GTA¹s In Their Own Words on Teaching at SCSU
English 585
Teaching successfully, whether it be writing or any other subject, depends on a degree of trust in the classroom. This is especially true of the writing classroom, which will contain students for whom writing is forbidding, and for whom writing has never been shown to offer either personal or social rewards. Overcoming initial skepticism will require a frank discussion of the purposes of first year composition, why it is required and what is to be gained from learning how to write papers that will be taken seriously by Professors in other disciplines. At the same time, it will be necessary to acknowledge that students will be attempting course work from widely divergent starting points, why this is so, and how these differences may be made to work to our advantage in the classroom.
In order to create a ³safe² place (as suggested by Peter Elbow) from which to expand writing skills, students must be encouraged, at first, to write in a manner that is most comfortable to them. Careful selection of reading materials and crafting of writing assignments will elicit responses that incorporate increasing levels of analysis; addressing contradictions between assigned texts, or between texts and personal experience will necessitate analytic responses. Careful revision will gradually create the logical connections that college writing requires; addressing simple questions such as, ³Is this what I meant to say?² or ³Does this make sense?² in workshops or presentations will encourage rethinking and rewriting that will clarify and organize students¹ work. These processes can, at first, occur without any overt charge to change or speak with a different voice.
By introducing readings of ever-increasing political relevance to issues of inclusion and exclusion both within the University and society at large, students may be induced to apply sharpened analytical skills to issues that affect them directly. Respectful reception of resulting political expression within the classroom may lead to extension of that expression outside; that is a result to be hoped for but not necessarily promoted. I think a teacher should respond truthfully and helpfully to solicitations of political opinion and attitudes toward political action, but should not proselytize.
To allay fear that their writing will be neither valued nor rewarded, I believe that students should be encouraged to produce a publication of their writing, with contributions from each member of the class, as mentioned by Peter Elbow and Tom Fox. This will not only raise issues of production and dissemination that will be valuable in the political context, but also be a further encouragement to serious effort. This will also bring forward the nuts and bolts issues of copy editing, to ensure that the collection will be received with respect. These issues, as much as is possible, I would hope to address in the manner promoted by Peter Elbow: introduce students to the many resources available, including each other, for producing clean copy, and require that they use them.
Finally, this all hinges on a careful, generous, informed reading of student work by the teacher. This will be difficult and time consuming, but a close encounter with student work, as exemplified by Tom Fox in Defending Access, will be absolutely necessary to demonstrate the respect for students¹ efforts and diverse ³voices² that is so crucial to the course. The teacher must learn to ignore the minor surface blemishes that may screen the underlying discourse, so that the strengths of the work can be encouraged, so that all of the students may be heard.
Sarah Richard
Dr. McEachern
ENG 585
October 18, 2003
Teaching Philosophy
Learning Composition: A Philosophy of Empowerment through Writing
As an undergraduate, I worked in my university¹s learning center as a tutor. I tutored many students there; however, one student changed my view on life and influenced my pedagogical philosophy. One day, as I sat in my makeshift cubby office, a small girl, Sunita, walked in with a huge smile and asked if I could help her. This was the beginning of our tutoring sessions, and the start of an experience that would be a reciprocal learning process. Sunita did not speak English very well and so that night I read the chapter on intercultural tutoring in my tutoring manual. Confident and self assured, I went in the next day ³prepared² for our next session. This was to be my first lesson in teaching: there is no manual that can substitute for hands on experience. Each day I worked with Sunita on everything from presentations that she fearlessly approached, though her command of English was not as strong as that of her classmates, to papers where teacher comments, that she could not always fully understand, flooded her pages. Though Sunita appeared to be fairly bright, the language barriers were problematic to her comprehension in class. Sunita was a hard worker, and beyond this, she carried with her the knowledge of the financial sacrifice that her family had made to permit her to study in the United States. The region of Nepal that she was from was a war torn area and she frequently expressed concerns for her family¹s safety. Though the university had admitted her, and was well aware of her language deficiency, they had few implemented programs that could help her.
When one day Sunita came to me with a political science assignment her struggle was compounded for me as a disempowering social problem. The assignment asked that students create a national budget. They were told to allocate funds based on what they thought would be the best for a varied population. Sunita did a great job of accomplishing the assignment; however, when I looked at the way in which she had allocated funds I was puzzled. Money for education had been cut. Money for government funded programs that ameliorated the position of the poor had been cut. Sunita had effectively annexed all programs that would have worked to her advantage. When I asked her why she made the choices that she did, she showed me an opinion piece that had influenced her decisions. The piece was written in a lofty language that maintained a sarcastic rhetorical stance. Though Sunita had understood the language of the piece, her literacy level was not at a place where she could interpret tone. When we discussed her choices, she became adamant about changing her budget decisions. This was the start of a new perspective for me: teaching was not just a responsibility of transferring and guiding skills, it was a responsibility and commitment to helping the students help themselves to become empowered.
At the end of my time with Sunita, she had progressed, and I had learned a lot. While Sunita¹s struggles were not confined to writing difficulties, working with her offered me insight on what kind of teacher I wanted, and felt I needed to be. Sunita taught me something that nothing else in my university experience ever had: a commitment to teaching and to your students is a powerful, amazing gift that has the potential to make the world a better place, one student at a time. Although I worked with many students that year, each of whom had a story, it was Sunita that taught me that teaching is not foremost about credentials, but passion and a love for learning. This was what sparked my enthusiasm for teaching. Many people face life in one of two ways, they either attempt to conquer it through job promotions, socially perceived successes, or financial gains, or they attempt to change it carrying idealistic notions of how to revolutionize the position of people and bring to everyone social justice. My experience with Sunita taught me that it is often not the grandiose accomplishments that bring fulfillment, but rather the small human impacts that will eventually result in the larger impacts that will better the world. Sunita¹s greatest lesson to me was that education is not merely an educational responsibility, but a social one.
