IV. Donald M. Murray
Write before you write! Donald Murray was the director of the writing program at the University of New Hampshire and spent one of his careers teaching writing and teaching writing teachers. Murray’s scholarly work seems to focus highly on the writing process and on pedagogy. There does not seem to be any evidence of the type of philosophical purpose of the class debates that occur in the other major process figure we’ve covered in class Peter Elbow. Murray, like Elbow, derives his position in academia and his position as a writer from a determination to overcome dropping out of high school not once but twice before going back to school to study writing, finishing both high school and college at the same time and going on to become the youngest winner of the Pulitzer Prize in history while working as a journalist for the Boston Herald.
Murray’s work on the writing process focuses on the importance of the stages of pre-writing and Revision. Murray’s work on prewriting literally focuses on pre-writing activities as opposed to the pre-drafting activities taught as prewriting such as brainstorming, freewriting, etc. Notice these activities all actually involve putting pen to paper (even if metaphorically through digital interface). Murray focuses on the period of mental preparation that precedes even these pre-drafting activities, and which he calls rehearsal. He claims that the writer naturally delays, and that this is healthy and should be encouraged as the subconscious is at work on the writing problem. He even lists a series of signs that the subconscious will provide to indicate to the writer that it is time to begin. Beginning before the arrival of one or more of these signs will simply lead to frustration as the mind has not finished its rehearsal process.
Murray’s pedagogical work that I have most encountered is his focus on the conference as a primary tool for teaching writing. The interaction described at the conferences seems a Socratic approach based on drawing the knowledge from the students (or opening their eyes to new knowledge) by questioning them about their papers. Murray with a slight facetious wink, says that he does nothing, and that students do all the work. Jokingly he says that he is waiting to be found out and fired. In fact, he is pointing out to the reader that it is unnecessary for him to do more than guide the student towards the problems, that the discovery model/Socratic approach he is using involves very little direct instruction and does not assume that he actually knows exactly what to do with the students’ papers.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Mid-Term 1: Elbow/Bartholomae
III. Elbow/Bartholomae
The Elbow/Bartholomae debate seems to be a composition based continuation of modern society’s debate over the nature/nurture argument of human development. Bartholomae’s focus on the socially constructed identity of the students precludes his supporting Elbow’s identity based writing. If, from Bartholomae’s perspective, you don’t have an individual identity until you’ve been explicitly taught to analyze the society you grew up in and choose to either accept or reject it you can’t very well use that identity (which Elbow seems to presume is pre-existent in his students) as a basis for writing. How can you privilege personal writing (Elbow’s approach) if the students don’t truly have an independent personality until they’ve effectively been guided through a critique of their culture? I think this philosophical difference provides the irreconcilable rift between the two.
The other key point I see that differs between them, and where I disagree with Elbow is the focus in a freshman comp course. Elbow’s focus is on helping the writer develop a sincerity, truly developing their own voice. Bartholomae is focusing on the critical, more traditional academic writing. Elbow has maintained that he feels the one semester beginning writing course is not the place to focus on these skills, arguing instead that they should be introduced at higher and more major specific levels. Elbow pushes the students to trust language and themselves, preferring to promote a writer’s faith in his/her own ideas as opposed to an academic’s professional skepticism. Bartholomae fronts a very academic approach to literature and other readings, intentionally chooses difficult texts to introduce difficult reading as well as academic writing, and promotes a distrust of language and communication in order to highlight the possibility that the students’ responses may be more cultural than personal. In short, Elbow’s goal is to create writers of whatever stripe, while Bartholomae’s is to create a very specific type of writer (or at least open the door to the students becoming that very specific type of writer): the academic. This debate has been (was?) a flash point in comp theory, highlighting a continued variance in the field concerining not only how a freshman comp course should accomplish its aims, but what, exactly those aims are.
