As promised, I personally took part in the No Experience Necessary Competition/Festival on Friday. And thank goodness for the prompt listed on the theatre website; I had not actually started work on the project until around 2 am. (Like I said, it's a good project for procrastinators.) But the prompt was open enough to allow a great deal of freedom, and yet specific enough to generate some really great ideas. So I developed the idea for the play in about half an hour and spent the rest of the time writing and working out the kinks.
Around 5 am, I submitted the play--shortly before passing out due to sleep deprivation. All things considered, I'm very pleased with the results. For those of you who have never experienced this feeling--and this was my first--as critical as we typically are of our own work, there is no comparison to seeing the words you've written, the characters you've created, coming to life on stage. Even if you think you've written crap, the actors and director make it wonderful. I really can't say enough about the director and actors; they really did a fantastic job putting something like this together, a quality production, and in such a short amount of time. They made my work seem like so much more than I thought it could be.
I'm told that there were six or so submissions for the competition, and three of them were chosen to be performed. It was really incredible to see what the other playwrights had come up with, how much different their works were than mine. Their talent was readily apparent, seeing it on stage. There was a small audience, but I feel they greatly enjoyed the event.
I sincerely hope that this becomes a regular event in the future, and that it grows little by little. If we can get this kind of talent from just the few who have submitted this year, who knows what dozens or hundreds of others can produce. It has been a wonderful opportunity for me to interact with other, very creative individuals and learn about a different art form. It was certainly worthwhile.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Westward Expansion
Last week I interviewed Jim Anderson from the Department of Mass Media, Communication, and Theatre in order to learn more information about his involvement in the Commerce Week on Writing. We discussed, among other things, the No Experience Necessary 24 hour Playwriting Competition and Festival. I mentioned previously what an incredible opportunity this would be--particularly for amateur playwrights who want to jump into this art with both feet--but I didn't realize how true this was until I participated in the competition myself. More on this to come.
Jim Anderson and I spoke for a long while about various concepts, primarily the art of playwriting and how it applied to the competition, but also about professors whom we were both familiar with and their merits, similar interests held by students in different departments, and how those interests often interact and coincide with each other.
This made me realize one very important thing: as we are now, as a university, we are too esoteric in our individual departments. We are quaratined from each other, only interested in our own localized enviornments, even if we often share a great many similarities with those in other fields of study. Once we become graduate students (the only experience I can honestly speak from), there seems to be a great deal of pressure for us to become more and more focused in our fields of study, rather than to continue exploring new areas--and god forbid, new buildings.
This, naturally, is not true of everyone; I've noticed a lot more interaction between faculty members and students from different departments than there has been in the past, and it pleases me to see this. To completely ignore what others are doing is detrimental to our academic research, as well as our overall campus enviornment. I am constantly surprised by how many people in other departments are working on the same sorts of projects or fields of study that I am; the obvious thing to do is to collaborate with them. And I only find out about these kindred spirits by getting out of the Hall of Languages when I can, interacting with other people that I'm not familiar with, finding out what interests them.
This is a very simple step toward broadening our horizons: if nothing else, just go to another building and hang out in their lobby for a while. See how people interact with each other, how it differs from what you're used to. I've spent the better part of last week in the Performing Arts Center, and without trying I've met several individuals who I can relate to on some level, people who I now consider good friends. After talking to them about the profound similarities in our interests and studies, I realized that I should've met these people a long time ago.
There's no reason to be partitioned off from people who we can collaborate with. I propose an assignment to anyone who reads this: make it a point, within the next week, to take some time and go to another building on campus. Then start talking to the people there. Find out something about them. You might be surprised by what you discover.
Jim Anderson and I spoke for a long while about various concepts, primarily the art of playwriting and how it applied to the competition, but also about professors whom we were both familiar with and their merits, similar interests held by students in different departments, and how those interests often interact and coincide with each other.
This made me realize one very important thing: as we are now, as a university, we are too esoteric in our individual departments. We are quaratined from each other, only interested in our own localized enviornments, even if we often share a great many similarities with those in other fields of study. Once we become graduate students (the only experience I can honestly speak from), there seems to be a great deal of pressure for us to become more and more focused in our fields of study, rather than to continue exploring new areas--and god forbid, new buildings.
