeling I get when contemplating collaborative writing. I'll admit that I want it both ways. I want to be the smartest and the best in the group (so my ego gets stroked) and I want to be in a group with the most brilliant individuals (so I get the benefit of that brilliance).
But peer review needs to seek a middle ground. It helps to be clear about the purpose of the peer review. I am still surprised that people don't know the difference between reading and commenting, proofreading, editing, and evaluating. Sometimes when students hand me a paper and ask me to edit it, what they really want is for me to read it and then praise them. They don't really want to discuss the content, and they certainly don't want me marking on the paper with a red pen.
As a freelance writer and editor, I often get "proofreading" jobs which turn out to be complete rewrites of someone else's work. Most amazing is how people think that my "little bit of proofreading" has made their work exactly as they intended. But I digress . . .
Perhaps a good first step is to define our goals. For example, what does the writer want when she asks someone to "read over" her paper? Will this step in any way improve the paper, or is the writer just eager to share her accomplishment with someone? I don't believe that a "read-over" is proper work for a peer review group.
What is the writer hoping to get when he asks for proofreading? In the professional world, proofeading is a job - a very specific, technical job - and not everyone is suited for it. Writers should proofread their own work carefully and repeatedly before they ask others to do it. After the proofreading has been done, writers must make a commitment to consider all proofreading notes and make the appropriate corrections. Writers must also be thorough and consistent in applying corrections. This is also not a step that I believe is suitable for a peer review group.
Editing is as much an art as writing is. Some say that the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald would have been nothing without the editing genius of Maxwell Perkins. I think their association probably reached the level of true collaboration. It seems to me that peer review groups can act as a many-headed editor, and can be enormously helpful to a writer. The editing stage is where you must ask yourself if you have fulfilled your aims for the piece of writing, and if you have done it in the most artful way, If you have not, you have work ahead of you.
Finally, there is evaulation, which to me means that the writing job is done, and someone is going to pronounce judgment on the piece. Of course, the writer may decide to rewrite (or burn the damned thing in the fireplace!) after evaulation, but that would be a new process. Our writing will be evaluated at some point, and it is never really finished. There comes a time when we have to decide to move on to something else and let earlier works lie as they are.
But peer review needs to seek a middle ground. It helps to be clear about the purpose of the peer review. I am still surprised that people don't know the difference between reading and commenting, proofreading, editing, and evaluating. Sometimes when students hand me a paper and ask me to edit it, what they really want is for me to read it and then praise them. They don't really want to discuss the content, and they certainly don't want me marking on the paper with a red pen.
As a freelance writer and editor, I often get "proofreading" jobs which turn out to be complete rewrites of someone else's work. Most amazing is how people think that my "little bit of proofreading" has made their work exactly as they intended. But I digress . . .
Perhaps a good first step is to define our goals. For example, what does the writer want when she asks someone to "read over" her paper? Will this step in any way improve the paper, or is the writer just eager to share her accomplishment with someone? I don't believe that a "read-over" is proper work for a peer review group.
What is the writer hoping to get when he asks for proofreading? In the professional world, proofeading is a job - a very specific, technical job - and not everyone is suited for it. Writers should proofread their own work carefully and repeatedly before they ask others to do it. After the proofreading has been done, writers must make a commitment to consider all proofreading notes and make the appropriate corrections. Writers must also be thorough and consistent in applying corrections. This is also not a step that I believe is suitable for a peer review group.
Editing is as much an art as writing is. Some say that the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald would have been nothing without the editing genius of Maxwell Perkins. I think their association probably reached the level of true collaboration. It seems to me that peer review groups can act as a many-headed editor, and can be enormously helpful to a writer. The editing stage is where you must ask yourself if you have fulfilled your aims for the piece of writing, and if you have done it in the most artful way, If you have not, you have work ahead of you.
Finally, there is evaulation, which to me means that the writing job is done, and someone is going to pronounce judgment on the piece. Of course, the writer may decide to rewrite (or burn the damned thing in the fireplace!) after evaulation, but that would be a new process. Our writing will be evaluated at some point, and it is never really finished. There comes a time when we have to decide to move on to something else and let earlier works lie as they are.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Patricia Bizzell
Bizzell's great conglomerated theory really appeals to me. I am interested in her ideas about discourse communities. I've been noticing over the last week how true this is. At our school, we work extensively with our students on culture. Lots of time is spent in exploring and mapping out teen culture, the family's culture, our school culture, and our community's culture. We use Venn diagrams (overlapping circles) to help the kids see that some of how they behave and express themselves with their families or their peers is appropriate for school or the workplace, and some is not.
People who are able to judge what sort of behavior is required in a social situation have more confidence and, usually, more success. I believe it would be a great gift to our students to help them identify the type of writing required in a situation, and help them gain the tools to do whatever kind of writing will succeed. This definitely hearkens back to the rhetorical triangle of audience-purpose-occasion.
I am eager to start working with kids to identify their various discourse communities (including the ones they don't yet know they will belong to) and really nailing down the types of writing required in each. It's a tantalizing idea, and one that I think could actually help out all our students, even the "good" writers.
Thank for a great presentation, Shaynee.
People who are able to judge what sort of behavior is required in a social situation have more confidence and, usually, more success. I believe it would be a great gift to our students to help them identify the type of writing required in a situation, and help them gain the tools to do whatever kind of writing will succeed. This definitely hearkens back to the rhetorical triangle of audience-purpose-occasion.
I am eager to start working with kids to identify their various discourse communities (including the ones they don't yet know they will belong to) and really nailing down the types of writing required in each. It's a tantalizing idea, and one that I think could actually help out all our students, even the "good" writers.
Thank for a great presentation, Shaynee.
David Bartholomae
Thanks to Emily's presentation, I now have a clearer understanding. It seems that Bartholomae is advocating a more formal approach to writing, one that strives to be academic. It is a common problem among high school students that they are unfamiliar with the formal tone or register required for academic and professional writing. They learned well in elementary school to write like they speak, for the sake of getting something on the page. Somehow that is all the instruction they got or remember.
I have seen a lot of high school essays that start, "Hi, this is my essay about the Civil War (World War I, World War II, etc.)." Maybe some of the problem lies in the fact that people so rarely speak in the formal register. Most kids have not heard this sort of discourse, and so they don't know how to imitate it in their writing.
