Speaking of...

Teaching Philosophy

2008-05-09T20:30:00.001-07:00

Here is my teaching philosophy from last semester. It hasn't changed much except I have a little about grading that I didn't put in there. I don't think I will ever actually put the grading philosophy in.

I attempt to create a classroom in which my students feel free to try new things and even fail at those new things without consequence. In creating such a classroom I tend to move away from traditional teacher-student lectures and focus more on collaborative class time. I attempt to create student-student and student-teacher paradigms in which the roles are not discernible or often reversed.

I provide my students with many different learning techniques and rely heavily on the use of all Gardner’s multiple intelligences in order to encourage learning. Even my first day introductory lesson, in which students create a duct tape wardrobe and attempt to market the pieces in a fashion show, is a testament to my classroom environment. In this lesson, students must work together to solve a problem, students must use several of the multiple intelligences, and the traditional teacher-student roles are broken as I participate in each group as a peer. Students often comment on this exercise as the most memorable of the semester.

Furthermore, student evaluations and comments are often focused on teacher-student relationships and the class structure. One recent evaluation said, “She cares about her students and is very approachable. She does not embarrass us or degrade us for not knowing an answer. She takes the time to explain it again.” Another evaluation stated, “I like that [you] made us think about punctuation in a different way. Normally its memorize, regurgitate, forget. Not in this class.”

I truly believe that teaching is learning and learning is teaching and I take every opportunity to do both in my class room.

Music and comedy as a way to breaking resistance

2008-05-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

I've been fighting resistance this semester, so I decided to try something different in my 110 class. I brought in some comedians, funny video clips, and some music one day to try to bring my class back from the abyss of resistance. This is the week when I talk about argument fallacies and different ways to construct and deconstruct arguments.

I begin the class my passing out printed lyrics to Mim's "This is Why I'm Hot." I hate this song, but for some reason my students love it. I actually hadn't heard the song until I hung out with my 19 year old nephew one day. The song is not my type of music, but I took my chances because it shows a fallacy right of (begging the question: I'm hot 'cause I am, you ain't cause you not), but then proceeds to tell why Mim is hot. It's actually pretty well argued because it sets up criteria then gives evidence of the criteria. OK, its as well argued as any rap song can be I guess, but it works for my point. Plus the chance for my students to hear me say things like "so making ladies 'bounce' is a criterion for hotness?" and "Paying a guap for a car is evidence of his hotness as related to richness, what IS a guap?" My students laugh at my discomfort with the language (discomfort that I willingly admit and compare to their discomfort with academic writing) and I laugh at their animated definitions of "guap."

Then I show my students Eddie Izzard's (Yeah, yeah, shut up! I can't help my "obsession") "Church of England" Lego Youtube video. They laugh hysterically and when I ask what is his argument they stare blankly for a moment then explode into guesses and comments. It is a great way to show that arguments come in many forms and can be fun and funny. I think if I do this again (teach 110) I'll actually have them all write an Izzardesque rant of an argument just for fun. When I ask the class, "Why do you think Izzard opposes the church of England?" students give assessments like "It was built by a man who rejected Catholicism because he wanted to marry more than once." An excellent observation and assessment!

I also show them a Veggie Tales clip which demonstrates a hasty generalization and the consequences. I show Larry the Cucumber's "Everybody has a Water Buffalo" in which Larry gets in trouble for making that statement.

The class when I do this is really fun and the students relax into it and give the best participation and assessments that I have ever seen. I do this assignment on a Monday and the "afterglow" seems to last until at least Wednesday of the next week. I know my students get bored with the regularity of the class and this is a great way to break up the monotony. PLUS my students see fallacies as fun. OK, maybe not FUN, but at least not the most horrible part of 110. Music and laughter are said to be the keys to curing illness, just maybe they can cure classroom resistance too.

Writing What We Teach

2008-04-25T17:59:00.000-07:00

For the Writing What We Teach assignment I turned in a packet of five drafts. Two drafts were of one article, and three drafts were of another. I chose to stop the first draft because I was arguing the issue and not looking at the argument in a way that assessed the author's argument style. So, I switched articles. However, all is not lost. I think I will use the first two drafts to show my students what it looks like to argue the issue instead of assess the argument.

Since I had several students miss the point completely last semester and argue against the article's issue, this semester I think I will SHOW them the difference. When I switched from the first article to the second article, I actually switched media. For the second textual analysis I did was a short analysis of Super Size Me. I have both classes watch this movie each semester, so I needed a little bit of a closer look at the "text" anyway. Plus, I really don't think Spurlock does a great job of making a convincing argument. In fact, I see his work as full of fallacies. I thought that since I do a whole week on argument fallacies, perhaps I can work that in too.

I would give all the drafts to the students as a copied packet and go over the packet essay by essay. I would have an overhead of each essay, so I can underline and point out certain parts of the essays and have the students follow along. I feel like this is the most effective way to get the information to the students.

Also new for this semester, I added leading-up exercises and a list of questions (and LOTS of practice) for my students to think about when reading their articles. I did several discussion exercises throughout the semester where I asked students to analyze an argument verbally and as a class. On a few occasions I directly opposed an author or blatantly pointed out downfalls of an author's argument even if it was in the form of a question (So, is a classroom a radio station? Is the classroom under the rules of the FCC?) in order to show the students how to point out argument flaws.

With the questions to think about when reading an argument that I added for this semester, I felt that I helped direct my students a little more than last semester. I think that the textual analysis is the hardest thing we ask out 110 classes to do, so I waited until the end of the semester to assign it. This way, I could possibly prepare the students more before I "threw them to the lions" and said "OK, here, now analyze this."

