Sommer’s research in “Responding to Student Writing” feels implicitly connected to the idea of “Process, not Product.” This essay has assisted in further shaping my ideal pedagogy in that it presents the student as one who is truly open to, and capable of learning, and as someone seeking guidance from the instructor. In short, teachers must change their attitudes towards students; how they view students.
I believe that part of my job as a writing teacher is to help students feel comfortable with and understand that revising is an important part of the process. A writing teacher named Ron Estes once told me, “All writing is re-writing.” And so, I can foresee incorporating revision activities, such as what Sommers suggest, where the whole class is engaged in “revising a whole text or individual paragraphs,” not so much to alleviate anxiety about reducing “a finished” product to “fragments and chaos,” but so that they begin to understand that a well written product takes time¸ and that even the best writers sometimes need to modify, correct and rework a piece of writing.
Also, in the piece by Peter Elbow in his on “Ranking, Evaluating, and Liking,” he gives alternatives to simply “ranking” student work by giving an arbitrary grade. I like the idea of a student portfolio so that students can have a body of their work to compare, see improvements or areas where improvement may be needed. The only problem I see with a portfolio is that it would be the end of the semester before a student could see the benefit of the portfolio. I created such a portfolio in an advanced creative writing class, but in a composition class, I’m not sure the student could reap the benefit early enough to improve, and well, make the grade they desired to make.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
On "Basic Writing Pedagogy"
Deborah Mutnick’s overview of basic writing pedagogy was most poignant for me in that, it seemed less theoretical, and more practical in its analysis of potential writing students. Of particular interest was her assessment of Mina Shaugnessy’s work in the field, specifically with regards to Shaugnessy’s view that basic writing errors are “a sign of intention and intelligence” (186). This approach, I believe, might be better in determining a student’s ability, and puts the teacher in a better position to recommend a course of study that might help the student improve.
When I consider “basic writing errors,” I am thinking of errors in grammar, sentence structure, or perhaps punctuality. Mutnick cites Mary Epes who attributes basic writing errors to “encoding processes” (187). I like Epes’ view that “encoding,” which has to do with “the visual symbols of written language,” is not the same as “composing” (187). I relate “encoding” to what I call the mechanics of writing, which I believe is a skill that can be taught. I believe that many students have in their mind what it is they want to express, but get caught up with the “encoding”
(187). I agree with Epes that “transcribing and editing” are skills that should be emphasized with regularity, as even more experienced writers can sometimes be prone to mistakes.
Also, the section concerning the research on cultural difference, the “social turn” in composition studies, was interesting. Mutnick cites Peter Rondinone who asserts that students might have to “abandon friends and family in order to acquire literacy skills,” and, Keith Gilyard, who concludes “that biculturalism and bidialectalism are not only possible but preferable to abandoning one’s culture and language of origin” (190). Reading the experiences of these men reminded me of the W.E.B. DuBois quote and theory about “double consciousness”. I truly believe that African Americans have always had to navigate back and forth between the cultural and linguistic reality of their personal lives, and the academic and social world of the dominant culture. This idea was expressed in the poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar¸ “We Wear the Mask,”
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Of course, Dunbar was referring to the social climate of his time which required blacks, who were discriminated against and subjected to Jim Crow laws, to hide their true feelings from public scrutiny in order to have a minimal amount of social mobility. But, Gilyard’s personal experience is an extension of this necessity to negotiate between worlds in order to succeed academically.
When I consider “basic writing errors,” I am thinking of errors in grammar, sentence structure, or perhaps punctuality. Mutnick cites Mary Epes who attributes basic writing errors to “encoding processes” (187). I like Epes’ view that “encoding,” which has to do with “the visual symbols of written language,” is not the same as “composing” (187). I relate “encoding” to what I call the mechanics of writing, which I believe is a skill that can be taught. I believe that many students have in their mind what it is they want to express, but get caught up with the “encoding”
(187). I agree with Epes that “transcribing and editing” are skills that should be emphasized with regularity, as even more experienced writers can sometimes be prone to mistakes.