This is an example of the "cultural commonplaces that sometimes predetermine how and what they write" (Mlynarczyk). If our students don't have any idea that speech could be more proper and formal, how could they ever adopt a more formal tone in their writing? Furthermore, I wonder if they know that thought can be more or less formal. That's a topic for Patricia Bizzell, who I will get to in a while.
Dr. Donna's Pedagogy Statement refers to her desire to be, at all times and in all endeavors, self-conscious. Bartholomae favors students positioning themselves, self-consciously (or purposefully) against the "common" discourse. I like this idea. I think our students should be taught to discern what level of formality is required in a writing (or speaking or thinking) situation, and them set themselves, on purpose, contrary to the way the general public might approach it. Self-consciousness, I believe, leads to being very present to the situation, and surely would lead to better writing.
I have seen a lot of high school essays that start, "Hi, this is my essay about the Civil War (World War I, World War II, etc.)." Maybe some of the problem lies in the fact that people so rarely speak in the formal register. Most kids have not heard this sort of discourse, and so they don't know how to imitate it in their writing.
This is an example of the "cultural commonplaces that sometimes predetermine how and what they write" (Mlynarczyk). If our students don't have any idea that speech could be more proper and formal, how could they ever adopt a more formal tone in their writing? Furthermore, I wonder if they know that thought can be more or less formal. That's a topic for Patricia Bizzell, who I will get to in a while.
Dr. Donna's Pedagogy Statement refers to her desire to be, at all times and in all endeavors, self-conscious. Bartholomae favors students positioning themselves, self-consciously (or purposefully) against the "common" discourse. I like this idea. I think our students should be taught to discern what level of formality is required in a writing (or speaking or thinking) situation, and them set themselves, on purpose, contrary to the way the general public might approach it. Self-consciousness, I believe, leads to being very present to the situation, and surely would lead to better writing.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Gerald Graff
Gerald Graff’s 2003 book Clueless in Academe has a chapter titled Unlearning to Write, in which I found solace. Graff advocates for plainer language, even in academic discourse.
I second that motion. My friends, you are killing me with your jargon. Between the comp-speak, rhet-chat, and teacher-talk, I’ve got quite a list of words to look up. Sometimes I am looking up the same word more than once. No doubt, I am the only one who is struggling. I believe that the function of jargon is to provide a shortcut among people who are in the know. Some day I will be in the know too, I hope.
Graff seems to be pulling back the curtain to expose the little man behind the wizard. He admits that he at first didn’t dare to write in a more vernacular tone because that would endanger his carefully-constructed persona. Now that he is an established academic, Graff is secure enough to abandon many of the academic conventions, and even says academics should write so that a non-academic could understand. He assures the reader that this is not the same as dumbing down.
I wonder where such suggestions would lead. Would simplicity in language lead to simplicity in thought? Would academic pieces of writing become longer because they wouldn’t use jargon as a shortcut to the ideas in question? Would the public become interested in reading academic writing? Would the public become interested in engaging in academic discourse?
I find it refreshing that one of the “gray-haired men” is willing to be critical of his field and his peers. On the other hand, it’s easy for him be critical. Graff is not trying to build a career and a life, and he is beholden to few. I’d love to know what some young academics think. Dr. Donna – what do you have to say?
I second that motion. My friends, you are killing me with your jargon. Between the comp-speak, rhet-chat, and teacher-talk, I’ve got quite a list of words to look up. Sometimes I am looking up the same word more than once. No doubt, I am the only one who is struggling. I believe that the function of jargon is to provide a shortcut among people who are in the know. Some day I will be in the know too, I hope.
Graff seems to be pulling back the curtain to expose the little man behind the wizard. He admits that he at first didn’t dare to write in a more vernacular tone because that would endanger his carefully-constructed persona. Now that he is an established academic, Graff is secure enough to abandon many of the academic conventions, and even says academics should write so that a non-academic could understand. He assures the reader that this is not the same as dumbing down.
I wonder where such suggestions would lead. Would simplicity in language lead to simplicity in thought? Would academic pieces of writing become longer because they wouldn’t use jargon as a shortcut to the ideas in question? Would the public become interested in reading academic writing? Would the public become interested in engaging in academic discourse?
I find it refreshing that one of the “gray-haired men” is willing to be critical of his field and his peers. On the other hand, it’s easy for him be critical. Graff is not trying to build a career and a life, and he is beholden to few. I’d love to know what some young academics think. Dr. Donna – what do you have to say?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Donald Murray
Thanks to Tony's engaging presentation, I was inspired to look at some of Donald Murray's published work. That guy wrote a lot about a lot of stuff.
In Write before Writing (College Composition and Communication, Vol. 29, No. 4 (Dec., 1978), pp. 375-381), Murray offers this suggestion for teachers of writing, "We may need, for example, to reconsider our attitude towards those who delay writing. We may, in fact, need to force many of our glib, hair-trigger student writers to slow down, to daydream, to waste time, but not to avoid a reasonable deadline." This sounds to me like brilliant advice. I would bet that most people who end up in graduate English programs are the kind who can write on command - 500 words on any subject or on no subject at all. Maybe all of us "good writers" don't really know how most people feel about writing. And perhaps we "good writers" are too quick to fling a bunch of big words on the page, not paying enough attention to content and artistry.
In the previously mentioned article, Murray comments that, as a journalist, he looks for the lead, and then the writing takes shape from there. I have experience in magazine and newspaper writing, and I take the same approach. Sometimes it leads me down blind alleys, but it always gets me started.
I am all for further exploration of Murray's Pre-Writing or Pre-Visioning concept. I think an awful lot of bad writing can be blamed on the lack of preparation.
In Write before Writing (College Composition and Communication, Vol. 29, No. 4 (Dec., 1978), pp. 375-381), Murray offers this suggestion for teachers of writing, "We may need, for example, to reconsider our attitude towards those who delay writing. We may, in fact, need to force many of our glib, hair-trigger student writers to slow down, to daydream, to waste time, but not to avoid a reasonable deadline." This sounds to me like brilliant advice. I would bet that most people who end up in graduate English programs are the kind who can write on command - 500 words on any subject or on no subject at all. Maybe all of us "good writers" don't really know how most people feel about writing. And perhaps we "good writers" are too quick to fling a bunch of big words on the page, not paying enough attention to content and artistry.
In the previously mentioned article, Murray comments that, as a journalist, he looks for the lead, and then the writing takes shape from there. I have experience in magazine and newspaper writing, and I take the same approach. Sometimes it leads me down blind alleys, but it always gets me started.
