Annotated Bibliographies for Fall 2004
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Harris, Pauline, Phil Fitzsimmons, and Barbra McKenzie. “Six words of writing, Many Layers of Significance: An Examination of Writing as Social Practice In an Early Grade Classroom.” Australian Journal of Language and Literacy. 27.1 (2004): 27-45.
In their study, Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie observed a first grade classroom in a Northern California school for three months to investigate the act of writing of young children as a complex process influenced by classroom and out-of-school contexts. Using Luke and Freebody’s model of reading, the researchers wanted to examine writing as a “social model of writing” by focusing on how children “represent texts, compose meaning, achieve social purposes, and position readers” and reflect situational and cultural contexts in their writing (28, 27). After evaluating months of observation, the researchers chose to focus on an episode involving one student, Charlie, as they felt his behavior was representative of “several issues” faced by many children in the classroom setting (31).
The researchers chose to describe and analyze Charlie’s writing process for an assigned task, as whether the activity was free choice or teacher-assigned significantly influenced Charlie’s approach to writing. When assigned to draw a picture and write a caption for his favorite Pat Hutchins story, Charlie exhibited resistant behavior, such as expressing his “hate” for the stories, avoiding the assignment by focusing on a pack of markers, and then eventually completing the assignment in a hurried manner (32). Along with a drawing of “One-Eyed Jake,” Charlie wrote in heavy, black marker “One-Eyed Jake had a TELLIBLLLLE temper!!!” (33). Guided by Luke and Freebody’s model of reading, the researchers examined Charlie’s compositional practices as they related to “code, meaning, purpose, and position” (42). They found Charlie’s choice of subject, medium, and language to be expressive of his negative attitude towards the assignment, essentially “redefin[ing] his teacher’s set purpose” of an enjoyable activity to instead convey his position towards the task (42). Through also investigating the broader context of school and family, the researchers concluded that Charlie’s negative attitude towards the assignment was due in part to his family-influenced preference for reading scientific texts as opposed to literature. In free choice activities, Charlie’s enthusiasm and dedication in representing factual texts, such as those on the subject of marine life, attest to the influence of social context in his writing. Motivated by their findings, Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie feel that educators must view student writing as reflective of broader social contexts and thus, work with children’s “predispositions, knowledge, skills, and aspirations” in order to “build bridges to new learning, without displacing old learning and without alienating the child in the writer or the writer in the child” (44).
Several parallels may be drawn between Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie’s study and that of Donald Graves’s 1975 study of the writing processes of seven-year-olds. In an unassigned task, Michael, the primary subject of Graves’s study, chose to create a fictional story, perhaps influenced by his family’s exposing him to of themes of factual as well as fictional nature, such as “King Arthur, sports, ghosts and witches, camping and hunting, fires and explosions” (Perl 33). However, as researchers cannot produce an accurate and all-encompassing report of a child’s exposure to thematic elements, it is difficult to pinpoint what exactly motivates a child’s selection of subject matter in free choice writing. Nevertheless, both studies confirm that a child’s engagement with unassigned tasks exceeds his engagement with teacher-assigned tasks, as personal relevance makes the task more enjoyable to the child. Emotion undoubtedly influenced Charlie’s writing, supporting Brand’s assertion that “affective content and motivation” guide writing (442). Although Brand’s study does not focus specifically on children, Charlie’s writing serves as a valuable example supporting her emphasis on emotion as an active influence on composition, as children do not seek to eclipse their emotional self with an academic self.
Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie’s article attracted my attention because I thought it might serve as an expansion of Graves’s study by producing contemporary research on the writing process of young children. Graves concluded that family and home, teachers, developmental characteristics, and peers influence “writing cause, thematic origin or writing, prewriting, composing, and postwriting,” and the more recent study further examines the extent that variables rooted outside of the classroom influence a writer’s attitude and position and therefore, affect the actual text, meaning, and purpose of composition (Perl 35). Although the subjects of Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie’s study are the mere age of six and have limited experience with writing, the study reaffirms that writing is more than just words on a page, but a powerful mode of expression. The study challenges us as tutors and possible future teachers to view writing as the confluence of the writer’s experiences and thus, possibly to take on the responsibility of “build[ing] bridges to new learning” for the resistant writer (Harris 44). —Stephanie Seale, 09/14/04
Haas, Christina. “Does the Medium Make a Difference? Two Studies of Writing With
Pen and Paper and With Computers.” Human-Computer Interaction 4 (1989): 149-169. Available via Academic Search Premier. 2002. 13 Sept. 2004. <http://bll.epnet.com/citation.asp?tb=0&_ug=sid+1555E278%2DF8EF%2D4818%2DA218%2DB0EB79192BFB%40sessionmgr3+3C1C&_us=SLsrc+ext+30AB&_usmtl=ftv+True+137E&_uso=hd+False+db%5B0+%2Daph+1BEE&bk=S&EBSCOContent=ZWJjY8bb43ePp7Rrwtvva6Gmr3%2BPprCFn625fqOWxpjDpfKDqK%2BygqiqrbjQ3%2B151N7uvuMA&rn=&fn=&db=aph&an=7306216&sm=&cf=1>.
This article presents a lengthy analysis of two studies conducted to determine whether advanced technology, in the form of computers and workstations, affects the processes and products of a select group of writers. Prior to explaining either of the studies in a detailed manner, Haas summarizes key points in prior research that she feels may be applicable to either the methodology or the conclusions of her own studies. Most importantly, Haas uses this brief summary of past experiments to draw special attention to those done by J. Gould, a researcher whose experiments Haas mirrors in her first study. Thus the results of his study are especially significant as a means of comparison. Haas frequently reiterates that research in this area is especially significant for teachers who “have looked to computer technology as a potential tool for helping students of all ages write – and learn to write – better” (151). Through this brief summary, Haas introduces a variety of unanswered questions and establishes a historical context for her studies.
The first of the two studies deals with a relatively small sample size of 15 experienced writers (11 men and 4 women) from Carnegie Mellon University whose daily use of the technology in question eliminates any variation in results due to a lack of familiarity with the given technology (152-153). Each subject was given one of four topics and instructed to write a persuasive letter “as quickly as possible” according to the conditions of the proposed topic (153). The first variable of the study pertains to the audience of the letter: two topics had specific audiences in mind and two had general audiences, but ones that the writer would feel comfortable addressing a letter to. For each day of the study, participants wrote two letters. The second variable of the study was mechanism by which the participant was to compose each letter: pen and paper, personal computer, an advanced workstation with a large screen, and an advanced workstation with a small screen (154-155).
In this first study, Haas was able to explore the relationship between quantity and quality of the product. As one would expect, those writing using the pen and paper method produced much shorter products than those using either form of technology. But even though those using the advanced workstations wrote, on average, about a hundred words more than those writing with pen and paper, they also spent roughly three minutes more doing so. In the end, the groups using technology and those using pens and paper composed at roughly the same rate (155). The results of the examination of quality produced similarly unexpected results. When ranked on a numerical scale, letters composed at the advanced workstation and by pen and paper were extremely similar in content, mechanics, and total quality (156). Although I am not quite sure how, Haas finally comes to the conclusion that when dealing with experienced writers, the “advanced workstation is better than the pen and paper or the personal computer” (158).
In the second study, Haas answers the question, “In what ways do text-editing technologies influence the cognitive processes by which writing is revised?” (159). The sample size of this study is even smaller than the first: only 8 of the original 15 participated. Here subject were instructed to “think aloud as they revised two of their original letters to be ‘longer and somewhat more formal essays’ on the same general topic” using the same medium in which they had originally composed the letters (159). All 8 subjects revised their pen and paper letter, and then were broken up into groups of 4 to revise either their personal computer letter or one of their advanced workstation letters (as a result of the two advanced workstation groups merging in the first study).