The Elbow/Bartholomae debate seems to be a composition based continuation of modern society’s debate over the nature/nurture argument of human development. Bartholomae’s focus on the socially constructed identity of the students precludes his supporting Elbow’s identity based writing. If, from Bartholomae’s perspective, you don’t have an individual identity until you’ve been explicitly taught to analyze the society you grew up in and choose to either accept or reject it you can’t very well use that identity (which Elbow seems to presume is pre-existent in his students) as a basis for writing. How can you privilege personal writing (Elbow’s approach) if the students don’t truly have an independent personality until they’ve effectively been guided through a critique of their culture? I think this philosophical difference provides the irreconcilable rift between the two.
The other key point I see that differs between them, and where I disagree with Elbow is the focus in a freshman comp course. Elbow’s focus is on helping the writer develop a sincerity, truly developing their own voice. Bartholomae is focusing on the critical, more traditional academic writing. Elbow has maintained that he feels the one semester beginning writing course is not the place to focus on these skills, arguing instead that they should be introduced at higher and more major specific levels. Elbow pushes the students to trust language and themselves, preferring to promote a writer’s faith in his/her own ideas as opposed to an academic’s professional skepticism. Bartholomae fronts a very academic approach to literature and other readings, intentionally chooses difficult texts to introduce difficult reading as well as academic writing, and promotes a distrust of language and communication in order to highlight the possibility that the students’ responses may be more cultural than personal. In short, Elbow’s goal is to create writers of whatever stripe, while Bartholomae’s is to create a very specific type of writer (or at least open the door to the students becoming that very specific type of writer): the academic. This debate has been (was?) a flash point in comp theory, highlighting a continued variance in the field concerining not only how a freshman comp course should accomplish its aims, but what, exactly those aims are.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Erika Lindemann: Bartholomae + Elbow =???, literature in the composition classroom...
I truly enjoyed seeing a coherent response to the only logical solution to the Bartholomae/Elbow conflict: synthesis! Rebecca Wasil, and, by extension, Erika Lindemann, makes a needed and coherent call for reason when approaching the the issues these two very talented and intelligent gentlemen are broaching.
While the magnitude of the conflict and the unbending, absolute positions taken by both scholars as a result of such strong opposition makes it seem an almost Hegelian synthesis of opposites, Wasil presented Lindemann's synthesis very clearly as a common sense combination of two theorists not nearly as far apart as they make themselves seem.
The presentation clearly showed that the middle way is the best approach citing the presence of both "referential" and "persuasive" writing, the desire to empower writers, and the presence of tasks resmbling those "students encounter in academe, among others. This system approach echoes the presence of other theorists as well promoting collaboration, emphasizing the social (dialogic) nature of all writing, and allowing for textual analysis as part of the course.
Interestingly, Lindemann pushes against the use of literature in writing courses. I love literature, and I love writing about literature. Most of my experience with writing at the undergraduate and graduate level has been writing about literature. Part of what made the midterm so difficult for me was that I was no longer writing about literature. There was no principal text to analyze or expound upon. However, as we have pushed through the semester I have spent a lot of time rethinking the combined form of English course where we teach literature and writing simultaneously. In practice, we do, of course, write about literature all the time. And I think a writing component is absolutely necessary to a literature course. However, I would have to agree with Lindemann that the reverse does not hold true. The act of analyzing literature has been and will be a central component to the English profession, but what is its place in the composition classroom? Especially in a course like freshmen comp? We aren't instructing students in the writing of novels or poetry, or, generally the personal essay. In fact, should the students submit papers in these genres they would almost undoubtably fail the course becuase it fails to address what we hope to accomplish, which is analytical writing.
There are many types of writing, and many reasons to write. I love creative writing, I still harbor the dream (the delusion?) that one day writing will be my prince charming, scoop me (and my family) up onto its big white horse and carry me off to some far away place where I won't have the long hours of homework drudgery that are the trade off of teaching. However, the purpose of the type of writing course Lindemann discusses, that which is meant to prepare students for writing in an academic/professional setting, is not that type of writing. There is a place for this type of writing - many places - but the composition course is not one of them.
Therefore, if we are looking for argumentation and analysis, isn't that what we should be showing our students? Literature, as wonderful as it is, and it is the reason I have pursued my education in English and a key reason I teach, does not model the type of writing we want in these courses. Narrative writing is not a good model for analytical or persuasive writing except on the most shallow levels of style. The bits of six traits that make promoting wriitng across the curriculum a living hell because the other teachers say they shouldn't have to teach that (and they're right!) are the only thing that the types of writing generally have in common.