I am all for further exploration of Murray's Pre-Writing or Pre-Visioning concept. I think an awful lot of bad writing can be blamed on the lack of preparation.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Andrea Lunsford
After Nancy's interesting presentation on Andrea Lunsford (thanks, Nancy), I remained intrigued by the idea of collaboration in writing. I'm not much of a collaborator. When faced with group work, my preference has been to split it up, count on everyone to his or her best, then somehow mash it together. Maybe that's not really collaboration - maybe it's job sharing.
I went to a paper by Andrea Lunsford and Lisa Ede, Why Write... Together: A Research Update (Rhetoric Review, Vol. 5, No. 1 (Autumn, 1986), pp. 71-81) for to learn more about collaborative writing. Their survey of writing in the professions produced some pretty surprising results. For instance, those surveyed said they spend 81% of their writing effort alone, 10% working with one other person, 9% in small or large groups. When working in collaboration, the least-favored strategies were: team plans and writes draft, which is revised by one or more persons who do not consult the writers of the draft; and one person plans and writes draft, which is revised by one or more persons who do not consult the writer of the draft. The most-favored collaboration stragety was team plans and outlines, then each member drafts a part, then team compiles and revises.
Clearly, I am not the only person who is uncomfortable with collaborative writing. I admire Lunsford and Ede's strategy of Talk-Write-Talk-Read-Talk-Write-Talk-Read, etc., and would like to try it out. It seems to me that their process is a true collaboration, and not just a melding of individual work. I imagine that it is not easy to find someone with whom to write in this way. First of all, both would have to have deep interest in the subject (to make all that talking bearable). Additionally, both would need to have high regard for the other's abilities and experiences. Finally, both would have to be able to put ego aside for the sake of the work.
I went to a paper by Andrea Lunsford and Lisa Ede, Why Write... Together: A Research Update (Rhetoric Review, Vol. 5, No. 1 (Autumn, 1986), pp. 71-81) for to learn more about collaborative writing. Their survey of writing in the professions produced some pretty surprising results. For instance, those surveyed said they spend 81% of their writing effort alone, 10% working with one other person, 9% in small or large groups. When working in collaboration, the least-favored strategies were: team plans and writes draft, which is revised by one or more persons who do not consult the writers of the draft; and one person plans and writes draft, which is revised by one or more persons who do not consult the writer of the draft. The most-favored collaboration stragety was team plans and outlines, then each member drafts a part, then team compiles and revises.
Clearly, I am not the only person who is uncomfortable with collaborative writing. I admire Lunsford and Ede's strategy of Talk-Write-Talk-Read-Talk-Write-Talk-Read, etc., and would like to try it out. It seems to me that their process is a true collaboration, and not just a melding of individual work. I imagine that it is not easy to find someone with whom to write in this way. First of all, both would have to have deep interest in the subject (to make all that talking bearable). Additionally, both would need to have high regard for the other's abilities and experiences. Finally, both would have to be able to put ego aside for the sake of the work.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Walter Ong
I’m fascinated by Walter Ong’s idea that writing has changed how people think, and has therefore changed culture. One of the main differences between writing and speaking is that writing can be revised, while speech can never be taken back once it has been heard. Speakers live in the moment, and it is unlikely that one will be made to answer for each and every word that was spoken. On the other hand, writing could be around for longer than the writer lives, so the writer will always be responsible for what has been written.
The speaker’s advantage has disappeared with the advent of technology to record the spoken word and the ability to share it. These technologies are like writing – they forever capture speech, removing it from time and putting it into history.
Gerd Baumann, interpreting Walter Ong’s Orality and Literacy, says, “Writing takes language out of the evanescent act of speaking and fixes oral utterance, an event in time, to written signs, objects in space. It thus removes language, and with it, thought, from an immediate personal, social, and cultural contingency.” (Introduction. The Written Word: Literacy in Transition. Ed. Gerd Baumann. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986. 1-22.)
Writing is a brave act. It is a way of committing to a particular thought and to a particular way of expression. The writer has no way to know how the writing will be received, while the speaker knows immediately if a misstep has occurred, and may take corrective action. Writers can be barking up the wrong tree and not know until the piece is published.
My grandmother hated talking on the phone because she couldn't see the person - she didn't feel sure she was getting her point across and couldn't be sure they were really paying attention to the conversation. When I first began to use email, I was uncomfortable with not being able to hear people's voices and judge how the conversation was going. In time, I felt more able to pick up a person's tone or mood - although email communications often seem very bland to me -trying very hard not to offend. I don't own a cell phone, so I don't text and don't get texts, but I imagine it is even more difficult to know how a conversation is going when texting is the means of communication.
The speaker’s advantage has disappeared with the advent of technology to record the spoken word and the ability to share it. These technologies are like writing – they forever capture speech, removing it from time and putting it into history.
Gerd Baumann, interpreting Walter Ong’s Orality and Literacy, says, “Writing takes language out of the evanescent act of speaking and fixes oral utterance, an event in time, to written signs, objects in space. It thus removes language, and with it, thought, from an immediate personal, social, and cultural contingency.” (Introduction. The Written Word: Literacy in Transition. Ed. Gerd Baumann. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986. 1-22.)
Writing is a brave act. It is a way of committing to a particular thought and to a particular way of expression. The writer has no way to know how the writing will be received, while the speaker knows immediately if a misstep has occurred, and may take corrective action. Writers can be barking up the wrong tree and not know until the piece is published.
My grandmother hated talking on the phone because she couldn't see the person - she didn't feel sure she was getting her point across and couldn't be sure they were really paying attention to the conversation. When I first began to use email, I was uncomfortable with not being able to hear people's voices and judge how the conversation was going. In time, I felt more able to pick up a person's tone or mood - although email communications often seem very bland to me -trying very hard not to offend. I don't own a cell phone, so I don't text and don't get texts, but I imagine it is even more difficult to know how a conversation is going when texting is the means of communication.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Peter Elbow
Tim's great presentation was my first experience with Peter Elbow. I can't help it, I like the guy. He seems caring and sincere (you too, Tim).
At first I thought Elbow's ideas would be applicable only to creative writing, but the more I have consdiered them, the more I think they apply to expository writing as well. In the article from College English, "Comment and Rebuttal", Elbow addresses a critic of his emphasis on sincerity. He admits that sincerity and pragmatism are contradictory and yet both absolutely necessary, and therefore must both be addressed to attain success.
