Austin

Hello, my name is Austin. I'm an MA who plans to go for his PHD p. In my spare time I design RPGs and play way too many video games. I have an excellent pair of ankles.

Dec 092015
 

So, I admit I’ve been terrible at posting on this. I mean, look at the date on this. I’m a horrible student.

…But this class has helped me think about my teaching a lot.

Going in, I was really more focused on what was being said in the readings. I got hyped for Richard Restak! I was going to…

…okay, I couldn’t get hyped for Richard Restak, I hate the guy with a passion after this.

But I was deterermined to teach people about these IMPORTANT IDEAS, and WRITING, at the SAME TIME.

And I do realize that I have an ethical duty to share those ideas, but I also know now that my job isn’t so much to be some sort of defmented social studies teacher, but a rhetoric teacher. That’s what these essays are for.

Hell, that’s why Richard Restak’s essay is full of more logical fallacies than a dinner conversation with my dad after a few drinks.

No one gives a DAMN about what any of these people actually have to say; it’s all about how it’s being said. And in the future, I want to make sure my syllabus reflects that.

I want to restructure my sequences so that they start with rhetoric, and move on to more engaging topics over time. I might even spend more time allowing my students to do their own research.  Though… I’m a little afraid as to what will happen.

…In any case, I want to thank you all for putting up with me during this semester. It’s been great.

 

 Posted by at 8:38 am
Dec 092015
 

As Bartholemae argues, it’s impossible to discuss something without evoking what has been said (or rather, written) in the past. That’s come to light a few times in my grading.

During Essay 1, with one reading, I had a lot of students who basically just restated the reading’s main point. I gave out a lot of Cs, at that point. Over time, their arguements got more nuanced.

But when Essay 4 came around, with one topic? Everyone fell back into the pattern of restating things. It was FRUSTRATING. I was thinking, “is something wrong? How could my whole class be doing this?”

…Then I had a realization; it’s really hard to come up with an original thought when all you have is a single view point to work from. It’s not impossible, but there’s that whole inescapable pit of language thing. You either agree with it, or you disagree. That’s it.

So perhaps those early essays should be structured differently. Rather than having them focus on WHAT the author is saying, we should have them focus primarily on how it’s being said. How is this person making their arguement? Why are they doing it this way? I don’t care if you agree ot not, I want to know what the rhetoric at play is. Identify rhetorical devices and logical fallacies. Talk about what they might have left out, or have done differently.

Then, once they have a grasp of that, they can start constructing their own rhetorical arguements and persuasive essays.

 Posted by at 8:30 am
Dec 092015
 

So, I wanted to explain one of my philosophies in the light of the whole Cognitive “our students can’t think” angle that showed up in class.

Namely, the idea of encouraging students to think.

When I was in high school, I had thoughts. A lot of thoughts. Dumb thoughts, at times, but thoughts. It was a nerve wracking time for me. I was growing up in a Post 9/11 world, coming of age during the biggest financial crisis in decades, and reaching the point in life where I was expected to make some sort of final decision about my life. There was a lot going on in my head.

But my issue was… well… I wasn’t sure what to do with it. My biggest moment of enlightenment came when I was assigned a simple pre-class response, where I had to explain why I liked a certain song. I knew why I liked the song. I had feelings associated with the song. But I had never been asked to put them into words before.

And… that’s really what our job is, right? Teaching people to put thoughts into words. Doing so will give people a more nuanced understanding of those thoughts, but it doesn’t mean they weren’t there to begin with.

 Posted by at 8:22 am
Dec 082015
 

This NPR Article talks about something called the Disilusionment Phase. That is to say, the time of year where most teachers decide they can’t take it anymore. The endless pit of despair that is october and november.

And for me, that phase hit pretty hard. I am a ball of anxiety. I constantly worry I’m letting my students down. My feedback has been painfully slow. I feel as though my students aren’t engaged enough. I feel, at times, like I might not be able to do this.