Experimenters concentrated on the following conditions when evaluating results for the second study: planning, initial planning, rereading, and attending to the medium. A comparison of the three variables shows that substantially more planning was involved in the revision of pen and paper letters than in either the workstation or personal computer versions. In addition, “not only were writers doing more planning in sum with pen and paper, but they were doing more planning ‘up front,’ before they made any changes to the text” (162). In contrast, writers tended to reread more frequently while using the computer and also tended to be more aware of their medium when using technology.
Despite its repetitive nature, this article was not only interesting to read, but presented some unusual results. I did, however, have a slight bit of difficulty understanding the graphic representations and charts included within the text. There was no clear explanation of how the experimenters reached the numerical values in the tables, and I could not understand why the values in the text did not always match the values in the tables, but this may simply be reader error. Despite all of this, I was however able to see the trends to which Haas refers.- Christina Abel 9/14/04
Howard, Rebecca Moore. “Sexuality, Textuality: The Cultural Work of Plagiarism.” College English 62.4 (2000): 473-91.
Rebecca Moore Howard, throughout this piece, presents her idea to eliminate the use of the word “plagiarism” due to its history as a word associated with women. She proposes instead three separate categories: fraud, insufficient citation, and excessive repetition. She feels that these words function more appropriately as they refer only to the textual aspect of plagiarism, not the sexual aspect. As the piece progresses, she presents numerous historical examples that connect originality with men and plagiarism with women. While, she explains, women tend to collaborate, men see any need for collaboration or help as weakness and lack of originality. In this way the sharing of ideas turns into the theft of ideas, or plagiarism. One of the examples she discusses involves the comparison between plagiarism and sexual disease. In his 1926 composition guide, The Fine Art of Writing for Those Who Teach It, Robinson Shipherd wishes to instill the idea that plagiarism is morally wrong in his students and therefore compares it to sexual disease. Howard explains the repercussions this has for women: “Disease is, of course, of the body, and a prominent tradition in the West says that the body is feminine” (480). Over the course of the essay, Howard presents ample evidence of a sexual aspect to the word and concept of plagiarism as well as a simple and effective alternative that focuses solely on the textual aspect, therefore freeing women from negative associations with the subject.
The subject of plagiarism has always struck me as extremely delicate. It seems to be a topic that turns the faces of all college students to stone and therefore stirs my curiosity. The title of this article caught my eye immediately not only because the idea of plagiarism interests me but also because I had never thought about plagiarism in any sort of gendered context. The points that Howard makes raised my awareness about women’s rights in writing. Living in society today with nothing standing between me and a successful writing career but myself, I forget that, like the right to vote, women have not always had the freedom to write. However, as clearly as I see why Howard feels the way she does, I don’t feel that the issue of associating plagiarism with women exists in our society. Perhaps I simply haven’t seen it, but some of Howard’s examples seem outdated. She certainly made me stop and think about connections between gender and writing, but I think perhaps the idea of plagiarism is not as sexualized as she thinks.
By discussing the association of individuality with men and collaboration with women, Howard opens the subject of the differences in writing style between women and men. Though she uses the differences to show how women were connected with plagiarism and men with originality, the idea that men and women write differently is an interesting one to consider. A study done by Donald H. Graves shows that gender differences in writing begin as soon as children are able to write. According to Graves, seven-year-old girls tend to write about their primary territory while boys seem capable of writing about subjects beyond their everyday life at home and school. This, Howard might say, can be seen as further evidence that males are associated with originality.
Although Howard’s piece does not apply directly to a tutoring situation, her suggestion for replacing the word may help student writers avoid plagiarism. The three aspects of fraud, insufficient citation, and excessive repetition create an excellent checklist for someone who may be unclear about whether or not he or she is plagiarizing. It is an added benefit that these terms avoid sexualizing theft of ideas and refer only to the text in question.—Mariah Healey, 15 September 2005
Huff, Ronald K. “Teaching Revision: A Model of the Drafting Process.” College
English, Vol. 45, No.8 (Dec., 1983), 800-816.
Ronald K. Huff’s article utilizes the information of other composition theorists and attempts to create a practical, pedagogical solution to the issues brought up by the process of revision. Huff firstly discusses the research of Sharon Pianko, who studied average and remedial college writers to observe their use of reflection while writing. She found that while the more experienced writers paused and considered their work multiple times, the remedial writers took less pauses and also used those moments to focus on sentence and language issues. Also citing research conducted by Linda Flower and John R. Hayes, Huff suggests that immature writers revise on the grammatical and sentence level while more able writers focus on “rhetorical problems,”(800) therefore addressing the issues that improve the essay as a whole. Huff defines a mature writer as someone who does not dwell on the detailed rules of writing but instead focuses on the bigger picture of the paper: the audience, the thesis, and the organization of the writing.
Throughout the article, Huff emphasizes that it is essential for students and teachers to look at the drafting process as a continual part of the composing experience. With this, Huff outlines a three-step strategy for drafting which he used on a freshman composition class of twenty-three students. The first stage is “zero drafting,”(803) where the writer completes a draft of the essay without concern for details so that they can step back and begin to narrow down ideas and strengthen their arguments. When using “zero drafting,” Huff says it is important for the writer to remember that the process is not about making a final draft the first time but to instead enjoy the freedom of possibility this action creates. With this, Huff makes an important point that it is almost impossible for writing to develop when the writer is focused on the “ ‘correctness’ of their spelling, grammar, punctuation, word choice, and the linear progression of one sentence to another”(805). Huff is successful in identifying an essential element of what makes a good writer: the ability to absorb the rules of writing so that one may work freely without concern for the restriction of being correct.
Writers should then move on to “problem-solving drafting,”(806) where the writer finds problem areas which are necessary to address for the full quality of the paper. Huff suggests that solving these specific issues will usually lead to a “global”(811) improvement of the piece. Finally, the writer creates the “final draft”(811) which should not be seen as a quick look over but instead as a search for the “best possible solution” to the important issues of the work.
Huff’s article does a nice job of combining the important work of both Pianko and Flower and Hayes. He utilizes the key conclusions in their research, focusing on the behaviors observed of the mature writers, and then creates a useful strategy through which a teacher or tutor could encourage such behavior. His technique for drafting is a valuable one, however I question how an unconfident writer would feel when confronted with the idea of “zero drafting.” Although Huff states that the teacher should emphasize that this step is not an attempt to write a final draft, a tutor working closely with a troubled student might have a hard time convincing them to ignore the pressures of creating an entire paper in one sitting. When dealing with such a student, it might be important to create a kind of outline of ideas before even attempting a “zero draft,” even if this only involves speaking about the subject out loud before beginning.
The essay also includes powerful examples to display the effectiveness of Huff’s strategy. Huff provides portions of the students’ work and shows the progression of their writing through using the strategy he designed. Not only do these examples further cement his assertion, they also serve as tools for tutors to help them recognize when such a strategy might be useful and how the process could evolve a page of jumbled ideas into a concrete, organized, and powerful piece of writing.