I think that in changing the assignment and giving my students a packet of drafts from me to show my process (and that writing isn't always easy or fast for me either) and show where I went wrong and how to redirect my writing I will be giving them a good example of what to do and what not to do.

I will get my rough drafts on Monday the 28th, so I am excited to see if my plan worked. I'll post again on Monday or Tuesday to talk about how it all went.

I went into the woods and chopped down a tree to provide you with today's lesson, so you'll do it and like it!

2008-03-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

It is no secret that I have my 100 and 110 students do different (read manipulative) exercises in the classroom. One that I am most proud of and have the most fun with is the building an essay exercise. I give my students a stack of multi colored Popsicle sticks and say, "Ok, now, build an essay and be sure to include all the elements that we've discussed this semester that make up a good essay." The students usually get kind of mad for a minute and ask why. Then I tell them that writing isn't always just about grammar and punctuation, the structure of an essay is just as important. I ask them to build a sturdy structure to represent a well-written essay.

Honestly, the things my students some up with are phenomenal! They come up with things I never expected and the structures usually come out completely different for each group. It is pretty amazing to see what the students create. I highly recommend that you try this some time in your classes, it shows just how much your students do know.

The part that really makes me happy is that several people; teachers, TAs, and even students have asked me if I personally and single-handedly dyed the popsicle sticks for the exercise. Yes, I am innovative (not my word, but I'm flattered, so I'll take it!) and creative (again, not my own words), but I am NOT that patient or "craft-able." When I was asked if I bought the sticks that way or if I made them, one TA responded to the inquirer, "No, she ran out into the forest, chopped down a tree, whittled out each and every stick, and took the time to dye them six different colors!" Just for reference, I BOUGHT them like that from a Dollar Tree store for a dollar a packet (it takes to packets to complete six sets). But I thank those of you who allude to the fact that I am just that crafty, even if it is only in joking.

Besides, even if I did have the time to dye 200 popsicle sticks six different colors, I'm not sure I would do that just for an exercise, but then again I guess I did cut out 6,000 different strips of colored paper for the color poetry exercise and got massive tennis elbow. That only happened one semester though because I changed the exercise to use (you guessed it!) colored popsicle sticks. And you thought I was kidding when I said I'd teach my students by any means necessary.

I'm a stand up kind of teacher

2008-03-12T13:28:00.000-07:00

Really, I stand for every class. We talked about teacher authority in 621 and how it might be relayed in whether the teacher sits or stands and where the teacher sits or stands in the room.

Part of why I think I stand is my undergraduate teacher training. My main mentor and dean of the program, Dr. Wellborn, drilled into us, “A teacher stands! A sitting teacher is a weak teacher. We are not weak.” For a time I thought I had joined the army and not the education college. Wellborn actually used to take points off our grades if he caught us sitting during unannounced visits OR even if we sat and did a presentation in a class that was not his. He used to tell us, “Get used to standing. You’ll keep control of the class.”

I remember thinking at the time that he was crazy. I STILL think he is crazy, but every time I am finished lecturing and want the students to speak in an informal discussion style, I sit. Actually, I hover over the chair for a moment, contemplate my options (sit and discuss or stand and direct). I usually end up sitting down for about ten seconds before I get excited and need to jump up to write on the board.

Again, I hear Wellborn barking at me, “Gardner! Gardner! Include all the intelligences. DESE. You must teach for everyone!” As I write the acronym “NCLB” and then “= No Child Left Behind” on the board I think about the Show-Me standards and Gardner’s multiple intelligences and apply them to what I am doing. I am engaging more intelligences and standing, again. Wellborn would be proud.

But like I said earlier, Wellborn is a lunatic. Perhaps I feel the need to move freely about the classroom because I can do so in a way I have never been allowed before. As a student I was restricted to a desk or, when necessary, a short path to the door, but as a teacher I can move around. This movement is a freedom I was most uncomfortable with for the first semester. I stayed right behind the desk and resisted the urge to hide behind the lectern, but I stood, wobbly knees and all (and with Wellborn commanding in the distance). This semester I am more relaxed. I stand, I sit, I lean, I move around, but I do more standing than sitting.

Standing isn’t a way to control my class; I don’t need to control my students. Most of my students know full well they are here because they choose to be here, which is a far cry from Wellborn’s depiction of the “unruly high schoolers of this state.” Yes, they have needed a push from me, but I think there was never any question of my authority.

So, I think the question is why do I stand to lecture and sit to discuss? Do I need “extra” authority when I lecture or is it simply a function of freedom of movement and access to the white board or other technological aids? When I sit, am I trying to make myself like a peer in order to facilitate discussion? And finally, am I reading too much into my sitting and standing habits?

Resistance is Futile! Part 2--the aftermath

2008-02-29T14:17:00.000-08:00

Monday came and with it the 621 tutors. I anticipated a few questions from students, but there were none. One student sent his tutor to ask me what the function of the body was within an essay. Clearly, the exercise had had a short term negative effect on him. I wondered, was he afraid to ask me questions now? I asked the student to stay after class and told him what I was trying to do on Friday. He seemed relieved and even laughed a little, then he told me he hadn’t taken it personally and insisted that he just still wasn’t sure. I suspect he was lying.

On Wednesday I began my class normally. Smile, “How is everyone? Let’s get started with the reading quiz.” After the quiz I closed the door and sat down in a student desk. I was silent for a few seconds. The room was heavy with an emotion I can’t quite grasp.