In Elbow's later discussion of the writer's voice, I got a glimmer of how his processes could work for expository writing. Every week I review student essays and research papers with students. Our school requires that students do a first draft, go over it with a teacher, revise, then submit the paper to another teacher and 2 other students for comments, then do further revisions, and finally go over it again with the first teacher. I am usually the first teacher, so I usually get the first draft. I had not been able to put it in words until reading Elbow, but what is usually missing is the student's voice. Although they have considerable latitude in choosing their subject, the students tend to choose topics that they think teachers will like. When a students does choose a topic that he or she feels personally passionate about, the paper is much better, even when it is filled with errors.
I now see several things we need to do at our school to improve the writing process. First of all, we need a conference to talk about the topic and direction of the paper. This will ensure that the student cares about more than getting the grade. Next, we all (students and teachers) need to come to consensus on how to read student writing and offer constructive comments. Most of us are so concerned about hurting anyone's feelings that we just mark mechanical errors and don't address the issue of whether or not the student has actually said anything. We need to stop letting students get by with correctly-written but meaningless work. Maybe we need some sort of standard rubric for this.
Elbow also addresses the issue of grades, when he says, " . . . the goodness or badness in a piece of writing is an 'unknown' and that the only trustworthy measuring instrument we have is the reaction of as many real readers as possible." (594) What if grades were based more on students' participation in the composition process (conferences, revisions, more conferences, collecting and considering comments from teachers and fellow students) than on the perfection of the final version? It seems to me that education is about improving one's skills, not about producing a perfect final product.
As I prepare for school tomorrow, I will be thinking about Peter Elbow's suggestion on page 595 of the article: "Try asking yourself if you are really sure you know the sources of goodness and badness in papers."
At first I thought Elbow's ideas would be applicable only to creative writing, but the more I have consdiered them, the more I think they apply to expository writing as well. In the article from College English, "Comment and Rebuttal", Elbow addresses a critic of his emphasis on sincerity. He admits that sincerity and pragmatism are contradictory and yet both absolutely necessary, and therefore must both be addressed to attain success.
In Elbow's later discussion of the writer's voice, I got a glimmer of how his processes could work for expository writing. Every week I review student essays and research papers with students. Our school requires that students do a first draft, go over it with a teacher, revise, then submit the paper to another teacher and 2 other students for comments, then do further revisions, and finally go over it again with the first teacher. I am usually the first teacher, so I usually get the first draft. I had not been able to put it in words until reading Elbow, but what is usually missing is the student's voice. Although they have considerable latitude in choosing their subject, the students tend to choose topics that they think teachers will like. When a students does choose a topic that he or she feels personally passionate about, the paper is much better, even when it is filled with errors.
I now see several things we need to do at our school to improve the writing process. First of all, we need a conference to talk about the topic and direction of the paper. This will ensure that the student cares about more than getting the grade. Next, we all (students and teachers) need to come to consensus on how to read student writing and offer constructive comments. Most of us are so concerned about hurting anyone's feelings that we just mark mechanical errors and don't address the issue of whether or not the student has actually said anything. We need to stop letting students get by with correctly-written but meaningless work. Maybe we need some sort of standard rubric for this.
Elbow also addresses the issue of grades, when he says, " . . . the goodness or badness in a piece of writing is an 'unknown' and that the only trustworthy measuring instrument we have is the reaction of as many real readers as possible." (594) What if grades were based more on students' participation in the composition process (conferences, revisions, more conferences, collecting and considering comments from teachers and fellow students) than on the perfection of the final version? It seems to me that education is about improving one's skills, not about producing a perfect final product.
As I prepare for school tomorrow, I will be thinking about Peter Elbow's suggestion on page 595 of the article: "Try asking yourself if you are really sure you know the sources of goodness and badness in papers."
James Kinneavy
Let me say first of all that I found Klayton's presentation brilliant. Having looked into Kinneavy's work a little bit, it seems to me that doing 30 minutes on him is like writing the history of the world on an index card.
I have spent the week trying to get my brain around Kinneavy's concepts. Here's where I am: that Rhetoric is not exactly about any thing in particular - it's about how to use critical thinking and communication to approach particular things. Those who practice rhetoric successfully will be able to enlighten and persuade others, and possibly bring an understanding of some truth to the conversation. Those who don't will be flapping their jaws. That's why it was important for Kinneavy to be such a well-rounded and well-educated person. He was able to see how crucial rhetoric was in any field.
As an experienced jaw flapper, I'm starting to see the wisdom in considering Kinneavy's triangle. On some level, most successful communicators are taking notice of audience, purpose, and occasion. Some people have talent. The rest of us would be well advised to start taking rhetoric more seriously; and even the talented could improve.
I am not so bothered by Kinneavy's backpedaling and contradicting of his theory. Right now my visual of Kinneavy's work is more like a Venn diagram than a triangle. That way a piece of writing could be in more than one category. I feel certain that most writing contains at least some elements of all four Aims of Discourse.
I have spent the week trying to get my brain around Kinneavy's concepts. Here's where I am: that Rhetoric is not exactly about any thing in particular - it's about how to use critical thinking and communication to approach particular things. Those who practice rhetoric successfully will be able to enlighten and persuade others, and possibly bring an understanding of some truth to the conversation. Those who don't will be flapping their jaws. That's why it was important for Kinneavy to be such a well-rounded and well-educated person. He was able to see how crucial rhetoric was in any field.
As an experienced jaw flapper, I'm starting to see the wisdom in considering Kinneavy's triangle. On some level, most successful communicators are taking notice of audience, purpose, and occasion. Some people have talent. The rest of us would be well advised to start taking rhetoric more seriously; and even the talented could improve.
I am not so bothered by Kinneavy's backpedaling and contradicting of his theory. Right now my visual of Kinneavy's work is more like a Venn diagram than a triangle. That way a piece of writing could be in more than one category. I feel certain that most writing contains at least some elements of all four Aims of Discourse.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Composition and Biotechnology
Sorry, Michelle Sidler, but I'm not buying your thesis that the rise of biotechnology is going to change the way we write. The content of our writing will be changed, and the methods we use to accomplish the writing will change. But I'm not afraid, and here's why.
Ultimately, writing is an activity that demands abstract thought. Mapping the human genome, while an impressive feat of science, is not going to change that fact. Perhaps science will find a way to improve people's capacity for abstract thought, as a result of the HGP's research. Perhaps science will find a biotechnical way for people to be better readers.