Finally, one of the most important yet simple points that Huff emphasizes is the idea that to be a good writer one must own the work that they do; they must feel invested in the work and take their writing from a “school- sponsored” duty to a “self-sponsored”(801) opportunity. Although this is not a particularly scientific conclusion, it is a piece of advice and encouragement that all writers should hear. – Sarah Capua 9/15/04
Boice, Robert. "Writing Blocks and Tacit Knowledge." The Journal of Higher Education, Vol. 64, No. 1 (Jan.- Feb., 1993), 19-54. http://links.jstor.org/sici=0022-1546%28199301%2F02%2964%3A1%3C19%3AWBTK% 3E2.0.CO%3B2-S
The author is a professor of psychology at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, and is the director of the school's Faculty Instructional Support Office. The article is a comphrensive survey of the available literature on writer's block, along with Boice's experience working with professors plagued by writer's block, and his recommendations for helping those experiencing it to change their habits in order to move beyond it. While the test subjects of Boice's theories, and consequently the focus of his paper, are college professors, much of the information presented also applies to students working on college-level academic papers. Indeed, much of the research the author surveys looks at younger writers, beginning with elementary students.
Boice opens by noting that writing blocks are not well-studied, and briefly explores the reasons why. He asserts that "writing fluency is a kind of practical intelligence whose basics remain traditionally untaught" (20). While much research has been done on how to write, there has been precious little information accumulated "on the most basic of tacit skills such as finding ideas, motivation, and momentum" (22). It is just these tacit skills, Boice argues, that are what separates "fluent" writers from those who frequently fall victim to writer's block. Yet they are left untaught, he says, because our culture rewards those who thrive with little or no guidance and are instantly ready for grander problems. After reviewing some of the current psychological thought existant on writing blocks, he discusses the results of his own survey of professors facing this issue. The "blockers' maladaptive thoughts about writing" show several distinct problems which nevertheless often act in concert with one another (28). They include: apprehension about the work involved in writing, procrastination, feelings of depression associated with the task of writing, impatience to have things done and over with and move on, perfectionism, evaluation anxiety, and "rigid rules" (28-9). Boice notes that good writers also experience some of these same issues, but are able to move beyond them. He then surveys the various methods in use to combat writer's block, and their general effectiveness. None, by themselves, however, has been shown to have a significant and lasting effect on a writer's overall fluency. The author instead prescribes a combination of these "four elementary components of tacit knowledge," which he has studied and found successful for the blocked professors with whom he works (41). The "IRSS" model integrates the separate approaches used by other psychologists, and stands for involvement, regimen, self-management, and social networking. Involvement in campus activities and work and discussion within a discipline or major, Boice says, helps students to 'learn in a social context and internalize' the information and language conventions they will later need to put into papers (41). Regimen is simply the behaviorist process of creating a writing routinue for yourself that is controlled by a system of punishements and rewards. Self-management requires discovering what one's individual negative writing behaviors and thoughts are, so that they may be adequately addressed. Social networking, as the final piece of the puzzle, is the participation in some type of peer-tutoring program, allowing blocked writers to learn from more fluent colleagues. To Boice, successful writers are those that engage in all of these "tacit" behaviors in some way.
The premise of this article was very interesting. If we are to tutor, we should have various strategies on hand to suggest to those students struggling to put words on paper. Boice notes that "most of the writers who reflect on how they write seem inscrutable and mysterious" (22). The difficulty with which most of us attempted to articulate our own prose endeavors bears this out, and does not bode well for those who will come to us asking, "How do you do it?" While it is nearly impossible for a peer tutor to efficiently impose a regimen, or most of the other parts of the IRSS upon fellow students, it will certainly help to be able to offer a tested answer, which those who are truly serious about overcoming their blocking problems can implement on their own.
Boice's theory of the tacit behaviors involved in good writing makes a great deal of sense. Certainly teachers prefer not to have to cover the most basic behaviors of a skill, as they often seem terribly self-evident, especially to those so comfortable in a subject that they choose to teach it. For students who aren't very motivated in that particular direction, this fundamental lack of coping skills only further alienates them from the subject and undermines the progress they might otherwise have been able to make. If we accept Boice's premises, the article should have profound consequences for the way remedial classes and basic level courses are taught. I agree with much of the author's conclusions, and believe that it will certainly be valuable in tutoring and teaching. However, some of the examples, omitted from the above summary of the piece, given at the end about the psychology of dieting and agoraphobia were a bit redundant and not particulary well tied in with the rest of the work. In addition, it would have greatly helped if the programs for integrating the IRSS method were described in greater detail.
The article tied in rather nicely with the Flower and Hayes piece, dealing as it did with the cognitive process of writing, and indeed, Boice references some of their other work. Boice's recommendation of free-writing to help with getting started writing seems to echo Flower and Hayes' findings about the "representations" -- images and phrases -- that they see as being "translated" onto the page. And while it has no in-depth analysis of the affective aspects of writing as Alice Brand calls for, it certainly does show that a great deal of blocking stems from the emotional and affective issues of individual writers.--Jessie Dixon, 9/15/04
Sommers, Nancy. “Responding to Student Writing.” College Composition and Communication. Volume 33 Number 2 (May 1982), 148-156.
In this article, Sommers uses research results to explain concerns with written teacher commentary on student writing. Sommers and her colleagues Lil Brannon and Cyril Knoblach executed a study of 35 teachers’ written commentary from New York University and the University of Oklahoma. A portion of these teachers and their students were also interviewed. The study focused on comments that were written in an attempt to motivate students to revise their work. The goal of the study was to understand the messages students receive through teacher commentary, and to discover the reasons students use certain comments to assist their revision, while disregarding others (148).
The study found that teacher commentary warps the revision process; the student tends to revise not based on his or her own goals for the paper but rather on what appear, through the written comments, to be the teacher’s goals (149). Sommer specifies this finding by comparing interlinear and marginal comments. The interlinear comments, the ones that appear within the text of the paper, tend to treat the text as a “fixed piece,” simply pointing to grammatical errors or asking for the student to elaborate his or her point (151). The marginal comments, however, imply that the text does not have a fixed meaning, and tell the student, “you need to do more research” or “think more about your reader” (150, 152). Through the interlinear comments, the teacher is asking the student to brush up the text given the current structure and intentions, whereas the marginal comments communicate a need to revamp the paper. As Sommers points out, such contradictory comments fail “to direct genuine revision of the text as a whole” (151).
Sommers explains that when teachers comment in this way, they treat the first draft as though it is a finished draft and veer the revision away from the direction natural to the writer (151). A main problem with this form of commentary is that students tend to “see their writing in parts—words, sentences, paragraphs—and not as a whole discourse” (151). Thus, the student sees his first draft as a final draft, failing to pay attention to the overarching theme or structure, and simply “revising” sentence-by-sentence. Sommers notes that through the teacher commentary, the “processes of revision, editing, and proofreading are collapsed and reduced into a single activity, and the students’ misunderstanding of the revision process as a rewording activity is reinforced by their teachers’ comments” (151). When looking at the revised drafts, it is clear that students change a large portion of what is commented on, but “do not take the risk” of making other changes in their revision, even if they “sense that other changes are needed” (152).
The second finding of the study was that most of the teachers’ comments are not specific to the student text in question; rather, they adhere to “abstract rules” for writing (153). Furthermore, nowhere in the teacher commentary are suggestions for ways in which the student can fix the problems pointed out. To tell the student, Sommers explains, “‘to be specific,’ or ‘to elaborate,’ does not show [the] student what questions the reader has about the meaning of the text, or what breaks in logic exist” (153). This vague teacher commentary suggests to students that they simply need to follow a specified set of rules in order to improve their writing. While the “abstract rules” may sometimes be applicable to a possible revision for a text, the study found that teachers’ comments are full of these rules even if the student work will not necessarily benefit from such commentary (153).
