In my narrative, I am progressing chronologically through my most noteworthy experiences with computers. I started with my first major experience and moved on to the major experiences/uses of my youth. I plan to describe my more recent experiences using technology as a teacher/student. Finally, I will conclude with some general reflections.
Interestingly, I've been focusing on the textual aspect of my narrative and neglecting other media. It makes sense that I would want to devote most of my energy in the early stages to something I'm already comfortable with, while saving the things I'm less comfortable/experienced with for later stages of my "composing" (I use composing loosely since this narrative is multimedia). This way, I can rest assured that I have a strong base that can only be complemented effectively or ineffectively, not destroyed or marred. To use a house-building analogy: once I lay the foundation and build the frame of my narrative (website), I can more freely experiment with the wall-paper and carpeting.
The above makes sense for any kind of "composing" (or creative systems-building, if you will). George Jensen and John DiTiberio describe in "Personality and Individual Writing Processes" how writers have "preferred" and "non-preferred" writing processes based on their personality traits; writers tend to use their preferred processes early in the writing process and then consciously use their non-preferred processes when revising in order to round out their writing. Not only is this concept really helpful for understanding one's own writing process, overcoming writing blocks, etc., but it also greatly aids teaching.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
On Cynthia Selfe's Concept of "Paying Attention"
Cynthia Selfe's essay, "Technology and Literacy: The Perils of Not Paying Attention," was very interesting and thought-provoking. Her thesis is right on the money, although I'm not as certain about the appropriateness of her "doomsday" tone. For the most part, it was very well-written; I agreed with many of her arguments. However, there were a few parts that lost me.
I completely agree with Selfe when it comes to the necessity for English Professors, Writing teachers,and others to "pay attention" to technology. She argues that academics in the Humanities, particularly English and related fields, regard technology merely as a "tool" to be used or ignored according to one's pedagogical/technological preferences. Either option leads to the same result: willful ignorance of the social, cultural, and economic contexts of technology when framed as a literacy (i.e. the consequences when society formally or informally rewards/punishes people for their ability/inability to use computer technology). This willful ignorance amounts to a tacit acceptance and support of the current status quo, which consists of rampant racial and social inequality in terms of access to technology and concomitant economic opportunity. The point of technology literacy programs, Selfe reminds us, is to enhance peoples' educational and economic prospects. If people are denied technology literacy because of social or racial factors, then they are necessarily denied educational and economic opportunities due to those same factors. Unless we are aware of the many implications of technology as literacy, we cannot positively influence the societal impacts of technology literacy. And we cannot be aware of these implications if we view technology merely as a pedagogical or money-saving tool--that is, if we do not pay attention to technology's social and cultural impacts.
While reading the essay, it is tempting to dismiss the seriousness of Selfe's claims because the "doomsday" tone makes the reader feel as though she's stating, "Unless we fix our understanding of technology literacy, Western civilization will crumble within a decade!" It's hard to think technology plays such a powerful, potentially dangerous role in society. Yet Selfe points out that technology is most dangerous when it becomes so widespread and pervasive that it "disappears." I realized that part of my urge to dismiss her claims resulted from the camoflauge of technology. Cell phones, computers, and other devices are so common that it's hard to remember when they didn't exist. It's also hard to realize just how much they've changed society until you step back and really think about it.
I'm still not entirely sure, based on Selfe's arguments, whether the racial and social gaps in technology access are caused by the conception of technology literacy and/or by academics "not paying attention." Her facts about school funding/technology inequities are dead-on, but I think these disparities are more the result of a couple decades of "White Flight" and urban degeneration and the inevitable inequality of funding schools through property taxes. If more white people have more access to technology than blacks or latinos, I am hesitant to blame this solely on a lack of "critical technology literacy" on the part of society/academics. I think the culprit lies with the way we fund public schools, the greater access to private schools and home-based technologies afforded upper-class people, and other social factors. Selfe's argument starts to break down when she narrows the issue to concepts of technological literacy and ignores even larger political, economic, social, and cultural trends. For instance, she argues that the technology literacy program instituted by Clinton and Gore was designed to produce a self-fueling economic engine driven by a highly technologically literate segment of society and a highly technologically illterate segment. But this just doesn't make sense. If the goal is creating a large market, then why create a system dependent on excluding some from that market? Further, I do not see why low-paid, low-skilled labor is essential to providing the excess labor necessary to fuel technology economy. It seems that high-skilled, high-paid labor is the only requisite.
