Nov 092015
 

After class last week on Post-Process theory, I have to admit I am still completely lost as to what Post-Process really means, or what it would look like in the classroom. In my opinion, it seems like a terrible idea for composition scholars to propose a theory that effectively eliminates the need for their careers. But hey, what do I know? Perhaps, if someone provided a literal and descriptive explanation of what post-process pedagogy would look like in the classroom, it could gain more ground. Matthew Heard emphasizes the need for experimentation with post-process pedagogies, and I would agree…so why doesn’t he take the lead?

Beyond my initial complaints of the lack of uniformity and practical application of this theory, it seems that there is an overall concern or emphasis on dialogue as the primary process of writing. Breuch brought up Irene Ward, who emphasize the functionality of dialogue between different mediums, including the teacher, the self, the classmates, and the audience of the paper. In addition, Heard claims that post-process involves a turn toward the social and cites Kent’s claims that writing is public, interpretive, and situated within a context. I see some of these ideas showing up within the writing program and course offerings here at FAU. In particular, there is an emphasis towards social contexts, readings that can be discussed in class, group communication and group activities, and the philosophy that writing can only be learned through writing. In addition, there have been classes offered in the past (that I have heard about) and some potential upcoming classes that involve writing for the community and writing within social contexts. These seem like indications of the ideas of post-process, which is interesting because it suggests that there may in fact be a potential for pedagogical application.

Nov 092015
 

Now that I am looking ahead towards next semester and teaching ENC 1102, I am thinking critically about how I will use commenting. After this class and having graded several rounds of papers, I have realized that only providing extensive feedback on final drafts does not help students. By the time they get their grades and my comments back for an essay, they are well on their way to considering the next essay, and they don’t care about the small comments I made on the previous. As was discussed in this class period and Nancy Sommers writes about, the goal of commenting on papers is to motivate students to revise. I think there is a disconnect when the comments are on a finished assignment. However, the issue remains that students will rely too heavily on a teachers feedback and ignore peer review.

Out of all of this rambling of ideas, I am trying to create a plan for the upcoming semester in order to experiment with a new way of grading and commenting. I think I will still give extensive comments on the rough and final drafts of the first essay. For the second and third essays, I think I will give one significant comment on the rough draft that gives them a direction, but rely more heavily on peer review. The final project I want to use in ENC 1102 next semester involves an annotated bibliography as the fourth “essay” and then a larger research paper for the fifth based on what they found in the annotated bib. For this sequence, I will hold conferences and give individualized feedback on their project and the most important ways their writing can improve. I will also have them turn in a proposal for this project where I will provide comments and feedback.

After the readings and discussion from this class, I am also considering the effectiveness and dangers of grading papers anonymously. I would be interested to know if anyone has done this before, and what the results would be. I am afraid that at times I am biased towards my students. Not because I prefer some over others, but because when a student continuously writes C papers shows an improvement, I give him a C+ even though the level of writing would not have been worth a C+ compared to other student papers. I can’t decide if this is a good thing or a dangerous trap.

Nov 062015
 

Dobrin’s ideas cast the separation of writing and composition in a beneficial light; he speaks of writing as something that goes somehow further then composition ever could. Yet at the same time, he seems to be arguing that composition should remain synonymous with writing, should take on a definition greater than itself in order to start to mean something more than it already does: that is, to be closer to “writing”. One way I can see a benefit in separating writing from composition lies in the potential usefulness of repurposing of those words. When I speak to my students in class, I do not tell them we are “composing.” I tell them we are writing. They think they are writing. They are writing. Composition is, in many ways, an antiquated term that needs rejuvenation in order to be pertinent again. To the students, the real stakeholders in this discussion, composition is not what they are attempting to do. They are attempting to get enough words out on paper to complete an assigned task. For most of them, this is writing; and who is to say that they are wrong? I might go further for some of them, and say that a few are attempting to write so that their ideas will be deemed convincing, or even “worthy”. Are they composing an argument, though? Not in their own minds. Creating one, perhaps. Writing one? Certainly—at least as far as they are concerned.

That is not to say that composition should not have its place as a term. If we could find a way to use composition in ways that go beyond the conventional, that certainly go beyond freshman classes, it would go a long way to redefining the word in student’s minds. However, in terms of drawbacks, it is perhaps easy to see this redefining of a word as unnecessary muddying. Why not leave composition and writing as interchangeable concepts? I don’t believe they truly are interchangeable though, and haven’t been for awhile. Practically speaking, they don’t have the same meaning to the students that they do to the teachers. How very post-process. As was pointed out in class, the term “composition” rarely survives as a label beyond freshman-level courses. Is it only in our beginning stages of learning that we are “composing”? Are we no longer composing once we take on a thesis, or tackle a major academic project? When does composing become less relevant as a metaphor for our writing experience and (dare I say it) process?

