A Day Of Teacher Bliss

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.”