That said, Selfe's overall point is a good one. We should pay more critical attention to literacy. However, I am not as quick to foretell doomsday.
I completely agree with Selfe when it comes to the necessity for English Professors, Writing teachers,and others to "pay attention" to technology. She argues that academics in the Humanities, particularly English and related fields, regard technology merely as a "tool" to be used or ignored according to one's pedagogical/technological preferences. Either option leads to the same result: willful ignorance of the social, cultural, and economic contexts of technology when framed as a literacy (i.e. the consequences when society formally or informally rewards/punishes people for their ability/inability to use computer technology). This willful ignorance amounts to a tacit acceptance and support of the current status quo, which consists of rampant racial and social inequality in terms of access to technology and concomitant economic opportunity. The point of technology literacy programs, Selfe reminds us, is to enhance peoples' educational and economic prospects. If people are denied technology literacy because of social or racial factors, then they are necessarily denied educational and economic opportunities due to those same factors. Unless we are aware of the many implications of technology as literacy, we cannot positively influence the societal impacts of technology literacy. And we cannot be aware of these implications if we view technology merely as a pedagogical or money-saving tool--that is, if we do not pay attention to technology's social and cultural impacts.
While reading the essay, it is tempting to dismiss the seriousness of Selfe's claims because the "doomsday" tone makes the reader feel as though she's stating, "Unless we fix our understanding of technology literacy, Western civilization will crumble within a decade!" It's hard to think technology plays such a powerful, potentially dangerous role in society. Yet Selfe points out that technology is most dangerous when it becomes so widespread and pervasive that it "disappears." I realized that part of my urge to dismiss her claims resulted from the camoflauge of technology. Cell phones, computers, and other devices are so common that it's hard to remember when they didn't exist. It's also hard to realize just how much they've changed society until you step back and really think about it.
I'm still not entirely sure, based on Selfe's arguments, whether the racial and social gaps in technology access are caused by the conception of technology literacy and/or by academics "not paying attention." Her facts about school funding/technology inequities are dead-on, but I think these disparities are more the result of a couple decades of "White Flight" and urban degeneration and the inevitable inequality of funding schools through property taxes. If more white people have more access to technology than blacks or latinos, I am hesitant to blame this solely on a lack of "critical technology literacy" on the part of society/academics. I think the culprit lies with the way we fund public schools, the greater access to private schools and home-based technologies afforded upper-class people, and other social factors. Selfe's argument starts to break down when she narrows the issue to concepts of technological literacy and ignores even larger political, economic, social, and cultural trends. For instance, she argues that the technology literacy program instituted by Clinton and Gore was designed to produce a self-fueling economic engine driven by a highly technologically literate segment of society and a highly technologically illterate segment. But this just doesn't make sense. If the goal is creating a large market, then why create a system dependent on excluding some from that market? Further, I do not see why low-paid, low-skilled labor is essential to providing the excess labor necessary to fuel technology economy. It seems that high-skilled, high-paid labor is the only requisite.
That said, Selfe's overall point is a good one. We should pay more critical attention to literacy. However, I am not as quick to foretell doomsday.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Return to Blogging
To everyone who used to read this blog and who might stumble across it again, I am returning to blogging after a long hiatus, once again for a class. This time, I'm taking Eng 625: Rhetoric of Digitial Spaces. New blog posts will feature my responses to class discussion topics, reflections on the role of technology in Composition and teaching, etc.
I chose to return to my old blog because it is already set up more or less to my liking. I will probably change the title at some point, when I can think of a suitably apt yet creative title (Eng 625 Blog just seemed soooo boring). I may change the background, but right now I'm reasonably happy with it. Just good old plain brown to mark a stark contrast with the text. Essentially, my reason for using this old blog boils down to convenience. It was already set up for me to begin blogging away.