Also, the section concerning the research on cultural difference, the “social turn” in composition studies, was interesting. Mutnick cites Peter Rondinone who asserts that students might have to “abandon friends and family in order to acquire literacy skills,” and, Keith Gilyard, who concludes “that biculturalism and bidialectalism are not only possible but preferable to abandoning one’s culture and language of origin” (190). Reading the experiences of these men reminded me of the W.E.B. DuBois quote and theory about “double consciousness”. I truly believe that African Americans have always had to navigate back and forth between the cultural and linguistic reality of their personal lives, and the academic and social world of the dominant culture. This idea was expressed in the poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar¸ “We Wear the Mask,”
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Of course, Dunbar was referring to the social climate of his time which required blacks, who were discriminated against and subjected to Jim Crow laws, to hide their true feelings from public scrutiny in order to have a minimal amount of social mobility. But, Gilyard’s personal experience is an extension of this necessity to negotiate between worlds in order to succeed academically.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
On "Community Service Pedagogy"
In the essay on community service learning, Laura Julier reports that some “see in service learning the appropriate pedagogical complement to educating for civic virtue and democratic citizenship” (134). And, while encouraging students to participate in community and service projects is a noble and worthy undertaking, is it realistic or even fair, to require this extra effort to learn to write; particularly when they can instead take a composition course from the professor down the hall who only requires them to find their own process? Interestingly, colleges and their career centers are providing information on opportunities to work in the nonprofit arena, opportunities to do service work during spring breaks and summer vacations, and composition course focusing on community service would be a perfect complement to students who have a desire to involve themselves in this kind of activity. And, writing for nonprofits could, in fact, be a very viable career alternative. A composition course offered expressly for someone looking to work in that field might be ideal. But, commitment to service and volunteering is a personal choice, and to require that of someone who might be reluctant would feel like an imposition of a teachers’ own personal, activist lifestyle on the education of her/his students.
With regard to the types of assignments given to students in Julier’s pilot program, the “public announcements...job application manual” and “articles for newsletters” sounds like the perfect training ground for someone interested in technical writing or advertisement, but seems contradictory to the more traditional assignments done in Julier’s class such as the analysis and discussion of “literary and historical texts” and “writing in response to them” (139). And, the writing projects done for social agencies seems even further away from the writing students might be expected to do in those disciplines that complain that teachers aren’t teaching students to write.
With regard to the types of assignments given to students in Julier’s pilot program, the “public announcements...job application manual” and “articles for newsletters” sounds like the perfect training ground for someone interested in technical writing or advertisement, but seems contradictory to the more traditional assignments done in Julier’s class such as the analysis and discussion of “literary and historical texts” and “writing in response to them” (139). And, the writing projects done for social agencies seems even further away from the writing students might be expected to do in those disciplines that complain that teachers aren’t teaching students to write.
On “Technology and the Teaching of Writing”
In the discourse on “Technology and the Teaching of Writing” Charles Moran talks about the characteristic casualness and intimacy of email. It is largely for these reasons that I would not favor using email as a discussion tool for assignments, and most certainly not for discussing student grades, which I consider to be a private matter. (I’ve known professors who won’t even accept email except from student email addresses issued by the school in order to be able to trace email for any possible legal ramifications.) Though email helps to construct listservs for class discussions, my experience as a student with listserv has not been positive nor did it enhance my learning experience. I also disagree with Steven Krause in “When Blogging Goes Bad” that “email,” over blogs, “offers a much better opportunity for collaborative writing” (332). Again, perhaps it is my old school approach in that email is good for arranging to meet with a classmate to discuss assignments over coffee. I’ve never collaborated on anything through email, which as a teacher, I would reserve for merely communicating information regarding assignments, and making arrangements, perhaps, for appointments beyond my office hours. I would only encourage listservs as a discussion space if students desired to use it as such, and as long as people are respectful. (I’ve seen listservs get really ugly, and become something other than what was intended for the purposes of the class).