“So,” I asked, “what did you think of last Friday?” A few students said they hadn’t liked the assignment or made other minor complaints, but there was no mention of my attitude. In fact, I think there were great pains taken to avoid talking about it. “Ok, good. What did you think about my attitude, the way I was acting and, yes, I was acting?” I asked. The class exploded, “I thought you were having a REALLY, REALLY bad day!” and other similar comments were offered.

“How did my attitude and the way I was acting affect the classroom? Did you like the way the room felt on Friday?” There was a resounding “No!” Then I asked, “Why do you think I did this?” Silence ensued, but I knew that the point had been made. I then told my students, “I’m on your side! I want to see you succeed. I want to come to graduation with an air horn and shout, ‘That’s my student, I taught him/her,’ because I am just that damn proud of you. Don’t tempt me, ‘cause I will do that. I want you to go on to 110 and blow them away with your mad MLA skills and I want you know that you have, right now, everything you need to be successful. I want you to pass. I want to brag to the other 100 teachers that all my students passed. I want you to make it easier for you. I can’t do that if you won’t let me. I don’t care where you came from, but I do care where you go and I want that to be successful.” I had practiced this speech all weekend.

I then made the students take out a piece of paper and allowed them to do an in-class journal about how the exercise had affected them. Did they understand where I was coming from? Why was their attitude just as important as mine? How could we better connect in the classroom? And most importantly, how might it feel to be me and get that kind of treatment times fifteen during each class? My students wrote furiously. I haven’t looked at the journals yet, but I am hoping for the best.

I also apologized to individuals at whom I had snapped, but made it a point not to apologize to the class as a whole. After I allowed the students to write for a while I moved on to a lecture. I stopped about two minutes in, as usual, and asked a question. Something amazing happened. Students who normally sit at the back of the class with folded arms, straight or disinterested faces, and obvious irreverence for me and the class looked completely different. Arms were uncrossed, faces were softer, and the “wall o’ irreverence” was gone. One of the biggest resisters looked pensive and said, “Slang, would that be one?” “His suggestion was correct. I smiled, acknowledged his answer and thanked him. Others began to chime in. EVERYONE in the class either asked a question or participated in discussion in some way.

Class ended on a higher, but still resonate note. A student raised her hand and asked, “What can we do?” I told her it was up to her, but whatever it was I supported it.

I think it is important in a class such as 100 for the students to know that the teacher truly supports them and that the teacher is not there to simply dash dreams to bits or hold them back for some crazy, sadistic pleasure. More importantly, I think it was necessary, in this case, for my students to see me as human. Before that day, I think I was either an emotionless teacher-drone or a force to be seen as hostile in my student’s eyes.

Resistance is Futile! Part1--the experiment

2008-02-29T14:13:00.001-08:00

The following is a dramatic re-enactment of actual classroom proceedings. No students or teachers were harmed during the making of this blog.

Like many of my colleagues, I have been increasingly aware of the small things my students do which bug me. Most strikingly, my ENG 100 students seem to have an attitude problem that even Freud would be hard pressed to describe and define. Sure, they come to class, but they are unprepared, they refuse to participate in discussions, they complain that they are tired (the class is at 11am), they outright ask me if they can go home early, the text while I lecture, they talk to one another, and every time I give an assignment I get an immediate barrage of heated “whys” and grumbles reminiscent of May thundershowers. This is not a good learning environment.

I made my plan very carefully. On Friday of last week I actually put that plan into action. I went into class and without my usual smile. I usually ask how everyone is and take a few moments to listen to complaints and comments, but on this day I just set my stuff down and looked at my students. Without my prompting, a few offered up some suggestions like; “Can we go home, it’s Friday” and “I’m tired.” To which I shortly responded “No and get more sleep.” The students looked confused and a little hurt. The tired student said, “Well, I would if work didn’t keep me so late.” My reply? “Not my problem. Now, get into your groups from Wednesday and get started on your projects.” The students began to grumble and nobody moved. I looked up again and said, “That includes movement. We don’t have all day. Hop to it.” The class slowly and grudgingly began to move.

As the class began to work on the project I had assigned, I took out my papers for ENG 110 and started grading! Of course these were fake papers and I wasn’t really grading, but listening to EVERYTHING the students said. As the class progressed I began to make more comments. “Guys, I hear what you did this weekend when I need to hear about your projects.” When a student asked if spelling counted I looked at him blankly for a moment, took out my cell phone and pretended to text, snapped the phone closed and said, “What did you want?” He again repeated his inquiry. I paused and then said, “Of course, when did you think it wouldn’t?”

Another student came up and asked me what I wanted him to write as the function of the body in an essay and I said, “We had this conversation, you and me, the exact same one on Wednesday, did you not write it down?” The student went back to his group and a small murmur arose. The entire class had heard me and a few people started to jump to this student’s defense. I cut them off frankly, “How about you do your stuff and do it quietly so we can get it done and go home? Then we can all be happy.” I was pretty sure I was going to experience a coup, but nothing happened, just a few whispered “what’s her problem?”

The students had had enough. One looked at me for a moment and then pointedly drew a smiley face on the board. I looked up, straight faced, and then turned away to begin grading again. Another student tried to get a response from me by touching the coat in the chair beside me and saying, “That’s a pretty coat…” My only reply was, “Projects are what you need to be doing and don’t touch my stuff, please.” The class began to do more things to get me involved and laughing or at the very least responding. Some made jokes about the class or other classes, others tried to compliment my hair, blazer, jeans, handwriting, shoes and even glasses in order to elicit any kind of response. They were working extra hard to get me just to say something, but the harder they worked the more resistant I became.