I can't go along with people who fear technology, and worry that it will "get ahead of us." Computers are awesome, and they can do a boatload of work in a short time. But this ability to do math, check spelling, or change formatting in the blink of an eye is processing work. It is not creative work. No computer can make the creative, intuitive, and non-logical leaps that the human mind can make. No computer can innovate. No computer can create true art. At best, computers can copy what they have been programmed with. They don't have the ability to think abstractly, or to think at all. They process information.
Certainly we will all have to get used to new words and phrases, and there's no denying that technical language is poised to flood our vocabularies. Of course we write about science in ways that betray our culture and create an "imperialist" view of the world - that's what we know how to do. Without doubt we can expect that technology will create more ways to read and write, which may be very helpful to those with limited language skills.
I believe we can withstand the onslaught of technology and still make art with our words, which is, after all, the job of the writer.
Ultimately, writing is an activity that demands abstract thought. Mapping the human genome, while an impressive feat of science, is not going to change that fact. Perhaps science will find a way to improve people's capacity for abstract thought, as a result of the HGP's research. Perhaps science will find a biotechnical way for people to be better readers.
I can't go along with people who fear technology, and worry that it will "get ahead of us." Computers are awesome, and they can do a boatload of work in a short time. But this ability to do math, check spelling, or change formatting in the blink of an eye is processing work. It is not creative work. No computer can make the creative, intuitive, and non-logical leaps that the human mind can make. No computer can innovate. No computer can create true art. At best, computers can copy what they have been programmed with. They don't have the ability to think abstractly, or to think at all. They process information.
Certainly we will all have to get used to new words and phrases, and there's no denying that technical language is poised to flood our vocabularies. Of course we write about science in ways that betray our culture and create an "imperialist" view of the world - that's what we know how to do. Without doubt we can expect that technology will create more ways to read and write, which may be very helpful to those with limited language skills.
I believe we can withstand the onslaught of technology and still make art with our words, which is, after all, the job of the writer.
Matsuda on Process & Post-Process
Paul Matsuda's article is not really about the principles of Process and Post-Process approaches to writing, it's about who calls it that, and why. As we can see from the study of history, most things are reactions to the things that were before them.
And so Process was a reaction to Current-Traditional, and Post-Process is a reaction to Process. But Matsuda is quick to point out that not all are in agreement that these "movements" were truly paradigms. After all, the Comp/Rhet police do not travel around enforcing the approved approach of the day. As is often true, what is being practiced by most people is considered old news by those in academia, who have moved on to the next big thing.
It is not as though the Process folks invented the concept of student conferences, and we definitely have not discarded the study of grammar, even in today's Post-Process environment. There have been a "multiplicity of perspectives" (67) since people started paying attention to these things.
Matsuda next addresses these concerns as they apply to second language learners. It seems that writing is the next big thing for these individuals, in reaction to emphasis on listening and speaking that second language. This has led to a Process approach to second language writing, which, oddly enough, is resisted by Process proponents because they insist on their "rigid formulation of the Process approach." (78)
I wonder why Comp/Rhet people are so hungry for labels. Are academics required to identify themselves as one thing or another, and then align themselves with the others who are similarly inclined? And what if they should lose their faith or desire to convert to another approach - will they be shunned or excommunicated?
And so Process was a reaction to Current-Traditional, and Post-Process is a reaction to Process. But Matsuda is quick to point out that not all are in agreement that these "movements" were truly paradigms. After all, the Comp/Rhet police do not travel around enforcing the approved approach of the day. As is often true, what is being practiced by most people is considered old news by those in academia, who have moved on to the next big thing.
It is not as though the Process folks invented the concept of student conferences, and we definitely have not discarded the study of grammar, even in today's Post-Process environment. There have been a "multiplicity of perspectives" (67) since people started paying attention to these things.
Matsuda next addresses these concerns as they apply to second language learners. It seems that writing is the next big thing for these individuals, in reaction to emphasis on listening and speaking that second language. This has led to a Process approach to second language writing, which, oddly enough, is resisted by Process proponents because they insist on their "rigid formulation of the Process approach." (78)
I wonder why Comp/Rhet people are so hungry for labels. Are academics required to identify themselves as one thing or another, and then align themselves with the others who are similarly inclined? And what if they should lose their faith or desire to convert to another approach - will they be shunned or excommunicated?
The Evil Grammarian
I would not have imagined that people are being "taught" by the MS WORD grammar checker. I ignore it until I'm almost done with my document. Then I run spell check and also get the grammar suggestions. I am glad to be forced to stop and think about how I have written something, but I rarely accept the suggestion. I thought everyone worked this way.
Today I surveyed (very informally) about a dozen high school students on the topic. I did not find a single one who pays much attention to the green squiggles. A few of our best writers use it like I do, but only to point out places where they might want to reconsider wording or construction. Most kids said something along the lines of, "I have a lot of green squiggles in my documents. I don't feel like I know where to start to get rid of them, so I ignore them." All have had the experience of taking the Grammar Checker's advice, and then getting something marked wrong (by a real teacher) so they are wary.
At my school, our students are required to take Technology Applications. One of the things we stress is that the kids have to be in charge of all their work, and not let a computer lead the way. We take them through exercises showing how the AUTOCOMPLETE feature can get them into trouble, and how to use Spell Check to their advantage and not to their detriment. We also encourage them to read carefully everything they are considering turning in, because we don't accept excuses like "the computer messed it up."
I enjoyed the article by McGee and Ericsson because I never gave any thought to how the grammar checker came to be. It made me wonder if it is possible to have a truly great grammar checker, since context is everything in writing. Even a simplistic algorithm would have to be quite complex. There can be great honesty in work that is not precisely grammatically correct, and it seems to me that art is almost always about breaking some rules.
I'm hard pressed to be alarmed by MS WORD's ubiquity, or by the near-invisibility of the Grammar Checker. It is a tool. It is only doing the job it was designed to do. We don't think a hammer is evil if it smashes our toes when we drop it. We understand that it is heavy and that gravity works even when our toes are underneath hammers.
As to the claim that MS WORD's grammar checker is only programmed by computational linguists, I feel certain that Microsoft is always working to improve its products, and is probably more responsive to the market than we know. Articles such as McGee and Ericcson's cannot have escaped notice, and perhaps right now there are composition teachers, linguists, and programmers working to improve the product. Microsoft is a behemoth, but potentially disruptive innovations are constantly coming along; it would only take the right one to upset the balance of power.
