WA3 - Standardized Literacy

Why do students hate writing? What is it that makes them so completely resistant to the very idea of writing as they first come to college? Previous experiences, mainly; at some point most, if not all, of these students have had negative experiences with writing and with literacy in general. These experiences usually come from the schools they’ve attended; most of the students that actually do enjoy reading and writing do so because of influences at home, rather than at school. Their idea of what literacy is has been drilled repeatedly into their minds so many times that they don’t have the will or the energy to question it any more.

On the first day of my lab course, I asked each of the students to introduce themselves and to tell a little bit about their impressions of literacy, reading, and writing. It took some (figurative) prodding, but eventually we had a discussion going about what their main issues were with literacy. When I asked them what their previous experience in high school was like, the word “TAKS” got thrown around a lot, with many a grumble and moan. They pretty much explained to me that the teachers exclusively taught to prepare them for this standardized test, and, as a result, they naturally hated reading and writing. “Drill,” in any academic sense of the word, has a very negative connotation, as it implies that information is forcefully (and perhaps painfully) crammed into the minds of students, the implication being quite accurate.

Standardized testing forces us to ask a question not often acknowledged: can literacy be used against us? I suppose this depends on what sort of literacy we’re talking about. For example, I spent the first seventeen years of my life obeying authority figures. Probably more, but it was mainly in my most formative years. Parents, teachers, anyone with any amount of power, I was taught to obey. They tell me, “Don’t talk without permission,” and suddenly they’re surprised by how quiet I am. But, it also meant that I had to learn their way of doing things. So, naturally, I became a very good test-taker. Test-taking can be viewed as a form of literacy; it requires a specific set of skills, and it isn’t necessarily limited to one field of study. A certain amount of knowledge of how the test works, and one can discern what the correct response is to a question with little actual knowledge of the concepts. Study five minutes before the test, and I did better than most other students. But did I retain that knowledge? Of course not; the amount of effort required to gain it—even temporarily—was reflected in my ability, or lack thereof, to recall the knowledge years down the line. So I was a great test-taker, but that’s all I had really learned.

Therefore, when people who actually did possess true knowledge that they had attained and retained took a major standardized test (either SAT, ACT, or what was then referred to as the TAAS test), they fell far below the accepted standard by which students were judged simply because they didn’t know the specific facts that appeared on the test. They were very bright students, but on record, they were below average. The type of literacy that I possessed was used against them, even though their literacy may have been more vital.

This is the situation that most of these students have been put in. Their teachers have taught them according to this specific format, and even teach test-taking techniques in order to do well on standardized tests. I recall quite clearly during my senior year in my AP English course a lesson that focused around how to get the highest score on the SAT and ACT. On the former, we were encouraged to not answer questions if we were unsure of the correct answer, as false answers counted for negative points. This implies that it is actually better to never answer a question rather than to venture a guess, take a risk, and be wrong, even if a student learns from the risk taken.

Going back to the idea of “drilling,” it is important to remember that these first year composition students have had several—often arbitrary and contradictory—rules about grammar, sentence structure, and writing format drilled into their minds. Since these rules tend to change—often with time, but more often due to different teachers with varying degrees of stodginess and militant loyalty to “correct English”—the students are already confused as to what “proper” writing should be, and they naturally view themselves as terrible writers. I asked my students one day whether they consider themselves writers, and almost half of them said no, despite having already written in my class.

The problem is that, when asked to write an essay for an English class, all of those bad experiences and preconceptions and paranoia about “correct English” come rushing forth, and they’ve already got a huge mental block to writing before they’ve ever started. Since the rules are contradictory and always change, why learn them? And since they haven’t learned the rules and will write the “wrong” way, why write at all? It makes sense from their perspective.

I’ve tried to take steps to overcome this problem in my class, though since this is my first time teaching, it remains to be seen whether or not it will work. I make use of their dialogue journals by telling them to write. Just write. Sometimes I’ll give them a not-so-specific prompt that they can elaborate on, but I emphasize the importance on just writing. More importantly, I tell them to not worry about grammar or punctuation or proper English or format or even thesis. I noticed the vast majority of the class visibly and audibly relax when I said this. I also made the point of telling them that, should they get stuck, write the first thing that comes to mind, whether it has anything to do with what they were talking about or not. The point of this is to try and get rid of that mental block these student have, even on the most basic level from mind to paper, and to get them accustomed to putting ideas down in a written format. I told them that writing is like any other skill, in that it takes practice. I also use my own examples to illustrate that writing is a process, that the first draft always sucks. I rarely have a thesis until I finish a paper, much less a decent introduction, since I never quite know what the paper is about until it’s been mostly written. There is little point, for some people, in trying to come up with a thesis statement first and working from there, but since everyone writes different, this method may very well work for others.