This problem originates, Sommers proposes, in the fact the teachers do not receive extensive training in how to respond to student papers. Indeed, teachers often do treat first drafts as though they were final papers because they were not taught how to change their commentary based on the status of the draft (154). It should be clear that a comment used to explain a grade is likely to prove unhelpful if the student is looking to revise his or her paper. The teacher, however, who is used to reading a paper with the ultimate purpose of assigning a grade, looks foremost for spelling, punctuation, or grammatical errors within a text (154). Where, I wonder, were the classes like 221 when these teachers were in school? I am certain had the teachers gone through a course on the “Theories of Composing, Tutoring, and Teaching,” they would have a much better sense of what sorts of written comments are appropriate for each stage of the writing process. I do not think it is possible for one to be taught how to “respond to student writing. It is most important to understand the theories behind teaching and tutoring, and to use this information to best judge how to respond to each piece of writing.
Sommers’ last and very brief point is that the most success will come from the written comments if the teacher echoes his or her suggestions and form of commentary within the classroom itself. While Sommers recommends exercises that look at the process of revision in a sense broader than simply editing common errors, she does not elaborate on this suggestion. From the perspective of a writing tutor, however, the ties to the classroom are not the foremost concern. Even though the writing tutor may not write comments on the student’s paper, the concept of reading the paper as a unit and not as individual sentences that may need revision still applies. All papers that are brought to the Writing Center will go through some sort of revision. It is important for tutors to understand that there are many types of revision, and to read each paper with this in mind. Indeed, it is true that a paper may be well near its finished stage, and the main problems may be with punctuation and grammar. However, while punctuation and grammar may need refining with a rough draft of a paper, they are of lesser concern in comparison the overall paper’s overall layout or meaning. While tutors must be attentive to the mechanical errors of a text, they must also consider the text from a “first draft” perspective, and challenge, just as teachers should, whether a more overarching approach to revision would be helpful. It seems, in fact, that many of the problems Sommers’ observed would be solved the teacher and student engaged in a spoken dialogue. And so perhaps Writings Center tutors are at an advantage over the teachers in Sommers’ study; the Writing Center environment encourages the tutor to ask questions and word suggestions verbally, which is likely more effective—especially in the preliminary stages of writing—than if the student were to receive such comments in the margins of his paper.-Phoebe A. Westwood, September 14, 2004
Glau, Gregory R. “Mirroring Ourselves? The Pedagogy of Early Grammar Texts” Rhetoric Review, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Spring 93), pp 418-435.
Stable URL: http://links.jstor.org/sici?sici=0735-0198%28199321%2911%3A2%3C418%3AMOTPOE%3E2.0.CO%3B2-P
This thoroughly researched essay by Gregory Glau, at the time of publication a Ph.D. student at the University of Arizona, seeks to provide an analytical history of grammar in pedagogy. His thesis is simple: current and time honored, rule based approaches to grammar instruction encourage the view of students as passive and deficient. In deriving this broad based argument from the past two hundred years of pedagogical practice, Glau supplies a more than adequate accounting of the evolution of method which slowly took place until, he contends, the craft made full circle and began to suffer from the very mistakes it set out to correct.
Glau’s history of English pedagogy begins in the mid 18th century, when literacy first began to blossom outside the ranks of the elite and caused a tremendous growth in availability of reading material and interest in reading. This concerned those in power, since levels of education were tied to different social classes. Without support from the Church or government, campaigns to educate the masses were kept afloat through voluntary efforts. Despite the introduction of government funding in 1830, teachers continued to be ill-paid and untrained.
Simultaneously, the realm of wealthy private education came under the influence of rote Latin memorization and encouraged the practice of drilling English. In attempts to create parallels between the structures of each language, “correctness” was soon defined on Latin grounds.
In the collision of these two worlds, the emergence and promotion of working class literacy with the revival and classic and Latin schooling traditions, there emerged a strict concentration on rules along with the notion that ignorance of such Latin based grammatical rules implied abnormality and the need for repair.
Glau identifies this as the point when unnecessary discipline and misconceptions about student shortcomings took hold. Reactionary efforts on behalf of the populous, most notably William Cobbett’s A Grammar of the English Language (1818), emerged as the first counterpoints to this trend, and concentrated of educating the working class through everyday writing, rather than rule based prescriptions.
Glau also recognizes a third school of thought, associationism, as materializing from aforementioned conflict. Created by instructors who sought a theoretical base on which to ground their pedagogical practices, associationism supported a simplified atomistic pedagogy that claims people build ideas through accumulative association of simple ideas, eventually stringing them together to create chains of recollected information. Early grammar examples of this, like beginning with the study of letters before moving on to syllables, words, sentences etc. are still continued today.
Glau documents all these trends through the 1980s, where he shows examples of their continued existence and competition, with combative and opposing research published constantly. Undoubtedly, Glau feels views of the “deficient student” continue to dominate, and he regrets the unaltered and unnecessary concentration on formal grammar structure, which many are quoted as finding negligible or even harmful to the goal of improved composition.
Overall, this is an interesting read for anyone curious about the origins of our widely accepted views on ‘good” and “correct” writing. However, one must be prepared for occasionally excessive pools of historical evidence.—Michael Meno, 15 September 2004
Damasio, Antonio R. Descartes’ Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain. N.Y.: Grosset/Putnam. Chapter 7, 127-164
Damasio, in chapter seven “Emotions and Feelings,” assesses how our emotions and feelings are linked with our cognitive processes, especially when making decisions. He offers two accepted ideas: one being that our decisions are automated, elementary responses that does not involve “an aware self” but rather simply the neurological routes that cause the reaction; the other is slightly more complicated as it uses the basis that our brain is separated into a modern and a primal section, and that these do not interact. The “upstairs,” new brain is where reason comes from, and therefore decisions, and the “d1ownstairs” contains all the rudimentary biological functions, such as emotions and “all that weak, fleshy stuff,” (128). Damasio draws his arguments from both ideas, in that one part of the brain cannot function without the other, that they are interconnected and inseparable. His idea is that our emotions and feelings link our rational and non-rational (what some may think as the emotional) pieces of our brains, and also explores the notion that emotions and feelings are not the same thing. He comes to these conclusions by using several studies done throughout the past by himself and others in the neurology profession, using both the biological processes of the brain, and the visible, outer reactions that one can observe in another human.
The chapter addresses results of research of the biological processes, and the actual parts of our brains that causes certain emotions to be felt, and these were difficult to make sense of. However, it was fascinating to consider the many scenarios he introduced to understand how he came to his conclusions that the mind-body-emotion pieces in humans is inseparable. For example, he uses the most basic emotional responses we may experience, fear. If X causes fear, this response could be out of our control in one sense. Maybe it has been biologically ingrained in us, and we will respond the same way every time. But if we look at it another way, then we could see that our experience with X can actually teach us how to avoid this emotional reaction of fear, maybe by learning how to circumvent the environment in which we will come into contact with X (133). This is the connection with the cognitive and the emotional in the most basic primordial sense, it saves us from feeling a certain unwanted emotion again. How does this relate to writing? What if X was a writing assignment given to us, if we do not think about what causes our fear, or apprehension, in tackling the assignment, we will continually fear each and every assignment. It would take a lot to think about what causes the emotion, but it is something that can be changed. By involving our cognitive processes with emotion, then we should be able to address the source of the problem. In a sense it is learning from experiences.