This, naturally, is not true of everyone; I've noticed a lot more interaction between faculty members and students from different departments than there has been in the past, and it pleases me to see this. To completely ignore what others are doing is detrimental to our academic research, as well as our overall campus enviornment. I am constantly surprised by how many people in other departments are working on the same sorts of projects or fields of study that I am; the obvious thing to do is to collaborate with them. And I only find out about these kindred spirits by getting out of the Hall of Languages when I can, interacting with other people that I'm not familiar with, finding out what interests them.
This is a very simple step toward broadening our horizons: if nothing else, just go to another building and hang out in their lobby for a while. See how people interact with each other, how it differs from what you're used to. I've spent the better part of last week in the Performing Arts Center, and without trying I've met several individuals who I can relate to on some level, people who I now consider good friends. After talking to them about the profound similarities in our interests and studies, I realized that I should've met these people a long time ago.
There's no reason to be partitioned off from people who we can collaborate with. I propose an assignment to anyone who reads this: make it a point, within the next week, to take some time and go to another building on campus. Then start talking to the people there. Find out something about them. You might be surprised by what you discover.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft agley"
In celebration of creative writing, Jim Anderson and the theatre department are offering a one hour workshop on the basics and format of playwriting here at Texas A&M University Commerce. This is part of a competition known as the No Experience Necessary 24 Hour Short Play Competition and Festival, a very unique idea of coming up with an idea for an 8-10 minute play and writing it for submission the very next day.
I think that this is a wonderful opportunity for individuals who may not have much experience in playwriting to get their creative works out to the public very quickly and with more focus on creative spontaneity than over-preparation. As a sometimes-serious fiction writer, I know how difficult it is sometimes to develop a very elaborate idea over the course of several months or years and how much preparation is required for such a feat. Sometimes my best work comes from pressure to get something written by the very next day; it is often the motivation I need to get creative.
Also, this program allows people who may not be familiar with playwriting and who would otherwise feel put off by such a specific genre to be briefly introduced to it and very quickly get involved in it on a very creative level. As is suggested by the title, no experience is necessary to develop something creative and worthwhile, and a project such as this will likely produce a great deal of different sorts of plays from people who otherwise would not even consider writing for such a medium.
Over these 24 hours, there will be plenty of guidance. Participants may attend an optional 1 hour workshop on playwriting in PAC 100 at 4:30 pm, Thursday October 22. Afterward, at 5:00 pm, participants may go to the Theatre Department website to obtain a prompt and instructions, and they will write an 8-10 minute play based on this prompt. Plays should be submitted no later than 10:00 am on Friday, October 23, to Jim_Anderson@TAMU-Commerce.edu , a short enough time to put plenty of pressure on writers to get their works in, again, something that I encourage, as a procrastinator. The committee that will look at these drafts includes Jim Anderson, Dr. John Hanners, and award-winning playwright Gary Burton, who I've had the good fortune of taking a theatre course from. As a side note, if you ever have the chance to see Doorknobs, a play written by Gary Burton, please do so; it was hands-down the best play that I had seen that year, and well-worth your time. Gary's an excellent playwright.
Once the top 5 plays are selected, playwrights will be invited to attend rehearsals at 3:00 pm on October 23. At 5:00, doors open for festival. This quick process should be an excellent experience for those who either procrastinate too much or have little to no experience with playwriting. John Waters once said that a great exercise for film students is to read a story in the newspaper, make a film based on it that day, and release the film the very next day. While he was speaking primarily of the film being based on a concept that had only entered the consciousness of the audience very recently, the same concept could apply to these potential playwrights. Think about a potential concept, recent or otherwise, write a play based on it, and submit it for rehearsals the very next day; since it only recently entered your consciousness, it will be new and fresh, and generally more potent. If I have the opportunity to do so, I will enter this contest myself, and I encourage anyone else to do the same.
I think that this is a wonderful opportunity for individuals who may not have much experience in playwriting to get their creative works out to the public very quickly and with more focus on creative spontaneity than over-preparation. As a sometimes-serious fiction writer, I know how difficult it is sometimes to develop a very elaborate idea over the course of several months or years and how much preparation is required for such a feat. Sometimes my best work comes from pressure to get something written by the very next day; it is often the motivation I need to get creative.
Also, this program allows people who may not be familiar with playwriting and who would otherwise feel put off by such a specific genre to be briefly introduced to it and very quickly get involved in it on a very creative level. As is suggested by the title, no experience is necessary to develop something creative and worthwhile, and a project such as this will likely produce a great deal of different sorts of plays from people who otherwise would not even consider writing for such a medium.