That’s normal, and it never goes away. It’s like an educators version of imposter syndrome. That feeling that you’re not really sure how you got to your current position.

…This article helped show me that I’m not alone. That, for whatever reason, was more effective than any of the encouragement I recieved all year. Yes, everything is going to be okay. Yes, you might feel like a stressful mess right now. But it’s okay to cry about it. It’s okay to bitch about it, at least in private. Things suck sometimes. But you’re doing it for a reason.

Even if that reason is a paycheck and a tuition remission. Educators have to eat too, you know.

 Posted by at 12:26 am
Dec 082015
 

While doing research for Writing Program CSI, I noticed that my chosen program (Stanford’s) relied on a different model of class design. Namely, in how FYC classes are selected. Rather than having a single, uniform sequence, each class openly advertises its chosen sequence to incoming students. Classes cover topics like “Rhetoric of the Supreme Court” and “Rhetoric of Death”. The intended goal is for students to select what sort of topic they want to focus on.

A part of me feels like this would be an interesting approach, though not one that we can currently adhere to in the classroom. Many of my students are forced to go in blind; unsure of what the class is actually going to be about. The result , as I ‘ve noticed with Richard Restak, is that students end up getting burnt out on topics they care nothing about.

A part of me wants to experiment with this. What would happen if students were allowed to pick a sequence part of the way through the course, and were given the agency to pursue their interests? Would that result in stronger papers and more engaged students? Or would it just result in a scattered, unfocused class?

 Posted by at 12:14 am
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
Oct 302015
 

In Response to Prompt 2 – How is seeing writing/communication as Artificial or Natural useful? 

Writing is, as Emig points out on page 124, a “primary technology”. A device through which an individual transforms their thoughts into a form that can be stored and reproduced by someone else. The whole concept is mind blowing when you really think about it. “I CAN PUT MY BRAIN ON PAPER!” It’s the earliest form of recording device.

But there’s still this distinct artificiality to it, at least when it’s done poorly. That’s kind of this underlying issue that a lot of these readings are trying to deal with. Bartholomae, when he talks about writing being caught up in culture, and of a need to be critical, speaks to a thought that I’ve had about writing ever since I started incorporating Engfish into my curriculum: some writing just feels… fake.

There’s a concept called the Uncanny Valley, which is a term coined by robotics professor Masahiro Mori. The idea is that humans are hardwired to recognize certain traits as being “human”. When these traits are replicated, we tend to accept them (and even find them cute) when they’re highly stylized. After a certain point, however, things become too realistic. You end up with something that looks extremely human, but is off somehow. On a bell curve, this creates a sharp dip in the response. Once things look 100% human, then acceptance levels spike back up. This creates a “valley” effect.

I’d argue that writing, particularly the writing that Bartholemae and Elbow are talking about, functions in a similar way. You have papers that are obviously just… bad writing. The person doing them is very young, or is new to English, or is just really bad at grammar. Or maybe they have this informal honesty to their writing, but they’re not quite college ready, yet. Up to that point, this may not be acceptable, but we accept the fact that the person in question is still learning.

But at the first year comp stage, the students typically have a functional grasp of language and grammar, and they’ve been exposed to “academic” discourse for the first time. They have an idea of what things are supposed to look like. They also have thoughts and opinions in their head, but may not know how to articulate them properly. So the end result is this kind of double translation. There’s the translation of natural thought and speech into text… but there’s also the translation of natural thought at speech into discourse, which is an entirely new language for most of these students. The result, often, is a text that looks correct to the student, but contains numerous flaws that inspire revulsion in the instructor.

This is where the problem comes in. These students should be able to think. They look like they can think, but that thought isn’t being articulated properly. The result is this idea that there’s some sort of mental deficiency in our students. That they’re incapable of thought, or caught up in social dynamics, or that there’s some sort of flaw in their logic. It ends up creating a situation where writing is like CGI in movies. When it’s done well, you don’t notice it. When it’s done poorly, it becomes the target of revulsion and mockery.

