Dec 082015
 

My main office hours visitor this semester was an insecure freshman – a nursing major – with very low confidence in her writing abilities, a strong work ethic, and a desperate drive to earn an “A.” After each rough draft was due, she would visit me to discuss how to revise her work. I would hand back her paper with edits and suggestions. Many comments were abstract, such as “This needs more explanation,” or “Why is this claim relevant?” that I hoped would prompt some reflection and meditation on her paper before diving back in.

But students don’t want abstract advice. They want concrete tips and assurance that a specific edit will fulfill the requirements of “good writing.” So in response to my suggestion that the student explain the connection between a certain paragraph and her thesis, my students asked, “So I could just add a sentence here explaining that having a target audience is related to social campaigns because campaigns use advertising?” (or something of the sort).

“There are many different ways you could create the connection. An extra sentence is an option.”

“Well do you think it would work?”

“Probably, depending on how you word it.”

“What about this sentence? Is this right?”

“Sure.” Sigh.

“Is this right?” is one of the most frustrating questions in writing, because it elicits the (likely equally frustrating to students) response “There is no ‘right’ way to do this. Figure out what works for you.”

Students are used to their writing being objectively evaluated by teachers and standardized testing. From their perspective, grades are handed down from an all-knowing writing deity, and not on any subjective basis. Therefore, they begin to see writing as falling into “right” and “wrong” categories. But we know that grades and even general opinions on writing ability are highly subjective. Keats, Whitman and Bronte received scathing reviews in their time, and are now celebrated as “classic” writers. On some level, grading is doing a disservice to students by quantifying the possibilities of “good writing.” Beyond the ability to compose a decent thesis statement, I hope my students become self-aware writers, and this is something that can only be taught so much in the classroom.

I can’t tell how many students will carry their newly acquired writing skills with them, or if they’ll drop them the second they pick up their grade. But as long as a grade is at stake, I’m certain “Is this right?” will stick around.

 

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