I chose to return to my old blog because it is already set up more or less to my liking. I will probably change the title at some point, when I can think of a suitably apt yet creative title (Eng 625 Blog just seemed soooo boring). I may change the background, but right now I'm reasonably happy with it. Just good old plain brown to mark a stark contrast with the text. Essentially, my reason for using this old blog boils down to convenience. It was already set up for me to begin blogging away.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Responding to Student Writing
I happen to be writing a paper over this topic this semester, and I'll be writing a thesis over it in the fall. I've done quite a bit of research for my paper and my thesis proposal, which I decided to share on this blog since the topic came up in 603 today. Below is a summary of the more important articles on responding to student papers (the paper I'm currently working on is in APA style, so forgive the formatting).
In “Responding to Student Writing,” (1982) Nancy Sommers discovered that “teachers’ comments can take students’ attention away from their own purposes in writing a particular text and focus that attention on the teachers’ purposes in commenting” (Sommers, p. 149) (original emphasis). In other words, teachers appropriate their students’ texts by directing students to focus on areas that the teacher — rather than the student — deems important. Sommers says this appropriation occurs most frequently when teachers comment extensively on grammar, word choice, and style in the first draft, which gives students an exaggerated idea of theses elements’ importance. She advocates a “scale of concerns” that weights comments on organization and logic more than comments on spelling and grammar (p. 151).
Most disastrously, teachers’ comments often give contradictory messages. Sommers provides a facsimile of a student paragraph in which the instructor has written “wordy” above multiple sentences and “This paragraph needs to be expanded” in the margin (p. 150). Such unclear contradiction could be a cause or a symptom of Sommers’s next finding, “that most teachers’ comments are not text-specific and could be interchanged, rubber-stamped, from text to text” (p. 152)(original emphasis). The students Sommers, Brannon, and Knoblauch interviewed all admitted great difficulty with interpreting their teachers’ vague directives. Rather than helping the students, comments such as “choose precise language” or “think more about your audience” transformed revising into “a guessing game” (Sommers, p. 153).
Vivian Zamel’s 1985 study of 15 ESL teachers' comments, “Responding to Student Writing,” asserts that “teachers respond to most writing as if it were a final draft, thus reinforcing an extremely constricted notion of composing” and “teachers’ marks and comments usually take the form of abstract and vague prescriptions and directives that students find difficult to interpret.” She adds, “Rarely was a question asked or a suggestion made that gave students real direction” (p. 92). When such comments did appear, however, it indicated that the instructor expected substantial revision rather than mere surface-level correctness.
Zamel concludes that vague commentary and abstractions should be replaced with “text-specific strategies, directions, guidelines, and recommendations” (p. 95). Second, there needs to be a scale of concerns or priorities in instructor comments and students’ revisions, with meaning-level issues coming first and foremost (p. 96). Finally, Zamel argues that instructors should respond to student writers (people) rather than student writing (product) (p. 97).
In “Across the Drafts” (2006), [not to be confused with "Between the Drafts"] Nancy Sommers reports and discusses the findings of a four-year longitudinal study of 400 Harvard students. Sommers claims that “most comments, unfortunately, do not move students forward as writers because they underwhelm or overwhelm them, going unread and unused. As one student suggested, ‘Too often comments are written to the paper, not to the student’” (p. 250). Furthermore, nearly 90% of the students in the study “urge faculty to give more specific comments” (p. 251). She concludes from the study that “feedback plays a leading role in undergraduate writing development when, but only when, students and teachers create a partnership through feedback—a transaction in which teachers engage with their students by treating them as apprentice scholars, offering honest critique paired with instruction” (p. 250). In addition, Sommers examines the role of the student, a topic that has been neglected in most professional literature. Even if instructors engage their students as “apprentice scholars,” the student must be willing “to accept and benefit from feedback, to see it as instruction, not merely judgment” (p. 253).