Writing is tool
of empowerment that is strengthened not only by learning to compose various
essay forms, but in learning skills of analysis, ways to challenge the dominant
ideology, and individual formulations of perspective through entrance of ideas
into a group setting. This last
component requires an often neglected integration of those who are socially
marginalized through classroom inclusion in discussion and discussion topics.
As a student who has struggled both the find my voice and articulate it in a
classroom setting, I realize the importance of a nurturing environment, or
classroom community, where students feel as though their voice is important,
and where they are comfortable expressing their thoughts and opinions. Impulses of fear in bringing ideas into
a realm of critique are the same fears that often impede our ability to make
free choices in life. The
classroom should be an environment where fear is assuaged and confronted head on. Empowerment in the classroom will
hopefully lead to social empowerment in society. It is my hope that my students will leave my class both
better writers and with an understanding of implications of political
issues. If I have engaged them in
political discourse and allowed them voice in the classroom, they will
hopefully be more active in the sociopolitical realm. I will try to foster an environment where my students will
hopefully be ones who liberate themselves and see problems in the world, and hope
where these problems lie.
We are living in world that indicates that personal fulfillment can be attained by becoming mindless consumers. This is problematic as education has, for many students, become a reinforcement of these social values. Interest in the humanities dwindles and many students are not interested in writing because they perceive it as unnecessary skill in their path to success through consumption. They want job training and skills that will provide them with a concrete ability to go out and make money, which usually means that they are not learning the skills of critical analysis, introspection and empathy that comes from the struggles of evaluating and formulating beliefs through writing. Rather, they are learning to become adherent to social values that are integral pieces to the function of a capitalist society. Students are learning to unlearn skills of resistance.
Writing is a struggle. It allows us to grow as people and find our voice in the cacophony of the voices of humanity. There is a process and progression toward understanding ourselves, or self actualizing that occurs in this effort to express who we are on paper for the world to see and judge and know. I want to teach students to write, because through writing I believe that true humanity can emerge and leave its imprint. I want to create a fabric of knowledge in my classroom that threads in examples from history, current events, media, advertising, etc. Students should have knowledge of the context that functions around and through them. I want my students to realize why their writing, as reflective of their voice, is so important in a ³democracy,² and I also want them to look at the world around them and formulate an opinion about the things that affect them directly and indirectly.
Having lived abroad and traveled fairly extensively has offered me a chance to see the commonality of all humans whether in a large metropolis, a small Italian fishing village, or an agriculturally sustained village in India. This has prompted me to feel that there is necessarily a cultural component to teaching that should foster a sense of a human existence as opposed to an individual one. This reliance on ³individualism² has been reinforced and maintained by capitalism through various social constructs. Education should work against this, making students independent thinkers; however, students should also learn to recognize flaws in their reality, and not learn to ³become an American,² but rather, a part of a unified human experience. I believe that learning problems emerge from social problems and that isolation and exclusion from the rhetorical stances maintained by teachers in classrooms relegate students to positions that are seemingly inferior to their teacher. This is in no way different to the discursive power hierarchies that relegate these same students to positions lacking power through social stratification. This creation of an elitist concept of education which favors those who know how to imitate the styles that are traditionally expected of composition students does nothing to forward social injustice and foster egalitarianism. It is important to create a distinction between the equality of human beings in the classroom, while acknowledging the reality of an inherent unequal relation that stems from the fact that the teacher is indeed teaching the class.
I believe that it is through education and through writing that there is hope for eradicating the pervasive oppression that exists today. Composition classrooms are a place where students should learn not only the skills of writing, but, also, the reality of the reproduction of oppression that is fostered by the dominant discourses of American life. This oppression that is often so inherent in our society that we can almost convince ourselves that it is not really there, must be exposed, critiqued and obliterated. As teachers we have a responsibility to see that students are prepared with the skills necessary to affect change in this flawed world. In order to do this, we must offer them hope for a better world, empathy to understand the problems that emerge from power and oppression, skills of analysis so that they can discern and scrutinize the dominant ideologies that are powerfully imposed on them in all wakes of life, and lastly, we must instill them a sense that their voice, all voices, are essential in exposing hypocrisies, struggles and oppression in a world that is discursively composed.
Sarah Richard
Brian Johnson
ENG 497
December 10, 2003
Reflective Paper
Learning to Speak: Reflections of a Learner in ENG 100
This summer, after I was informed that I had been offered a teaching assistantship, I was terrified. I was not sure that I was capable of teaching students about a discipline in which I still possessed such a conscious doubt of my own abilities. For most of my life I was what you might call a non-achiever. When my parents strongly suggested that I enroll in college (the other option being to leave the house) everyone around me just sort of held their breath waiting for my inevitable failure. Then a strange thing happened. I passed my classes, and even enjoyed them.
I had always wanted to be an English major. In high school it was the only class that I enjoyed. I loved reading and writing about literature. There was something in the words of struggle and sadness that so many authors wrote about that gave my life meaning through a context of the joy and sorrow that are inextricably linked to living. Despite this, when it came time to choose a major in college, I steered clear of English, my thoughts filled with the intimidating associations of stodgy professors who deconstructed every sentence on a page, bantered using esoteric verbs, and deemed students the flawed population, and that they, erudite and pristine, were socially obligated to instill a fraction of their wisdom into these malleable minds of the naïve, or just plain stupid. I did not want to willingly submit myself to a major where I perceived I would be subjected to daily criticism of my intelligence. Throughout college, I changed majors several times, each time considering English, but turning away for fear of failure. When I graduated, after a period of complete indecision, I decided that I was going back to school and getting a degree in English. This strange, motivating desire to possess an English degree consumed me, and I knew that I had to prove to myself that I was capable of earning this degree. I had to prove to myself that I could overcome this hurdle. It is funny how one obstacle can create in our minds this wall of fear. So much of life is learning to overcome a fear that often dictates our decisions, desires and dreams.
