Melissa

Oct 302015
 

As mentioned by others, using ideology in the classroom proves to be a difficult task. Indeed, even Berlin, who champions social-epistemic rhetoric, concedes that this approach “is the least formulaic and the most difficult to carry out.”

In order to free the consciousness of students, “teacher and student [must] work together to shape the content of the liberatory classroom.” I struggle to create this kind of classroom experience. My students seem more interested in the topic of this sequence. However, this interest did not translate to a fruitful class discussion on the readings. When I asked questions, students were hesitant to speak or repeated something that Savage/Vaid said. When I asked more directly about their thoughts, they grew silent and avoided eye contact. Even today when I announced they could focus on any social issue in this essay, no one wanted to offer up a possible topic.

It’s hard not to fill these silences with my own voice, with my own thoughts. I know that when I do share my personal opinion with them, they soak it up like a sponge. To many, my opinion becomes the right opinion, which prevents the joint learning of the student-teacher relationship from occurring (and makes grading essays particularly tiresome when I hear my thoughts again and again).

Interestingly, this idea of differing ideologies in the classroom came up in my colloquium this week. My IOR posed a challenging question to us: What would you have done if you had a student stand up in ardent opposition to LGBT rights and he/she cited religious texts as support?

In the best case scenario, we would want to engage with that student, following the line of his/her thinking, offering rebuttals, and giving that student different aspects to consider. Ideally, thinking about both sides of the argument would help the student become more aware of his/her ideology (where it derives from, how he/she negotiates it when faced with new, and possibly conflicting, information etc.). But I think I would have trouble keeping my own opinions out of a discussion on a topic I feel so strongly about. Could I just stand there and listen to a student respond to a question in a way that seems so “wrong” to me? Could I prevent a lively debate from becoming a heated one? I’m sure I’ll find out sometime during my teaching career.

Oct 242015
 

In last night’s class, we discussed how some languages have words that can more fully express what we mean.  Dr. Mason was searching for a word that meant homesickness for a home that never existed. I remembered seeing this word on Word Porn’s facebook page. It took me some time, but I tracked down the word: Hiraeth.

Hiraeth. (n). A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief, for the lost places of your past.

Great word, right?

I thought I’d provide a link to other words available in other languages that we do not have in English: http://www.highexistence.com/theres-a-word-for-that-25-expressions-you-should-have-in-your-vocabulary/

There are other lists like this out there, of course. But this was the one I found Hiraeth on. Some of my favorites include: mamihlapinatapai, fernweh, and nefelibata.

Oct 162015
 

In our first reading, Elbow notes that an audience can act as a beneficial or detrimental force. He goes on to state how the idea of an audience often acts as a disruptive force, making the production of an essay difficult for FYC students. I believe this is the case for many of my students. My students are so concerned about “sounding academic” that their writing obscures their meaning or prevents them from discovering new meaning. I understand what they are attempting to do. They are trying to place themselves in the discourse (and, of course, get full points on the audience portion of the grading rubric). But in their flurry of ten-dollar words and complex sentence structures, I am left confused and somewhat frustrated.

After one a round of particularly dreadful rough drafts, I tried a freewriting activity in class. My directions were simple: take out a sheet of paper and pen and write for 15 minutes without stopping. Do not pause. Do not erase. Do not revise. Just write and see where it takes you, what ideas it generates. I set them on their task. They seemed confused when I told them that this assignment would not be collected.

I could sense their hesitancy as they wrote, struggling to keep their pen moving and their ideas flowing. Besides the fact that they were burnt out on the topic of technology, they struggled to ignore audience. Perhaps this struggle will persist as most of their writing occurs in a classroom setting. So, of course, they construct these pieces of work knowing that they will be seen, commented on, and graded. Can they learn to ignore audience (at least in the beginning stages of writing)? And if they did, would their writing be different/better as a result? What would my students’ papers look like if they knew I would not see them?

Despite the activity’s mixed success, I plan to use more freewriting activities. I’ll update with any promising developments.

Oct 112015
 

According to EAT, the midterm reflection assignment is an opportunity for students to practice metathinking. By engaging in this activity “they develop awareness of what they’ve learned in the class.”

