Jason B

Dec 082015
 

Coming to the end of my first finals week, I’m learning that it is really important to set boundaries with students.

While I have a habit of working late into the night (it’s the only time I have to really work on my own stuff, and the ideas seem to come together better), I need to keep to the 9-5 email schedule I set at the beginning of the semester. Early on, I was in the habit of answering all emails as soon as possible, even those that arrived at ridiculous hours of the night/morning. Well, Saturday night that bit me in the ass.

I had just finished up the final paper that I had to do for the semester, and was heading off to get some sleep when my phone indicated (loudly) that I had a message. As it was 12am (and I was in no state to be discussing anything with a student), I decided to ignore it. About 15 minutes later, the phone went off again. I’m not certain if this is just me, but when something disturbs me when I’m trying to fall asleep, it resets the entire process. This happened two more times before I decided to just shut my phone completely off.The next morning I had 7 emails from 4 different students asking me either look at their thesis or explain where it is that they can find the Error Tracking log (because I guess it moved since midterms? Nope, still on Blackboard). Yeah, that was a fun Sunday morning.

Edit: I guess I should also mention that the majority of the emails were for things that were due to Blackboard Sunday morning. This isn’t so much about late night emails as it is about people expecting quick responses at late hours.

This brings me to my second revelation: printouts are probably going to be my best friend. Any time I post something on Blackboard, state that it can be found on Blackboard during class, and email out a reminder that IT IS ON BLACKBOARD, I still receive a few emails asking if I can send the student a copy (or asking where it is that they can find it). Cleaning out my messages after the semester ends is going to be fun. I’m almost positive I received around 100 during reading week. Sadly, this is not hyperbole.

But hey, I no longer have to work retail during Black Friday or Christmas Eve. So, there’s that… I guess?

Dec 082015
 

To help me write my theory camp essay, I ended up reading quite a bit of James Berlin’s work. While I’m still not a huge fan of how Berlin writes, I feel that he offers some good suggestions on how to create a classroom that is conducive to active student participation. I feel that my greatest struggle throughout the semester was in trying to get my students to see themselves as active participants, what Berlin calls active “agents” (“Rhetoric and Ideology in the Writing Class” 491), within the class. I feel that this problem is created because of unequal power-relations within the classroom. As much as I tried to be more of a “mediator” (Berlin, “Poststructuralism and Cultural Studies” 32) than an authority-figure, the general assumption of the class seemed to be that I hold the secret for the desired “A” (or maybe just “passing”?) grade. Seeing restatements, or, even worse, misinterpretations, of things I had brought up during class present in papers was very disheartening. I know for a fact that they possess their own opinions, their own knowledge, and their own beliefs, but very few of my students seemed willing to “risk” presenting these ideas to me. However, those few students who did present their unique, personal beliefs tended to have the strongest papers for each batch of essays.

As such, I feel that Berlin’s belief that students are “transformative intellectuals” (26) is something that students need to know at the start of the semester (actually, I think they need to know this from day 1 of ENC 1101). I also feel that students need to be made aware that I am not only open to critique, but that they must question the validity of my ideas and opinions. To do so, I feel that having students first examine and discuss their own “[formative] personal experiences” (26) with their classmates, and figure out how these experiences interact with a reading, would help them to see that they are not just passive objects in the classroom.

I will probably end up rereading Berlin while planning my courses next semester. Although my inexperience with composition studies still leads to some difficulties in understanding, I’m starting to see some connections and allowing them to influence how I present myself as a teacher.

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.

Oct 302015
 

In Peter Elbow’s “Being a Writer vs. Being an Academic,” Elbow talks about the need for readers to “listen caringly” (75). As Elbow also goes on to claim that writers only get to “decide . . . [intention],” as the reader gets to “decide what [was] heard” (76), I believe Elbow would view the act of revision, with audience in mind, as an act of “writing as listening.” The reason behind this is because Elbow, quite often, refers to the writing process as a speech-related act, as “dialogue” (79), in which the writer presents and the audience interprets. Additionally, those writings not intended for an audience outside of the author, those writings that Elbow refers to as “monologue” (79), could be interpreted as being “writing as listening.” However, both of these acts, audience-focused revision and private writing, can be said to merge the act of writing/speaking with that of reading/listening, as the writer is forced to become a member of the audience, either because he or she is the sole intended audience or because he or she needs to understand how the writing will be interpreted by a wider audience. By transforming into a reader/writer, a writer would be forced to both speak and listen to what is being said/written.

Additionally, Elbow may view the writing that grants us an “[awareness] of the positions from which [we]  write” (79) as an act of “writing as listening,” as we write down our thoughts and then gain insights into ourselves from reading/interpreting these thoughts. These insights can lead to further writing, which can eventually lead to more insights.