Over these 24 hours, there will be plenty of guidance. Participants may attend an optional 1 hour workshop on playwriting in PAC 100 at 4:30 pm, Thursday October 22. Afterward, at 5:00 pm, participants may go to the Theatre Department website to obtain a prompt and instructions, and they will write an 8-10 minute play based on this prompt. Plays should be submitted no later than 10:00 am on Friday, October 23, to Jim_Anderson@TAMU-Commerce.edu , a short enough time to put plenty of pressure on writers to get their works in, again, something that I encourage, as a procrastinator. The committee that will look at these drafts includes Jim Anderson, Dr. John Hanners, and award-winning playwright Gary Burton, who I've had the good fortune of taking a theatre course from. As a side note, if you ever have the chance to see Doorknobs, a play written by Gary Burton, please do so; it was hands-down the best play that I had seen that year, and well-worth your time. Gary's an excellent playwright.
Once the top 5 plays are selected, playwrights will be invited to attend rehearsals at 3:00 pm on October 23. At 5:00, doors open for festival. This quick process should be an excellent experience for those who either procrastinate too much or have little to no experience with playwriting. John Waters once said that a great exercise for film students is to read a story in the newspaper, make a film based on it that day, and release the film the very next day. While he was speaking primarily of the film being based on a concept that had only entered the consciousness of the audience very recently, the same concept could apply to these potential playwrights. Think about a potential concept, recent or otherwise, write a play based on it, and submit it for rehearsals the very next day; since it only recently entered your consciousness, it will be new and fresh, and generally more potent. If I have the opportunity to do so, I will enter this contest myself, and I encourage anyone else to do the same.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Who is a Writer?
Before You Read:
Do you consider yourself a writer? Why or why not?
What forms of writing do you use in your everyday life?
How do you feel that writing professionally differs from other forms of writing, if at all?
After You Read:
Has your opinion of what writing is changed after watching this video? In what way?
Can you relate to any of the interviewees and their opinions (for better or worse) on writing? Use specific examples.
Do you disagree with any of the interviewees’ views on writing? Explain why.
Do you consider yourself a writer? Why or why not?
What forms of writing do you use in your everyday life?
How do you feel that writing professionally differs from other forms of writing, if at all?
After You Read:
Has your opinion of what writing is changed after watching this video? In what way?
Can you relate to any of the interviewees and their opinions (for better or worse) on writing? Use specific examples.
Do you disagree with any of the interviewees’ views on writing? Explain why.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Didn't You Get the Memo?
Chapter 5 of Elements of Literacy primarily focuses on literacy in the workplace, what sorts of literary practices would be required in a particular work environment, and how this literacy effects the economy as a whole. It makes use of various films quite effectively to illustrate the evolution of business as we have entered the information age.
Certainly, acknowledging these films, such as Office Space and The Secret of My Success, and the ways in which they represent corporate life and evolution has its merits, considering film is ever a representation of the times, our lives, and our culture, whether intentionally or not. But, I think Lindquist and Seitz misinterpret certain aspects of these films and don't bother to elaborate on others.
For example, they point out that Office Space effectively satirizes the information exchange within the corporate structure by pointing out the folly of memos when compared to natural human error: the fact that Peter has to endure chastising from eight different bosses when he accidentally forgets to put an arbitrary cover sheet on his TPS reports. However, Lindquist and Seitz seem to argue that The Secret of My Success is somehow antithetical in its treatment of satire of corporate structure to Office Space, drawing a contrast to the theme of the film and painting its protagonist as some sort of hero.
Sure, Brantley learns how to circumvent the system and gain success for himself as well as his company, but the methods by which he does so suggest that the film is also a satire that makes an important point on the futility of the corporate system. Lindquist and Seitz point out that Brantley notices a significant problem with the convoluted and largely impersonal memo system that the company has in place, and that by exploiting this system, he is able to resolve the issue to "save the company." Well, isn't the fact that the literacy of the broken memo system caused the problem in the first place a comment on how preposterous the system is? Doesn't the fact that Brantley had to resort to subversive means to get into a position to make a difference suggest that a larger problem with this literacy system, and therefore satirizes it to prove that anyone can succeed if they exploit such problems?
Also, Lindquist and Seitz seem to suggest that Brantley was able to climb the corporate ladder exclusively due to his knowledge of the memo system working as a mail boy, but they gloss over the fact that at least part of his knowledge--his literacy--came from his boss's wife, who he had an affair with.