Class ended and I felt horrible. I spent all weekend worrying about losing students and fretting that I had just made them afraid of me. I wanted to take it all back and tell them right then and there that it was all an act and that there was a point to what I was doing, but I decided against it. I just let my students leave without saying anything.

A Day Of Teacher Bliss

2008-02-25T23:04:00.001-08:00

On Monday I had what I can only describe as a "Teacher Bliss" day. You know, those days where the academic cosmos align, I have good attendance, students are interested and engaged, discussion and lectures flow freely, and I go home with the affirmation of why I REALLY do this.

It seemed simple enough. Talk to the 621 tutors for my 100 class and discuss with individual tutors the problems that have arisen, then decide a plan of action to bridge the gap between the classroom and the tutoring sessions. It went well, I am pleased to say. Then my actual 100 class time was nigh and I got to see the tutors in action. I had pretty good attendance with a few stragglers and I only had one absent student. The tutoring session went fantastically well. As I looked around the room, all my students seemed engaged and both the tutors and students seemed to be comfortable and conversing easily. I also saw some students actively engaged in re-writes and brainstorming. All was at peace in the ENG 100 universe.

Then it was time for 110. I was antsy because the students were turning in the annotated bibliography today and I feared the usual excess of excuses. There were none. I decided to ease the class into the I-Search and critical thinking unit by having them look at an article from my hometown newspaper. The article focused on a school board meeting in which banning a book from a dual credit class was discussed.

I wasn't sure that my students would react as strongly as I did to the article (I know and have argued against the man who was advocating the banning), but the results were astounding. I began by asking, "Is this censorship?" There was a resounding no. Then I asked, "Are the arguments that Mr. Hitchcock makes sound in their reasoning?" The first answers were yes, but a few students began to see the fallacies in the argument. We haven't even gone over fallacies in class yet!!! The arguments got deeper and more heated between the opposing sides and the analysis of the argument got better and better. One student even pointed out the irony that the argument against the book was mostly because of the ending and that by banning the book, Mr. Hitchcock was actually repeating the ending. Students who have never said a word in class spoke up with their opinions. I was so proud of my students. They actually stayed LATE to finish up the argument! The universe of ENG 110 was in my favor.

I'm not sure if there was actually much pedagogy in here, but I really needed to brag about my students and say thanks to the tutors. Days like this function as a true reminder of just why I want to stay in the field. It is the times when students exceed all expectations and out perform themselves from even my wildest dewy-eyed teaching dreams that I know I am truly lucky to do what I do.

Discussion, Discussion, Discussion

2008-02-18T15:40:00.000-08:00

One of the most resounding things a teacher ever said to me, actually asked me, was, "In light of Columbine, do you feel safe at school?" I was a senior in high school the year of the Columbine shooting (1999) and I remember looking around the room at the solemn and terrified faces of my classmates. We had been through this in 1997, our sophomore year, with the shootings in Kentucky and it seemed impossible that it would be happening again. Glassy eyed, tight lipped, slump-bodied head shakes were the only answer the teacher received. She stood in front of the class in silence for exactly three and a half seconds before turning to the chalkboard and saying in a chipper voice, "Well, on to polynomials!" It was a math class.

On, Friday my classes seemed antsy and attendance was down, but I didn't think anything of it until now. Were my students afraid to come to class in light of what happened at NIU? Did my students feel the same despair, shock and perhaps fear that I felt in high school and more recently, during the Virginia Tech shootings? I know that many of my students (98%) are first years and most are between the ages of 18 and 20 (99%) and since so many of them were not in college last year, they have not had a chance to be "so close" to it. What I do think they need is an open forum in which to talk about what has happened.

I'm not sure how many of them will remember Columbine (since most went into kindergarten in 1995!) or if the Virginia Tech shooting were as close to home for them as the NIU shootings may be this year, but I do think that I should not just go on in a chipper voice and talk about polynomials, or in my case conclusions and the Toulmin schema. What I do know is that I might just need to take a moment to ask, "Do you feel safe?" and to listen to the answers even if they are just body language.

I think I will throw out my planned discussion about what it means to annotate and why a naysayer is important in an argument essay, in favor of talking, just talking, to my students about what this all means for them, for the university, for the U.S., and for the world. I suspect that I will get a lot of discussion. Except this time there will be one thing very different about our discussion.

No poking, no prodding, no interrogation, no asking for more information, no devil's advocate, no challenges to defend statements with specific passages form the text, no restating the question if silence of more than 20 seconds passes. No, Wednesday will be different, I will ask my students what they have to say and then I will listen, even if they aren't sure they want to talk about it yet or is the resounding opinion is stunned silence.

The Authority of an Author

2008-01-28T11:37:00.000-08:00

It is hard for freshman and/or beginning writers to view themselves as anything other than novice. During the textual analysis essay last semester, I told students that they had the authority over the text and emphasized that they had the skills necessary to evaluate an argument. So many students said, “But, I’m not a writer or a critic? I have no qualifications!” For the memoir assignment, students often lamented, “I have nothing IMPORTANT to say!” believing that their experiences were far less valuable than those of “Authors.” How then, do teachers get these beginning students to realize that they, in fact, have valuable contributions to make within the writing and academic world?

I tried this activity with both my 100 and 110 students to see if I could get them to believe that even as novices, beginners, freshmen, or less experienced writers, they really did have something IMPORTANT to say. I wanted them to understand that what they had to say was just as important as any other human’s story.