In “Recovering the Conversation: A Reponse to 'Responding to Student Writing' via 'Across the Drafts'” (2006), Carol Rutz agrees with Sommers’s assessment that virtually all scholarship on responding to student writing has neglected the student’s role, as well as the classroom or social context of instructor feedback. The problem, Rutz argues, is that previous studies have focused on textual analysis, which cannot answer questions about students’ reaction to comments, how classroom instruction influences students’ decisions about revising, why instructors comment on particular things, and so forth (p. 258). Rutz finds in her own study that “clear messages between teachers and students about how drafts will be read promote meaningful communication” (p. 261)(emphasis in original).
If anyone's curious: For my thesis, I plan to look at the length of comments, their directiveness, and the concomitant (un)helpfulness of said comments. I'm also going to consider students' personality types and language proficiency to determine which comments help which students the most or least. I plan to examine three sections each of Eng 100, 110, and graduate-level classes. So if anyone's intrigued and would like to have their students participate, please let me know.
Finally, if anyone is interested in more information on this topic, I can post the citations to several more good articles.
Rutz, C. (2006). Recovering the Conversation: A Reponse to 'Responding to Student Writing' via 'Across the Drafts'. College Composition and Communication , 257-62.
Sommers, N. (2006). Across the Drafts. College Composition and Communication , 248-57.
Sommers, N. (1982). Responding to Student Writing. College Composition and Communication , 148-156.
Zamel, V. (1985). Responding to Student Writing. TESOL Quarterly , 79-101.
In “Responding to Student Writing,” (1982) Nancy Sommers discovered that “teachers’ comments can take students’ attention away from their own purposes in writing a particular text and focus that attention on the teachers’ purposes in commenting” (Sommers, p. 149) (original emphasis). In other words, teachers appropriate their students’ texts by directing students to focus on areas that the teacher — rather than the student — deems important. Sommers says this appropriation occurs most frequently when teachers comment extensively on grammar, word choice, and style in the first draft, which gives students an exaggerated idea of theses elements’ importance. She advocates a “scale of concerns” that weights comments on organization and logic more than comments on spelling and grammar (p. 151).
Most disastrously, teachers’ comments often give contradictory messages. Sommers provides a facsimile of a student paragraph in which the instructor has written “wordy” above multiple sentences and “This paragraph needs to be expanded” in the margin (p. 150). Such unclear contradiction could be a cause or a symptom of Sommers’s next finding, “that most teachers’ comments are not text-specific and could be interchanged, rubber-stamped, from text to text” (p. 152)(original emphasis). The students Sommers, Brannon, and Knoblauch interviewed all admitted great difficulty with interpreting their teachers’ vague directives. Rather than helping the students, comments such as “choose precise language” or “think more about your audience” transformed revising into “a guessing game” (Sommers, p. 153).
Vivian Zamel’s 1985 study of 15 ESL teachers' comments, “Responding to Student Writing,” asserts that “teachers respond to most writing as if it were a final draft, thus reinforcing an extremely constricted notion of composing” and “teachers’ marks and comments usually take the form of abstract and vague prescriptions and directives that students find difficult to interpret.” She adds, “Rarely was a question asked or a suggestion made that gave students real direction” (p. 92). When such comments did appear, however, it indicated that the instructor expected substantial revision rather than mere surface-level correctness.
Zamel concludes that vague commentary and abstractions should be replaced with “text-specific strategies, directions, guidelines, and recommendations” (p. 95). Second, there needs to be a scale of concerns or priorities in instructor comments and students’ revisions, with meaning-level issues coming first and foremost (p. 96). Finally, Zamel argues that instructors should respond to student writers (people) rather than student writing (product) (p. 97).
In “Across the Drafts” (2006), [not to be confused with "Between the Drafts"] Nancy Sommers reports and discusses the findings of a four-year longitudinal study of 400 Harvard students. Sommers claims that “most comments, unfortunately, do not move students forward as writers because they underwhelm or overwhelm them, going unread and unused. As one student suggested, ‘Too often comments are written to the paper, not to the student’” (p. 250). Furthermore, nearly 90% of the students in the study “urge faculty to give more specific comments” (p. 251). She concludes from the study that “feedback plays a leading role in undergraduate writing development when, but only when, students and teachers create a partnership through feedback—a transaction in which teachers engage with their students by treating them as apprentice scholars, offering honest critique paired with instruction” (p. 250). In addition, Sommers examines the role of the student, a topic that has been neglected in most professional literature. Even if instructors engage their students as “apprentice scholars,” the student must be willing “to accept and benefit from feedback, to see it as instruction, not merely judgment” (p. 253).