Today I surveyed (very informally) about a dozen high school students on the topic. I did not find a single one who pays much attention to the green squiggles. A few of our best writers use it like I do, but only to point out places where they might want to reconsider wording or construction. Most kids said something along the lines of, "I have a lot of green squiggles in my documents. I don't feel like I know where to start to get rid of them, so I ignore them." All have had the experience of taking the Grammar Checker's advice, and then getting something marked wrong (by a real teacher) so they are wary.
At my school, our students are required to take Technology Applications. One of the things we stress is that the kids have to be in charge of all their work, and not let a computer lead the way. We take them through exercises showing how the AUTOCOMPLETE feature can get them into trouble, and how to use Spell Check to their advantage and not to their detriment. We also encourage them to read carefully everything they are considering turning in, because we don't accept excuses like "the computer messed it up."
I enjoyed the article by McGee and Ericsson because I never gave any thought to how the grammar checker came to be. It made me wonder if it is possible to have a truly great grammar checker, since context is everything in writing. Even a simplistic algorithm would have to be quite complex. There can be great honesty in work that is not precisely grammatically correct, and it seems to me that art is almost always about breaking some rules.
I'm hard pressed to be alarmed by MS WORD's ubiquity, or by the near-invisibility of the Grammar Checker. It is a tool. It is only doing the job it was designed to do. We don't think a hammer is evil if it smashes our toes when we drop it. We understand that it is heavy and that gravity works even when our toes are underneath hammers.
As to the claim that MS WORD's grammar checker is only programmed by computational linguists, I feel certain that Microsoft is always working to improve its products, and is probably more responsive to the market than we know. Articles such as McGee and Ericcson's cannot have escaped notice, and perhaps right now there are composition teachers, linguists, and programmers working to improve the product. Microsoft is a behemoth, but potentially disruptive innovations are constantly coming along; it would only take the right one to upset the balance of power.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
My Pedagogy Statement
I don't feel at all competent at writing this; I don't have enough experience or education. But I do know how I learn, and I'd like to hope others learn that way as well.
I learn by being left alone to do my work. I learn by having access to the resources I need, which include books, papers, magazines, the internet, and people who know more than me. I learn by doing - by experimenting and trying things out and seeing where they go. I learn by being inspired to go further with my ideas. I learn by talking about what I'm thinking about. I learn by studying examples of good work. I learn by mastering the basic forms of the discipline, so I can always have a foundation to work upon.
If I embroider this into a pedagogical philosophy, I would want to create a classroom where expectations are clear, so there is no need to "mommy" the students. I would want to have plenty of books, etc., and as the teacher, I would need to be the one who knows more than the students. I would want to create many opportunities for practice and lots of time for talking about ideas. As the teacher, I would want to be a person who inspires the students to push themselves. I would want to present lots of examples of artful and elegant work, and I would want to be sure my students had competency in the mechanics of the subject.
I learn by being left alone to do my work. I learn by having access to the resources I need, which include books, papers, magazines, the internet, and people who know more than me. I learn by doing - by experimenting and trying things out and seeing where they go. I learn by being inspired to go further with my ideas. I learn by talking about what I'm thinking about. I learn by studying examples of good work. I learn by mastering the basic forms of the discipline, so I can always have a foundation to work upon.
If I embroider this into a pedagogical philosophy, I would want to create a classroom where expectations are clear, so there is no need to "mommy" the students. I would want to have plenty of books, etc., and as the teacher, I would need to be the one who knows more than the students. I would want to create many opportunities for practice and lots of time for talking about ideas. As the teacher, I would want to be a person who inspires the students to push themselves. I would want to present lots of examples of artful and elegant work, and I would want to be sure my students had competency in the mechanics of the subject.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Jeffrey Williams has sent a package
Unfortunately, the package it taped up too tight. All I can think is, "What the heck - have I forgotten how to read English?"
I'm fried.
Goodnight, friends.
I'm fried.
Goodnight, friends.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Lucille Schultz on the First Books
It seems to me that no one really knows how to teach writing. We know how to teach spelling. We know how to teach punctuation and capitalization. We know how to teach grammer, and we even know how to teach handwriting. But we don't know what must happen for good writing to take place.
It's a little like composing music. A student may have mastered his or her instrument, may read music perfectly, and may have vast experience with the published repertoire. But will that student become a composer of music? Probably not. Musicians consider composition to be a special gift, one that is separate from being a gifted musician.
Why, then, do we expect students to take their mastery of the mechanics of writing and turn into writers? I'm not speaking here of being able to write a letter or a report. I'm speaking of the elegant, persuasive writing (fiction and non-fiction) done by those with talent for it.
John Walker's The Teacher's Assistant, from 1801, seems like a logical and thorough approach to writing. I think today's students would chafe under the restrictive nature of the program; they are accustomed to more self-expression that it allows. Walker's pedagogy has plenty of wisdom, in my opinion. Students can learn about writing by learning rules, and young ones are often completely lame about coming up with their own subjects. It wouldn't hurt students a bit to do more writing about general and abstract topics, instead of their personal experiences.
I think Walker's methods, and others like them, absolutely have a place in writing instruction. But I don't think they are the complete answer for this difficult task. Students also need to write, just so they know they can, and so they practice enough to gain comfort.
Is it necessary that we choose just one way of teaching writing? I'd like to see some theories that have room for the ways that will help the student most. I think education should be a dynamic process - always considering the student's needs and adjusting as a result.
It's a little like composing music. A student may have mastered his or her instrument, may read music perfectly, and may have vast experience with the published repertoire. But will that student become a composer of music? Probably not. Musicians consider composition to be a special gift, one that is separate from being a gifted musician.
Why, then, do we expect students to take their mastery of the mechanics of writing and turn into writers? I'm not speaking here of being able to write a letter or a report. I'm speaking of the elegant, persuasive writing (fiction and non-fiction) done by those with talent for it.
John Walker's The Teacher's Assistant, from 1801, seems like a logical and thorough approach to writing. I think today's students would chafe under the restrictive nature of the program; they are accustomed to more self-expression that it allows. Walker's pedagogy has plenty of wisdom, in my opinion. Students can learn about writing by learning rules, and young ones are often completely lame about coming up with their own subjects. It wouldn't hurt students a bit to do more writing about general and abstract topics, instead of their personal experiences.
I think Walker's methods, and others like them, absolutely have a place in writing instruction. But I don't think they are the complete answer for this difficult task. Students also need to write, just so they know they can, and so they practice enough to gain comfort.