As these students progress through school, they are expected to only really know one type of literacy, which is how to take tests well and to get high scores. The emphasis is very rarely on teaching the students concepts that will be useful to them in the future, much less to even think for themselves. According to the general consensus in my lab class, most of the students prefer prompts that are very specific and that outline in detail exactly what the instructor wants, rather than a vague or open-ended prompt that requires them to think critically or find a creative means to meet the requirements of an assignment. They aim to give a teacher the “right” answer, rather than an answer that most suits themselves. So, cryptic as many of us are as English teachers, they feel intense frustration when asked to write for us.

WA3 Response

Perhaps the strangest thing about this assignment was realizing and coming to terms with my current position as a student and a teacher all at once. Not only did I have to think back and draw upon my experiences as a student, even in high school, but I also had to think of what I've observed thus far as a brand-spanking new teacher. I wasn't aware that I'd developed these notions about how students function in class or this philosophy of teaching until I actually had to write them down.

I'm slightly afraid that I did a bit too much emotional burping about my rather intense hatred of standardized testing, but I hope that at least my students' reactions will help to bring the point across. Also, I had to really think, as usual, about the context in which I'm using the word "literacy." It was difficult to try and reconcile traditional ways of thinking of literacy (which I mentioned in terms of a student's ability to read and write) with a much broader definition (which I used to describe my own separate knowledge about test-taking). This could potentially confuse a reader.

And though I'm still, to this day, struggling with the most appropriate voice to use in an academic paper, I'm more and more tempted these days to throw a bit of humor into a paper. I'm becoming less convinced that it is somehow inappropriate, provided that it serves to emphasize a point and to educate a reader. I strongly believe that most of what a person will remember will be that which makes them laugh; it certainly makes a strong impression on them. Nonetheless, I still felt obligated to tone it down and to adopt a more serious tone, if nothing else, from force of habit. And I find this sense of obligation interesting, since it somewhat echoes the concerns that many first year comp students have expressed: that an academic paper is meant to be dull, uninteresting, and serious. I found the assignment to be very enlightening, both as a student, and as a teacher.

Literacy vs. Literacy

Chapter 3 of The Elements of Literacy primarily deals with literacy events--community discussions based on and around a particular text--and the various ways they are represented in different cultures. Lindquist and Seitz use several very different and somewhat unorthodox examples of such events and how literacy of the subject can effectively allow for better understanding in such situations.

For example, the film Mean Girls is used to illustrate different social cultures--in this case, high school cliques--and the implications they have on literacy. This is a pretty flimsy example. I was under the impression that ethnographic cultures were based on long-lasting and well-established groups that had deep connections with one another, rather than superficial connections. Sure, I can see how high school cliques form small groups that become segregated from each other--language being one way in which this separation is illustrated--but to call these cliques a "culture", I think, is an exaggeration. How long do these cliques usually last? 2-4 years? Most people abandon these superficial "cultures" by the time they become adults, except for the less socially-adjusted ones. Clinging to the social status that one had while in high school--for better or worse--is, after all, rather unhealthy and indicative of "living in the past." And bear in mind that, while in high school, most people weave in and out of various cliques as they try to develop a sense of self-identity. It's a pretty flimsy "culture."

Along the same lines, the example of the study of how literacy practices in such subcultures can influence authority, performed by Amy Shuman, described a group of girls that collaborated with each other to forge excuse notes and petition for a talent show based on Pink Floyd's "The Wall." One was effective, and one was not. Shuman claims that the difference in the acceptance of these acts was "that school authorities overlooked the excuse notes because they didn't disrupt any power relationships, while the collaborative petition was an effort to legitimately challenge the principal's authority." Shaky logic, if we start looking back and thinking of our own experiences with high school administration. The primary reason that the excuse notes worked while "The Wall" didn't was not because they girls were exceptionally skilled at subversion, but because of either apathy or incompetence on the administration's part. And really, these two forms of subversion--skipping class vs. promoting an anti-establishment/thought control agenda--aren't even in the same ballpark. Of course one was noticed and one wasn't; one is minute and superficial, and one is far larger in scale and, quite frankly, more important. Not the most effective study, and not one that would likely be improved a great deal by the mention of pictures sent via cell phone in the cafeteria, depending on what the pictures depicted.