I found the passage in Moran’s piece on “Race on the Superhighway” a little disturbing, in that the researchers, Teresa Redd and Victoria Massey, found that black students “used fewer features of the African American oral tradition than we expected, fewer AAE [African American English] grammatical forms and fewer ‘styling’ devices” (216). I can’t imagine why it would be assumed that black students, who are perhaps in college, and obviously computer literate, would speak any differently from any student in the same situation. Rather than being cognizant of “the watchful gaze of the teacher,” as Moran suggest, perhaps they were simply learned American students using the same language that we’ve all been taught to use.
Krause cites Bob Goodwin-Jones in asserting that blogs, as opposed to email, “foster an ownership of text, a personal responsibility for writing” (333). Although I agree that blogs are more “individualistic,” I have seen a couple of really interesting blogs where writers collaborate by each contributing posts periodically. And, while each post is as distinctive as each of its writers, it seems to work nicely, and offers writers the opportunity to be part of a writing team focusing around a specific subject. As far as using blogs to teach writing, I think it would be a good space for freewritng and journaling, but only if it’s possible to blog without publishing on the worldwide web, (and I think there is); I would rather that in order to protect student’s privacy. While I do blog on my own, I frankly don’t like the possibility of work I’m doing for a class, as a student, to be on display for the whole world, at a time when I am only just forming my knowledge, ideas and opinions about a given subject.
I found the passage in Moran’s piece on “Race on the Superhighway” a little disturbing, in that the researchers, Teresa Redd and Victoria Massey, found that black students “used fewer features of the African American oral tradition than we expected, fewer AAE [African American English] grammatical forms and fewer ‘styling’ devices” (216). I can’t imagine why it would be assumed that black students, who are perhaps in college, and obviously computer literate, would speak any differently from any student in the same situation. Rather than being cognizant of “the watchful gaze of the teacher,” as Moran suggest, perhaps they were simply learned American students using the same language that we’ve all been taught to use.
Krause cites Bob Goodwin-Jones in asserting that blogs, as opposed to email, “foster an ownership of text, a personal responsibility for writing” (333). Although I agree that blogs are more “individualistic,” I have seen a couple of really interesting blogs where writers collaborate by each contributing posts periodically. And, while each post is as distinctive as each of its writers, it seems to work nicely, and offers writers the opportunity to be part of a writing team focusing around a specific subject. As far as using blogs to teach writing, I think it would be a good space for freewritng and journaling, but only if it’s possible to blog without publishing on the worldwide web, (and I think there is); I would rather that in order to protect student’s privacy. While I do blog on my own, I frankly don’t like the possibility of work I’m doing for a class, as a student, to be on display for the whole world, at a time when I am only just forming my knowledge, ideas and opinions about a given subject.
Monday, March 15, 2010
On "Writing Center Pedagogy"
In Eric H. Hobson’s discussion on Writing Center Pedagogy, I mostly connected with writing centers as “sites” for “individualized instruction,” and as being instrumental in providing “equal access to education for all students,” particularly for those who, like many non-traditional students, either didn’t have “the best secondary education,” or who last went to school without the benefit of technology, writing centers, etc. I also found interesting the idea of “knowledge” being “socially constructed,” and as such, the “collaborative learning” aspect of writing centers can motivate students, who may be traditionally on the margin, an opportunity to engage the academic community.
However, with regard to those non-traditional students, I think that the technology aspect of writing centers should be gauged according to individual comfort, and only after they have had the advantage of individual instruction. Online writing centers (OWLS) may be essential for accommodating large numbers of student request for lists of grammar and writing tips, links to other online resources, and perhaps even tutorials or writing exercises; nothing can replace one-on-one, individual, human interaction.
Having been a writing center tutor, I believe that it is most certainly an environment conducive to building a strong foundation for good writing skills, and I would, in all likelihood, suggest, and maybe even insist that composition students attend at least one session. I also agree with Hobson that writing center’s provide a training ground for new teachers, and the role they play as “ sites for on-going educational research” and as “training for college and university graduate teaching assistants”. I think it could also be a place for the collaboration, discussion and practice of pedagogical styles among potential teachers.
However, with regard to those non-traditional students, I think that the technology aspect of writing centers should be gauged according to individual comfort, and only after they have had the advantage of individual instruction. Online writing centers (OWLS) may be essential for accommodating large numbers of student request for lists of grammar and writing tips, links to other online resources, and perhaps even tutorials or writing exercises; nothing can replace one-on-one, individual, human interaction.
