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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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 . . .