Most important however, is the in the discussions of feelings, and fooling the brain when we experience certain “feelings of emotions,” (145). Damasio defines feelings as the “monitoring” that our body does while we think about certain events, and the change that the normal body state may experience while these thoughts go by. There is a way, however, that we can fool our own brains and replicate the same “feeling.” The experiment he mentions uses subjects who are asked to “roughly and incompletely composed happy facial expressions.” It is found then, that mimicking the bodily function produced in them “happiness.” This was continued with several other feelings, such as anger. So it is then, that we can use our body to help create certain feelings, as the mind is following the movements of our bodies, and then processing these actions into certain feelings. I believe that this is important when we are looking to change our writing, and writing process. We can choose to modify the way we think about our writing by changing how we approach our methods of writing. We saw the idea of having a different writing output because of the way the assignment was perceived in Graves’ experiment. The children who were given assigned writing did not write as much as those who just picked up a pen and paper for themselves. Is there a way to make each assigned piece of writing like the unassigned? Can we “fool” our brain into not experiencing the feelings of angst and dread before we write?
I do not think that this chapter explores the link between our cognitive process and our emotions enough in the sense that it could be essential to changing or helping one’s writing. My point in reading this was to begin to understand the function emotions have in our writing. Damasio does make it obvious, with supporting evidence, that there cannot be emotions without the cognitive process, and vice versa, something that Brand did not accomplish in her piece. It seems that because Damasio relates emotions and feelings to the cognitive process, it is difficult to connect the chapter with how one may improve or work on the writing process with this new information. I think it is important to look at it the other way around, as see how the cognitive process relates to an emotional state or the feelings of emotions.
I cannot finish without returning to the opening of the chapter where it seems that Damasio talks about what causes to make our decisions. Here, the progression of the chapter can be useful, as it reveals that emotions and feelings are linked to the decision process. When writing we then cannot ignore the ways in which our environment, topic, audience, own opinions about our writing, etc., can affect the product and the decisions we make when creating our writings. ---Katherine Caouette, 9-16-04
Gebhardt, Richard C. “Initial Plans and Spontaneous Composition: Toward a
Comprehensive Theory of the Writing Process” College English. Vol. 44 No. 6 (1982): 620-627.
Richard Gebhardt attempts to explain and compare the relationships between linear and nonlinear theories on the writing process. He begins his essay with two “plainly contradictory” quotes from writing process scholars. The first quote, from Martha L. King, is representative of the more structured, or linear approach to composition. She offers three stages of the writing process: pre-writing, articulation, and post writing (620). Gebhardt quickly presents the reader with Barrett J. Mandel’s more free-form theory on writing where “words flow from a pen, not from a mind: they appear on the page through a massive coordination of a massive number of motor processes” (621). The author uses these two examples, as well as various other relevant sources throughout the article as a means for suggesting that the education of writing should be “healthy and comprehensive…accommodating both linear and recursive ideas of composing” (626).
This article was beneficial and supplemental to my understanding of the writing process. Although Gebhardt was obvious in his criticisms of King and Mandel, his insights were thought-provoking and well-supported. For example, Gebhardt comments on Mandel’s assumptions that “writing is not the result of or effect of what we normally call thinking,” with a short quote from William Styron, a revelation he had right before writing his novel, Sophie’s Choice. Styron talks of his novel appearing in outline form in his brain, the result of a few ideas he had been contemplating for a good amount of time. Gebhardt furthers the idea of thinking while writing with his own personal experience of composing a book review. He thought of a thesis and then just went with it, thinking his words onto the paper, resulting in a solid paragraph of “though-comes-first” sentences. He even comments on his constantly changing literary directions while writing this article (623).
These insights are intensely familiar to our class, simply because the author wrote about his own writing experiences as they have happened in the past and while they were currently happening. In all our posted responses I’ve read, there has been some sort of personal reflection in our analyses about the struggles or successes of writing. In particular, revision while writing is definitely a process that many of us use, whether we know it or not. According to James Britton, “as words flow onto paper, writers have a general sense of intention for their writing” (626). Assuming that this intention is malleable, how much does this intention change throughout a writer’s piece? Our cognitive and revision process while writing can lead our words into very strange places.
Overall, this article offers readers important truths and analyses, with the aid of optimistic scholars such as Linda S. Flower and John Hayes. Gebhardt praises their “planning, translating and reviewing” process, commenting that they “recognize that general ideas or initial plans can initiate writing and help carry composition forward” (626). That does sound simple and unfocused, but that seems to be the way, without strict linear planning, that writing occurs.—Paul Des Marais, 15 September 2004
McLeod, Susan. “Some Thoughts About Feelings: The Affective Domain and the Writing Process.” College Composition and Communication Vol. 38, No. 4 (Dec. 1987): 426- 435.
I chose this article because the Alice Brand one left me very unsatisfied! I wanted to learn more about how emotion affects the writing process.
McLeod begins her article with a common example of how emotion obviously affects writing: an exam scenario (426). She notices the sweat on freshman brows, how they fidgeted in their seats, and the truly disturbed expressions on their faces. She defines “affective” so that it encompasses preferences, moods, attitudes, and other emotional states that cause physical reactions like tense muscles, increased heartbeat, and sweaty palms. The most common emotion associated with writing seems to be anxiety, unfortunately. John Daly has done extensive studies on this, finding that undergraduate females are less anxious than males, and that anxiety-prone students are a great deal less likely to enroll in writing-intensive courses (427). McLeod criticizes these studies for focusing on the anxiety itself rather than causal and/or preventative information.
According to the work of Reed Larson, anxiety may not be an altogether bad thing (428). In a small experiment, he proved that college students with a “non-disruptive” amount of anxiety perform better than apathetic students. Reed’s colleague Mihali Csikszentmihalyi came to similar conclusions in his book Beyond Boredom and Anxiety. He found that a balance between the students’ personal skills and the students’ perception of the task is necessary to create this happy-medium type of anxiety (428).
McLeod continues to challenge Flowers’ and Hayes’ ideas about motivation. She mentions the work of John Nicholls (429), who believes that internal motivations have a greater effect than external ones, the ones which Flowers and Hayes focused on. The two main motivations Nicholls mentions are “ego-involvement” and “task involvement.” Ego-involvement refers to the student’s self-esteem as related to the assignment. The student may worry about appearing dumb or silly in front of other students. Task involvement refers to the extent to which the writer internalizes the assignment, according to how “valuable” the task is to the individual.
Personal beliefs and philosophies also come into play when writing. Researcher Mary Budd identifies two groups of students (429). “Gamblers” have a more hopeless philosophy of the world. They believe that they have little or no control on the world around them, so they put forth less effort. “Bowlers” believe that they have the power to change things, so they are willing to put more time and energy into their work. McLeod refers to this phenomenon as the locus of control (429). “Gamblers” have an external locus, while “Bowlers” have an internal locus. I think this is partly psychological and partly philosophical. People with low self-esteems are always more prone to being “Gamblers” because it requires less personal risk. Similarly, those same people are likely to adopt a philosophy that functions in the same way.
McLeod goes on to define two more classifications of belief. Some students have succumbed to “learned helplessness” after repeatedly failing a specific task. The more successful students become “mastery-oriented” (431). I have seen this process come into play numerous times. I have many friends who call themselves horrible writers because one teacher told them they were. Negative feedback like that really affects your writing in the long run.
Finally, McLeod tries to encompass all of these factors into a tangible affective theory. She borrows the idea from George Mandler that emotion comes down to physiological and cognitive reactions to stimuli (431). But McLeod reminds the reader that the causes of these reactions are most important. She remembers her excitement in writing the present article, and how her interest in the task was the force that blocked anxiety.