I would like to say that now in reflecting back on this semester that the greatest things that I have learned were pedagogical principles or better yet some effulgent wisdom that has revealed to me exactly what the essence of teaching really is, but for me this semester has been more about convincing myself that I could do this. This is not to say that I have not learned a lot of pragmatic and helpful things along the way, because truly I have. Both the practical classroom exposure and the theory that I have read have been enlightening. Observing the intricate classroom mechanics and the spontaneous creative energy that Brian modeled for me has been extremely helpful, and the theory will certainly inform decisions, omissions and additions in the way that I teach. I have enjoyed watching the growth of Brian¹s students be it through their gradually improving papers, or the journey several students made from a tentative hand raised in class discussion to an articulate individual who enthusiastically states their opinion on some aspect of thought. I feel privileged to have been able to be a witness to this.
Mirroring this progression that Brian¹s students have gone through, I too have moved forward, dismantled fears, and found capabilities that I was not sure existed. Their tentative hand raised in class mirrored my shaking one as I began my first ³mini-lesson² early on in the semester. His students growing confidence in their writing and ability to articulate their voices reflected a confidence that I too slowly developed as with each classroom encounter I came one step closer to believing that I was capable of teaching. I share joy in the progress that his students made in their writing because I can relate to their struggles, fears, and self doubt. At the end of the semester as I stood up to teach, I was still nervous, but I guess I felt like I finally belonged here, and that, perhaps, I too was deserving of a degree that was followed by that word that not too long ago seemed inaccessible: ³English.²
My learning experience in Brian¹s composition class has left me with several convictions for next semester when I begin teaching my own class. Parts of my experience have affirmed for me various components of my teaching philosophy, while other aspects have necessitated a change in approach. Many of my personal convictions about teaching were affirmed through this experience, and I think that it will be very helpful as I struggle to make choices in the classroom that I will have had the experience of struggling to learn and enter a new discourse community fresh in my mind. I have affirmed that I want my class to be accessible, inviting, and inspiring of confidence in voice and writing for my students. Despite many affirmations, I also realized that I may need to modify some of my objectives until I have had more experience and can determine if my extremely politicized view of learning will enable my students to empower themselves by becoming better writers. Also, I have always separated my thoughts on what I consider academic from what I consider creative. Brian¹s class merged academic and creative writing (and thought) seamlessly, and his students not only enjoyed it, but more precisely thrived in this type of atmosphere. Their academic writing was clearly benefited by an acceptance of creative thought. This experience has shown me that it would be a detriment and disservice if I close off the realm of possibility for the students in my classroom.
My initial convictions about teaching, were that it functions as a political tool, revolutionizing students, and exposing them to flaws of the political system and eventually liberating them. I have come by this perspective honestly, as in my tutoring experiences prior to Southern, I encountered several students, primarily international, who I felt were being shamelessly exploited by the university system aiming to meet some quota, at the expense of their confidence and their parents¹ hopes that an American education, at any expense, would offer them a better life. I watched as many of these students gave up for various reasons. Some could no longer afford their education, others, like one student who I grew especially fond of, Sunita, had been admitted with language deficiencies that despite her intelligence and perseverance, could not be overcome especially with the university¹s limited investment in her. They offered her directions to the Learning center, where I, an untrained tutor, could struggle to help her learn not only to enter the academic discourse community, but the English language.
As with many experiences in my life, seeing oppression, struggle, and sorrow left me angry and seeking change. I had determined that the classroom was the place for this change to occur. Aligned with theorists such as Ira Shor and bell hooks, I composed a teaching philosophy reflective of my conceptualization of teaching, in which I stated:
I believe that it is through education and through writing that there is hope for eradicating the pervasive oppression that exists today. This oppression that is often so inherent in our society that we can almost convince ourselves that it is not really there, must be exposed, critiqued and obliterated. As teachers we have a responsibility to see that students are prepared with the skills necessary to affect change in this flawed world.
I wanted to liberate students. I wanted them to realize that they were oppressed. I wanted to reveal to them the realities of the American political system, the realities of women¹s subordinate position to men, the racial divides, the imperial truth behind the American empire, and the truth of their socially constructed selves.
We are living in world that indicates that personal fulfillment can be attained by becoming mindless consumers. This is problematic as education has, for many students, become a reinforcement of these social values. Interest in the humanities dwindles and many students are not interested in writing because they perceive it as unnecessary skill in their path to success through consumption. They want job training and skills that will provide them with a concrete ability to go out and make money, which usually means that they are not learning the skills of critical analysis, introspection and empathy that comes from the struggles of evaluating and formulating beliefs through writing. Rather, they are learning to become adherent to social values that are integral pieces to the function of a capitalist society. Students are learning to unlearn skills of resistance.
While I still believe all of these things about the world, including these flaws in the discourses that shape our personal views of education, my political views and my pedagogical philosophy have become more subtlety interwoven. I still believe that empowerment in the classroom will hopefully lead to social empowerment. It is my hope that my students will leave my class both better writers and with an understanding of implications of political issues. If I have engaged them in political discourse and have allowed them voice in the classroom, they will hopefully be more active in the sociopolitical realm. Moreover, I think that the importance of teaching is still to expose, critique, and obliterate oppression and the flaws of imposed social truths. However, as I have grown through my experience this semester I have come to see that perhaps I will be inverting my own philosophy by imposing ideology on students in a writing class. I now see myself less as an advocate for the infiltration of political ideology in the classroom, and more as a writing teacher who will be informed from this standpoint, but who will focus on offering students the skills of writing that will empower them and their voices in the world that will hopefully be invested in social change.
I entered this class with a somewhat rigid view of the world. I think that as I have gone further with education, I have always thought that I was expanding my world, when, in actuality, I see that I have sought out only those things that have reaffirmed my perception of truth. The teaching philosophy that I conceptualized was one that mirrored my political philosophy. In hearing about the different ways of teaching, and watching as my classmates embraced their various pedagogies, I realized that it is in becoming stuck in our perceptions of truth that we inhibit the possibility for change. I look around and I see a society that is saturated in consumerism, greed and a numbness to human suffering and exploitation that is so pervasive that it frightens me, but I also encounter people every day that make me realize that there is so much good out there, and so much hope. I want my students to realize the reality of their world and also to see the hope in it that I feel can surely be surfaced if these voices that embody the hope that I see rise up and construct the dominant discourse. In this discursively composed world, the greatest power that I can offer them is the ability to construct their perspective through writing.