In addition it is rare, and at most secondary, in my experience that when dealing with literature we look at the surface instead of through it. The time is spent on the meaning, the ideas, the content, and rarely, if ever on the writing itself. Furthermore, I believe that discussing the surface, the writing itself, is fundamentally different when I am discussing literature than when I am discussing the type of analytical, academic writing asked for in composition classes. While I find that I cannot articulate it well, there is between discussing word choice in the context of the clarity of style that Lanham and Graff promote and word choice in the poetry of Yeats, Wordsworth, or Shakespeare. One is generally applicable to the study of composition, one is specific not only to our own discipline (lumping us all together in English whether we are primarily Lit people, Linguistics people, or Comp people academically/professionally), but to a subcategory of our own discipline.
If we are teaching poets, novelists, playwrights, memoirists, or the next Montaigne in our classes that is incidental to the fact that we are teaching the broad purposes of academic/professional writing at a high level, which is much broader than literature. While Literature can play a role (Who could argue against the use of Swift's "A Modest Proposal" as an example of persuasive writing?), it should not dominate the course as it fails to model the type of writing we are asking our students to produce.
While the magnitude of the conflict and the unbending, absolute positions taken by both scholars as a result of such strong opposition makes it seem an almost Hegelian synthesis of opposites, Wasil presented Lindemann's synthesis very clearly as a common sense combination of two theorists not nearly as far apart as they make themselves seem.
The presentation clearly showed that the middle way is the best approach citing the presence of both "referential" and "persuasive" writing, the desire to empower writers, and the presence of tasks resmbling those "students encounter in academe, among others. This system approach echoes the presence of other theorists as well promoting collaboration, emphasizing the social (dialogic) nature of all writing, and allowing for textual analysis as part of the course.
Interestingly, Lindemann pushes against the use of literature in writing courses. I love literature, and I love writing about literature. Most of my experience with writing at the undergraduate and graduate level has been writing about literature. Part of what made the midterm so difficult for me was that I was no longer writing about literature. There was no principal text to analyze or expound upon. However, as we have pushed through the semester I have spent a lot of time rethinking the combined form of English course where we teach literature and writing simultaneously. In practice, we do, of course, write about literature all the time. And I think a writing component is absolutely necessary to a literature course. However, I would have to agree with Lindemann that the reverse does not hold true. The act of analyzing literature has been and will be a central component to the English profession, but what is its place in the composition classroom? Especially in a course like freshmen comp? We aren't instructing students in the writing of novels or poetry, or, generally the personal essay. In fact, should the students submit papers in these genres they would almost undoubtably fail the course becuase it fails to address what we hope to accomplish, which is analytical writing.
There are many types of writing, and many reasons to write. I love creative writing, I still harbor the dream (the delusion?) that one day writing will be my prince charming, scoop me (and my family) up onto its big white horse and carry me off to some far away place where I won't have the long hours of homework drudgery that are the trade off of teaching. However, the purpose of the type of writing course Lindemann discusses, that which is meant to prepare students for writing in an academic/professional setting, is not that type of writing. There is a place for this type of writing - many places - but the composition course is not one of them.
Therefore, if we are looking for argumentation and analysis, isn't that what we should be showing our students? Literature, as wonderful as it is, and it is the reason I have pursued my education in English and a key reason I teach, does not model the type of writing we want in these courses. Narrative writing is not a good model for analytical or persuasive writing except on the most shallow levels of style. The bits of six traits that make promoting wriitng across the curriculum a living hell because the other teachers say they shouldn't have to teach that (and they're right!) are the only thing that the types of writing generally have in common.