McLeod asks that teachers consider the emotional states of their students and be aware of emotional reactions. I think that this article was very well done and thorough. She included such a broad variety of information as it pertained to emotion and writing. Every paragraph sparked a memory of when I was in a similar situation to the one she was discussing. My writing and I have been affected by teachers, my self-esteem, my involvement with the task, my attitude, and countless other emotions. In fact, I wrote about all of this specifically in my “How Do I Write” paper, as did many others. McLeod did a wonderful job of breaking it all down.—Kelly Gilpin, 15 September 2004
Dohrer, Gary. “Do Teachers’ Comment on Students’ Papers Help?” College Teaching.
39.2 (Spring 1991): 48-54. Persistent Link in Academic Search Premier: http://search.epnet.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=cookie,ip,url,uid&db=aph&an=9706201374
Gary Dohrer begins his exploration of the effectiveness of teacher commentary on student assignments from an educational vantage point. Frustrated that his students did not seem to be embracing or even paying attention to the written commentary on their graded papers, Dohrer resolved to search for a means by which he might improve the effectiveness of written commentary (48). A plethora of research already conducted by Stiff; Gee; Bata; Schroeder; Marzano and Arthur; Knoblach and Brandon; Ziv; and Hillockson this subject indicating that commentary on papers has little educational impact when students are not given the chance to revise their works (48). However, both Beach and Hillocks report that, when given the chance to revise, students were more receptive to the comments made by their teachers (48).
Intrigued by these results, Dohrer takes his research to the next level. He decides that he will study the effectiveness of two variant forms of commentary on student papers: surface changes which do not alter meaning and text-based changes which change content (49). Despite the possibility for a relatively large group of subjects [53], students were reluctant to commit to the study and the actual number of participants was less than ideal [5 males and 3 females] ranging from nineteen to twenty-one (49). The study is divided into four sections: “(48) What do the students understand to be teachers’ purposes in making comments on their papers? (48) What is the relationship between teachers’ comments and students’ responses? (49) Do the students make changes independently of those prompted by teachers’ remarks, and, if so, what kinds of changes? and (50) What kinds of problems do students encounter as a result of the teachers’ comments?” (48). Copies of first drafts with teacher commentary, revisions, notes made during revisions, and two transcripts: one involving verbalized revision processes and one of a post-revision interview were used to collect the data for this study (48).
When interviewing the subjects of the study about their notions of revision, one thing became strikingly clear: “Although students claimed they understood the purpose of teachers’ comments [to provide feedback that would help them learn from their mistakes, discover their topics in a new light], they quickly abandoned the goal of improving their own writing skills for the more immediate goal of getting a higher grade” (50). In her 1982 article “Responding to Student Writing,” Nancy Somers contended that teacher commentary might even work to distract students from embracing a revision process, a conclusion supported by Dohrer’s own study. According to Dohrer, students, fearing the consequences of truly owning their work, consistently refused to make large macrostructural [text-based] changes during the revision process (50-51). Throughout the study, Dohrer found that students were more likely to make simple, surface changes than to reevaluate and reorganize a paper that is thematically weak (51).
Perhaps the most interesting results stem directly from Dohrer’s analysis of the commentary itself. On average, 72% of teacher comments pertained to surface level changes (50). Student observation of the over abundance of cosmetic corrections lead students to feel that teachers were more concerned with these surface alterations than with more intensive, authoritative macrostructural changes. When researchers observed the number of changes made independent of teacher comments, the trend was undeniable. Seventy-five percent of all independent changes failed to alter the meaning of the paper, 24% were microstructural [pertaining slight meaning alterations], and none were macrostructural (51). Despite their inability to accomplish their self-proclaimed task (learn from our mistakes), the students were able to see the trends set forth by their teachers. If the majority of the comments made by teachers were grammatical rather than thematic, then students inferred that all they needed to do to enhance their grade was to make a large number of grammatical, surface changes (52).
In the conclusion of his article, Dohrer presents his audience with a variety of recommendations. He suggests that it may be beneficial for teachers, and if possible students as well, to decide whether the focus of revision should be surface or text-based revisions, and subsequently, grades should reflect a students’ ability to master the focal point of the revision exercise. In addition, Dohrer feels that it is important for teachers to be able to separate feedback and evaluation, in the form of a grade. These two entities often work to the detriment of one another. In doing so, Dohrer predicts that students may be able to overcome the “fear” of having the teacher disagree with their new insights. Dohrer also comments that teachers should be wary of overwhelming their students with too many corrections, so that students begin to depreciate their own abilities to write, and of writing enigmatic comments that simply work to undermine a student’s sense of efficacy. When Dohrer says, “If we want students to improve their writing and thinking, we as teachers need to make some commitment to providing a structure within which students can use writing as a tool to invent, to discover, to wonder, and most important, to think” (8) he issues an edict to all composition teachers. The question is, are we brave enough to listen?
As tutors, this study challenges us to move beyond the type of error analysis that encourages students to merely change grammatical errors. Although it would be difficult to do in a large school, perhaps it might be interesting for our writing center to send out a formal questionnaire pertaining to the grading requirements of each individual professor here at Goucher. I know that this would require a great deal of work on the part of the writing center tutors, but it may be helpful to create a type of manual that contains the key points each professor looks for in a successful essay. However, I do realize that this channels our energy toward tutoring to the teacher, but I feel that perhaps, this may be another avenue by which we can help our tutees become more familiar with the expectations of their faculty in the hopes that familiarity will enable them to move beyond an extrinsic motivation such as a grade to a more intrinsic motivation of revising to enhance their own understanding. At the same time, this information would significantly help us to make suggestions that are applicable to the professors’ grading style while avoiding the common mistake of making too many suggestions for corrections that might not improve the quality of the paper. – Christina Abel 9/22/04
Davis, Robert, and Mark Shadle. "'Building a Mystery': Alternative Research Writing and the Academic Act of Seeking." College Composition and Communication, Vol. 51, No. 3 (Feb., 2000), 417-46. JSTOR. Goucher Coll. Lib., Baltimore, MD. 13 September 2004 <http://www.jstor.org>
Davis and Shadle are associate professors of English at Eastern Oregon University, and there direct the writing program and writing lab, respectively. In this article, they attempt to analyze the current state of the research paper in college academia, briefly trace its development from the mid-nineteenth century, and finally, suggest more "creative" and "exploratory" alternative research forms. They open by asserting that "Research writing is disrespected and omnipresent, trite and vital, [and] central to modern academic discourse…" (417). While acknowledging the occasional use of the standard form of academic essay, especially in introductory composition course, they note that the research paper is a little used and appreciated genre of writing outside the halls of academia, and even within the college setting, it does little to prepare students for other types of scholarly writing they will no doubt encounter, if not compose, such as "lab reports, case studies, news stories, position papers, take-home exams, and research proposals" (420). Furthermore, the image of research papers as, "notoriously vacant, clichéd, and templated," is reinforced by the textbooks used in most high school and introductory level college courses with sample papers and "stock advice" covering everything from grammar and styles of citation to framing and supporting a thesis (417-18).
The authors quickly survey the ascendancy of the research paper to its current hallowed (and consequently, they argue, hollow) state. What began as an "egalitarian" innovation designed to force students to contribute to the study of their chosen discipline rather than simply regurgitate learned information in the Scholastic manner has devolved into the very academic exercise its champions were attempting to end. Davis and Shadle briefly consider how the standard research form is symptomatic of a cultural need for control and possession of knowledge and certainty, and call for a renewed emphasis on wonder and discovery within the scholarly community. In keeping with the sense of "mystery" they so revere, they end by proposing four alternative forms of research assignments and provide examples of successful ones they have received from their students over several years, and detailing the emotional and intellectual impact these projects often have on their researchers.