I began by writing the word “Author” on the board. I asked students to define the word. In both classes there were answers like: published, good at telling stories, a person who writes. Then I asked students what other words include “author” in them. The first answer in each class was, “authority!” (this is what I wanted them to say). I then related to them the idea that an Author has the Authority over the story they are telling. Each Author creates something (in this case a memoir) and they are the sole authority over that creation.

I then had students describe the physical and mental characteristics of a Writer. In both classes physical descriptions were similar: male, older, khakis, glasses, beard, and British (interesting!). The mental descriptions included: homebody, has several vices, crazy, sloppy, and single. In each class at least one student connected the Author/Authority lesson to the definition of a Writer and voiced this realization to the class. “Hey, if I have authority over my writing, then I am an Author and an Author is a Writer. I am both!”
As soon as students began to realize that they were an Author because they had authority over their writing and an Author writes, they were therefore and Author and a Writer! It was absolutely amazing to watch they student’s faces change from insecurity, fear and frustration to confidence and maybe even a little excitement.

This week

2007-04-27T22:43:00.001-07:00

Ok, I admit it. I posted this blog at about midnight on Friday, but then I got worried about the content and deleted it because I thought it was too personal. However, I have decided to re-post it and be unafraid of what I originally said. So here goes…

This week I want to talk about the article we read in which the author suggested that me need to look at ourselves in the classroom, not only the students. In the article, Royster and Taylor state that we need to look at both teacher and student identity to “re-shuffle these relationships and re-make the balances in order to make recognizable that negotiation of the classroom identity involves an interaction of all parties, sometimes with competing agendas” (LE, 214).

I was particularly struck by the diary of Taylor’s teaching experience. With my recent acceptance of a GA ship, I have become acutely aware of her worries and ponderings within the journal. I was in a high school classroom for a year doing student teaching and I team taught a freshman seminar course with a seasoned teacher at my undergrad institution, but this time I am REALLY, REALLY nervous. Each of the other times I had a teacher on hand in the room to help me, this time it’s all me.

I began to wonder just what it is that I bring to the classroom as a teacher and a student in one. I wondered if I would have any trouble separating myself from the student part when I am supposed to be leading a classroom full of students. What exactly can I offer them? Will I be able to handle an unruly student? Will I try to save the students I think might still have a chance, like Taylor did? How will I handle the situations that Taylor had and if I approach them differently will I have any repercussions?

Aside from the fact that I have become very nervous in my own life as a teacher, I think more than anything Taylor and Royster have helped me to see that reflection and analyzing myself as a teacher will ultimately give me a better picture of how to better help myself help my students.

It seems like a cliché, I know, but when it comes down to it, we’re all probably a little or a lot terrified the first time we step into the classroom as THE TEACHER. I’m just glad to know that I am not the only one who will go through all that anxiety and that what I bring to the classroom as the teacher is just as valid as what the students bring to the classroom themselves.

A Few Words on Amie Wolf

2007-04-20T22:25:00.000-07:00

I really enjoyed chatting with Amie Wolf on Monday, however one of her answers to a question that seemed very poignant. When we asked what was her biggest problem in teaching BW, she responded that people have negative perceptions of the basic writing courses. Since she is at a largely athletic school, people seem to think that the program is strictly for athletes.

It struck me as odd that people would still see athletes as being “dumb”. It’s almost laughable that we create a dichotomy of having a healthy mind OR a healthy body. People can and do have both, but I think we tend to think of college life in terms of absolute, you either spend all your time studying or all your time playing a sport, period. It was also very interesting to me that she decided to talk to her students early on in the semester about the fact that they are not “dumb” but perhaps just need extra help, but it doesn’t help when tutors are outright calling the students stupid.

I almost can’t imagine how it must have felt to be a student in her class the day of the meltdown over the perceptions of how others see basic writers. However, I think there is light at the end of the tunnel. If the students are allowed to choose to go into that class, then they understand, recognize and are trying to correct the things that could possibly hold them back. That is a lot more than I can say for most first year students. These students (the basic writers) are the true learners. They have missed a step somewhere along the way and are willing to go back and lean the skills they need regardless (however sensitive to them they may be) of other’s perceptions. That in itself takes more courage than anything.
I commend the basic writing students for having the courage and the strength to attend a class that makes them feel badly in order to become something they desire. I commend Ms. Wolf as well for fighting stereotypes and giving her students confidence. I think that by letting her students know “they are intelligent people and that they just need to work on expressing that intelligence to others” is brilliant. Because EVERY scholar, whether basic writer of not still needs a little reassurance every now and then

Literacy in so many definitions

2007-04-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

In Jerrie Cobb Scott's article about literacy deficits she says that deficit pedagogy exists because "It is reasonable to assume that we have either failed to get to the root of the problem or refused to accept the explanations offered" (LE, 205). She says this in reply to Mike Rose’s ideas about “students on the boundary.” However it seems to me that her statement is a little too restricting, which is odd because she takes great pains to point out that the definition of literacy is too narrow. “The root” and “the problem,” as she states in her quote, imply that there is only one problem and if we could just find the answer, all would be well. She also implies with this statement that we might already know the answer, but we have decided to not accept the explanations offered.

In writing this argument, I see that scene from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy where Deep Thought tells the beings that the answer to life, the universe and everything is 42. There was only one answer, but they didn’t like it and went in search of something better; the ultimate question. Perhaps we have not asked ourselves the right question yet. Are we coming up with answers for which we do not know the question?

Scott says that there are two reasons we are still teaching “deficits” when it comes to basic writing. First, is our narrow definition of literacy and second is our resistance to changing our ways of instruction (205).