Also, Deborah Brandt's study in literacy is mentioned in a significant portion of this chapter, and being an important, thorough, and effective literacy scholar, I can understand why. But this is such a significant chunk of the text that I have to wonder why Deborah Brandt didn't just write this chapter herself. True, she gives plenty of vital information, but surely there is another side to this issue? Surely there are other studies that have offered different perspectives on literacy in the workplace? Why are none of them represented here, if nothing else, for the sake of thoroughness? Presenting only one side of an argument is little better than presenting Brandt's study as a whole with no additional dialogue from Lindquist or Seitz.
Though the problem of effective business communication is represented here via several examples of significant issues and satires, no real solution seems to be offered.
However, speaking of literacy promotion during such historical periods as WWII reminded me a bit of my experience during high school. It was normal for an army or navy recruiter to come visit our class about once or twice a year. However, very shortly after September 11, they came to our class on an almost biweekly basis. The recruiters often emphasized the future job opportunities available through their programs, specifically the various college degrees that were sponsored. They offered to pay for a significant portion of a student's college tuition in a wide variety of subjects and degrees, provided they joined the armed forces. And they also made sure to point out that combat was far from the only field in which they were looking to fill the ranks. It was an interesting concept, offering a college education in exchange for service, and in a lot of ways it seemed to promote literacy in a time in which literacy was extremely important.
Certainly, acknowledging these films, such as Office Space and The Secret of My Success, and the ways in which they represent corporate life and evolution has its merits, considering film is ever a representation of the times, our lives, and our culture, whether intentionally or not. But, I think Lindquist and Seitz misinterpret certain aspects of these films and don't bother to elaborate on others.
For example, they point out that Office Space effectively satirizes the information exchange within the corporate structure by pointing out the folly of memos when compared to natural human error: the fact that Peter has to endure chastising from eight different bosses when he accidentally forgets to put an arbitrary cover sheet on his TPS reports. However, Lindquist and Seitz seem to argue that The Secret of My Success is somehow antithetical in its treatment of satire of corporate structure to Office Space, drawing a contrast to the theme of the film and painting its protagonist as some sort of hero.
Sure, Brantley learns how to circumvent the system and gain success for himself as well as his company, but the methods by which he does so suggest that the film is also a satire that makes an important point on the futility of the corporate system. Lindquist and Seitz point out that Brantley notices a significant problem with the convoluted and largely impersonal memo system that the company has in place, and that by exploiting this system, he is able to resolve the issue to "save the company." Well, isn't the fact that the literacy of the broken memo system caused the problem in the first place a comment on how preposterous the system is? Doesn't the fact that Brantley had to resort to subversive means to get into a position to make a difference suggest that a larger problem with this literacy system, and therefore satirizes it to prove that anyone can succeed if they exploit such problems?
Also, Lindquist and Seitz seem to suggest that Brantley was able to climb the corporate ladder exclusively due to his knowledge of the memo system working as a mail boy, but they gloss over the fact that at least part of his knowledge--his literacy--came from his boss's wife, who he had an affair with.
Also, Deborah Brandt's study in literacy is mentioned in a significant portion of this chapter, and being an important, thorough, and effective literacy scholar, I can understand why. But this is such a significant chunk of the text that I have to wonder why Deborah Brandt didn't just write this chapter herself. True, she gives plenty of vital information, but surely there is another side to this issue? Surely there are other studies that have offered different perspectives on literacy in the workplace? Why are none of them represented here, if nothing else, for the sake of thoroughness? Presenting only one side of an argument is little better than presenting Brandt's study as a whole with no additional dialogue from Lindquist or Seitz.
Though the problem of effective business communication is represented here via several examples of significant issues and satires, no real solution seems to be offered.
However, speaking of literacy promotion during such historical periods as WWII reminded me a bit of my experience during high school. It was normal for an army or navy recruiter to come visit our class about once or twice a year. However, very shortly after September 11, they came to our class on an almost biweekly basis. The recruiters often emphasized the future job opportunities available through their programs, specifically the various college degrees that were sponsored. They offered to pay for a significant portion of a student's college tuition in a wide variety of subjects and degrees, provided they joined the armed forces. And they also made sure to point out that combat was far from the only field in which they were looking to fill the ranks. It was an interesting concept, offering a college education in exchange for service, and in a lot of ways it seemed to promote literacy in a time in which literacy was extremely important.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