In addition it is rare, and at most secondary, in my experience that when dealing with literature we look at the surface instead of through it. The time is spent on the meaning, the ideas, the content, and rarely, if ever on the writing itself. Furthermore, I believe that discussing the surface, the writing itself, is fundamentally different when I am discussing literature than when I am discussing the type of analytical, academic writing asked for in composition classes. While I find that I cannot articulate it well, there is between discussing word choice in the context of the clarity of style that Lanham and Graff promote and word choice in the poetry of Yeats, Wordsworth, or Shakespeare. One is generally applicable to the study of composition, one is specific not only to our own discipline (lumping us all together in English whether we are primarily Lit people, Linguistics people, or Comp people academically/professionally), but to a subcategory of our own discipline.
If we are teaching poets, novelists, playwrights, memoirists, or the next Montaigne in our classes that is incidental to the fact that we are teaching the broad purposes of academic/professional writing at a high level, which is much broader than literature. While Literature can play a role (Who could argue against the use of Swift's "A Modest Proposal" as an example of persuasive writing?), it should not dominate the course as it fails to model the type of writing we are asking our students to produce.
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Substance of Style - Nick on Lanham
It is nice to have someone say that there is some value in the beauty of language. While we are engaged in the daily objectification of language's utility, and whacked over the head with the concise clarity of modern stylists, it is nice to remember that even Hemingway (king of the sentence that was most nearly a grunt in length) was an adroit handler of the extended lyrical prose line.
Lanham also comes as a breath of fresh air, as we've been focused so thoroughly on the message, that it was nice to see some attention paid the medium. As much as I loved studying Graff, and have been fascinated by much of what I've learned about rhetoric and the process focused theories of Murray, Bartholomae, and Elbow, it was nice to see someone address the handling of our medium, the words themselves, with such force and precision. Bully for the idea that the correct, clear and concise is not the be all and end all of writing.
As Nick presented I was struck again by the similarities of these composition theorists to the practices that I have seen preached within my admittedly rather limited study of creative writing. This is the third place I've seen a twist on the paramedic method - or at least on the idea that a well pruned and polished draft two follows the formula D2=(D1-[D1*.33]). Like many of the ideas that I discussed in an early post on Elbow, I first encountered this one while reading Stephen King's On Writing. Then I ran into it again within Stephen Koch's The Modern Library Writer's Workshop. While neither carries the percentage to a possible high end of 50% as Lanham does, it is still a general trimming of the fat, to force our tired words into trim fighting shape. Forcing key words to bear the burden, rather than passing it off on lesser syllabic constructs.
Like any theorist worth her or his salt, Lanham could be mistakenly pigeonholed of promoting solely the idea he's most known for. And like all of the theorists we've read, he's more complicated than he perhaps appears at first. The emphasis on the mediuma as well as the message has led me to focus on style nearly exclusively. This would be a distortion. Lanham himself - through the diagrams Nick provided us with on his handout - shows an interest in balancing analysis and instruction between medium and message. If the code plays such a central role in the shaping of our perceptions, even the shaping of reality, than we ignore it in writing in order to reach "deeper" concerns at our own peril. At the same time, Lanham avoids the facile "there are no deeper concerns, language's incompleteness of meaning prevents it" routine that is passed around certain circles of literary criticism.
Instead he promotes a balanced view that pauses to admire the medium as one ponders the message. His S shaped attention curve shows the attention sliding in and out of the surface of the text. While it may come naturally to an English major to accomplish such a dual vision when analyzing a poem it seems to be entirely unnatural most other text. Perhaps with proper consideration Lanham's economics of attention will allow us to balance between the camps of idea of ideal and that of surface only. In that fashion we pay attention to medium and message privileging neither.
Lanham also comes as a breath of fresh air, as we've been focused so thoroughly on the message, that it was nice to see some attention paid the medium. As much as I loved studying Graff, and have been fascinated by much of what I've learned about rhetoric and the process focused theories of Murray, Bartholomae, and Elbow, it was nice to see someone address the handling of our medium, the words themselves, with such force and precision. Bully for the idea that the correct, clear and concise is not the be all and end all of writing.
