If within social-epistemic rhetoric we acknowledge that we cannot be free of ideology and try to incorporate it into our pedagogy, then one issue I foresee is that language will become the sticking point. If, as Berlin asserts, “[i]deology is. . .inscribed in language practices, entering all features of our experience” (479), then how are we as educators supposed to point out assumptions and attempt to overturn ideological frameworks as we ask the students to use an ideology-laden language in their writing? “Formal academic writing” is a term I’ve been using pretty willy-nilly recently on my student’s papers, because there has to be some sort of style presented that they can emulate, and yet how can I expect them to become meta-aware of that language’s limitations and assumptions when they are forced to learn to use because it is the only way I, as an “academic” and their teacher, will be able to tell that they “get it”?

I am inspired by the idea that social-epistemic rhetoric responds to the notion that “the observer, the discourse community, and the material conditions of existence are all verbal constructs” (488), yet I am at a loss as to how a foundational, formal, academic writing style can even begin to critique itself. This type of rhetoric is so appealing to me because it appears to democratize the writing process and allow students “the means for self-criticism and self-revision” (490). However, it is constructed within and by a specific, restrictive discourse that I believe does not allow for the level of self-reflexivity that Berlin claims. “Question, question, question,” I tell my students: “never take anything for granted, overturn your assumptions.” And yet I’m asking them to do so within a very defined framework, the arbitrary rules and boundaries of “good” academic writing. Berlin critiques expressivism because that approach has a huge blindspot regarding whether students are truly able to “[challenge] official versions of reality” while still being products of that reality (485); yet through expressivism, students are able to at least feel as if their voices and experiences matter outside of an academic context. They are able to utilize a language that does not necessarily mimic an academic one. With social-epistemic rhetoric, though, I worry that in practice it is hard to truly push students to question everything, while at the same time saying “Do not question this. This language is best, this format is best, this mindset is most advantageous to accurately and succinctly proving your points.”

By seeing writing as artificial, we can treat it as unrelated to natural processes, which means it is a skill that’s possible to hone. This extends to general communication. Although Emig describes talking as an “irrespressible behavior,” it’s a behavior that can be improved. We can learn to be more eloquent and organized in our speech, just as in writing. Seeing communication as artificial can also prompt students to question what’s normally accepted as truth. When knowledge is viewed as subjective instead of inherent, it can be commented on and subjected to debate. Prompting this kind of critical thinking relative to natural assumptions is the ultimate goal of education.

After reading over others comments about the ideology in the classroom, I find myself wondering how exactly we can discuss ideology in a classroom. I understand that a classroom can be a place to discover oneself, face opposition to the ideas that you already hold, and hopefully, adjust to the new information and arguments a student or instructor encounters. However, in my class at least, I tend to avoid actually discussing the topics at hand, and I focus on the bigger picture: social activism and ways to go about it.

I choose to avoid these topics because, as Danielle pointed out, unless students have been affected by it, they generally don’t have an opinion, nor care. As a result, I try to open up the discussion to broader things. One of the best in-class writing assignments I did was to make the students create their own social activism campaign, a logo, and then tell about how they would go about implementing such an idea. I received a multitude of different campaigns (along with the ones where they just copy their friend, of course) that gave me better insight to the things they, maybe, care about. It was also very private. To talk about certain ideologies in classrooms, while holding your own ideology, is a difficult task when you have students that adamantly oppose you. For example, when talking about LGBT issues, what if a question is asked that only a LGBT person can answer? Do we let the unopposed idea stay uncontested? Sometimes we can give answers, but they taste unsatisfactory; as in, we can’t thoroughly answer the question because the experience isn’t ours. If that’s the case, the only way to get an answer from the question is if a student comes out, so to speak. At that point, it can be extremely awkward for the student, perhaps even embarrassing. I realize this is a highly specific example, but things like this do happen. To let the point stand uncontested, in a debate at least, means that the point is accepted.

What if the accepted point conflicts with your own ideology? Can you actually keep your own opinions out of the discussion? Instructors are the authority figures, and so the students tend to agree with you, at least vocally. One of the most surprising things to me, and to my students, this semester was when I told them they didn’t have to agree with the essay (speaking about Restak at that point in time). They believed that they must accept the essay as a Truth to learn. The same applies when you confer your ideology in the classroom. They will always agree with you. Even in their papers, differing from Natalie’s students, they agree with you, to the point where you can tell they don’t agree because of the language of the essay.

Perhaps I haven’t stated in a coherent manner the issue I was trying to take with the concept in the social-epistemic model Berlin talks about. Injecting your own ideology into the classroom is difficult to keep from doing; however, discussions about ideology can still be beneficial. I just find it hard to bring up these issues in class because of the students’ apathy to most of the issues and an innate anxiety about discussing the issues due to anger, awkwardness, etc. Trina’s suggestion about setting ground rules is something I can get behind, but I also find students can and will break those ground rules when in a heated debate. Since working at the UCEW, one of the hardest clients I ever had to help was not one where the student was difficult and resistant to any help, but one where I had to help construct an essay that directly opposed my own viewpoints and watch the student create and use “facts.” But they were facts I could have countered with others, divulging my own views. Creating a discussion about the highly contested issue would not have helped the student become a better writer, I believe; focusing on how the student can implement his or her ideas into the paper and then creating a logical structure helps more.

(Note: I love having ideological discussions and encountering all these new and opposing ideas, despite the above paragraphs.)