There also seems to be a great deal of confusion, at least on my part, on what exactly a "text" is. This relates to the current definition of literacy versus the more traditional one (reading and writing). So, if the consensus nowadays is that literacy is any knowledge, anything that can be learned, does that also mean that anything that can be, for lack of a better word, consumed is a text? Lindquist and Seitz use an episode of The Shield as an example of a literacy event when describing the impact that knowledge of narco corridos can have on solving a crime. Many parts of the argument are valid, despite the impression one gets that this section of the book was written while the TV was left on to alleviate boredom. But if this interpretation is valid, then where to we draw the line when considering what is not a literacy event? I overheard a conversation in the library between two young women that enlightened me as to the relationship status and potential sexual promiscuity of one "Jeff," who I gathered was "smokin' hot." Is the conversation a text? If another person in my ethnographic group heard the same conversation, could we then have a literacy event based on this text?

Introducing a makeshift replica of the set of Star Trek as a literacy text is a little dubious, although it did apparently inspire many people to produce other "texts," such as amateur scripts. In this way, it seems, a subset culture (Star Trek fans) created a particular text (replica set of the bridge) based on another text (Star Trek), which inspired even more texts to be produced (amateur scripts) by an even more specific subset culture ("10- to 12-year-old science-fiction geek boys"). In this regard, the theory seems to work. Incidentally, as a side note, I wonder about the connotation of the word "geek" versus the word "nerd." What is the difference between the two? Is one offensive and another widely accepted, even complimentary? That's a discussion for another time.

NDoW, NGoW, Oh WoW!

The National Council of Teachers of English has established a National Day on Writing, celebrated on October 20. This is essentially an opportunity for writers of any medium, genre, or field of study to unite and share with each other their passion for writing. Whether their definition of writing consists of simply using pen and paper, texting their friends and family via cell phone, or submitting a video presentation in an otherwise traditional writing class, the NCTE wants to hear their stories and "read" what they've produced.

The idea behind this celebrated day is to emphasize the fact that "people in every walk of life, in every kind of work, and at every age write more than ever before for personal, professional, and civic purposes." Anyone and everyone, at some point, writes, even if their mediums and purposes are different. The fact that people are becoming more aware of this fact seems to help them identify themselves as writers and encourages them to write more, thereby helping their own lives and careers, as well as those around them.

Coming together to share their writing and experience the work of other writers helps to introduce people to new ideas and ways of thinking, which in turn educates them in how to better "write for different purposes, audiences, and occasions throughout their lifetimes." The National Day on Writing also helps teachers to better understand the importance of writing instruction at every level of education. By introducing young people to the various methods of writing--as well as pointing out methods of writing they've already been exposed to, unconsciously--we can help them realize that they already are very literate, just in different ways. Technology has become an important factor in this, considering that it has enabled us to write, produce, and communicate with greater speed and efficiency than ever before, allowing for a truly diverse--and yet very unified--community of writers. This national day promotes and celebrates that community.

One method in which writing is celebrates is via the National Gallery on Writing, to be unveiled on October 20. This digital archive truly brings all mediums of writing together, allowing anyone to submit one work of practically any writing medium that can be conceived. Essays, blogs, electronic presentations, videos, audio recordings, short fiction, documentaries, poetry, instructional writing, art, and much, much more.

The galleries in NGoW are many and varied, spanning across several different subjects, mediums, and genres. One gallery, "Beyond Penguins and Polar Bears," is devoted to raising awareness of the polar regions and the importance it has for the planet as a whole; they are putting their word out in several various ways, including "poetry, prose, essay, journal, narrative, and even multimedia." And anyone who actually gets the title of this blog will know very well how serious I am about gaming, not only as an entertainment medium, but also another form of art as well as a tool for learning. Well lo and behold, one gallery, entitled "Video Games as Learning Tools," is devoted to "studying video games, the culture surrounding them, and using them to produce new media," a field I'm sure to submit to in honor of NDoW.