The article was extremely interesting -- the title was its initial attraction, as most serious scholars seem particularly resistant to allowing any sense of mystery they may indeed feel when confronting their subject to come through in their work. The notion as of an "academic act of seeking" is very reminiscent of Brand's criticism of Flower and Hayes' vision of the writing process. As Davis and Shadle describe, academic writing has left no place for that mysterious, nebulous world of emotion and personal connection. As they recount the emotional impact one of their alternative research assignments had on a girl who studied and then recreated her grandparents' experiences in Japanese internment camps during World War II, it is nearly impossible not contrast it with the less fulfilling dogma which prohibits the mere use of the word "I" in "formal" papers. Some of the alternative forms proposed here, such as the research essay (which is not particularly well described, but sounds very similar in approach to the Essays of Montaigne, whom the writers of this piece seem to revere) incorporate both the traditional topical research along with self-research and assessment, and use the two to illuminate each other. This is writing in Brand's fashion -- the study of the ephemeral and the factual together at once.
I was fascinated by the vision of academic research as it is and could be presented in this piece. While this course is framed in terms of discovery and exploration, everyone has had more than their share of classes in which all writing assignments seem frustratingly repetitive and pointless. It is disheartening to be made to simply gather and string together facts for what feels like the sole purpose of proving your ability to operate a library database and compose coherent English sentences. This feeling is only worsened when the teacher's response is, "Very nice, but here are the 582 other sources you could have used, and you need to watch those comma splices!" Davis and Shadle, on the other hand, would return students and teachers to the Socratic definition of philosophers as "lovers of wisdom," the word's literal meaning -- what my philosophy professor last year termed the "perplexed knowers" -- searching for answers they may or may not find, but reveling in the journey as much as in the quest's attainment, and reflecting that in the writing they create on the subject. It is truly a beautiful vision.
Of course, as tutors, we must contend with academia as it all too often is. And we must remember that even when professors are happy to think outside the box, their students may not always be. This article points out that for those who have not mastered the research paper form it is exceedingly difficult to succeed within the system, but it is equally difficult for many of those who have mastered it to work outside it when required. As students, we are conditioned to want the answers -- even if we have to search for them ourselves. It is a giddily frightening feeling when we first hear a teacher answer one of our questions with an "I don't know." If nothing else, the philosophy grounding this piece should remind us as future tutors, and in many cases, eventual teachers, that we cannot have all of the answers to hand out when so requested, and that our greatest success might just lie in helping students to appreciate the processes. On a more practical level, some of the proposed research assignment approaches Davis and Shadle set out, such as the research essay and research argument, might be valid suggestions for students who come to the Writing Center struggling with how to approach their material. Depending on the teacher and assignment, some of the more exotic forms suggested, such as the "multi-genre/media/disciplinary/cultural research paper" may be too far outside the box. The authors have had such projects turned in packaged in old ovens and the back of pick-up trucks. But knowledge of the approach may perhaps allow us to suggest more diverse sources and lines of research to a writer feeling their piece lacks originality or a strong enough empirical foundation. Certainly as a future English teacher, I intend to keep all of these suggested forms in mind when creating assignments for my classes, as they will undoubtably make for interesting grading!
While I see no way to advantage in completely eliminating the standard research paper from the academic canon of writing, I believe it is overused and overrated. It has significant merit in its reliance upon sound, scholarly work and the requirement of scientific objectivity. However, it is equally important for students to recognize that the "facts" are often what we make them -- how we interpret them in relation to ourselves. As such, they are not simply static data in books, but have far-reaching implications for our own lives. In order to transform students into the ideal of "life-long learners," we must give them opportunities, as Davis and Shadle would, in which, "Research becomes seeking as a mode of being" (422). Jessie Dixon 9/22/04
Marchisan, Marti L. and Sheila R. Alber. “The Write Way: Tips for Teaching the
Writing Process to Resistant Writers.” Intervention in School and Clinic.
38.3 (2001): 154-162.
Citing Graves’s writing process approach as the basis for their method of instruction, Marchisan and Alber introduce teaching practices designed to improve the quality of students’ narrative and informative writing, especially in students with learning disabilities. The authors present strategies for teachers to implement in the stages of prewriting, writing, and revising. The authors also suggest that publication, in the form of display, reading aloud, etc. of student work, serve as the ultimate goal of a writing assignment, as students will produce higher quality writing as a result. To support their approach, the researchers include a case study on Thomas, a student in the seventh grade and a “resistant” writer, due in part to his learning disabilities.
Outlining strategies by stage, Marchisan and Alber suggest that teachers encourage student choice of topic, engage students in “visual imagery” exercises to recall sensory details relevant to a writing topic, and “model” thought-stimulating procedures such as “brainstorming, clustering, and self-questioning strategies” as part of the prewriting stage (156). Teacher goals in the prewriting stage are to engage students in the process of writing by appealing to their interests and to introduce strategies to stimulate the generation of ideas.
Concerning the stage of actual writing, Marchisan and Alber stress student focus on “clear and sequential expression of content” rather than the technical elements of spelling and grammar (157). The authors encourage writing on computers for purposes of neatness and ease of correction. They suggest that teachers “cowrite” with students, especially those with learning difficulties, at computers so that students learn from the teacher as a “supportive model” for completeness of content until the student is comfortable on his own (157).
Marchison and Alber offer several strategies to guide the revision stage, as this period in the writing process is crucial in preparing a work for audience reception. The authors suggest teacher conferencing and peer-editing as beneficial through using outside opinion to boost the overall quality of a written work. They provide examples of peer-editing and self-evaluation checklists to guide students in identifying the “strengths and weaknesses of the form and content” of their writing and make changes accordingly (158).
Thomas, the study’s focus, gained confidence as a writer as a result of lessons in the “writing process approach paired with the tools of technology, direct instruction, and a committed, well-trained teacher” (161). He was able to easily write when allowed to choose a topic of interest to him and further developed as a writer after following the model of his teacher to eventually create his own story maps. Working at the computer also improved Thomas’s writing process, as he “could work much more rapidly” and easily make changes (157). Cowriting also proved effective in strengthening Thomas’s writing abilities, as eventually he no longer needed his teacher as a model and “began to take over as the author and show ownership” (157). In the stage of revision, Thomas’s teacher also used modeling by providing him with examples of good writing with which to compare his work and strengthen his self-evaluation efforts. Thomas eventually relied less on models as his independence and confidence as a writer grew.
The study reemphasizes the findings of Graves and Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie regarding student writing in unassigned tasks. Like the subjects of the above-mentioned studies, Thomas flourishes as a writer when given the choice of writing on a topic of his interest. However, as a learning-disabled student, teacher modeling and conferencing were essential in strengthening his writing process, consistent with the Cognitive Strategy Instruction in Writing principle that “undeveloped writers flourish under ‘writing apprenticeships,’ when the instructor reveals his or her own thought processes in detail” (Hallenback 229). Thomas’s increased success when provided by models of good writing also supports Faigley’s revelation that students “labeled remedial” benefit from “studying the occurrences of writing,” consistent with his social view of composition (537). Evidently, forms of teacher and peer modeling effectively strengthen the writing ability of struggling students and support the development of a student’s own sense of self in writing.
However, Marchisan and Alber’s claims of faster composition when writing at the computer contradict Christina Haas’s findings of no significant difference between the composition rate of those using technology and those using pen and paper. The disparity between these results, however, could be attributed to the difference in age of the subjects and the presence of a learning disability in Marchisan and Alber’s study.