 Posted by at 9:43 pm
Nov 062015
 

On Twitter, I follow an adjunct professor from my alma mater, Kutztown University. Recently (actually, always!) she has posted some pretty eye-opening stuff about the way adjunct faculty are treated by major (and not-so-major) universities, both generally and in comparison to full-time faculty. Campus Equity Week is a yearly attempt to call attention to inequities by encouraging faculty to perform numerous activities to draw attention to the plight of the adjunct. This awareness campaign feels particularly relevant right now as our ENC 1101 students are debating the relative merits of social movements.

One “post-ac,” Joe Fruscione, “Storified” his tweets from that week, a process that involves using a third-party website to organize pertinent tweets into a story/timeline. He writes that though “it’s been over a year since [he] left academia for a career as a freelance editor and stay-at-home dad. . .[he has] thoughts about higher ed and adjuncting, which #CEW2015 has brought to the fore.”

I thought that after our discussion tonight regarding the usefulness of a grad writing course focused outside of the academy, and after many discussions about the state of the university in general, this might be interesting to some of you.

 Posted by at 8:49 pm
Nov 062015
 

While I really like the idea of approaching writing as something that shouldn’t be “mastered” (Breuch 98), the fact that these authors not only don’t offer much by way of practical application, they actively state that a “[description of] a course [they] have taught” (Arroyo 707) would go against their stance on teaching has me somewhat angry. While I am certain that  post-process theory can be useful in the classroom, as I am almost positive that one of my old instructors (for ENC1102) successfully used this approach, the fact that both Susan J. Arroyo (with the previous quote) and Lee-Ann M. Eastman Breuch (with her comment that she “[doesn’t] believe such an agenda [of pedagogical practice] is compatible with [post-process] theory” [118]) seem to be deliberately esoteric, I feel, is counterproductive to successful, efficient teaching.

That being said, much of what is actually discussed is quite enlightening. The focus on “dialogue” (118), between the student and his/her peers, mentor, and world, over a “monologue” (118) in which the teacher attempts to force knowledge onto the student seems to be a practice that would be much more beneficial to the classroom environment. I’ve noticed that on those rare occasions where student apathy (or maybe exhaustion?) forces me to provide an interpretation of the article, the students view my personal interpretation as a “secret formula” for gaining a passing grade. The problem with this is that, due to the fact that this interpretation isn’t found within the student, he/she has no idea how to approach writing an essay based around that interpretation.

This failure reminds me of my time during ENC1102. My instructor, as opposed to having us read articles, came in every class with a different “discussion prompt” (usually related to a current event). He would briefly introduce the prompt, but that was the extent of his leadership. After our instructor sat down, we were forced to discuss the issue amongst ourselves (or sit in awkward silence for 90-minutes). While my writing that coming from this class was not of the highest quality, many of the ideas that I was able to explore made me decide to switch my major from Political Science (is anyone surprised?) to English. I’m not certain how well this will work for me, but it is an approach I believe I will attempt next semester. If it doesn’t work, I can always shift back to teaching as I do now.

Nov 062015
 

One of the biggest tensions I have with composition is the idea of “what the hell are we supposed to teach?” I’ve had numerous thoughts throughout the course.

  • “We’re TEACHING STUDENTS HOW TO ENGAGE IN CRITICAL THOUGHT!” …Too disrespectful for the student. Assumes they don’t know how to think.
  • “We’re like DRIVING INSTRUCTORS, teaching them how to OPERATE A TOOL!” …That implies that… well. Either writing is a technology we need to teach people how to operate (true), or that thinking is a tool we need to teach people how to operate (…t-true?)

But then I had a thought: What if I’m more like some sort of fitness coach teaching people how to flex their brains? Or… a drill instructor? Or…

…Really, the best thing I’ve been able to be is “the guy who helps you pass this state required course”.

Which is SO DEPRESSING. 

Really… the only success I’ve felt. The metaphorical Pedagasm.

 

…Pedagasm is not a word I should use. Forget I said that.

 

THE REALLY GOOD MOMENTS, were when I inspired a moment of awe in the students. Teaching them about Engfish. Showing them how to play with Grammar to change the meaning of sentences. Making them laugh.  It’s nice, but…

is that… what the University really wants? Or do they just want me to ascertain basic literacy?

 Posted by at 3:15 pm
Nov 062015
 

The Arroyo article reminded me of a question I frequently have while reading these articles: Why don’t scholars spend more time borrowing each other’s terminology instead of reinventing the wheel?

On pg. 686 of Arroyo, he writes:

Kent devises another conceptual scheme for what he calls “internalist” and “externalist” rhetorics (reminiscent of Vitanza’s “inner-directed” and “outer-directed”).

These seem more than reminiscent to me, they seem synonymous. I could totally be missing nuance between the concepts, but it seems like, based on the definitions they offer, that the whole internalist/externalist thing IS basically the same as inner-directed/outer-directed. So why don’t they just keep using the same language instead of re-labeling everything? It seems like a rat race to try and get some sparkly term or concept forever immortalized in association with your last name. While I get the appeal of that (and that it’s probably important in your career if you’re an academic), it seems like if you were truly in the business of knowledge, you’d be more concerned about communicating clearly and efficiently in order to illuminate something new.