I think I entered this teaching assistantship with a view of what a teacher was that was even more rigid than my political ideology. My experiences with education had convinced me that to teach meant to embody certain characteristics and these were attributes that I did not possess. I have learned that to teach writing is exactly that: teaching writing. I may be young, laugh a lot, and be unsure of myself at times, but I know that I will care about my students and their writing, and that I will do the best that I can to help them become better writers in the academic discourse that I always felt so alienated from and intimidated by.
I have come to realize that while politics inform all teaching, political sophisms perhaps serve only to isolate and disengage students, or set an example of good writing as mimicry of my political ideologies. This observed, my philosophy for purposes of teaching composition have altered slightly. I do not plan to disassociate politics from classroom discourse. In fact, I hope to expose students to writing that will inform them of a perspective of the world that exposes oppression. My classroom will be one that does offer an environment to critique the sources of various ideologically construed oppressions. This being said, I have feel that a pedagogical philosophy that does only this cannot focus on voice, and I do want my students to feel that they have authoritative and powerful voices in this world. As a student who has struggled both the find my voice and articulate it in a classroom setting, I realize the importance of a nurturing environment, or classroom community, where students feel as though their voice is important, and where they are comfortable expressing their thoughts and opinions. Impulses of fear in bringing ideas into a realm of critique are the same fears that often impede our ability to make free choices in life. The classroom should be an environment where fear is assuaged and confronted head on. I want students to understand the implications of power and the existence of writing as a tool of access to that empowerment. In order to become an informed, socially and politically involved human being, I think that students may need to learn to write about whatever it is that matters to them at this juncture in their life. Hopefully, my political messages as underlying my composition class, will be an imprint on their consciousness that bring them closer to this ultimate realization that change is necessary, relentless consumerism unfulfilling, oppression a material reality, and the discourse of power a construct controlled by those who already maintain power.
I look back at the course of the semester and realize that I have been privileged to witness an amazing thing: the growth Brian¹s students as writers, but perhaps more amazingly, their growth as people. I watched as gradually more of their grammatical errors disappeared, allowing their writing to reflect with clarity and grace the people that they were. I feel as though I have been allowed to have a glimpse of adolescence again, and a chance to watch young, formative views as the students struggled to determine how they felt about the world around them. While their writing still may reflect the awkward growth that I surely have had in my writing over the years, their writing also reflects just that, growth. And growth is a wondrous thing to witness. I think that each student has engaged in thinking that has stretched them, writing that has challenged and urged them to grow, and they have been left with a sense that their voice is important and is a part of many voices that comprise social truth. As I have mentally marked their growth along the way, I am able to realize the progressions that I have made as well, and I hope that the confidence that I have for each of the writers in Brian¹s class in their pursuits in 100, will once again mirror my growth as a teacher, who also has benefited immensely from being a student in English 100.
Post-program reflections
Sarah Richard, 2003-04 Graduate Teaching Assistant
As far as my reflections on the experience: In retrospect, I really do feel that we had an excellent support network, as well as great training for our first experience teaching a composition class.
Currently, I am teaching in the Bronx through the NYC Teaching Fellows program, which is a fairly prestigious program that recruits people to teach in "hard to staff" schools in New York City. I really do not think that I would have been accepted to this program without the experience that Southern offered me with teaching. The program is composed of mostly Ivy League college graduates, and, without the teaching experience that I gained at Southern, I am pretty sure that this opportunity would not have been available.
Beyond opening doors for me, teaching composition was an amazing growing experience. The community of Southern's English department is one of the most supportive professional environments that a fearful graduate student faced with the daunting task of teaching for the first time could encounter. Dr. McEachern's class was excellent. It really prepared me for the semester. Before even walking into the classroom, I had received extensive feedback and guidance on much of the material that I would use the following semester, including my syllabus, grading criteria, and essay assignments. In addition, the teaching assistant component of the program at Southern was beneficial as a precursor to teaching in the spring. It was a great way to get your feet wet, as they say. Just as modelling is an important teaching tool in writing classes, it is just as effective in teacher preparation. Brian Johnson was a great mentor, and I really learned a lot from him through feedback and observation.
Teaching With Computers: The Perks and Pitfalls of Teaching and Learning in a Networked Composition Classroom
by Matthew T. Mroz
In her essay ³Technology and Literacy: A Story about the Perils of Not Paying Attention,² Cynthia L. Selfe notes that ³technology is either boring or frightening to most humanists; many teachers of English composition feel it antithetical to their primary concerns and many believe it should not be allowed to take up valuable scholarly time or the attention that could be best put to use in teaching or the study of literacy² (Self 412). Looking around campus it takes little time to verify Selfe¹s caution about indifference to computers: except in its uses as ³a simple tool that individual faculty members can use or ignore in their classrooms as they choose² (Self 414), computer use has been, and for the most part still is, nascent within the humanities. As computers increasingly become an irreplaceable part of daily life in modern culture, however, more and more instructors attempt to carry out the task of incorporating technology into the pedagogical techniques of their disciplines. Over the past four months I¹ve had the invaluable opportunity to get a behind-the-scenes look at one particular attempt to integrate computers and writing instruction. In Dr. Will Hochman¹s English 101-43 (SP 2003) classroom I¹ve learned much about both the process and underlying philosophies involved in making computers a productive classroom tool. In particular, I¹ve learned the basic truth that, despite the potential boost offered by technology, simply having computers in the room with students is not enough to produce a positive impact on the educational experience. One of the most significant reasons why this is the case, I'd argue, is that Selfe¹s observation about faculty might just as easily be applied to students‹anyone can be either ³bored or frightened by technology² and, one might add, distracted by it as well. This suggests a very real problem: how do instructors equip such students with the technology-specific literacy skills they will need to thrive in an increasingly digital world, and at the same time justify to the public the significant investment necessary to create computerized classroom space? The intent of this essay is not to offer universal solutions to this problem, but rather to bring the experiences of one particular computerized classroom, both positive and negative, into dialogue with the numerous voices already speaking out about the role of computers in education. By doing so, I hope to demonstrate how the human component of the technology-education equation‹the creative and adaptive abilities of the instructor, or ³humanware1² ‹becomes an increasingly vital aspect of computerized pedagogy, especially as the power of hardware and software becomes more pervasive and perhaps threatening.