Oct 162015
 

Peter Elbow talks about private language as a way in which children can “[build] sandcastles or draw pictures” (58), either for themselves or to be shown to others. The relation between these two ideas, private work versus public work, seems to be extremely important. While many of my students are used to writing for a grade, few of them seem to actually write to develop or express ideas. In many of my students papers, they seem to be unwilling to take the risk of letting me view their “experience[s] and material[s]” (57).

I believe this to be because, while getting a low grade is unpleasant, getting a “subpar” grade on something that you care about is truly painful. There is a difference between getting an “F” on a generic paper about technology and getting an “F” on a paper dealing with something you truly love. However, because there is nothing of themselves in the paper, or because they honestly don’t believe what it is that they’re writing, the generic technology paper lacks purpose.

Instead of trying to convince their reader, they present information in a way that, while technically completing the task, makes me wonder: “What the hell is the point of this?!”

The worst attempts happen when it is obvious that the student doesn’t even believe what he/she is writing. As they are unable to “initiate” the argument, they are forced to “reply” to general classroom discussions instead of focusing on how to develop and “sustain” (57) their argument. When this happens, but I am able to see tiny glimpses of the student’s inner-feelings peeking through generic support, I want to hurl my laptop across my room. It shows that there is something there. It acknowledges the fact that the student is not hopeless. However, it shows the problem that comes with the teacher-student power dynamic.

The student is scared of me. I am not a friend. I am the enemy. I offer nothing except big words meant to confuse. I offer crushed dreams. So instead of presenting themselves to me, they present what they believe it is that I want to see.

Damn it, all I want to see is an essay that contains a hint of who they are. And a Works Cited page.

I may have to settle for only the Works Cited page.

Oct 022015
 

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I really dislike grading. While I understand the point of grading (because they pay us to do it, right?), I have this awful feeling that a “C-” will cause a student to shut down, as opposed to desiring to improve. While there were vast improvements between the two essays, most of those improvements happened to students who had a grade that was originally within the high-C to mid-B range. I had one student who went from a “C-” to a “B+” (out of the more than 15 “C-” grades given), because she actually brought her second essay to me during office hours and worked on it with me. However, 1 out of 15 doesn’t seem all that promising.

To combat this fear, I’ve decided to allow students the ability to “revise” their essays during the conference. While the prompt allows for a student to argue that they deserve a better grade, to be their own “defense lawyer”  against my status of “judge”(Elbow 332), I felt that they would be better served by being allowed to use my comments as a means of training. While the possibility of arguing for a higher grade is still available to all of my students, I’ve offered them the ability to move up 1/3rd of a letter grade (say, from a “C-” to a “C”) by briefly explaining how they would change one problem area in their essay.

My hope is that by allowing them to raise their grades slightly, the students will come to see me as less of an enemy. Additionally, I hope that this will get my students into the habit of revising their writing (which they swear they do, but… yeah, right). Depending on how well this works out, I may get in the habit of allowing minimal revisions after a grade is posted.

Sep 252015
 

While, for the most part, I enjoy reading my students essays, I find myself constantly wanting to comment about “what I would have done” when reading a section that doesn’t work (because either it doesn’t relate to the thesis or the misplacement of [relevant] support interrupts a decent organizational scheme). I have tried to keep these comments to a minimum, they mostly only appear when I can see that a connection could be created between the support and the thesis (especially if the support is extremely unique). However, the thought of removing the voice of my students and replacing it with my own voice makes me cringe.

The fact that many of my students really do seem to be “writing for a grade” (I’m pretty sure this appears somewhere in Lynn V. Bloom’s “Why I (Used to) Hate to Give Grades,” but I cannot find exactly where) makes this fear a possible reality. There have been far too many, “I don’t know what to do, how should I do this?” conversations between myself and my students during class for me to feel comfortable.

While I enjoy writing and revising my own work, I’m fairly certain that having to read 44 of my own essays would make me smash my face into a wall. Literally. In the correct sense. Don’t question my habits.

However, there are also those students (in my case, the singular form is more accurate) whose desire to improve their grade causes them to actually write something that is both well-written and enjoyable (I’ve found that these two terms are not synonymous). In these cases (or, well, “this case”), explaining how I would handle a piece of support to better connect to their thesis sometimes leads them to other avenues of exploration.

Of course, that fear is still there.

Due to this fear, I’ve found that implementing multiple group based pre-drafting exercises is highly beneficial. By limiting the amount of time I can speak with an individual student, the students have come to rely upon themselves and their peers. While I still get the occasional question about “what I would do,” this question doesn’t come up as often as it did three weeks ago.

Of course, that fear is still there.