Perhaps I wouldn’t take issue with this as much if some scholars didn’t spend so much time waxing about the noble quest of the instructor and scholar to learn, teach, and illuminate. At times it all comes out as hypocritical to me. To be fair, though, we have read scholars who seem to do what I’m suggesting–borrowing concepts in an effort to move the conversation forward. So this could just be a case of a few rubbing me the wrong way.

Nov 062015
 

Thinking on the how-centered approach versus the what-centered approach as presented in the essay “Post-Process ‘Pedagogy’” by Lee-Ann M. Kastman Breuch.

To teach writing is decidedly a complex endeavor, and codifying it as an anything-centered approach is problematic beyond the binary established by the how v. what dichotomy—even the essay submits that process pedagogy is both what-centered, content based, and how-leaning, as it “in many ways encouraged a shift away from content-based approaches”—so how, then, do I define what I do in my composition classroom if even the broadest terms of categorization leave room for a defense of the antithesis?

I don’t want to emphasize process as content, but I also don’t want to lose good writing as a model for learning.  To explain what I mean I look to the schedule on my syllabus, an exact replica of the template provided by my teaching assistantship program, to yesterday’s events.

NOV 5

PEER RESPONSE DUE

Sample Work

Sample work.  An example of the type of writing expected of a composition student in my classroom, or an example of the exact opposite.  Content, either way, what-centered, but content used and presented to facilitate activity, how-centered, not an attempt at the “mastery of writing techniques,” but an act of writing toward clarity, toward discovery and meaning, not toward some perfectly cut puzzle piece that could fit into the “mater narrative” of the writing process, whatever that is, but the opportunity for writing to occur and recur.

Does content force my students into a box with however many other pieces of the puzzle—the jumbled image of what “good writing” looks like—or is content simply the opportunity for writers to sit down at the table to take a look at what’s there?  Maybe, if I put some of the pieces out, some of the ones that I see working best, maybe then they’ll craft a piece of their own.  Maybe their picture will look better than the one I had in mind.

Nov 062015
 

One strategy that I [attempted to] adopt in my classroom was that we are all, including myself, engaged in a communal form of learning. One way I did this was by creating assigned groups for the semester, so that students had a small group of people to rely on and engage with on an individual level, in addition to the community of the classroom. In all honesty, one reason I adopted this approach is because I am fully aware that I could easily pass as a college freshmen. When reflecting on Bartholomae’s “Inventing the University” I suppose that I am using his ideas as a cautionary tale, so that I know how to navigate the fine line of fully immersing my students into the format of academia. Rather than having them invent the university, I imagine that we are integrating ourselves into it together, or rather, we are inventing a mini university within the classroom.

I continuously reinforce the ideas that what they are doing in class is much like what academics do, and that the things they are learning in this class will relate to their upper division discipline courses and their future careers. For example, I like to bring up the fact that even PhD’s rely on peer review, and after counting attendance and a reflection paper at the EGSS conference for extra credit, I saw many of my students begin to internalize this idea. They were baffled by the audience members’ abilities to ask questions after listening to a 15 minute paper, so I used it as an opportunity to discuss the value in our own paper discussions. I also reinforce the fact that our academic community includes our classmates and myself, therefore they should not fall into the traps of using the thesaurus or constructing long, complicated sentences. Whether or not my strategy is effective in avoiding the conflicts that Bartholomae proposes is difficult to determine, but I would argue that my students appreciate the way I have framed the class.

Nov 062015
 

“The Secret of Good Humanities Teaching”

By Julius Taranto and Kevin J.H. Dettmar

September 14, 2015 in the Chronicle for Higher Education

http://chronicle.com/article/The-Secret-of-Good-Humanities/233097

This authors of this article claim that the most effective literature teachers (the title says humanities, but the article actually seems to emphasize literary reading) are able to present the material of a text through a 2 step hierarchical process. First, a teacher must take the class through a basic reading of the text, focusing on context, plot, and the general information. After this initial reading, and only after, can the class do a second and more in depth reading that unpacks the nuances of a text and emphasizes close reading of specific passages and sections.

I found this to be true on some level, but I would argue that the process should be adapted slightly. The authors of the article suggest that the class must work through the entire text together first, then return and re-read the entire text from a critical lens. While I agree that there should be a hierarchy in undergraduate level literary teaching, I do not think that these two process need to be sequential. I think that the process of understanding the contexts of a text can be integrated into the discussion of deeper themes and that as long as a teacher is successful at presenting an understanding of both levels then the class is a success. I can recall some of my favorite undergraduate professors drawing stick figures on the board in order to represent Shakespeare characters in order to establish surface level understanding, but by the end of the same class period we could be digging into a specific line of a play and developing complicated ideas.

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