It would be more helpful to approach writing classes as a course on teaching students how to use an intellectual toolkit. We’re not some sort of department of Promethei that bring down the fire of Thought to the unwashed masses. Students can think. They just don’t know how to operate the machinery of the university yet.

 Posted by at 3:35 pm
Oct 162015
 

I removed the section on audience from my Rubric, because I had no idea how to properly grade it. I mean… Okay, don’t use slang. Be respectful. Provide context. Great, you’ve got it… Now what?

…Audience is a weird thing for me in general. On one hand, it’s been a constant problem among my students. I have one student who relies very heavily on pop culture references, but assumes that the reader will obviously know what she’s talking about. How could you NOT know about Kylie and Tyga? They’re all over Instagram. Don’t you use Instagram, Mr. Lang?

…So, on that angle, yes. Audience is important. The idea of removing audience from writing (like Bartholomae and Elbow discuss) is risky.

Yet, I just recently helped a recent graduate with her first paper: a personal reflection written in APA. It was a very weird assignment; asking the student to be simultaneously professional and intimate. Like cuddling up to someone during a Job Interview.

I was able to figure out the instructor’s intent (drilling the student on APA via a low stakes paper), but she was so caught up in what she thought the “tone” for APA was supposed to be that she completely forgot her rhetorical purpose. The paper reeked of Engfish. She was trying to write about herself without actually being present. This perceived academic audience sucked the life out of her paper.

So what I ended up doing recently was to tell students to just… be themselves. But I’m really not sure how to approach this. Audience is important, but… Little confused.

 

 Posted by at 11:31 am
Oct 162015
 

After the session two weeks ago, in which we discussed Engfish, I decided that this was a critical thing I needed to share with my students. All of them have used this very formal, stilted style that doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Doing a small amount of research, I found this transcript of Ken Macorie’s discussion of Engfish., which I shared with the class.

…it went over like a dead fish. This clearly was not going to work.

Then, I remembered the tried and true method of getting my students to actually engage with the class… GAME SHOWS.

This is what I came up with. It’s a quiz based on the Macorie article, using a free service called Kahoot. It’s funny, irreverent, and allows the students to engage with the material anonymously. Each example of Engfish should be explained after the quiz question is answered, and the overall tone should be kind of funny.

My current plan is to incorporate Kahoot into my next sample work session, by using examples of Engfish from the class’s texts. Everyone really seems to love it, and the anonymity means that more people are willing to participate. (Of course… you can check the answers online afterward to see who didn’t answer the questions!)

I’m looking forward to seeing the effect this has on my student’s work. You can get kahoot at… well… Getkahoot.com.

 Posted by at 11:13 am
Sep 252015
 

In the Writing Center, we’re given a huge amount of instruction on how to critique papers, but we’re told (almost explicitly) never to grade or edit. It’s not considered helpful to give someone a grade; partially because every professor grades differently, but also because the way we grade thing tends to be too structured for the general touchy-feeliness that the Writing Center employs. “Don’t focus on fixing the document, focus on improving the students skill as a writer!”

In the writing center, that really works. We only ever work with one paper in a given session, and the student is always physically present. We can point at specific things, offer suggestions… there’s constructive criticism here.

In a classroom setting, though, things are very… faceless. Even though we have these much lauded small class sizes, things are detached. I found Faigley’s discussion of different kinds of papers here to be really telling. All of these individualized “autobiographical” essays actually have a profound psychological effect: they make you actually consider the student as human being, rather than the student as faceless writer.

Our current model; the one where we give students a single topic to write about, inevitably results in a homogeneous wall of papers. Students don’t know how to deviate from a prompt yet, which means that the majority of papers hit the same notes, quote the same sound bites, and use very similar language. If all the papers seem the same, it’s no wonder that all of the responses seem the same. I’m not sure if this is a flaw in our pedagogy, or a flaw in how we look at grading.

In a perfect world, I would love to take the UCEW’s approach of working one on one with people. There’s just not enough time. 

 

 Posted by at 2:31 pm
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