Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Digital Writing
A Confession
Monday, January 25, 2010
Speaking/Writing: Ballpoint/Fountain
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Sketching with Patricia
This picture made me chuckle when I first saw it, not only because of the humorous situation, but also because it perfectly rendered how I thought of the student essay. The author of the sample presents the internet as a gigantic monster waiting to pounce at any time. Rather than trying to represent the essay's structure, this illustrator chose instead to render the essay's main point, very successfully I might add. This drawing works on a purely visual level, allowing the viewer to apprehend the entirety of the essay in one glance.
The last student writes "This is a map of Paula's argument. IT has all the stops and also shows the crossing idea. The road stops where the author ends; his stone age life. This may help show the organization of their paper."
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Abolishing the Requirement and Postmodern Pedagogy
In “A Personal Essay on Freshmen English,” Sharon Crowley examines “the cultural and academic-ideological forces that keep Freshmen English in place as the only universally required course in the American academy” (229). Her work suggests that Freshmen English is universally required not because it is universally necessary, but only because of outside forces ranging from the public’s desire for “correct” English, pedagogical traditions, “the idealist notion of ‘the academy essay’” (233), and the stake of composition instructors in the field. In a somewhat shocking proposal (for some), Crowley suggests we “abolish the universal requirement” (241). It must be stated here that she does not mean that Comp 101 shouldn’t be taught; just that it shouldn’t be taught to everyone, by force.
Perhaps some compromise can be reached between the traditional position of English 101 as a required course and Crowley’s proposal to do away with the requirement (I wouldn’t be surprised if she is overstating her position for effect). Crowley points out that the universal requirement “exploits teachers of writing, particularly part-time teachers and graduate students [as well as] students” (241). What if, instead of requiring a universal 101 course for every student entering the university, English departments offered several more specialized writing courses: Writing in the Humanities, Science Writing, Creative Writing, Business/Professional Writing, Digital Writing, etc.? The department could maintain a more traditional English 101 class, but it would then be available alongside these other courses. It seems that this would give students the agency to choose a course that would more directly benefit them and appeal to their personal and professional interests/goals, as well as giving composition instructors the opportunity to teach within their interests. This mode also fits the prevalent model that emphasizes specificity within a discipline and could lead to Composition instructors receiving more recognition from the Academy, a problem noted by Crowley (though this might be making a deal with the devil).
If the aim of Composition can be stated as empowering students to control their own language so that they can achieve personal and professional goals, we might have to admit that that goal can be achieved in non-English classes. I can certainly remember receiving invaluable writing instruction from teachers in History, Biology, and Philosophy as well as in English. This admission will be difficult, but will not rob us of our utility; rather, I think it will engender a new sort of radical freedom.
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This diversification of the curriculum relates directly to Crowley’s essay “The Politics of Composition.” Teaching the conflicts means that no position is inherently correct, which of course creates problems. Is the student who writes in support homophobia, racism, neo-nazism, etc. just as valid as the others? Does s/he still have a write to be heard?
There is clearly no easy answer, but I think Richard Rorty provides a few good places to start. With his emphasis on novelty, irony, and new vocabularies, he allows for all voices to be heard, but while constantly searching for newer and better means of expression. In Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity, Rorty writes that the ironist
has radical and continuing doubts about the final vocabulary she uses, because she has been impressed by other vocabularies . . . [and] realizes that argument phrased in her present vocabulary can neither underwrite nor dissolve these doubts . . . .[and] does not think her vocabulary is closer to reality than others (73).
This seems to be the essential task of the writing teacher: to work with the vocabulary a student has, to show them how that vocabulary can be empowering, but also to push them to constantly improve and change that vocabulary because of its inherent shortcomings. If we look at writing in this way, it extends beyond the one or two terms of writing instruction currently required by a school throughout the student’s college career and even throughout their life.
Of course, the position of the ironist is one of privilege not available to everyone. As a teacher, I can only take up an ironic position if this issue doesn’t affect me directly, and I think the traditional authority of the teacher makes this even more explicitly possible. Students who are confronted with these issues every day, however, lack the distance from the subject to view it ironically. Additionally, it is easy to be ironical about someone else’s writing, but how do you take up that attitude about your own? Though irony may be somewhat useful to think about, perhaps it is not the solution.
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Rorty defended himself against the label of relativist, and preferred to be called a pragmatist. I think as a teacher of English and writing I would like to strive for this as well. Rather than get bogged down in radical political concerns (which can be important), I seek instead to push my students to always be searching for a new vocabulary for writing and expression, which means always being aware of and challenging the dominant vocabulary of the time and place. But Rorty also recognizes that we simply can’t dispense with the dominant vocabulary and ideology, and in fact, any vocabulary we find won’t be any better. But it is the search which is important, and of course, as any composition instructor knows, search is just another word for process. And just like writing, writing instruction is that searching.