As I sat and read their reflections this afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised. My students (for the most part) put forth effort in their reflective writing. In their conferences, several students reported how helpful it was to go back and read their work and my comments. They appreciated seeing how their writing has changed and progressed. They even identified areas where they still have trouble, offering up strategies to counteract those difficulties.

Though sitting through all those conferences was tiring (my voice felt like it was disappearing after I was done), I ultimately found them hugely rewarding. I not only got to hear from my students that they were actually learning from the class (thank goodness!), but I also got to sit with each student one-on-one and hear their questions and concerns.

I believe most of my students found the conferences helpful as well. After discussing their grades and their drafts, many students asked me if they could make an appointment or visit during my office hours to further work on their papers. After seeing how helpful one-on-one time could be, students requested more. Maybe it seems uncomfortable or daunting to an incoming freshman to set up an appointment with the teacher. Maybe it seems like doing so is an admittance of “I suck. I need help,” rather than seen as an opportunity to learn and grow. I think that having the opportunity to sit down with me allowed them to see that asking the teacher for guidance doesn’t mean that they are stupid or lacking. That is a huge step in the right direction. I expect more visitors during my office hours and emails in my inbox as the semester progresses.

Oct 012015
 

Anyone else envious of Murray?

In his article “The Listening Eye: Reflections on the Writing Conference,” Murray reflects that each year he teaches less and less, yet, his student seem to learn more and more.

His teaching strategies within (and outside) the classroom remind me of the practices we adopt at the UCEW. He notes: “I am critical and I certainly can be directive but I listen before I speak.” Like Murray, writing center consultants are taught to be attentive listeners, allowing the client to find their own voice, rather than offering up our own words. This way, they become writers that are more self-sufficient. Murray also lists the questions he asks his students when they come in to see him, labeling them as the “right” questions. They are thoughtful, probing questions that allow the student to draw forth what they really want to say (instead of what they think the teacher wants to hear). For students who come in to the UCEW quiet and reserved, consultants ask these kinds of questions to get at the heart of what the student thinks and wants to write about.

Murray puts it nicely when he notes “They follow language where it will lead them, and I follow them following language.” In an ideal world, I would follow my students’ language, taking the position of peer rather than apprentice. But as Murray notes, his style of teaching requires a certain climate, and that climate is not possible with our FYC course.

I can only parallel Murray’s teaching strategies as a consultant at the UCEW. This is probably (most likely) the reason I enjoy working there more than my time in the classroom.

I am envious of Murray.

But, then again, he does average seventy-five conferences a week.

So maybe my shade of green is not so dark.

Sep 272015
 

Elbow’s article explores the importance of liking. He suggests that teachers make an effort to get to know and like their students. Doing so will make it easier to evaluate and offer meaningful, constructive comments. When we like our students, we approach their essays as a willing, friendly, reader who will offer genuine advice. He notes: “If I like a piece, I don’t have to pussyfoot around my criticism. It’s when I don’t like their writing that I find myself tiptoeing: trying to find something nice to say—and usually sounding fake, often unclear.” I’ve had this experience while grading papers. For papers that I struggle to get through, I always try to start off my end comment with something positive (“You have some really great ideas here…”). This is often difficult, and I’m sure I sound insincere to my students. In this sense, I am not the receptive reader that the student needs to like his or her own writing.

While it is important that teachers like student writing (and therefore are able to criticize it better) it is equally (perhaps, more?) important for students to like their own writing. They are more motivated to revise and rework a paper if they actually care about it and what they have to say. This makes sense. However, as we have all noted in class, in the office, and in colloquium, students are completely burned out on the topic of technology. They never showed much interest in the topic in the first place, so three essays in and their passion for the topic is nonexistent. In this case, I’m not sure how to get them to “like” their work when they care so little about the topic. While I can work on “liking” my students/student writings, I can only hope that they’ll be more invested in the next theme, thus allowing them to grow as writers and critical thinkers.