As Nick presented I was struck again by the similarities of these composition theorists to the practices that I have seen preached within my admittedly rather limited study of creative writing. This is the third place I've seen a twist on the paramedic method - or at least on the idea that a well pruned and polished draft two follows the formula D2=(D1-[D1*.33]). Like many of the ideas that I discussed in an early post on Elbow, I first encountered this one while reading Stephen King's On Writing. Then I ran into it again within Stephen Koch's The Modern Library Writer's Workshop. While neither carries the percentage to a possible high end of 50% as Lanham does, it is still a general trimming of the fat, to force our tired words into trim fighting shape. Forcing key words to bear the burden, rather than passing it off on lesser syllabic constructs.
Like any theorist worth her or his salt, Lanham could be mistakenly pigeonholed of promoting solely the idea he's most known for. And like all of the theorists we've read, he's more complicated than he perhaps appears at first. The emphasis on the mediuma as well as the message has led me to focus on style nearly exclusively. This would be a distortion. Lanham himself - through the diagrams Nick provided us with on his handout - shows an interest in balancing analysis and instruction between medium and message. If the code plays such a central role in the shaping of our perceptions, even the shaping of reality, than we ignore it in writing in order to reach "deeper" concerns at our own peril. At the same time, Lanham avoids the facile "there are no deeper concerns, language's incompleteness of meaning prevents it" routine that is passed around certain circles of literary criticism.
Instead he promotes a balanced view that pauses to admire the medium as one ponders the message. His S shaped attention curve shows the attention sliding in and out of the surface of the text. While it may come naturally to an English major to accomplish such a dual vision when analyzing a poem it seems to be entirely unnatural most other text. Perhaps with proper consideration Lanham's economics of attention will allow us to balance between the camps of idea of ideal and that of surface only. In that fashion we pay attention to medium and message privileging neither.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Hugh Burns, Rhetoric, and Computers
The discussion last week was fascinating. I thoroughly enjoyed all that was presented by Dr. Burns (Dr. because we're west of the Mississippi, were we to the east it would be Mr.). As others have noted here, he did a wonderful job of addressing a variety of topics with a comfortable authority that was welcoming rather than daunting or pedantic.
I hesitate to say this as it probably reflects more on th student than the teachers, but I have sat through these classes on writing theory so far going where were my instructors at the Y? ("The Y" is one of many student [or Utah native] nicknames for BYU.) I don't remember my writing instruction lining up with rhetoric or expressionism, and it certainly did not begin to approach cultural studies. In coming into this class I feel I've been introduced to rhetoric for the first time. Somewhere along the way I had picked up a simplistic understanding of pathos and logos, and an entirely incorrect (if common) one of ethos and ethics. However, I never discussed writing in terms of patterns of reasoning, making claims, or any other explicit rhetorical language. I do remember being given explicit instruction in developing arguable theses (essentially making a claim, but it was never expressed that way), fully developing each paragraph, and I remember writing a lot of papers. Thinking of the equivalent of Freshmen comp, it was the worst class I took at BYU. I hated it. The advanced composition course, which I remember much more fondly, is much more associated in my mind with the specific papers I wrote, and the work done with other students and with the teacher to develop and address specific writing projects. I don't remember much theory at all.
Blah, blah, blah right? Well it is relevant because it ties me to this course in a strange way. I am grabbing at all kinds of things as I sit here that make me want to scream "I knew that!", but didn't really have a name for it. Its as if I knew these things subconsciously and am now bringing them out into the open with names as conscious tools and techniques for writing and writing instruction. It feels marvelous. Occasionally, however, as I noted in responding to the article on femininist research, I feel swamped by the language of the particular discourse community I'm trying to enter. The thorough grounding in rhetoric provided by Dr. Burns was wonderful, and spoke to me, I think (to a lesser degree as I have yet to directly encounter Aristotle for myself) in a way very much like he recounts his discovery of rhetoric spoke to him.
Understanding where all of this comes from and how it fits together through the history he provided was wonderful. In addition he explained a question I've had all along and for one reason or another never got around to asking. That is, what exactly are all these people talking about when they title something "A Rhetioric of __________." His explanation was simple, direct and supportive, lending dignity to the question and to me for asking, which I really appreciated. He told me that any such title is essentially indicating that it will in fact be discussing "The Rhetorical effects of ___________." This opened a lot of doors in reference to past presentations and readings.