Her argument about the narrow definition of literacy is that we tend to define it in simplistic terms such as “the ability to read and write.” She broadens the definition to something along the lines of one being able to function within society or “the act of socially transforming oneself to the level of active participation in and creation of a culture” (206). I pose this question: Is it essential for one to be able to read and write in order to be able to actively participate in a culture?

In our culture, the answer is: absolutely. How do you function, let’s say, in a grocery store without knowing how to read the prices on the shelf, without knowing which bill is which denomination (the colors help a little, but that isn’t always the case), how would one write a check? Participation in and creation of our culture requires a minimal literacy of the “restrictive" reading and writing definition.

The person shopping for groceries must not only be literate in the reading and writing sense, but must be literate in societal ways in order to successfully get groceries. Thus, we need BOTH kinds of literacy. Especially in a society and culture that depends so much on written communication that is has even developed mores to go along with written communication (such as sending out invitations, RSVP-ing, sending thank you notes, etc).

In a classroom, we focus on one kind of literacy, the ability to read and write. Why then does Scott feel the need to take literacy outside the classroom? Is it not the classroom in which we seek to develop the literacy of reading and writing? Her argument seems to be taken out of context in order to "broaden" the definition of literacy.

Scott’s other point, which I will touch only briefly, is that we are resistant to changing the ways in which we instruct. If we do not have the answer, why should we blindly change our instructional ways? Scott says we, “know more about the negative attitudes than how to change the,” (208). In this, she is correct, we can see the attitudes, but we just aren’t sure how to change them. She does give us a few theories on how to create a better learning environment and states that we need to create a “comfort zone that facilitates interactions across groups” (211). However, can we truly do this if our students are unwilling? For every teacher out there with a negative attitude, there is a student to match. Perhaps our students are just as resistant to change as we are.

The final question that Scott’s article left me to ponder is this: How then, do we change our thinking and ideas so that students and teachers alike can see literacy as more than just reading and writing, and what steps can we take to begin merging the definitions as well as changing attitudes?

Comparing Apples to Oranges: Science in Basic Writing

2007-04-07T10:28:00.000-07:00

In Mike Rose’s article, “Narrowing the Mind and Page,” he talks about the ways in which we seek to explain the mind of a basic writer, we are partial to “using a singular, unitary cognitive explanation” (LE, 23). Rose links this classification phenomenon to the idea that everyone can function in the world only according to their level of IQ. His overall term for the classifications is “Cognitive Reductionism,” which seems to be fairly correct.

I think Rose has a good point here. Why is it that we as teachers, educators and experienced writers tend to “pigeon hole” basic writers into one category or another when there is a wealth of reasons why a writer is failing to advance in style, form, or grammar?

I think a lot of our need to classify goes back to the idea that in order to make the field of composition and rhetoric “valid” it must rely on more scientific methods and mimic the highly respected fields of the sciences. In our attempt to categorize basic writers we are also attempting to validate composition by using the same methods one might use in a chemistry experiment.

Rose is simply saying: Basic writing is not a science. We can not use the methods and THEORIES from other fields to produce explanations as to why basic writers still exist.

Rose then goes on to tell about the “field dependent-independent” experiment in which subjects were asked set a metal rod straight within the confines of a wooden box; those who set it upright regardless of the tilt of the box were labeled “field-independent” because they saw the box’s orientation as separate from the rod’s (LE, 25-30).

While reading the experiment I wondered how in the world there was a link between this experiment and writing. I also asked myself what I would have done as a subject in this experiment (I am field independent) before I read the possibilities of what a subject might do. As I read that field dependent subjects were linked to those who write poorly, I was curious as to why they might be poor writers.

On page 26, Rose shows us a personality explanation of the two which offers that: field dependents are more social, tend to take social cues, and depend on others for reinforcement whereas field independents are more individual, use themselves as reinforcement and have internalized frames of reference.

However, I found this to be a little bit of a backward “diagnosis” (as did Rose) because as beginning or basic writers we want our students to use other frames of reference in their papers, we want the students to be aware of their readers, and we want students depend on others for reinforcement (supporting evidence).

We also tend to see writing as a form of communication and those who are most social are often seen as the most effective communications. Why then are these field dependent subjects linked to basic writers when they very well could be the best and most likely learners or communicators? Why must we create a dichotomy of being one or the non-one?

Isn’t it unfair to apply principles from one theory to an entirely different field when the subjects are not even completing the same experiment? We wouldn’t compare the “orangeness” of a navel orange to the “orangeness” of a granny smith apple because we know that the two can not accurately be compared.

We are attempting to compare apples to oranges when we use theories from other fields to explain basic writers and I think Mike Rose has it right when he rejects these comparisons. Besides, I really don’t want to see my granny smith apple in terms of a navel orange, nor do I need to see basic writing in terms of “the scientific.”

Taking my inconvenience to make this uncomfortable

2007-03-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

In our in-class exercise we reviewed a letter that a student had written to his professor contesting a grade he hadn’t actually even seen at that point. However much it bothers me that the student did not actually know the final outcome of his grade it bothers me more that the student was in an upper-level (post gen-eds) class and still writing like a basic writer. I was very surprised to see that the people who responded to his entry did not comment on the complaint as being a shining example of basic writing, but instead decided to pick up on a few aspects (poor quality, nonetheless) of the letter and ridicule them.