Reams of books and articles published during the last two decades2 testify forcefully of the controversy raging over the impact, both positive and negative, that the infusion of new technology into the classroom is having upon the way students learn and teachers teach. Ultimately, however, these many voices can be roughly divided into two camps: those attempt to forward and perfect the difficult task of using computers as teaching instruments, and those who will resist‹many for justifiable reasons which must be recognized and accounted for. These reasons seem to group around two main areas of concern: 1) the qualitative difference computers make in education, and 2) the qualitative difference that computers make in the general health of society as a whole, specifically the well-being of disadvantaged groups. For composition instructors like myself, I¹ll also add a third category of concern that, while clearly a subset of the first two concerns, is specialized enough to warrant separate mention: the specific impact that computers have on writing and public discourse, and the teaching thereof. In the next few pages I will explore some examples of these concerns in order to provide background for discussions of my particular classroom experience to come.
Many scholars/writers/politicians/parents fall into the group of technology doubters, who, quite reasonably, cry out for ³proof² that computers are effective educational tools before expending the effort and capital that implementing computer programs in schools requires. Composition scholar Fred Kemp summarizes their position thusly: ³In short, we want to discover the universal efficacy in [the] process, lay it out before the community untainted by the debilitating quirkiness of special enthusiasms, pure in some clinical way that asserts, unequivocally, that this thing works here, uninfluenced by special conditions, and it will work anywhere with anyone. Guaranteed² (Kemp, italics mine). Education is often seen today as a science rather than an art, and so this argument and its appeal to the scientific method carries much weight with many Americans who often distrust such ³special enthusiasms,² especially when doling out tax dollars. Unfortunately, as with so many other human endeavors, the variables involved in any individual¹s education are too numerous and diverse to account for scientifically, as Kemp points out. However, in his presentation at the 1994 annual meeting of the CCCC, Kemp provides a fairly convincing argument that addresses the most basic concerns about ³proof²‹at least concerning the use of computers in the composition classroom. He observes that:
almost all people in the industrial world who do any regular writing have come around to using a word processor. They don¹t know about the efforts of academics to prove whether writing on a computer is better or not, or if they did know about those efforts, they would have ignored them. That fact alone [. . .] should support what anybody who uses a computer for writing already knows, that for most people it is easier and more productive to write on a computer. (Kemp)
Kemp¹s solution is notable, and, I think, easily digestible by the public because of its appeal to common practice and usability. It rest upon the psychological fact that our country garners most of its sense of value and worth from the world of business‹the ³real world² where ideas and practices must be able to withstand the exacting crucible of ³market forces.² Thus, the argument goes, if computer-based writing works in the business situation it should be useful in all situations. Kemp¹s reasoning makes a good deal of sense; the explicit use of the predominant writing tool in ³the real world² as a part of writing instruction seems to be a very responsible response to educational needs. However, without taking anything away from Kemp¹s argument, it is fruitful to examine the fuller implications of the general bias behind it‹the very reliance on the corporate world for its values that lends the argument acceptability and merit.
Not a few writers and scholars have censured proponents of education technology for allowing, in Michael Apple¹s words, ³powerful groups²‹specifically corporations‹to redefine ³our major educational goals in their own image² (Apple 173). A vigorous critic of computer use in education, Apple would argue strongly against the kind of persuasive move that Kemp makes in his presentation precisely because it validates the position of influence that corporate values and concerns often hold over American educational culture. Unchallenged, this influence threatens to subvert, for better or for worse3, the commonly held notion of an educational system dedicated to instilling liberal and democratic values in its students. To address this concern, Apple, in his essay ³The New Technology,² labors to shift the debate away from concerns about ³how² educators can ³establish closer ties between the technological requirements of the larger society and our formal institutions of education² (Apple 162). Because these ³technological requirements² are crafted almost exclusively to meet the corporate world¹s needs for efficiency and centralization, Apple instead argues that proponents and critics of technology alike should be more interested in questions of ³why² the ³technological progress² represented currently by computers is important to education‹questions like ³Whose idea of progress? Progress for what? And fundamentally, who benefits?² (Apple 161). Although somewhat dated, having been published in 1991, Apple¹s article offers important insights into the dangers of rushing into technology‹specifically the complex social problems exacerbated by unequal access to technology training for both teachers and students‹and so remains a powerful critique.
In the decade following the publication of ³The New Technology,² computers have exploded from the corporate world and have become a fixture in popular culture‹a development which problematizes questions of ³why² computers should be used in education by removing easy alternatives to doing so. Computers are now an indisputable fact of modern life, and increasingly the demands placed by the public on educational institutions reflect this. The ³technological bandwagon,² as Apple rather unsympathetically calls it, has pulled off the ³information superhighway² and has parked itself at the doors of classrooms of all levels and disciplines‹often, as Todd Oppenheimer and others note, to the fiscal disadvantage of other educational programs. It seems to me, then, that Apple¹s distinguishing between ³how-to² and ³why² questions concerning computer use in the classroom, while valid perhaps for 1991, seems to be something of a false dichotomy, or at least a moot one, in 2003. Today, in order to remain relevant and credible in a computerized society, composition educators must address these issues as one: we must teach students how to use technology to their best advantage within the writing process, while at the same time not ³neglect[ing] to teach students how to pay critical attention to the issues generated by technology use² (Selfe 429). Returning to Cynthia Selfe¹s article on ³The Perils of Not Paying Attention,² she forwards interesting strategies for doing just that. Citing Donna Haraway¹s concept of ³situated knowledges-approach,² Selfe advocates a method for addressing ³the complex linkages among technology, literacy, poverty, and race² that is very different from the philosophies of both Kemp and Apple, in that it looks to the ³local and specific² rather than the constructed values of larger society. We, as educators, must be ³paying attention,² and teaching students to ³pay attention² to the:
deep and penetrating knowledge of the specific colleges and universities in which they work; the particular families, communities, cultures within which we live and form our own understanding of the world; the individual students, teachers, administrators, board members, politicians, and parents whose lives touch ours. (Selfe 429).