Having been a writing center tutor, I believe that it is most certainly an environment conducive to building a strong foundation for good writing skills, and I would, in all likelihood, suggest, and maybe even insist that composition students attend at least one session. I also agree with Hobson that writing center’s provide a training ground for new teachers, and the role they play as “ sites for on-going educational research” and as “training for college and university graduate teaching assistants”. I think it could also be a place for the collaboration, discussion and practice of pedagogical styles among potential teachers.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
On "Writing Across the Curriculum"
Writing Across the Curriculum (WAC) feels like a back-to-basics approach to teaching composition which I absolutely foresee applying to English 1101. Of the two approaches to WAC discussed in the essay by Susan McLeod, the Writing to Learn aspect would seem most appropriate for a creative writing class however; it would be interesting to use the “exploratory writing,” and perhaps even “free writing,” for students to consider their own ideas and thoughts about literature, as opposed to being told what to think about it. The Writing to Communicate approach, with its emphasis on “Writing to an audience outside the self in order to inform”…and that “the writing therefore is revised, crafted, and polished,” is more traditional, and in my opinion, necessary no matter what field of study.
In the essay, McLeod points to an encounter with a colleague in the history discipline who accused “you people” of not teaching students how to write. That by the “you people” he meant English teachers, I think is a little unfair when we consider that writing varies depending on what discipline one is writing in. Because, there are various styles of writing such as MLA, APA, AP, and of course writing that is produced through technology, perhaps a division of composition classes should be made with regard to each discipline. That is, perhaps there should be History majors who could teach a History Comp 1101, a Sciences majors who would teach Sciences Comp 1101, or even a Comp 1101 which focused primarily on journalistic writing. Rather than making English teachers responsible for teaching composition that spans all disciplines, let teachers in other fields be responsible for teaching the styles of writing their own disciplines.
In the essay, McLeod points to an encounter with a colleague in the history discipline who accused “you people” of not teaching students how to write. That by the “you people” he meant English teachers, I think is a little unfair when we consider that writing varies depending on what discipline one is writing in. Because, there are various styles of writing such as MLA, APA, AP, and of course writing that is produced through technology, perhaps a division of composition classes should be made with regard to each discipline. That is, perhaps there should be History majors who could teach a History Comp 1101, a Sciences majors who would teach Sciences Comp 1101, or even a Comp 1101 which focused primarily on journalistic writing. Rather than making English teachers responsible for teaching composition that spans all disciplines, let teachers in other fields be responsible for teaching the styles of writing their own disciplines.
On "Understanding Visual Rhetoric in Digital Writing Environments"
I agree with Mary Hocks in “Understanding Visual Rhetoric in Digital Writing Environments,” that a focus on digital rhetoric in the composition classroom will involve a “profound” change in the way those who want to teach will “think about both writing and pedagogy”. But, again, as with many aspects of higher education, the discussion of Visual rhetoric with regard to digital writing environments, feels like another way to alienate people who just want to learn to write well. Even the language involved in trying to understand a visual rhetoric as it could be taught, I am assuming, with regards to simply using a computer to write, is intimidating, and feels as far away from English 1101, as rocket science.
My computer skills are basic. Sure, I surf the net, occasionally update my status, I’ve even created a couple of blogs and an avatar on Second Life, but language is something more than pictures, colors, fancy forms, and applications. I can envision using aspects of digital writing in a composition class. But, developing an overall Visual rhetorical pedagogy seems important only if you are teaching primarily about digital writing environments.
What I found interesting in the essay on “the Materiality of Writing,” by John Trimbur was the idea of “transparent text,” being communication that lacks an obvious “mode of production;” and that “true literacy” replaces visuality with “abstract representation of sounds”. That the origins of this may come from the bible itself, a book considered to be the actual word of God, a book initially written and published primarily by literate men, reeks of classism, sexism, and insight to the possibility of its use as a tool to control masses of people who were visually literate.