I guess one of the reasons I didn't ask was that I thougth I had a good enough basic idea to be getting on with, and that it would become clearer. After getting the answer to my question (brought to the fore as well by the fact that several of Booth's key books seem to have been "A Rhetoric of _________."), I realize that I did not in fact have a very good understanding at all. The idea that we can and should study the rhetorical effects of a given type or form of discourse on the participants makes a lot of sense. So much so that it has completely replaced my previous clouded understanding to the piont that I don't remember exactly what I thought it was.
It was interesting to encounter one of the people responsible for making the computer programs I use smart enough to interfere with what I'm trying to do. Now if I was smart enough to use the interference to my advantage perhaps we'd have accomplished something. Seriously though, Burns' discussion of his work with computers and the manner in which they are applied to writing and learning processes was fascinating. I was accustomed to swear lightly and attack the close button when I saw that little paper clip (or any of its various permutations), but will perhaps think of it more kindly in the future.
I hesitate to say this as it probably reflects more on th student than the teachers, but I have sat through these classes on writing theory so far going where were my instructors at the Y? ("The Y" is one of many student [or Utah native] nicknames for BYU.) I don't remember my writing instruction lining up with rhetoric or expressionism, and it certainly did not begin to approach cultural studies. In coming into this class I feel I've been introduced to rhetoric for the first time. Somewhere along the way I had picked up a simplistic understanding of pathos and logos, and an entirely incorrect (if common) one of ethos and ethics. However, I never discussed writing in terms of patterns of reasoning, making claims, or any other explicit rhetorical language. I do remember being given explicit instruction in developing arguable theses (essentially making a claim, but it was never expressed that way), fully developing each paragraph, and I remember writing a lot of papers. Thinking of the equivalent of Freshmen comp, it was the worst class I took at BYU. I hated it. The advanced composition course, which I remember much more fondly, is much more associated in my mind with the specific papers I wrote, and the work done with other students and with the teacher to develop and address specific writing projects. I don't remember much theory at all.
Blah, blah, blah right? Well it is relevant because it ties me to this course in a strange way. I am grabbing at all kinds of things as I sit here that make me want to scream "I knew that!", but didn't really have a name for it. Its as if I knew these things subconsciously and am now bringing them out into the open with names as conscious tools and techniques for writing and writing instruction. It feels marvelous. Occasionally, however, as I noted in responding to the article on femininist research, I feel swamped by the language of the particular discourse community I'm trying to enter. The thorough grounding in rhetoric provided by Dr. Burns was wonderful, and spoke to me, I think (to a lesser degree as I have yet to directly encounter Aristotle for myself) in a way very much like he recounts his discovery of rhetoric spoke to him.
Understanding where all of this comes from and how it fits together through the history he provided was wonderful. In addition he explained a question I've had all along and for one reason or another never got around to asking. That is, what exactly are all these people talking about when they title something "A Rhetioric of __________." His explanation was simple, direct and supportive, lending dignity to the question and to me for asking, which I really appreciated. He told me that any such title is essentially indicating that it will in fact be discussing "The Rhetorical effects of ___________." This opened a lot of doors in reference to past presentations and readings.
I guess one of the reasons I didn't ask was that I thougth I had a good enough basic idea to be getting on with, and that it would become clearer. After getting the answer to my question (brought to the fore as well by the fact that several of Booth's key books seem to have been "A Rhetoric of _________."), I realize that I did not in fact have a very good understanding at all. The idea that we can and should study the rhetorical effects of a given type or form of discourse on the participants makes a lot of sense. So much so that it has completely replaced my previous clouded understanding to the piont that I don't remember exactly what I thought it was.
It was interesting to encounter one of the people responsible for making the computer programs I use smart enough to interfere with what I'm trying to do. Now if I was smart enough to use the interference to my advantage perhaps we'd have accomplished something. Seriously though, Burns' discussion of his work with computers and the manner in which they are applied to writing and learning processes was fascinating. I was accustomed to swear lightly and attack the close button when I saw that little paper clip (or any of its various permutations), but will perhaps think of it more kindly in the future.
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