And by doing so, we can build for ourselves and our students ³a Œmore adequate, richer, better account of the world; that makes it possible to Œlive in it well and in critical, reflexive relation to our own as well as others¹ practices¹² (Selfe 429). Within a traditional classroom, following Selfe¹s approach means being self-aware and being a sensitive observer of the particular needs of students; however, within a technology classroom, things are more complicated. When using computers as a pedagogical tool, we cannot merely serve as academic guides, standing between ³local and specific² students and the subject matter being taught. We must also become ³humanware²: liaisons between those same students and a wider digital world that just happens to overlap with our field of expertise at many undefinable points‹and imposing, yet exciting, task to say the least.
In the spirit of Selfe¹s approach, I will now switch gears and become ³local and specific² myself as I begin discussing Dr. Hochman¹s class and how he addresses the broad concerns outlined above, as well as some specific ³issues generated by technology use² in composition‹all while striving to be that ³humanware² liaison between the physical technology and a group of 19 students with diverse backgrounds and interests. First, however, a brief word about methodologies. Data for this analysis has been derived from three sources: 1) a brief survey concerning the use of technology in the classroom and its impact (15 out of 16 students present for the survey responding)4 ; 2) letters written by all 19 students in which they evaluate the course and their experiences with it5 (letters were sealed until after grades were posted to encourage candor); 3) lastly, I have drawn upon my experiences as a participant-observer in the class. The remainder of this essay will be organized around two major focal points found within these sources. First, the general impact of computer use within the class will be discussed. This includes many surface details about student interactions with the machines and the class environment that tend to draw much (often negative) attention within their responses, but do not seem to have a major impact on their learning experience. Conversely, this discussion will also address some important metacognitive aspects of computer-based writing that, although crucial to the work of the class, seem to be largely invisible to this particular group of students. Secondly, I will talk about the enormously positive impact that computers had on the class¹s communication structure due to the professor¹s use of a class web page, a distributed email list, and in-class chat.
The question of the ³general impact² that computers had on the learning experience of these English 101-43 students is somewhat problematic due to somewhat conflicting evidence from the various data sources. For example, when responding to a survey question that asked students to focus specifically on the overall impact of computers on the class, a significant minority of students (7 out of 15) painted a bleak picture in which computers were at best an innocuous extravagance, and at worst a disruption. Yet when asked to write about their general response to the class, 17 students out of 19 praised at least some aspect of the class¹s technological interaction as being highly beneficial, and many gave high marks to several technological components of the class. Why the discrepancy? First, one must consider the psychological angle: when one is asked to measure the overall impact of something specific (as the survey did), it is very easy for even the most well-intentioned respondent to be overly critical. In regards to 101-43 this is especially true, thanks, perhaps, to many the required class readings that were intended to prepare students to think critically about computers and their impact. Alternatively, when asked to comment on the most significant of many factors influencing the class (as the letter did), respondents naturally are more likely to focus on those aspects that are most positive and most negative. Using this logic, therefore, one can gather that while computer use in English 101-43 had both positive and negative elements, in the wider context of the entire course, most students found the positive elements to be significant and the negative elements somewhat more trivial. Of course, this approach by no means frees us from considering the complaints about computers registered by the survey; and, in fact, examining some of the major complaints symptomatically reveals some interesting resonances with larger critical concerns about computer use.
Perhaps the most prevalent type of complaint, appearing in almost all responses, stems from the physical impact that the type of computer hardware used in 101-43¹s lab had on the learning environment. Held in an a ³traditional² computer lab with 5 rows of desktop PCs with 19² CRT (cathode-ray tube) monitors divided by a center aisle, 101-43¹s classroom space left much to be desired from the standpoint of a composition course. Battling noise from the fan-laden desktops, students spread out across the large room often struggled to hear the professor and their fellow students, making class discussion‹an important aspect to any composition class‹something of a laborious process. In addition, the large CRT¹s positioned directly in front of each student¹s face not only made the establishment of all-important rapport between teacher and student more difficult, according to many responses, they also served as cover for surreptitious email checking and solitaire playing. Given that SCSU is also blessed with laptop labs in which equivalent or superior levels of technology are packaged in enormously less intrusive ways, the rather large impact that the types of technology used in the classroom can make on educational process becomes painfully clear. Given this undeniable fact, criticism and concerns raised by Michael Apple, Cynthia Selfe, and numerous others concerning the dangers involved in unequal funding of computer initiatives becomes all the more poignant. Clearly, not all schools have the resources available for wireless laptop labs, and many schools, especially those in poorer districts and those serving traditionally disadvantaged groups, often must make due with equipment that is incompatible with the educational goals of the class that uses it‹if they have any equipment at all. Of course these technological disadvantages are not insurmountable, as the experience of 101-43 shows. Acting in his ³humanware² role, the professor continuously worked to interact with the class in a way which kept attention focused on the course¹s learning objectives‹often teaching in a way which used the temptation of the screen as an advantage, such as through web-based outlines, articles that students could access through their own computers, or in-class chat sessions; or, alternatively, by gathering students at the front of the class away from the screens when necessary. While dealing with these types of challenges was a continuous and certainly up-hill battle, the student¹s portfolios and reflective writings demonstrate that, despite distractions, the learning goals of the course were reached‹an accomplishment that owes much to the ways that the instructor helped the class avoid the potential pitfalls outlined above.