My computer skills are basic. Sure, I surf the net, occasionally update my status, I’ve even created a couple of blogs and an avatar on Second Life, but language is something more than pictures, colors, fancy forms, and applications. I can envision using aspects of digital writing in a composition class. But, developing an overall Visual rhetorical pedagogy seems important only if you are teaching primarily about digital writing environments.
What I found interesting in the essay on “the Materiality of Writing,” by John Trimbur was the idea of “transparent text,” being communication that lacks an obvious “mode of production;” and that “true literacy” replaces visuality with “abstract representation of sounds”. That the origins of this may come from the bible itself, a book considered to be the actual word of God, a book initially written and published primarily by literate men, reeks of classism, sexism, and insight to the possibility of its use as a tool to control masses of people who were visually literate.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
On "Feminist Pedagogy: The Other 'F' Word"
In a friendly, but heated, debate with a decidedly chauvinistic gentleman, he exasperated, blurted out and said to me, "You know what you are? You're a...a FEMINIST!" I laughed and said, "Thank you". And, though I've been called worse, I know he didn't mean that in a good way. Indeed, my most memorable professor, who subsequently turned out to be my mentor and friend, employs a very obviously Feminist pedagogy in her literature classes; most of which have to do with literature by and about women. As a result, no few young, male (and one might hope progressive), students routinely dropped her class. The problem being, they would suggest, was that she needed a man.
But, as I am beginning to see, it may be more than a notion to commit to one pedagogical influence, as there are worthy points made in most of what I've read thus far. I feel naturally inclined toward a Feminist focus: Is it because I am a woman? Or, because of my Alabama bred, refined, Southern-bell, ex-beauty queen of a mentor? But, as a product of working-class, black America I am also drawn to Cultural Studies, and even Critical pedagogies.
For as long as women have contributed to letters and literature, there has been some effort to silence them; to put them in a “place”. If I can teach composition in such a way that will help ensure that never happens again, then I want to do that too.
But, as I am beginning to see, it may be more than a notion to commit to one pedagogical influence, as there are worthy points made in most of what I've read thus far. I feel naturally inclined toward a Feminist focus: Is it because I am a woman? Or, because of my Alabama bred, refined, Southern-bell, ex-beauty queen of a mentor? But, as a product of working-class, black America I am also drawn to Cultural Studies, and even Critical pedagogies.
For as long as women have contributed to letters and literature, there has been some effort to silence them; to put them in a “place”. If I can teach composition in such a way that will help ensure that never happens again, then I want to do that too.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Desperately Seeking "Spaces for Resistance and Agency"
The article "Critical Pedagogy: Dreaming of Democracy," by Ann George, is the most exciting I've read thus far. I like the idea that, as pedagogy, it has the potential to open people's consciousness. I truly believe that's what college is supposed to do. Unfortunately, as George points out, most schools, most institutions, are put in place to do just the opposite; that instructors are in place, and students are sent to learn, an "ideology...as unquestionable as air". But, if we can just find those "spaces for resistance and agency" then, perhaps there is hope that the masses can become more than simply cultural sheep.
This reading reminds me of a passage in the book The Third Wave by futurist Alvin Toffler, where he discusses the creation of the public school system and how it was developed just as the “industrial era” was evolving, (and, I am paraphrasing here). Basically, (if I understand correctly), it (the public school system) was created not so that children could learn the three "R's, reading, (w)riting and (a)rithmatic. Somebody needed to work in all those factories that were being built to produce 500 widgets an hour. People who used to work the farm during the previous "agricultural era" were convinced that they could make more money working ten to twelve hour days producing those widgets. But, what were they supposed to do with the eight children they had to help them work the farm? Public schools were created, not only to provide a space for those children, but also, (and probably more importantly), to teach them: punctuality, obedience and repetitiveness. That way, when their folks died early from stress and unhealthy working conditions, there would be someone to replace them who'd already learned how to be on time for work, mind the boss, and make widgets over and over...and over again.