In “Recovering the Conversation: A Reponse to 'Responding to Student Writing' via 'Across the Drafts'” (2006), Carol Rutz agrees with Sommers’s assessment that virtually all scholarship on responding to student writing has neglected the student’s role, as well as the classroom or social context of instructor feedback. The problem, Rutz argues, is that previous studies have focused on textual analysis, which cannot answer questions about students’ reaction to comments, how classroom instruction influences students’ decisions about revising, why instructors comment on particular things, and so forth (p. 258). Rutz finds in her own study that “clear messages between teachers and students about how drafts will be read promote meaningful communication” (p. 261)(emphasis in original).
If anyone's curious: For my thesis, I plan to look at the length of comments, their directiveness, and the concomitant (un)helpfulness of said comments. I'm also going to consider students' personality types and language proficiency to determine which comments help which students the most or least. I plan to examine three sections each of Eng 100, 110, and graduate-level classes. So if anyone's intrigued and would like to have their students participate, please let me know.
Finally, if anyone is interested in more information on this topic, I can post the citations to several more good articles.
Rutz, C. (2006). Recovering the Conversation: A Reponse to 'Responding to Student Writing' via 'Across the Drafts'. College Composition and Communication , 257-62.
Sommers, N. (2006). Across the Drafts. College Composition and Communication , 248-57.
Sommers, N. (1982). Responding to Student Writing. College Composition and Communication , 148-156.
Zamel, V. (1985). Responding to Student Writing. TESOL Quarterly , 79-101.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Writing What We Teach and the Danger of Modeling
After reading several posts about the Writing What We Teach assignment, I've noticed that almost everyone plans on using the assignment as a model for the textual/critical analysis. Some seem very open to doing so, while others seem a bit more hesitant to present his/her writing as a model to be emulated or imitated. I think it is important to ask ourselves about the purposes, benefits, and dangers of modeling.
Obviously, the purpose is to give our students some idea of how to do the assignment. They benefit by having a model on which to base their efforts. The danger is inherent. If students base their writing on the model, are they really learning to write? Furthermore, if the model is the teacher who has power over their grades, then aren't students forced to model or imitate their teacher's process/writing in order to get a good grade? Of course, "forced" may be too strong of a word. They may choose not to imitate the teacher's writing, but wouldn't a shrewd student quickly realize the advantages of doing so?
Because of the above dangers, I think we need to be careful with how we present models to our students, especially when we are the models. The authors of the readings we assign are not in control of students' grades, are not in the classroom, or even in the same century sometimes. Hence, they may provide inspiration or ideas, but most students (I don't think) are going to say, "Wow, I should try to write exactly like So-and-So." Thus, assigned readings are benign but helpful models. The teacher's model, however, implies that this is how it is done. For that reason, I think we should try to present our model as one of many alternatives and then grade accordingly instead of expecting (consciously or unconsciously) to see our writing mirrored back to us.
When I presented my Writing What We Teach drafts to my students, I emphasized the structure in order to give them a rough outline of what they could do, adding extra emphasis on the could. I also emphasized the choices I had made, telling them that writers make choices that have advantages and disadvantages. Fortunately, some of my students were quick to point out the disadvantages. I told them I had a problem with being very wordy, especially with long introductory phrases, and showed where I had cut a couple very long introductory phrases, improving the writing in my opinion. Multiple students disagreed, arguing that the shorter sentence lacked the original's style, detail, and substance. Not only did it boost my ego, but it illustrated that I'm just a fallible writer whose choices sometimes succeed and sometimes fail, just like them.