As significant as the complaints of some students concerning the shortcomings of the classroom space are, perhaps even more interesting are the things that students aren¹t saying about the impact of computers. Specifically, it is surprising that most of the students don¹t overtly recognize the tremendous impact that the 101-43¹s emphasis on computers have on their individual writing processes‹contrary to what we might expect based upon Kemp¹s arguments about ³proof.² While a few students do mention how typing their essays was helpful, what is missing is broader metacognitive recognition that writing using a computer is a fundamentally different process than writing by hand. Research suggests that writing can and should be thought of as a technology in and of itself that provides certain cognitive advantages over verbal communication. Walter Ong demonstrates in his descriptively titled essay ³Writing is a Technology that Restructures Thought² that the process of literacy acquisition alters the way human beings conceive of the world by introduction semiotic associations, and thereby promoting abstract reasoning. Yet the technology writing itself is also continuously dependent upon various other technologies, particularly the ever-changing technologies of media and distribution that control how writing is accessed and displayed. These media technologies certainly in turn exert their own influence over the cognitive process involved in writing. Indeed, as computer pioneer Alan C. Kay explains:
It is not what is in front of us that counts in our books, televisions, and computers but what gets into our heads and why we want to learn it. Yet as Marshall H. McLuhan, the philosopher of communications, has pointed out, the form is much of what does get into our heads; we become what we behold. The form of the carrier of information is not neutral; it both dictates the kind of information conveyed and affects thinking processes. (Kay 152)
If, as Kay (through McLuhan) asserts, the type of media technology used is significant for the act of ³reading,² how much more significant must medium be for the act of writing? Would it not ³dictate² the way information can be encoded, just as it influences the ways it can be decoded? I¹d argue that it certainly does. And in fact, in his essay ³From Pencils to Pixels: The Stages of Literacy Technology,² Dennis Baron traces the development of the various technologies used in writing, as well as some of the impact each ³stage² has had upon the thinking process behind writing. Judging from the works of Baron, Sven Birkerts (³Hypertext: Of Mouse and Man²), and Nicholas Negroponte (Being Digital), perhaps the most important difference between writing with computers and with other technologies is the ephemeral quality of digitized text. As Negroponte emphasizes, ³The best way to appreciate the merits and consequences of being digital is to reflect on the difference between bits and atoms² (Negroponte). Until a digitized document is printed, it exists only as bits, a binary code that is even further removed into the recesses¹ of Ong¹s realm of abstraction than mere alphanumeric symbols. In such a state, texts lack the psychological authority that tangible existence might lend: they can be updated, revised, removed, or even more sinister, corrupted‹often without notice to users who may rely upon the integrity of a previously accessed version. This is a phenomenon that understandably worries someone like Birkerts, who has written an entire volume, The Gutenberg Elegies, mourning what he sees as the imminent demise of the printed word in favor of the digital word. In the chapter entitled ³Hypertext: Of Mouse and Man,² Birkets notes, ³The page is flat, opaque. The screen is of indeterminate depth‹the word floats on the surface like a leaf on a river. Phenomenologically, that [digitized] word is less absolute. The leaf on the river is not the leaf plucked out and held in the hand² (Birkerts 156, italics mine). At the same time, however, digitized texts have a distinct advantage over their ³atomized² cousins: they have the ability to form nonsequential ³hypertext6 ² links within themselves, with other digitized texts, or with any other digitized multimedia object (graphics, audio or video clips). Given these seemingly inescapable differences in the nature of computerized writing, the question remains: why don't more writers recognize this impact of computers in this area? The answer to this is twofold. First, one must once again consider psychology. As Selfe notes, it is a natural impulse in humans to desire technology to be as transparent as possible, even to the point of invisibility (Selfe 413), and so it is especially understandable that some might ignore the impact of technology on something so personal and internal as the cognitive processes involved in writing. Secondly, and perhaps more germane to the composition classroom experience, one must remember that the power of computers becomes most visible in the basic text-composition process during the revision stage. While poet Adreienne Rich might understand that ³Re-vision‹the act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text from a new
critical direction [. . .] is an act of survival² (Rich 629), few writers fully understand revision as such a dramatic metacognitive act, even if they revise their writing thoroughly and often. Still, despite the relative low profile that computer use appears to present in this area, there remains important ways in which an instructor can serve as an intermediary between students and technology. Beyond instructing writers on the basics of word processor formatting and editing techniques, instructors must work with them to ensure that resist the negative effects of hypertext‹the temptations to shift text of an essay around to the detriment of sequential logic, and to revise locally in specific areas of an essay without regard for internal coherence‹by emphasizing the importance of structure and thesis-driven argument to the writing process. In 101-43, this was accomplished on a class-wide basis through the use of ³idea structures.² Writers were required to create an idea structure‹an introduction paragraph with thesis, and outline of supporting evidence, and a conclusion‹as the first step for every essay. Then, these documents were presented to the class in digital form for group workshop. In these sessions, each writer, with the help of the instructor, myself, and their peers, was shown the basics of good argument and structure before the actually composing process even began.
A second major area of focus found within the responses of 101-43 students is the overwhelmingly positive reaction to the opportunities for enhanced communication and information distribution made possible by the use of technology. Specifically, the professor¹s use of a class web page, a distributed email list, and a series of in-class online chats met with particular accolades from a majority of students7. While each of these applications has a special convenience or fun factor associated with them that students obviously enjoy, each also serves as an important pedagogical tool for writing instruction. In addition, the web page, email list, and chat experiences all demonstrate perhaps the most unique and powerful aspect of computerized teaching and learning: the ability to reshape the boundaries and structure of the learning space, both in the classroom and beyond.
One of the most important organizational components of 101-43 would have to be the class web site designed by Dr. Hochman. From this8 centralized location, students can find links to almost every document used in the class‹syllabi, assignment prompts, even hypertext versions of required course readings‹as well as an absolute wealth of additional materials related to computers, writing, and/or the process of research. The benefits of convenience provided by this kind of organization are substantial: the site supplies the student with a secure and portable ³digital notebook² containing all that s/he needs to survive and thrive in the class‹the ³atoms² version of the same material being, as most any busy student knows from personal experience, far too easy to forget or misplace. However, in addition to its support of the traditional classroom, web spaces also allow students to expand their learning experiences beyond the course requirements in painless way. By providing links to extra materials, instructors can create a space in which learning becomes truly hypertexualized‹students who come to the page to find a specific course document can, at the click of the mouse, be introduced to voices and ideas that they might not otherwise have been exposed to. And in doing so, the instructor not only teaches an important lesson about the power of computers, he or she also shows students new possibilities for research and writing.
