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The author discusses how she teaches composition. Their
success may stem, in part, from a mantra that she taken to
heart: If students consistently fail at something in the
classroom, it's not their fault. It's her fault.
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Most faculty members are teaching writing exactly as we
should.
M y students can't write a clear sentence to save their lives.
It's my job to help them change that.
I have taught writing for 10 years. Much like Joseph R. Teller,
whose October essay criticizing how we teach composition
riled many a writing instructor, I have "experimented with
different assignments, activities, readings, [and] approaches
to commenting on student work." But my results have been
very different from his. Rather than seeing my students fail
repeatedly, I'm seeing more and more of them succeed.
Their success may stem, in part, from a mantra I've taken to
heart: If students consistently fail at something in my
classroom, it's not their fault. It's mine.
I teach at a community college in Texas, in a city where
almost 20 percent of the citizens live below the poverty line.
More than 30 percent of children in the city live in poverty.
About 70 percent of my college's students take classes only
part-time, and 73 percent entered this year taking at least
one developmental course. Most of them have lived and
been educated in a system that has overwhelmingly failed
them due to a focus on testing rather than learning. Most
have taken time away from education to work, so what
writing skills they did possess have probably atrophied.
Teller argued that the three pillars of composition pedagogy -
- that courses should "focus on process, not product," that
students should write on "complex issues rather than imitate
rhetorical modes," and that reading and writing should be
combined in the same course -- don't actually work. But I find
they do, and I'm not alone in thinking so.
First, here's a simple truth about the writing process:
Contrary to Teller's claim that "students do not revise," I have
found that students will revise their drafts, given the tools
and time to do so. As we all well know, revision is time-
intensive, and time is the most precious commodity most of
my students have. It's not enough just to teach revision. It
has to be consistently and constantly modeled, which, again,
takes time. And students need time to work on their
revisions in class -- uninterrupted and with my help and
supervision. That approach, in my experience, results in
revisions that are not only substantial but effective.
Teller also criticized peer workshops, a mainstay of
composition instruction, saying, "In peer workshops, while
students get more confident in sharing feedback on each
other's work, they generally ignore their classmates'
suggestions."
But the point of peer workshops isn't just for students to
become confident about reading and weighing on someone
else's writing. The point is for students learn how to read
their own writing. That, too, has to be consistently and
constantly modeled.
Providing specific ideas and goals for students to work on
directs their feedback in more productive ways. And again,
my help and supervision makes both the process of giving
and receiving feedback more useful as well. Rather than a
way to "lose another hour of class time," as Teller claims,
peer workshops can be a very important use of class time
that accomplishes a number of different goals: revision,
raising confidence in writing skills, giving feedback, and
reading instruction.
At the beginning of each semester, I ask students how many
of them think they are bad writers. Without fail, 90 percent of
them raise their hands. I tell them they're wrong. There is no
such thing as a bad writer. There is only a writer who needs
more practice. Relieving their fear of writing is as important
in my job as teaching them how to avoid run-on sentences
because without relieving that fear, students will be too
afraid to even try writing those run-ons.
I also find it ironic that Teller decries the skill of critical
reading while bemoaning his students' inability to use basic
argumentative structures in their writing. How can we teach
argumentative structures without asking students to
critically read argumentative writing? While I agree that we
must avoid letting themed content take over in our writing
courses, there's no reason that the two can't coexist. I am a
firm believer that the more students read and the more they
write, the better their writing will become.
So how can I help my students become better writers?
Here is how I approached teaching 150 first-year
composition students this fall.
Students need to be constantly writing. They should write,
whether or not they receive feedback from me on each draft.
The more comfortable they feel with the writing process, the
more confident they will become in their own skills and their
own ideas. I set up a lot of low-risk writing assignments
nearly every day in class to give students the ability to
experiment with techniques without worrying about failure.
Be a mentor, not merely a judge and jury. Of course I give
grades. But at the end of the day, my responsibility is to help
students become better writers, better students, and better
citizens. I can't do that by blaming them for their inability to
write. Nor can I do it by taking over part of the writing
process for them and essentially giving them a list of things
to "fix." Instead I encourage students to see me as their
writing mentor, which lessens the sense of fear that many of
my students begin the semester with.
Students need to be interacting with ideas. I would much
rather read a sophisticated, intricate argument that is not
grammatically or structurally correct than an argument that
follows strict rhetorical rules and only skims the surface of
ideas. Simply teaching the technical skills of writing
supposes that writing is just that -- a skill -- rather than an
art. We do not hand students a toolbox with the hammer of
Aristotelian logic and the wrench of rhetoric. We teach them
to paint, sometimes with exacting realism, sometimes with
abstract thought, and sometimes with breathtaking
impressionism. We can't do that if we aren't teaching them
about the ideas they're trying to represent.
The writing process is as important as the product. Of
course students can sit down the night before and hammer
out an essay worth an A. I did it several times as an
undergraduate. But that essay could also be better had it
gone through the process. And while I will not fail an essay
for not having gone through multiple drafts, I will penalize it.
Model what I want students to do. I show students how to do
peer review. We workshop thesis statements. And I ask for
honest feedback from students about my assignments and
how I can refine them so they are clearer to understand. I ask
students about which of my in-class assignments worked --
and which didn't -- so that I can improve my teaching.
I am not going to save the world in my composition classes.
I know that. But through them, I can make the world a little
better. I can make students less afraid of writing. I can let
them know that their professor is here to help them find their
voice; that they have something worth saying, even if they
aren't sure how to say it yet; and that the writing process
leads to a product that is worthwhile and something to be
proud of.
In Teller's rather grumpy essay, he suggested that his
decision to focus on writing technique -- and avoid issues or
difficult reading assignments -- would probably mean that
"by the end of the semester, my students will hate my course
because it is 'boring,' 'hard,' and 'a lot of work.' ... But if they
show up, do the work, and turn off their phones, they just
might leave my class able to write a sentence."
By the end of the semester, I expect, many of my students
will be groaning about my composition course, too. It's also
hard work -- and a lot of it. I get frustrated with them at
times. They get frustrated with me. We work through it
together and keep plugging along.
But if they show up, turn off their phones, and do the work,
then not only will they leave my class able to write a
sentence, they will leave as stronger writers who believe in
their own ideas and abilities, and who find themselves more
prepared for the rest of their academic -- and nonacademic --
careers.
Emily Shearer Stewart is an assistant professor of English
and philosophy at Del Mar College, in Corpus Christi, Tex.
Credit: By Emily Shearer Stewart
IllustrationIllustration
Melinda Beck for The Chronicle Review; Tim Cook for The
Chronicle Review; Caption: Creative Plagiarism 1; Good and
Risky: the Promise of a Liberal Education 1
Word count: 14621462
(Copyright Nov. 21, 2016 by The Chronicle of Higher
Education)
+
No, We're Not Teaching Composition 'All Wrong' Emily Shearer Stewart.
The Chronicle of Higher EducationThe Chronicle of Higher Education; Washington; Washington (Nov
21, 2016): n/a.
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