This reading reminds me of a passage in the book The Third Wave by futurist Alvin Toffler, where he discusses the creation of the public school system and how it was developed just as the “industrial era” was evolving, (and, I am paraphrasing here). Basically, (if I understand correctly), it (the public school system) was created not so that children could learn the three "R's, reading, (w)riting and (a)rithmatic. Somebody needed to work in all those factories that were being built to produce 500 widgets an hour. People who used to work the farm during the previous "agricultural era" were convinced that they could make more money working ten to twelve hour days producing those widgets. But, what were they supposed to do with the eight children they had to help them work the farm? Public schools were created, not only to provide a space for those children, but also, (and probably more importantly), to teach them: punctuality, obedience and repetitiveness. That way, when their folks died early from stress and unhealthy working conditions, there would be someone to replace them who'd already learned how to be on time for work, mind the boss, and make widgets over and over...and over again.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
On "Cultural Studies and Composition"
I didn’t understand what the big deal was at first, but now, I think I am beginning to see.
I graduated, not so long ago, with a Bachelors degree in English—with a Literature emphasis. Just before graduation day, I went around the school to say so long to professors I felt had been particularly influential. One of those was an adjunct professor who taught World Literature, and proclaimed, at the beginning of her class, that she taught part-time because of her love for literature, and to fund the feed for her second love; horses. When I told her of my intention to continue on to graduate school and ultimately earn a PhD. she began this low, menacing grumble, something about the Rhet and Comp people, along with the new department head, was slowing trying to eliminate literature from freshmen English. She all but made me promise to always teach literature, and not be inoculated by “those people”.
And, perhaps I was being lured.
English was a new program at my college, which until a year or two before, had been a two-year community college. I was actually one of the first four-year students, and one of the first English majors. The English program began with mostly literature courses, and even English 1102 was taught with a literature emphasis. By the second year of the program there was decidedly a “Literature” emphasis and a “Writing” emphasis. Composition and Rhetoric instructors were being imported to open the writing center and highlight the whole “Writing Across the Curriculum” thing. The professors that I will call the, “Comp and Rhet Divas,” were suggesting in polite conversations with students about how there were more jobs to be had after graduation for those who came over to their side.
I had planned to write more about the essay on “Cultural Studies and Composition” by Diana George and John Trimbur; about extracting stuff from pop culture and the media in exchange for traditional literary text. And, about how I hate that some black students enter a African American Literature class expecting to read the popular black fiction that has become unfortunately, too popular, and not knowing nearly enough about the history and tradition of African American Literature and Writing. But, then I read “Diversity, Ideology, and Teaching Writing” by Maxine Hairston; about how she, (I imagine, with a fist raised in the air), argued for the establishment of “psychological and intellectual independence from the literary critics who are at the center of power in most English departments”.
Then, I thought of my literature professor, and her horses, and how she told me that a Ph. D. would only zap the love of literature right out of me; which is the reason she never pursued one. Because she loved literature too much.
I graduated, not so long ago, with a Bachelors degree in English—with a Literature emphasis. Just before graduation day, I went around the school to say so long to professors I felt had been particularly influential. One of those was an adjunct professor who taught World Literature, and proclaimed, at the beginning of her class, that she taught part-time because of her love for literature, and to fund the feed for her second love; horses. When I told her of my intention to continue on to graduate school and ultimately earn a PhD. she began this low, menacing grumble, something about the Rhet and Comp people, along with the new department head, was slowing trying to eliminate literature from freshmen English. She all but made me promise to always teach literature, and not be inoculated by “those people”.
And, perhaps I was being lured.
English was a new program at my college, which until a year or two before, had been a two-year community college. I was actually one of the first four-year students, and one of the first English majors. The English program began with mostly literature courses, and even English 1102 was taught with a literature emphasis. By the second year of the program there was decidedly a “Literature” emphasis and a “Writing” emphasis. Composition and Rhetoric instructors were being imported to open the writing center and highlight the whole “Writing Across the Curriculum” thing. The professors that I will call the, “Comp and Rhet Divas,” were suggesting in polite conversations with students about how there were more jobs to be had after graduation for those who came over to their side.
