Nov 062015
 

“Situatedness… refers to the ability to respond to specific situations rather than rely on foundational principals or rules” (Breuch 130).

Reading through Post-Process theory reminded me a lot of listening to astrophysicists talk about the speed of light and what it would be like to actually travel that fast. I’ve heard it described as “following the line of chalk.”

If we start to think about where writing happens on a very physical level, it has always already happened; we don’t have writing until it is physically written. The Post-Process idea seems to be focused on the impermanence of time and space, suggesting that the context and conditions of writing are always shifting therefore the writing itself will never be “complete”.

Seeing writing as public, interpretive, and situated places all writing on the other side of the chalk – on the edge of the speed of light. Nearly all of the conditions laid out in Post-Process are constantly changing based on audience and the writer’s relationship to the audience in both time and space. And it seems that the teacher’s role is to hold the chalk. We adjust our teaching styles to the situation and context of our experience.

Professor Schwartz shared an anecdote with me a few months back about the way he used to teach Composition. He would come into the class with nothing prepared and build a lesson based on whatever was around in the classroom (e.g. if someone left a worksheet from a previous class). This might be an example of Post-Process teaching, although I’m not sure how effective it actually was.

I guess what I’m getting at (and what Breuch would probably agree with) is that this concept is better off as philosophy, the same way travelling at the speed of light at this point is better off as theory, or that following the line of chalk is better off as a metaphor. In a very practical sense, these ideas don’t do much in the classroom. Early writers need to believe there is a permanence/determinate value to their writing so they can build themselves up to understand why, in reality, there really isn’t anything permanent/determinate about it.

Nov 062015
 

Somewhere between the final semesters of undergrad and grad school, I fell in love with the notion that writing with ink and paper was somehow more real than all the typing I’ve been doing up until that point. It was romantic in my head, harking back to my admired writers set of tools. I wanted to limit my options in what I could achieve, I didn’t want to have the ability to go back and forth and play with my thoughts and water them down with afterthought and doubt. What I thought and as I thought: that’s what I was hoping to record on the page.

Somewhere between the graduating of undergrad and grad school I amassed nearly 90 pages of handwritten hieroglyphics–scribble, if you will–neatly packaged in a lovely moleskine. This was my attempt at being a prepared grad student. I wanted to have a nice chunk of my thesis before even getting to FAU–and from what I understand, I am ahead of the curve by far. Yay! However…………I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be to transfer extraordinarily large handwritten sheets of paper to text.

Enter the Dragon. Thank the lord above and below for dictation software. With Dragon, a user builds a profile and then takes their voice through a series of tests to build a level of recognition that is ever expanding and adaptable. The more you speak to it, the more it picks up on your patterns of speech and nuances of enunciation. So far, I have been able to quadruple (this is not a real statistic) my output. Instead of having to look from my deft scratchings to the screen of my computer over and over to translate, I can just read and it picks it up fairly well, for the most part. I plan on doing a presentation in class on how Dragon works.

Nov 032015
 

I have a few memories of my mom as a child, not because she is dead or ran away when I was young, but because I have a terrible memory. One, she used to read to me every night until I was able to do so myself, and two, she used to tell me time and time again when a “dirty word” would slip out of my mouth that “people curse out of ignorance.” Although I have seen a lot of cursing amongst the educated grad students and teachers alike, it has become something that I think holds some weight.
Do we engage in a richer experience through complex vocabulary? Or is that we just have a more clear and expressive way to describe our experience? It seems that now as an adult (to be debated), I use curses when I want to be emphatic or humorous or highlight an emotion. My mind does not bring me first to a curse because I am unable to think or find another word that would better describe what thoughts I am trying to solidify with words. As an avid reader and writer, I live a life that is quite dramatic in my own head, turning average events and mundane memories into fantastical story arcs. I don’t know that a richer vocabulary enhances our experience, but I would say that it enhances the way we are able to express ourselves.