Sep 182015
 

Murray asserts that process should be taught over product as it is through the writing process that we discover language, the world, and ourselves. While the ideas presented in “Teaching Writing as a Process” are interesting and compelling, I am not sure how well they would work with our first year composition sequence. It seems, in many ways, incompatible. He states, “This is not a question of correct or incorrect, of etiquette or custom. This is a matter of far higher importance.” While this point is well taken, in our ENC1101 courses we do not have this luxury. When we grade our papers with the rubric provided, we are essentially saying there is a “correct” and “incorrect” way of writing. Further, he also advises that in order for students to seek and find the truth we must avoid giving them assignments as doing so “cheat[s] your student of the opportunity to learn the process of discovery.” Again, another incompatibility. Our sequence (at least for first year GTAs) comes with standard prompts and standard readings which will, for the most part, produce essays following the same lines of thinking. We know what kind of essay we want to be produced. We know what kind of “truth” we want them to find. So, can Murray’s ideas meet the goals of first year composition? We cannot answer that question until we determine what the goals are for first year composition, bringing us back to the discussion we had during our first class.

Sep 082015
 

In our discussion last class we all noted our desire to use the new paradigm and how our efforts sometimes fall short. As many stated in their pre-class posts, we need a model in order to leave the old paradigm behind.

Hairston notes that part of the reason this paradigm shift is slow (and therefore slow in providing us models) is because of the attitude towards freshman writing courses. Many view writing as a service or a skill. Such a view “ignores that importance of writing as a basic method of learning, taking away any incentive for the writing teacher to grow professionally. People who teach skills and provide services are traditionally less respected and rewarded than those who teach theory, and hiring hordes of adjuncts and temporary instructors and assigning them to compositions courses reinforces this value system. Consequently there is no external pressure to find a better way to teach writing.” Hiring these particular kinds of instructors only further fuels the idea that their jobs/courses are less respected and since these positions don’t receive respect, they’ll continue to be filled by non-theorists. Can we break this cycle? Such a task seems difficult as more and more programs place graduate students in the classroom as instructors. 

However, Hairston remains optimistic, identifying a handful of promising signs that change is occurring. One of which relates to the classes we have to take: “graduate assistants who are in traditional literary programs rather than rhetoric programs are getting their in-service training from the rhetoric and composition specialists in their departments.” He concludes that due to this kind of training, GTAs will most likely pick up and use the new paradigm. This made me think back to our discussion of IORs. Ultimately, GTAs would benefit from having an IOR who teaches first year composition courses (I have trouble understanding why this isn’t the case for the program at FAU).  So maybe things are changing, but more can be done to offer instructors the tools and models needed to follow the new paradigm. Which brings me to my final thought: If our current system were to change (as we discussed in class Friday), wouldn’t we be moving farther away from the progress Hairston envisions? 

Sep 022015
 

From this week’s readings, I found the Freire article most interesting. Freire posits that the banking method of education is a tool of oppression. In this system, teachers are in a privileged position and the students are robbed of their ability to gain true knowledge “through invention and reinvention.”

I never thought to look critically at the relationships I had with my teachers in the classroom. I did as I was told. In some cases, that meant I was a passive recipient of knowledge and in other environments, I grappled with the material at hand, forming opinions of my own and reforming those opinions by discussing them with the teacher and the rest of the class. Looking back, I always preferred the problem posing method. In the banking method, I simply memorized content and spat it back out, knowing that such an act was exactly what the teacher wanted. That’s how I would get an “A.” But how much did I learn from this method? Memorization does not equate knowledge. Sure, I could define those terms or identify these patterns, but did I truly understand them? Was I investigating other ways of looking at the concepts taught?

Upon examining my education thus far, I feel as if the banking method typified my elementary, middle, and most of my high school education. Perhaps, this method was in place as my teachers were motivated by AP exams and standardized tests to “fill” their students with the “right” answers. However, my undergraduate studies more closely resemble the problem posing method. I’m not sure if the switch indicates that the paradigm is shifting (though I hope this is the case), or if it simply means that as a young adult in college, I am given more free reign to critically engage with the material.

Aug 242015
 

Hello! I’m Melissa. I am a first year English MA student. I got my BA from Nova Southeastern University, which has a TINY English program. I believe I was one of twenty-eight English majors. In the entire school.

Other things to know about me: I am obsessed with penguins. They’re the best. I’m also a big HP/GoT fan. Before starting at FAU, I used to be a barista, so my caffeine addiction not only runs deep but is also very particular.

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