Obviously, this student was writing from a place of anger and frustration and maybe even sent the e-mail to his teacher without ever having done any proof reading. There is really no telling how or when it was that the student concluded it was the appropriate time to send that e-mail to the teacher. In any case, the letter is not something one would expect from a junior or senior and I am left to wonder how it is that this particular writer passed the beginning or introductory writing course(s) and the other courses that may have been heavily steeped in academic writing. Why was he allowed to continue on in his education when he clearly does not have the ability to put into words what it is that he truly means to say?

And so, we come back to Min-Zahn Lu and her article on Shaughnessy in which she argues that writing is a way for people to be able to make the essence of the written words communicable to both the writer and the reader (LE, 59). In the case of the writer above, his true meaning is usurped by the repetition of the phrase “you make me uncomfortable,” and is therefore lost within the babble of cyclical arguments which are not supported by any concrete evidence. What is this student truly trying to say? What exactly makes him uncomfortable? Is it truly his discomfort with the teacher that has caused his grade to be lower that he thinks he deserves?

One of the things that struck me the most is that the student seems to be resisting the changes that come along with academic writing (Lu’s Conflict and Struggle article from a few weeks ago). There seems to be something intrinsic in this student that just will not let him overcome the idea that his writing style was good before his entered college and is still good even after he has disputed his low grades with many teachers (that, have, by the way, been settled to his satisfaction).

Also, this basic writer feels a sense of entitlement. Whereas most of the articles we have read tell us that basic writers are often unsure of their abilities and fear writing. However, this student was so confident in his writing that he is sending a copy of the letter, in which he can not actually express his problem, to the supervisor of his teacher. Perhaps his sense of entitlement comes from his previous success in working the system or maybe he just truly resists the idea that a writer must change and grow in order to become better at the craft.

On a positive pedagogy

2007-03-09T12:40:00.000-08:00

Shaughnessy, in her book Errors and Expectations, tells her readers that, “Every word is a potential misspelling” (162). This quote, as did many others, threw me for a moment. I was hit with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. I despaired for a few minutes, got depressed, fretted and even considered ending my teaching career because, after all it was hopeless (I exaggerate, but I did have a moment of panic).

Shaughnessy, on previous pages, pointed out that writers in the academic world are often forgiven for misspellings, but that writers in the professional world are judged for their mishaps spellings up to an including people doubting their intelligence and or education.
Within the world of academia spelling is “viewed by teachers and students alike as the most arbitrary, the most resistant to instruction, and the least related to intelligence” (161). If this is so why is such a great importance placed on spelling outside the academic area, where spoken language is as widely varied as the number of people that speak it? While Shaughnessy gives no answers to that question, she does review some of the misspelling patterns she has encountered.

To me, however, it seems to be a problem of mathematics, in a sense. Perhaps a student has written a paper in which they include 600 words, of those 540 are spelled correctly and 60 are spelled correctly. Mathematically, the student had spelled 90% of the words in the paper correctly. However, as teachers, the marred 60 words are what irritate us and keep the paper from being as good as it could be ( I am strictly speaking of spelling, ignoring grammar and punctuation problems that are present as well and which can make a paper problematic in its self, but are unimportant in the point).

While the non academic world might see the paper riddled with spelling errors and condemn the writer, I think it is important as teachers of basic writing to commend the writer for spelling 90% of the words correctly and encourage them to look at the patterns they recognize in their correct spellings to see if any fit in their misspellings.
We are encouraging and rewarding the student for correctness, not punishing them for incorrectness. While this might seem as though I am looking through rose colored glasses, I can see where encouraging attitudes such as this could help a writer to let go of anxiety. While the problem will remain and should be addressed throughout the semester or term, there is an advantage to looking at the positive. Besides, 90% anywhere else will earn an A.

More than you might think

2007-02-26T21:24:00.000-08:00

I want to talk a little more about the letters written between graduate students and basic writers as described in Gail Stygall’s article “Resisting Privilege” as it is presented in Landmark Essays on Basic Writing.

On page 191, Stygall shows her readers one of the letters written by a basic writer, James, and then gives the response of Dee, the graduate student. Stygall notes the response Dee gives is almost three times as long as James’s and suggests Dee is “comfortable writing, even to someone she does not know” (192). It is also noted that James “asked no questions, while Dee feels it appropriate to ask eight questions” (192). Stygall goes on to point out that James’s handwriting is labored and “tortured,” and that Dee simply responds to James as a “teacher” by echoing him and asking him more questions about himself, thus requiring a reply.

However, I find Dee’s reply a little calloused and cold and I find Stygall’s analysis of James’s letter to be a little simplistic. If Stygall and Dee were to take a second look at James’s letter, they might see a more complicated letter than they previously thought.
The exploratory letter actually has a lot of questions embedded within it. Here is a list of questions I see within the letter:

1. Where were you born?
2. What are some of your interests?
3. How far into graduate school are you?
4. How many credit hours are you taking?
5. Where do you work?
6. What are your career plans?

James has written a perfectly conventional introductory letter in which he has described himself and the things important to him. When James asks Dee to tell him about herself, he intends for her to “echo” him, but his intentions are poorly met. While Dee seems comfortable writing to James about “feeling wimpy,” she does not echo him in a way that truly acknowledges his letter. Dee turns a letter that is supposed to be about her (a letter that should have echoed James’s by giving him more basic facts about herself) into a myriad of half-responses laced with more questions. The response letter seems to be less of a correspondence and more of a quiz.