People all around the country have already been forming a vast amount of galleries on the NGoW website, and virtually anyone is eligible to submit one work, so feel free. The more people submitting, the better NDoW--and therefore, writing--can be promoted. Some other ways to get involed include inviting anyone you know to submit a work for publication on the NGoW, promote NDoW and NGoW publicly, spread the word, communicate with other writers, and celebrate what writers have to offer. Also, the House of Representatives will be considering a proposal to make October 20 the official National Day on Writing, so contact your Congressional Representative and ask for support for the resolution.

Truly, October 20 is a day of celebration for all writers, which includes practically everyone. So go ahead, submit something!

Fish Logic

In light of today's discussion, I wanted to post this and find out everyone's reactions and responses.

Downs and Wardle’s “Teaching About Writing”

The study performed by Douglas Downs and Elizabeth Wardle attempts to point out the various flaws in standard first year composition writing courses, while simultaneously submitting a proposal for a change in the way these courses are taught. On some fronts, they seem to succeed. They point out that there is a distinct difference between writing about one subject and writing about another: that more than a mere difference in content, there is a difference in the style--and subsequently, the conventions--of writing. Therefore, a the teacher of a first year composition course should not, according to them, presume to know with absolute certainty that the specific type of writing they are teaching is the "right" one. However, part of the problem, it seems, is that the tremendous focus on spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. interferes with any improvement in writing that the students might make, straying far too close to what they have already struggled with in high school. Downs and Wardle follow up by explaining their methodology: forcing students to relate their own experiences with this current problem, and essentially writing about their own writing.

Interestingly enough, Downs and Wardle speak of the ways in which the writing of one subject might be entirely different from another, such as science and composition. But they manage to combine these styles of writing by using something very similar to the scientific method in their studies of first year composition courses. This might suggest that, though the subjects may be different, one method of writing could be used in a different way for different sort of content.

The anecdote concerning Jack reflects something that I've seen quite often in first year composition courses as well as remedial writing courses: a lack of confidence and self-trust. Most of these people don't identify themselves as writers, and therefore believe that they are ill-suited for writing. This is only reinforced by the fact that, during their early education in writing, they've been told time and time again by strictly traditional English teachers that they were doing things the "wrong" way. Changing these rules from year to year compounds the problem even further. They feel they can't get the hang of writing, so they believe they're terrible at it and ultimately give up. They've been told so many times that they're "wrong" that they refuse to even try. Because of that "wrong" label, they feel that nothing that they write has any merit.

One important aspect of Jack's course was that he was forced to write, regardless of whether it was right or wrong, good or bad. Then he started to see that, while not perfect, at least some of what he had to say did have merit and could be used. Once the "right" and "wrong" labels are removed, a student writer can begin to see a wider range of possibilities, and they will start to realize their own potential. Once these student realize that what they write is not inherently better or worse than what anyone else writes--that is, that it mostly depends on the amount of work put into the writing--they find their own voice. They find their confidence, and they start to trust themselves.

Now, along the lines of confidence, I'm not sure I agree with Downs and Wardles ideas of addressing shortcomings, at least publicly. It is always important to realize one's flaws and shortcomings, true; those who are entirely too certain of themselves typically can't learn anything. It is important to remain humble in that sense, but not to the point of self-depreciation, which many of these students have struggled already to overcome. I would tell these students to acknowledge the flaws and shortcomings in their work, but to do so privately or during workshopping and revision. But providing a list of shortcomings in a final piece of work (or as final as a paper will get) is like introducing oneself by saying "Nice to meet you; here's what's wrong with me." A little exaggerated, perhaps, as a person's work doesn't necessarily reflect them as a person, but the whole point behind rhetoric is to make an argument to convince the audience of the writer's position. There is a certain amount of influence that goes into that. So, if you're a particularly good writer, by listing your flaws you will end up convincing the audience that your argument is flawed, even if they didn't see those flaws before they were mentioned. That having been said, it's not necessarily a bad idea to force a first year composition student to acknowledge their flaws; it should just be emphasized that the one person that needs to see those flaws is the student themselves.