Nov 022015
 

I want to put my first blog post into conversation with my own experiences balancing discussion and “teaching.” In that post, I felt that there could be a place for narrative in my classroom, and I described a sort of hybrid classroom pedagogy where both Freire’s description of a teacher who “cognizes” and then “expounds” (5) and active student response and engagement had a place. I’m not sure I have really figured out how to make that work in practice, though. Freire’s dialogue-based approach appealed to me in the beginning, and in theory still appeals to me now. I still appreciate the idea that true knowledge “emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other” (Freire 1). Yet, in my own classroom, I have not really found dialogue to be useful except when analyzing the course readings. The dialogue-based approach presumes a willingness of the student to step beyond course materials and to engage with the world beyond. In my own classroom, I have found that the students are most willing to talk when they are trying to understand something more concrete: for instance, the contents of Helen Epstein’s article “AIDS, Inc.” There is something tangible there for them, something they can hold on to and harken back to when they begin to reach out. However, when the topic is “writing,” a vague and painful process for many of them, they are much less willing to chat.

When I hear the stories of some of my peers giving “lessons” on MLA or thesis development, I recoil. It is not that I think the students do not need a better understanding of the expectations for their writing. Instead, it’s that I have no experience being “taught” to write, and so can’t really envision what that experience looks like. Instead, I do for my students what my teachers did for me: show examples and offer tools. I’ve organized all of these “tools” in a file called Writing Resources on Blackboard (name ganked from Trina, thanks Trina!).  Sometimes, my classes take on a sort of give-and-take atmosphere, where I showcase the tools, walk the students through them, and then they ask questions and try to make sense of my expectations. Other times, they are silent and seemingly mystified. At these times, trying to engage the students in dialogue rarely does anything: they do not see the process of writing as something they can or should have a say in.

I’ve been contemplating attempting to “teach,” though. I’ve tried to imagine how a class lesson might look where, for instance, I just told them all about thesis statements. Mainly, this is because I still see some of my students struggling with understanding how and why their own writing is not matching the course expectations. For instance, I spent a good part of one class a few weeks back trying to explain to my students why one example thesis we were looking at was not yet “original.” (This was in response to reviewing the Grading Criteria for their Midterm Responses). It was difficult. Responding to sources–that comes easily to most of them. Using those sources in an argument–easy to some of them. Moving beyond those sources to envision an original and compelling claim–easy for very, very few of them. And it wasn’t just the “doing,” but the imagining of it.

What I have found most useful, then, is to do all I can to help them imagine what such an essay might look like. Looking at examples helps, revisiting our sources does too. I’m still not satisfied that they are seeing how fluid the whole process can be, and how the way they write and what they focus on for one assignment might not necessarily work for the next. I’m still trying to figure out the most universal approach for this.

 Posted by at 7:34 pm
Nov 022015
 

John Bean conceives the purpose of writing as a process of discovery. When sitting down to write, thoughts are jumbled and sloppy, like trying to keep in between two
palms a handful of water; everything we wanted to say, or thought we had to say, slips between the cracks, and when we do actually hammer out some of the original ideas we were
able to maintain they only seem like a pale shadow to what was originally in our heads.

A student often fails to see their ideas as holding any weight of importance, they see themselves as responding to an assignment, an assignment that is little more than a
pain in the ass. This is what often causes for a carelessness in recording, editing, and most importantly discovering. The structure of the program that the GTA’s are forced to
follow is asking us to train our students how to write lengthy drivel bombs. Somehow, someway, it is our job in between the mountain of grading to create assignments, stimulate
discussion that will help our students to think. Over the course of the semester my students have went from “my students” to “my kids.” I care more for them now, and I want
them to succeed, not in my class but beyond. So it becomes important for me to plant the right seeds, and relate to them in the right ways, so when they leave my class they will
be somewhat equipped for the professors out there who are old and out of touch, and they will be ready to bullshit their way through, just as I have. Hopefully.

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