Is it necessary that we choose just one way of teaching writing? I'd like to see some theories that have room for the ways that will help the student most. I think education should be a dynamic process - always considering the student's needs and adjusting as a result.
Fulkerson explains it all to me
Thank you, Richard Fulkerson, for letting me in on the secret of English composition. My undergrad degree is in Marketing, not English, and so an awful lot of what the readings, our teacher, and you wonderful classmates say doesn't really make sense to me. Lest you think me a dolt, I'll divulge that I did take a number of English classes in my 8 years at college, but I got to skip Freshman English because I had AP credits.
I have been in classes that seemed to have a Critical/Cultural Studies flavor (not all of them were English classes). I think the approach results in a thorough reading of the literature and provides opportunity to broaden one's view of the world and one's place in it. If the student is a fluent and sophisticated writer, it is pretty easy to do well in the class. Just as Fulkerson says, "we get a 'writing' course in which writing is required and evaluated, but not taught." And though it may be distasteful and inadvertent, there is definitely indoctrination going on.
I have also been in classes that took the Contemporary Expressivist path. These are easy for a student who is willing to engage in the process. After all, how can anyone judge how much personal development has happened as a result of the class? The student who writes with style will have no trouble helping the teacher see success.
Rhetorical approaches to composition are mostly new to me. I took the Beats class last semester, and was tantalized by the idea of developing an argument about literature, and then supporting it. But I didn't know how to go about that, having not been taught to do so. I mostly floundered around and tried a number of ways to make sense of my own ideas - not with much skill or smarts. I now see the necessity of considering one's audience - that would have helped me last semester.
I enjoyed Fulkerson's Conclusions and Implications, and agree with the ones I understand. I'm excited to learn more.
I have been in classes that seemed to have a Critical/Cultural Studies flavor (not all of them were English classes). I think the approach results in a thorough reading of the literature and provides opportunity to broaden one's view of the world and one's place in it. If the student is a fluent and sophisticated writer, it is pretty easy to do well in the class. Just as Fulkerson says, "we get a 'writing' course in which writing is required and evaluated, but not taught." And though it may be distasteful and inadvertent, there is definitely indoctrination going on.
I have also been in classes that took the Contemporary Expressivist path. These are easy for a student who is willing to engage in the process. After all, how can anyone judge how much personal development has happened as a result of the class? The student who writes with style will have no trouble helping the teacher see success.
Rhetorical approaches to composition are mostly new to me. I took the Beats class last semester, and was tantalized by the idea of developing an argument about literature, and then supporting it. But I didn't know how to go about that, having not been taught to do so. I mostly floundered around and tried a number of ways to make sense of my own ideas - not with much skill or smarts. I now see the necessity of considering one's audience - that would have helped me last semester.
I enjoyed Fulkerson's Conclusions and Implications, and agree with the ones I understand. I'm excited to learn more.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
History Lessons for Comp Teachers
No matter what the subject, the question remains the same - does the teacher teach the subject, or does the teacher teach the students? Where is the focus?
Donald Stewart's speech is clearly critical of those who teach by formula. But I'm certain there was a time and place where each formula was useful to students - otherwise it would not have become the formula of the time, just a dumb idea that someone tried out until it became obvious that it didn't work.
Mechanical correctness is very important to writing; style and creativity are also very important to writing. Students must understand that their writing may be used to judge them as employees, scholars, and people. We teachers aren't doing our jobs, and we aren't doing our students any favors, if we allow correctness to fall by the wayside. Our country runs on middle class values, and successful individuals conform to most middle class values in order to achieve their goals. Correctness is highly valued by the middle class. But style and creativity are highly valued by many readers. Here's a saying that applies, although I heard it in regard to musicians:
Donald Stewart's speech is clearly critical of those who teach by formula. But I'm certain there was a time and place where each formula was useful to students - otherwise it would not have become the formula of the time, just a dumb idea that someone tried out until it became obvious that it didn't work.
Mechanical correctness is very important to writing; style and creativity are also very important to writing. Students must understand that their writing may be used to judge them as employees, scholars, and people. We teachers aren't doing our jobs, and we aren't doing our students any favors, if we allow correctness to fall by the wayside. Our country runs on middle class values, and successful individuals conform to most middle class values in order to achieve their goals. Correctness is highly valued by the middle class. But style and creativity are highly valued by many readers. Here's a saying that applies, although I heard it in regard to musicians:
Emotion without discipline is ridiculous - Discipline without emotion is boring.
I don't think there is a thing wrong with the 5-paragraph essay; it is a great starting point. But it's not the ultimate in writing. I taught piano for 30 years, and I believe it is essential that piano students learn to play scales. They may not be fun (although there are plenty who seem to enjoy learning them) but those scales are the framework of music. Those who know their scales have an intuitive understanding of music theory, and tend to later be better musicians. I view the 5-paragraph essay as a scale-type exercise. Mastering it is essential if one wishes to write better, more interesting, and more skilled pieces.
I believe it is important to help our students acquire all the tools they will need to be successful in whatever situation they find themselves. I'm sure Ambrose Bierce was more than capable of writing an eloquent essay or editorial to The Lantern. His response, while unconventional, got his point across. In the end, that's what we want our writing to do, and it's what we want our students to be able to do.
I'm eager to learn about the history of Composition so I can gather up all the tools I need for my own writing and in my task of helping others become better writers. There is nothing to be lost in the study of history, and much to be gained.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Popken on Hopkins
Randall Popken’s case study of Edwin M. Hopkins makes me wonder why anyone would become a college writing teacher. I hope the conditions for Composition faculty are better now than they were in the early twentieth century.
It is certainly true that reading and marking student compositions takes a lot of time. It is also true that it is worth doing. Anyone who desires to improve his or her craft needs feedback – the more, the better. There is nothing I dislike more than getting a letter grade and no comments, even if the grade is an A.
I have the luxury of working individually with high school students on their writing, in a tutoring or mentoring capacity. I find them very receptive to discussion, but less attentive to written comments. I usually mark papers sparingly, just so I remember where improvement is needed. Our school requires a B or better on all assignments, and anything that is not up to the standard is returned for further work. As the student and I go over the assignment, I encourage him or her to make notes that will assist in revision and correction. This process has been very successful for our students.