I had planned to write more about the essay on “Cultural Studies and Composition” by Diana George and John Trimbur; about extracting stuff from pop culture and the media in exchange for traditional literary text. And, about how I hate that some black students enter a African American Literature class expecting to read the popular black fiction that has become unfortunately, too popular, and not knowing nearly enough about the history and tradition of African American Literature and Writing. But, then I read “Diversity, Ideology, and Teaching Writing” by Maxine Hairston; about how she, (I imagine, with a fist raised in the air), argued for the establishment of “psychological and intellectual independence from the literary critics who are at the center of power in most English departments”.
Then, I thought of my literature professor, and her horses, and how she told me that a Ph. D. would only zap the love of literature right out of me; which is the reason she never pursued one. Because she loved literature too much.
On "Collaborative Pedagogy"
Having always thought of my writing as a personal, solitary exercise, I must say, the thought of sharing that actual process with others makes me a little uncomfortable. But, as someone who views literature from a rather New Historicist perspective, I do believe that what is ultimately manifested on the page is a result of many influences.
In an essay on "Collaborative Pedagogy", Rebecca Moore Howard considers the differences between collaborative learning and collaborative writing with regards to writing centers. As a tutor in a college writing center, it didn't take long to realize that most students, (no matter what level of writing skills they possessed), were simply looking for someone to proofread what they had written. That is, they wanted someone else to dot their "i's," cross their "t's," and make sure all the commas were in the right place. Often, they wanted to know if their paper "flowed". But, if I did my job properly, rather than simply spell-check papers, I was able to help someone discover ways to make the writing, (and perhaps the experience of writing,) less tedious and more adventurous. Did I tell them what to write? Of, course not. And, most certainly, I didn't write for them. Hopefully, I gave them something that they will use in countless more writing tasks. Is this collaborative writing? According to Howard, there are some who are concerned that it might be. However, I see collaborative writing as when two or more people come together with the intention of creating one work, such as The Gilded Age by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner. (Though, most people have never heard of Mr. Warner.)
As a student, I find that collaborative learning, such as small-group discussions, can be potentially very helpful. I personally enjoy discussing literature with other people who are learning the same things that I am; particularly on the graduate level when our subjects and focuses become narrower, and more specific. (However, I'm not sure I felt the same way when I was learning how to graph line equations in math class.) I, in fact, decided upon my thesis subject through conversations with a colleague about our mutual interest in writers from New Orleans. I learn a lot in our discussions about his Louisiana home, and comparisons between his writer/subject and my own. Does that make my thesis (or his) a collaboration? Absolutely not. But, it does help to make the research feel alive, significant and worth the effort. And, that in turn, might help make my paper “flow”.
In an essay on "Collaborative Pedagogy", Rebecca Moore Howard considers the differences between collaborative learning and collaborative writing with regards to writing centers. As a tutor in a college writing center, it didn't take long to realize that most students, (no matter what level of writing skills they possessed), were simply looking for someone to proofread what they had written. That is, they wanted someone else to dot their "i's," cross their "t's," and make sure all the commas were in the right place. Often, they wanted to know if their paper "flowed". But, if I did my job properly, rather than simply spell-check papers, I was able to help someone discover ways to make the writing, (and perhaps the experience of writing,) less tedious and more adventurous. Did I tell them what to write? Of, course not. And, most certainly, I didn't write for them. Hopefully, I gave them something that they will use in countless more writing tasks. Is this collaborative writing? According to Howard, there are some who are concerned that it might be. However, I see collaborative writing as when two or more people come together with the intention of creating one work, such as The Gilded Age by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner. (Though, most people have never heard of Mr. Warner.)
As a student, I find that collaborative learning, such as small-group discussions, can be potentially very helpful. I personally enjoy discussing literature with other people who are learning the same things that I am; particularly on the graduate level when our subjects and focuses become narrower, and more specific. (However, I'm not sure I felt the same way when I was learning how to graph line equations in math class.) I, in fact, decided upon my thesis subject through conversations with a colleague about our mutual interest in writers from New Orleans. I learn a lot in our discussions about his Louisiana home, and comparisons between his writer/subject and my own. Does that make my thesis (or his) a collaboration? Absolutely not. But, it does help to make the research feel alive, significant and worth the effort. And, that in turn, might help make my paper “flow”.
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