I’m not sure how the barrage of questions will aid James, especially if he feels as though Dee has ignored his genuine attempt to learn more about her. What is it that makes Dee’s letter superior to James’s in Stygall’s eyes? Sheer number of words used? Dee’s ability to fill a page without really saying anything important or giving an actual reply? Why is it acceptable for Dee to write a letter filled with questions and ignore James’s true inquiries? Dee’s letter, to me, seems unfocused and misguided when read as a response to James’s.

It is clear that James and Dee both have different expectations of what an introductory letter should be and each is functioning within their own parameters of comfort. Which "comfort zone" is closer to our own and how do we move between zones to meet the needs of the other person? How do we step out of the rhelm of "teacher" and "student" and become communicators?

College Acculturation

2007-02-16T13:34:00.000-08:00

In her article “Conflict and Struggle,” Min-zhan Lu talks about some of the ways in which teachers might view basic writers and help them develop into academic writers. While each theory has good points, there are also places where each can be seen as lacking.

For example, in the section about acculturation Lu relates the experiences of basic writing teachers’ feelings of “being in but not of the English profession” (138, LE) to those of the students they were teaching. The students were in academia, but not of academia. Herein lies the debate of how to assimilate the students into academia. Lu overviews a few theories about assimilation which range from moving students form “orality” to “literacy”(141) to the idea that a student’s anxiety about writing will go away over time as the student is assimilated to the world of academia (141).

Moving from “orality” to literacy is a great idea, if the student has an academic oral base. The idea assumes that the transition is easy and leaves out the possibility that the student has no academic “oral” base. Where, then, do we begin the transition? Can we as teachers teach an oral base before we begin an academic literacy base?

Also the idea that the anxiety over academic writing subsides after the students has made the transition is fair, but not completely correct. Academic writing can be scary even after the transition is “finished.” Several students as far up as PhD candidates and professors still worry and stress over their writing, the anxiety is still there and these people are considered far beyond the days of basic writing. It seems absurd to dismiss anxiety as “passing” while “students get comfortably settled in the new community and sever or diminish their ties with the old” (142). How then does this account for the anxiety of non-basic writers who are well within the “community of academia”? When and where is the line set for assimilation?

While I understand that Lu does not necessarily agree with these theories, and adds some suggestions of her own, it seems as though Lu is still trying to come up with better strategies then assimilation or accommodation as she looks into the future of her craft.

Shaughnessy and handwriting

2007-02-09T13:11:00.000-08:00

In class, we spoke about the reasons that Shaughnessy might have chosen to include handwriting in her chapter with punctuation. I think that handwriting is very much a part of a person’s overall experience. Shaughnessy recognizes that a person’s handwriting, whether “good” or “bad,” can give various insights into a person’s past or even present situation.

Just as handwriting can be subjectively good and bad, so can writing in general. There are certain things one looks for when assessing the quality of written paper including; subject matter, syntax, organization and other areas of written language. Likewise, one looks for a range of qualities when assessing the quality of handwriting including; correct formation of letters both cursive and printed, overall legibility and pen (or pencil) strokes.

As many people suggest, a person’s handwriting can add insight to the person as a whole. This is why I think it is important to assess the students' writing ability in handwritten form first. In looking at the form, if it is all block letters or very disjointed, the writer may be suggesting more than just the thoughts on the page.

Also the “correctness” of letter formation might have a direct correlation between the written letters and the ability to “form” an essay in the proper manner. This may or may not be true in all cases, but it certainly might give us insight when viewed as a correlation factor.

However, not all basic writers will have bad handwriting and not all 110 writers will have good handwriting. In any case, I think that Shaughnessy’s point is that handwriting is a tool of communication. If a person can not read another’s handwriting it blocks the communication. Poor handwriting can be seen as improper or uneducated, just as a poorly organized or poorly punctuated paper calls (negative) attention to itself, poor handwriting skills will avert the reader’s attention to the perceived incorrectness rather than the thoughts on the page.

While handwriting is becoming more and more unneeded as we infiltrate computers into society, it is worthy to note that hand written notes still exist and might mean more than ever if it is perceived as illegible. Therein lies the importance of handwriting.

Basic Writing Definition

2007-01-22T18:46:00.000-08:00

Defining basic writing can be difficult. For some people, basic writing is the ability to use written language in a way that enables them to function within the academic world. For others, it is the mastery of grammar, form, or any number of other technical features of writing that one might perceive as desirable. Still, for others it can simply be a new form of communication.

In class we watched an interview with Mike Rose in which he said, “Education is an invitation into a conversation.” I relate basic writing to this quote in that teaching basic writing is an invitation, on the teacher’s behalf, to the student, in the form of admittance into the academic conversation. During the interview Rose pointed out that students who feel as though they do not belong or are in some way inadequate tend to get frustrated and give up on education. Basic writing skills can give a student the invitation or competency needed to join in the education conversation.

In The Discovery of Competency, authors Kutz, Groden and Zamel point out that lamentations of teachers of basic writing often include: “‘they can’t think,’ ‘they can’t write,” or ‘they don’t know how to set standards’” ( 6). However, these lamentations are incorrect because the students can think, write, and set standards; they just haven’t developed their writing skills to the point of knowing and trusting their unique writing processes(15).

The development of writing skills and processes as well as trust in those processes is what makes basic writing so important. When the enormous pressure of perfection and correctness is taken away from students they will ultimately find a writing process that works for them and begin to develop into a more confident writer. In a sense, they will feel as though they have been invited into the conversation of education because they now possess the most basic ability to use written communication in a way which allows them to function academically.

Basic writing is a foundation education in which students are given the opportunity to gain access to the writing skills needed for conversation; it is the combination of necessary writing elements into a product that is most valuable to the student.