Sep 182015
 

While grading the final drafts for Essay One, I began to notice that my students broke down into three categories. Of course, there were those students who didn’t have a thesis. These students papers tended to only summarize the reading; most information present in their essay was pulled directly from Restak, and there were few, if any, outside examples. The next group of students all had a thesis; however, the thesis used was something talked about during class, in many cases using my own words. While these papers were stronger than those papers lacking a thesis, after listing examples I, or a fellow student, had brought up during class, the essays would then abruptly end, summarize Restak’s article (if there was additional content needed for length requirements), or bring in information/examples that didn’t relate to the thesis (again, due to length requirements). My final group of students, the precious few, had essays with a thesis that focused on something that they seemed to feel very passionately about. These papers, by a large margin, were not only easier to read, the support was both unique and relevant. While there were still small problems with unrelated support, most of that support could have been connected to the thesis easily.

Many of this latter group, to use Sondra Perl’s words, seemed at times to be “lost . . . or excited” (369) by their own work, even if the students were less than enthusiastic about Richard Restak. I found myself, largely, commenting on ideas for expanding support. I also found myself using many exclamation points.

The fact that these students found their “potential voice[s]” (Murray 3), and the benefit that this was to their papers, made me realize that I had perhaps done my class a disservice by trying to connect outside ideas to Restak’s article. I believe, in the future, I will have an entire class period devoted to students first writing about something that they are passionate about, finding if this passion can connect to the article, and then have students create a working thesis. This may end in failure, but my hope is that it will, at the very least, help some of my students find their own voice. If successful, I will probably follow this with a connected assignment focusing on unique support.

Sep 062015
 

Preemptive apology: It’s late. I’m tired. My grammar here may (probably will) suck. Please don’t send me to the you-know-what.

So, I guess it is somewhat funny that I name-dropped an anarchist (Joseph Déjacque, strictly due to Paulo Freire’s usage of the word “libertarian” (2)) into a conversation about an author who was a Marxist (as I believe was stated during class; however, I did the big no-no and looked him up on Wikipedia to discover that he was a Marxist humanist).  It’s also somewhat embarrassing. However, this shows how effective propaganda can be when used correctly.

I decided, as an experiment, to reread “The “Banking” Concept of Education” and highlight every instance where the words “reactionary” (or any word closely related, i.e., “reaction”) or “revolutionary” (or any word closely related) were used. The first time I stumbled across the word “oppression” (Freire 1), I decided to highlight any employment of that word (and any word closely related to it), as well. Needless to say, by the end of the second page, I realized that this task was going to be quite large. I also started highlighting additional words as I continued reading (I’ll do a small list at the end).

What this task taught me was two-fold. First, while I’ve always understood the power of words, and the importance of repetition with key words, I don’t believe I had a full understanding of how powerful they actually can be. As I stated in my previous post, by the end of the article, I had visions of barricades in my head. I had originally thought that this was simply a part of my character. While there can be no doubt that my own personal feelings played a part in this, I now understand that this was Freire’s intention. By appealing to my emotions, especially as they were already highly sympathetic to Freire, Freire transformed me from a simple radical into one of his “revolutionary educators” (3).

The second thing I learned was far simpler. I have way too much free time.

Words/Ideas (with number of appearances)*, in no particular order: Alienated (8), Oppression/Suppression/Subordination/Repression (28), Freedom/Liberty (12), Domination (8), Dehumanization/Domestication (5), Revolution/Revolutionary (11), Reaction/Reactionary (2, but I probably missed some), Solidarity (3). *I did all of this with a physical copy, so I know that I probably missed quite a few words.

Sep 042015
 

To begin, I feel I must admit that I am highly biased in favor of Paulo Freire. The introduction, where readers are told both that Freire worked for the pre-coup Chilean government of Salvador Allende and that he went into exile following Augusto Pinochet’s coup, created a sense of sympathy within me that probably made me immediately more supportive of the ideas presented  within “The “Banking” Concept of Education”. Additionally, this idea of an “authoritarian” (Freire 7) style of teaching, that Freire labels as being “reactionary” (7), versus a “libertarian” (Freire 2) style of teaching (think more Joseph Dejacque and less Rand/Ron Paul with this term), which Freire defines as “revolutionary” (4), made me imagine a fictional world filled with desk-barricades. Needless to say, I am highly biased.

However, I feel that, in certain areas of teaching, a certain amount of “authoritarianism” (Freire 7) is necessary. For example, when teachers are discussing in-text citations. While there are multiple ways in which a student can acknowledge an author within the sentence itself, the author must but acknowledged. Additionally, there is only one acceptable location for a page/line number (seriously, this is bolded for emphasis). There can be no argument here, as it is either right, and the student is fine, or wrong, and we are forced to send the student to the Grammar Gu… I probably shouldn’t go there.

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