Obviously, the purpose is to give our students some idea of how to do the assignment. They benefit by having a model on which to base their efforts. The danger is inherent. If students base their writing on the model, are they really learning to write? Furthermore, if the model is the teacher who has power over their grades, then aren't students forced to model or imitate their teacher's process/writing in order to get a good grade? Of course, "forced" may be too strong of a word. They may choose not to imitate the teacher's writing, but wouldn't a shrewd student quickly realize the advantages of doing so?
Because of the above dangers, I think we need to be careful with how we present models to our students, especially when we are the models. The authors of the readings we assign are not in control of students' grades, are not in the classroom, or even in the same century sometimes. Hence, they may provide inspiration or ideas, but most students (I don't think) are going to say, "Wow, I should try to write exactly like So-and-So." Thus, assigned readings are benign but helpful models. The teacher's model, however, implies that this is how it is done. For that reason, I think we should try to present our model as one of many alternatives and then grade accordingly instead of expecting (consciously or unconsciously) to see our writing mirrored back to us.
When I presented my Writing What We Teach drafts to my students, I emphasized the structure in order to give them a rough outline of what they could do, adding extra emphasis on the could. I also emphasized the choices I had made, telling them that writers make choices that have advantages and disadvantages. Fortunately, some of my students were quick to point out the disadvantages. I told them I had a problem with being very wordy, especially with long introductory phrases, and showed where I had cut a couple very long introductory phrases, improving the writing in my opinion. Multiple students disagreed, arguing that the shorter sentence lacked the original's style, detail, and substance. Not only did it boost my ego, but it illustrated that I'm just a fallible writer whose choices sometimes succeed and sometimes fail, just like them.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
The Failing Class
The scenario: 0ut of twenty-two students, two submitted all required materials while twelve did not submit rough drafts and twelve did not submit reflective writings. The syllabus policy allows but does not dictate that twenty students receive F grades for not submitting everything required. This occurrs approximately midway through the semester.
Since this is not the first paper the students have turned in, I can assume that they knew what was required and how to fulfill said requirements. Therefore, the only logical explanations are 1) the students somehow thought that the rough drafts and reflection essays were not due for this particular paper, 2)the students did not care enough to remember to turn in their rough drafts and/or write the reflection essays, 3) the students decided that requiring these materials was stupid and refused to submit the rough draft or write the reflection essay, or 4) the students did not have time to write reflective essays because of other coursework, jobs, personal crises, etc.
I am not a good mind-reader, so I would ask my students as a class why they did not turn in all of the materials. If the students were resistant, I would find out the reasons why they resisted the policy and consider whether it should be revised to better serve my students. If it was a misunderstanding, then I would make sure to clear it up. If they were apathetic, I would try to impress upon them the importance of the rough drafts and the reflective essays to them as writers and me as a grader. If they were overwhelmed by coursework, I would give them another chance to turn in the required materials without penalty and implore them to let their instructors know ahead of time when they needed extra time on particular assignments, like reflection essays. In all cases, I would not assign grades until I received the required materials. For the next paper, I would explicitly state what they needed to turn in with the final draft.
Since this is not the first paper the students have turned in, I can assume that they knew what was required and how to fulfill said requirements. Therefore, the only logical explanations are 1) the students somehow thought that the rough drafts and reflection essays were not due for this particular paper, 2)the students did not care enough to remember to turn in their rough drafts and/or write the reflection essays, 3) the students decided that requiring these materials was stupid and refused to submit the rough draft or write the reflection essay, or 4) the students did not have time to write reflective essays because of other coursework, jobs, personal crises, etc.
I am not a good mind-reader, so I would ask my students as a class why they did not turn in all of the materials. If the students were resistant, I would find out the reasons why they resisted the policy and consider whether it should be revised to better serve my students. If it was a misunderstanding, then I would make sure to clear it up. If they were apathetic, I would try to impress upon them the importance of the rough drafts and the reflective essays to them as writers and me as a grader. If they were overwhelmed by coursework, I would give them another chance to turn in the required materials without penalty and implore them to let their instructors know ahead of time when they needed extra time on particular assignments, like reflection essays. In all cases, I would not assign grades until I received the required materials. For the next paper, I would explicitly state what they needed to turn in with the final draft.
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