As Emig suggests, writing is a unique and introspective method of learning. Over the course of the semester, I have been trying to implement a method of instruction that utilizes this very simple principle (even more so after we discussed it in class). Emig makes a differentiation between writing and talking that I think can be bridged in a very practical way. At the beginning of every class in which I plan on having a discussion, I try to show some type of YouTube clip or the like and have my students respond in a freewriting exercise. They know that this will not be collected. Afterward, I ask students to share their thoughts on the issues and the conversation usually commences from there.

The important part (I think) here is that students are given an opportunity to chew on the subject while they write. In freewriting, they are becoming comfortable with the topics and perhaps more importantly becoming aware of their own true opinions of the issue. “Perhaps because there is a product involved, writing tends to be a more responsible and committed act than talking,” suggests Emig. I see the value in allowing students to commit to their thoughts/feelings on a particular topic in order to open up their confidence in talking aloud during conversation. Otherwise, I think students feel as if they are shooting from the hip and don’t want to embarrass themselves publicly. Therefore, freewriting becomes a form of testing their own waters. The discussion, then, will hopefully lead the students to further chew on these ideas and move into a more solidified, thorough understanding of their ideas. 

[There is something to be said about Process/Post-Process here that I am probably only hitting on the surface level.]

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.

I want to put my first blog post into conversation with my own experiences balancing discussion and “teaching.” In that post, I felt that there could be a place for narrative in my classroom, and I described a sort of hybrid classroom pedagogy where both Freire’s description of a teacher who “cognizes” and then “expounds” (5) and active student response and engagement had a place. I’m not sure I have really figured out how to make that work in practice, though. Freire’s dialogue-based approach appealed to me in the beginning, and in theory still appeals to me now. I still appreciate the idea that true knowledge “emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other” (Freire 1). Yet, in my own classroom, I have not really found dialogue to be useful except when analyzing the course readings. The dialogue-based approach presumes a willingness of the student to step beyond course materials and to engage with the world beyond. In my own classroom, I have found that the students are most willing to talk when they are trying to understand something more concrete: for instance, the contents of Helen Epstein’s article “AIDS, Inc.” There is something tangible there for them, something they can hold on to and harken back to when they begin to reach out. However, when the topic is “writing,” a vague and painful process for many of them, they are much less willing to chat.

When I hear the stories of some of my peers giving “lessons” on MLA or thesis development, I recoil. It is not that I think the students do not need a better understanding of the expectations for their writing. Instead, it’s that I have no experience being “taught” to write, and so can’t really envision what that experience looks like. Instead, I do for my students what my teachers did for me: show examples and offer tools. I’ve organized all of these “tools” in a file called Writing Resources on Blackboard (name ganked from Trina, thanks Trina!).  Sometimes, my classes take on a sort of give-and-take atmosphere, where I showcase the tools, walk the students through them, and then they ask questions and try to make sense of my expectations. Other times, they are silent and seemingly mystified. At these times, trying to engage the students in dialogue rarely does anything: they do not see the process of writing as something they can or should have a say in.

I’ve been contemplating attempting to “teach,” though. I’ve tried to imagine how a class lesson might look where, for instance, I just told them all about thesis statements. Mainly, this is because I still see some of my students struggling with understanding how and why their own writing is not matching the course expectations. For instance, I spent a good part of one class a few weeks back trying to explain to my students why one example thesis we were looking at was not yet “original.” (This was in response to reviewing the Grading Criteria for their Midterm Responses). It was difficult. Responding to sources–that comes easily to most of them. Using those sources in an argument–easy to some of them. Moving beyond those sources to envision an original and compelling claim–easy for very, very few of them. And it wasn’t just the “doing,” but the imagining of it.

What I have found most useful, then, is to do all I can to help them imagine what such an essay might look like. Looking at examples helps, revisiting our sources does too. I’m still not satisfied that they are seeing how fluid the whole process can be, and how the way they write and what they focus on for one assignment might not necessarily work for the next. I’m still trying to figure out the most universal approach for this.