Another communication tool used to great effect in 101-43 is a distributed email list‹an email technology that allows a member of a group to send email to a single ³list² alias that then distributes the message to all members of the group. Besides its obvious uses as a way to for the professor to send out class-related reminders and updates, the email list serves a duel pedagogical role in the class: it functions as a conduit for students to interrelate‹to debate and to share ideas with one another‹and also as a method for strengthening the classroom experience by ³priming² students to participate in discussion of assigned readings. Unlike classroom instruction, or even web spaces‹both of which are normally constructed very carefully by instructors to achieve maximum educational benefit‹instruction carried out through email list is remarkably decentralized, following a peer-to-peer structure rather than an instructor-student structure. As a standing homework assignment throughout the term, students are required to post their reactions to all assigned readings to the list. Not only does this task strongly encourage each student to read carefully and solidify his or her own opinions about the material in question before submitting a response, but it also gives students the opportunity to read the opinions of 18 of their peers, allowing them to complicate their thinking about the material and thus be more prepared for in-depth class discussion. However, this peer-to-peer structure by no means leaves the students to fend for themselves, without support or guidance. The professor monitors email responses closely, and often responds to individual postings, praising when a student demonstrates good critical thinking, and gently correcting when a student¹s interpretation may be misleading to the others. By doing so, the professor once again serves as a mediator, protecting students from any possible negative impact of this de-centering technology while allowing them the freedom to collaborate with and learn from each other.
I have left my discussion of in-class chat for last, not because it is any more or less significant than the other computerized modes of communication, but rather because it is, in my opinion, a good deal more controversial as a pedagogy tool than either of the previous two technologies because of its somewhat radical theoretical basis, and its potential for misuse. Before addressing these issues, let me first give a brief overview of the experience. Logging in to the chat room function that is built into Southern¹s ³MySCSU² package, students and instructors can have a real-time discussion that is entirely text-based‹no verbal discussion allowed during these sessions‹during the class period. While it may seem to be an odd approach to discussing class readings, the use of synchronous chat technology in the classroom is based upon sound pedagogical principals‹although like any teaching technique it has its strong points and weaknesses. Chat is significant, and different from traditional verbal discussions, in that normal group dynamics are effectively demolished within a chat room by the sweeping flow of text. Given that everyone can type at once, the normal ebbs and flows of voice conversations are interrupted. No longer does an instructor have the luxury of elaborating a question and then soliciting a response from her or his students‹in a chat room he or she is just another voice in the debate. And the teacher-student hierarchy isn¹t the only one to go either: shy students who might not normally participate in class discussions often feel much more at ease to contribute during chat discussions. Despite the potential advantages of equalization and open debate gained by using online chats for class discussion, there are also some very significant drawbacks. Like the email list, online chat by nature is another decentralized communication strategy. However, because chats occur in real time, it is very difficult for an instructor to serve as a mediator. Often, points that may need clarification or correction go unnoticed because of the speed of the text, and even when a response is offered, there is no guarantee that all the students will catch it. Thus, it is not surprising that chat discussions sometimes devolve from structured conversations about class materials into personal conversations, or worse, into arguments or ³flame² contests. This is not to say that chats are too risky to try or difficult to use effectively; quite the contrary, when an instructor is committed to acting as an intermediary between the students and the technology, in class online chats are extraordinarily effective. Used sparingly, they provide a fun alternative to traditional discussions, and at the same time provide an endless stream of ³teachable moments² wherein the nature of cyberspace communication, or questions about textual communication in general, can be explored.
In conclusion, looking back upon this document it is very clear to me that my experience in Dr. Hochman¹s English 101-43 classroom has been a formative one in terms of my future plans for becoming a teacher. Although I have been a computer enthusiast for some time now, until I experienced this class, and then had the opportunity provided by this assessment to rethink my experience and much of the pedagogical theory that I¹ve encountered along the way, I had my doubts about whether I believed that technology would really work in a composition classroom. While many of my fears/doubts/concerns about technology remain, I now feel quite secure that wresting with technology and its many blessings and curses, and doing so within the composition classroom, is not merely worthwhile, but is a crucial undertaking. With the world becoming increasingly more dependent on computers, with the ways of using computers growing as fast and as unpredictable as they are, it is vital, I believe, that scholars within the composition field learn as much as we can about the ways writing has changed, and is changing, under the influence of technology. And as new media for communication emerge, and rhetorical modes are adapted to accommodate them, it is equally important that composition instructors stand in as ³humanware² intermediaries, train students to think critically about technology, its effects on writing and society at large, and to teach them to use technology as effectively as possible in their own writing processes.
Notes:
1 Dr. Hochman¹s term for ³the intelligence and sense that compliments hardware and software in computerized learning spaces².
2 See back issues of Computers and Composition for the specifics on arguments relating to the use of computers in writing instruction.
3 See Stanley Fish¹s article, ³Aim Low,² in the 5/16/03 edition of The Chronicle of Higher Education for a discussion of the relationship between higher education and ³commitments to moral and civic responsibility.²
4 See Appendix A for details about this survey and its limitations
5 Dr. Hochman¹s prompt for these letters may be found here: http://www.southernct.edu/~hochman/Finalletter
6 For a fuller discussion of they nature and implications of ³hypertext² see Birkerts' ³Hypertext: Of Mouse and Man²‹part of his larger volume, The Gutenberg Elegies‹as well as ³Hypertext Reflections,² by Palmquist et al: http://english.ttu.edu/kairos/2.2/features/reflections/bridge.html.
7 In the class evaluation letters, 13 out of 19 students found particular technological aspects of the class beneficial enough to them to warrant special mention. All 13 mentioned one or more of these communication applications.
8 Web site URL is http://www.southernct.edu/~hochman/willz.html
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