Apparently Hopkins had a similar idea for his pedagogy. He urged that, “each student should receive as an individual the attention of the instructor.” He imagined small groups of students with instructors, not lecture halls with 25, 50, or 200 (remember Freshman Comp?) students. Were Hopkins’ ideas ahead of his time, or were they hearkening back to an era when scholars became educated under the guidance of tutors?
The tale of Hopkins is both sad and hopeful; perhaps the summation of the life of any Composition teacher. The work is clearly too arduous unless one feels called to it.
It is certainly true that reading and marking student compositions takes a lot of time. It is also true that it is worth doing. Anyone who desires to improve his or her craft needs feedback – the more, the better. There is nothing I dislike more than getting a letter grade and no comments, even if the grade is an A.
I have the luxury of working individually with high school students on their writing, in a tutoring or mentoring capacity. I find them very receptive to discussion, but less attentive to written comments. I usually mark papers sparingly, just so I remember where improvement is needed. Our school requires a B or better on all assignments, and anything that is not up to the standard is returned for further work. As the student and I go over the assignment, I encourage him or her to make notes that will assist in revision and correction. This process has been very successful for our students.
Apparently Hopkins had a similar idea for his pedagogy. He urged that, “each student should receive as an individual the attention of the instructor.” He imagined small groups of students with instructors, not lecture halls with 25, 50, or 200 (remember Freshman Comp?) students. Were Hopkins’ ideas ahead of his time, or were they hearkening back to an era when scholars became educated under the guidance of tutors?
The tale of Hopkins is both sad and hopeful; perhaps the summation of the life of any Composition teacher. The work is clearly too arduous unless one feels called to it.
Against the Odds by Wendy Bishop
Wendy Bishop has me almost convinced that teaching Composition and Rhetoric is too difficult to be undertaken by all but those who enjoy marginality and choose it willingly. These "red-headed stepchildren" of English departments seem to be worn out. Indeed, it is exhausting to simultaneously desire stardom and believe oneself to be too special for center stage. I think Bishop’s quote of Joe Harris summed it up well – “I have long been one who preferred to be among others only if I can choose my own way.”
Bishop’s comments for the NCCC are not so different from addresses at many conventions I have attended. In any vocation, dedicated people are in danger of sacrificing themselves on the altar of their egos. We work hard, bringing everything we have to the table and giving more than we should. If we are honest, we know that we find tremendous value in the work itself, even if we toil in obscurity. But as time passes, we begin to feel unappreciated and may become bitter that we aren’t being congratulated for our brilliance and our selflessness. We want it all; we want to do work that we love and we want to be loved for it. We want to choose our own way.
It seems that teachers of Composition and Rhetoric, like everyone else, want higher pay, less work, and greater esteem. Bishop’s remarks don’t dwell on this. Instead she offers glimpses into the joyful and goofy-nerdy world of the NCCC convention. She skillfully validates the fatigue of some while engaging the hopes of all. I’ll bet Bishop’s address was well-received.
Bishop’s comments for the NCCC are not so different from addresses at many conventions I have attended. In any vocation, dedicated people are in danger of sacrificing themselves on the altar of their egos. We work hard, bringing everything we have to the table and giving more than we should. If we are honest, we know that we find tremendous value in the work itself, even if we toil in obscurity. But as time passes, we begin to feel unappreciated and may become bitter that we aren’t being congratulated for our brilliance and our selflessness. We want it all; we want to do work that we love and we want to be loved for it. We want to choose our own way.
It seems that teachers of Composition and Rhetoric, like everyone else, want higher pay, less work, and greater esteem. Bishop’s remarks don’t dwell on this. Instead she offers glimpses into the joyful and goofy-nerdy world of the NCCC convention. She skillfully validates the fatigue of some while engaging the hopes of all. I’ll bet Bishop’s address was well-received.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Why Comp Theory?
For all these years I have thought I was a good writer. After taking my first graduate class last semester, I'm not so sure. I want to know more about this whole "academic writing" thing. It seems mysterious, so I have a few questions:
Why are people engaging in academic writing? Surely not just to earn a master's degree or a phD . . . surely not just so they can be a published college professor . . . it must be a very satisfying and scholarly pursuit, even if there's no degree or job associated. I want to be scholarly and satisfied.
How are people doing academic writing? Contrary to my previous notions, they are not pulling it out of their heads after reading a work of literature. They are doing a lot of research on what others have written about that literature, they are doing a lot of research about the historical and cultural background, and they are doing a lot of work to develop their opinion into a fine-tuned argument that can be supported and can stand up to the scrutiny of the academic community.
I am also taking Research Methods & Theories, and at this point I must say Thanks be for the internet! because the library would have to become my new home if there wasn't such a wealth of information and articles available online. What a blessing to live in this technological age . . .
I see this class as my opportunity to learn to develop a position and write persuasively about it. I intend to become a better writer and want to get comfortable with academic writing. I have a long way to go on this master's degree, and I want it to be a successful and fun experience.
Why are people engaging in academic writing? Surely not just to earn a master's degree or a phD . . . surely not just so they can be a published college professor . . . it must be a very satisfying and scholarly pursuit, even if there's no degree or job associated. I want to be scholarly and satisfied.
How are people doing academic writing? Contrary to my previous notions, they are not pulling it out of their heads after reading a work of literature. They are doing a lot of research on what others have written about that literature, they are doing a lot of research about the historical and cultural background, and they are doing a lot of work to develop their opinion into a fine-tuned argument that can be supported and can stand up to the scrutiny of the academic community.
I am also taking Research Methods & Theories, and at this point I must say Thanks be for the internet! because the library would have to become my new home if there wasn't such a wealth of information and articles available online. What a blessing to live in this technological age . . .
I see this class as my opportunity to learn to develop a position and write persuasively about it. I intend to become a better writer and want to get comfortable with academic writing. I have a long way to go on this master's degree, and I want it to be a successful and fun experience.
Maybe I Do Get It
It is a few hours before the 2nd class, and I'm not sure what I should be doing on this blog. I'm happy to report that I've had a sort of epiphany after reading some of They Say . . . I Say. I didn't realize that the purpose of academic writing was to enter into conversations that have been going on and on (some for more than a thousand years!). Now that I know that, I see the necessity of knowing what has been said and is being said. I never gave much thought to the "they say" part of writing. I was interested in the "I say" part. Now I must admit that I have been doing some pretty deadly boring writing.
Eager to find out what Dr. Donna has for us this evening . . .
Eager to find out what Dr. Donna has for us this evening . . .
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