Marchisan and Alber’s treatment of the stage of actual writing and that of revision seems to complement Elbow’s views of the writing process regarding presence of audience. Marchisan and Alber encourage daily personal writing (Elbow’s “desert island” discourse) in the classroom to “promote fluency” in writing and thus, aid student expression in audience-directed work (157). All three authors emphasize audience awareness in the stage of revision in order to ensure clarity of communication. Both articles seem to promote the integration of writer- and reader-based composition.
As Harris, Fitzsimmons, and McKenzie’s article challenged educators to “build bridges to new learning” in resistant writers, Marchisan and Alber’s article attracted my attention as possibly offering strategies that I could incorporate as a future educator (Harris 44). Although it seems that Marchisan and Alber’s strategies are still rooted in a stage model, the article offers promising strategies, such as effective instruction through teacher modeling, as “children learn through imitation” (156). Their emphasis on promoting writing fluency through having students consistently write personal journal entries also seems to be a useful approach in strengthening writing ability. I can also see the benefits of guiding revision through the use of checklists, with questions intended to check if the writing logically develops a piece consistent with higher-level goals as well as questions checking correct use of grammar, etc. Hopefully, a writer would internalize such evaluative checkpoints as her writing matured. Direct student-teacher interaction also seems essential in developing and strengthening student writing, as students can become easily lost and develop poor writing habits when not receiving the proper attention. Teachers ultimately need to implement constructive practices that will increase the self-awareness and self-assuredness of student writers.—Stephanie Seale, 9/22/04
Harris, Joseph. “Opinion: Revision as Critical Practice.” College English 65.6 (2003): 577-592.
Joseph Harris, the director of the Center for Teaching, Learning, and Writing at Duke University, discusses in this piece his feelings on the importance of teaching students the physical act of revision. He recognizes the importance of content in writing, but sees teaching students how to manipulate their ideas, “the visible practice or labor of writing,” (578) as a more important skill. Harris feels that, on the university level, professors wrongly emphasize development of ideas over development of student-produced text. He proposes the idea for a course that “looks very closely at how ideas get shaped in and refracted by language” (582). Harris also guarantees that after working on revision skills, students will gain confidence in all aspects of reading and writing. He asserts that as a result of this work, students may “claim some real measure of authority as writers in the academy” (577).
Throughout the piece, Harris presents real-life evidence of his theories. He begins with the example of a teacher who emphasizes ideas over actual writing. He praises the teacher’s methods until the problem of writing arises. Harris’ complaint is that “his focus remains pretty much on the level of ideas, on problems and alternatives rather than on close work with the text” (580). Harris then goes on to present examples from his own teaching experience to show the benefits of revision. He includes excerpts from the papers of two inexperienced writers and excerpts from reflections on the revision process from two more experienced writers from Duke. In those from the inexperienced writers, improvements are obvious from the first draft to the second. Though the second drafts are not “good,” the students’ understandings of the texts have obviously grown. In the reflections of the writers from Duke, a clear understanding of the value of revision is clear. As Harris states, “what they both claim to have learned has less to do with ideology…than with the kinds of labor involved in drafting and revising a critical essay” (590). Not only does Harris understand the importance of content in a piece of writing, he sees how the act of revision can help a writer understand his or her content more clearly and create a better piece.
In our “How Do I Write?” essays, many of us wrote about our dislike for revision. Many of us see the revising we do while writing as sufficient. The fact that the Writing Center exists at Goucher, one at Duke, and countless other colleges and universities, begs to differ. I myself am guilty of being too stubborn or perhaps too lazy to revise my work. However, I know how important it is and see revision as an area with lots of room for improvement for me personally. This article caught my attention as the subject of revision has been lurking at the back of my mind for some time. It presents accessible, well-rounded evidence to support its thesis. Though my gut reaction was that it excessively ignored the content of writing, I see now the beauty of Harris’ argument. With revision comes content with quality. A writer must have the proper skills to shape his or her ideas in order for the ideas to be coherent and convincing.
Harris makes a crucial point for students learning how to revise: “This intense focus on the actual labor of revision…dispels any notion that revising an essay will be less work than drafting it…” (588). Tutees, as well as all writers, must be aware that revision is an involved process. This piece offers great advice; above all, keeping in mind that revision enhances content quality. Playing around with an idea will only increase one’s understanding of the idea. In his “Competing Theories of Process: A Critique and a Proposal,” Lester Faigley discusses the idea of writing spontaneously and revising later. He refers to revising as the “shaping of unformed material” (531). He offers a helpful quote from Peter Elbow’s Writing Without Teachers: “‘Only at the end will you know what you want to say or the words you want to say it with’” (530). This supports Harris’ idea that the content of a piece will be enhanced after its writer has written it and through the process of writing and revising comes to truly understand what he or she has written. This piece is effective as encouragement for revising and would be helpful to tutees and tutors alike. –Mariah Healy, 9/22/04
Freedman, Aviva, and Ian Pringle. “Writing in the College Years: Some Indices of Growth,” College Composition and Communication, Vol. 31, No. 3. (Oct., 1980), pp. 311-324. Stable URL: http://links.jstor.org/sici?sici=0010-096X%28198010%2931%3A3%3C311%3AWITCYS%3E2.0.CO%3B2-C
This article details the comprehensive research project the authors undertook at Carleton University in Ottawa, to explore the nature of writing development during the college years—specifically the difference incurred in high school writing after several years of a college education. In an attempt to fill the void created by cognitive study’s near complete emphasis on elementary and secondary education, Freedman and Pringle analyze and contrast the written work of students in their final year of high school with that of third year university students.
The arrangement and conditions of this study, the descriptions and reasoning of which comprise the majority of this article, are ultimately simple and geared towards acquisition of the most honest—and therefore representative—writing samples. Firstly, participants in the study were not forced to write “in a controlled setting” such as a public classroom, since this invariably leads to “a very specialized form” of writing which is inconsistent with most students normal work (311).
Writing generated by such abnormal environments, that inevitably affect a writer’s process and product, did not represent the sort of variables desired in Freedman and Pringle’s study. Rather, they selected essays students had written for disciplined courses, which were, most importantly, written outside of the classroom. In these types of essays, argue the authors, writers possess far more capacity for intellectual engagement—the qualifying aspects they desired in sample submissions.
All papers used in the study were geared towards proving a thesis in one of four disciplines: English literature, history, geography and biology. The decided upon indices to be measured for growth included syntactic instrument, rhetorical scale and cognitive measure. (Mention is made of the authors’ original plan to institute a moral scale in order to trace successive stages of moral growth and development, which when implemented, was soon dismissed as consequently irrelevant to the task at hand.) Raters for this endeavor were all graduate English students who had at least one year’s experience teaching in a writing lab. Further parameters and considerations for the research are conveyed by the authors before presentation of the results.
The first significant finding was that “the rhetorical criteria all correlated highly with grade.” (320) Development in arguments proved to be the deciding factor in grades, although there were correlations with several other criteria. Conversely, and perhaps more importantly for the purposes of the study, no significant level of correlation was found between “abstracting” of the topic and arguments, and grade. This criterion, abstraction joins the level of formality in diction as the only criterion to show greater coherence in the expository prose of university students as opposed to high-schoolers. With these dual exceptions, university essays were found to be no more organized or developed than high school essays.
From these results the authors conclude that the study of cognitive development has yet to assimilate into teacher’s evaluations and this distorts the nature of the whole. By this process of focusing almost entirely on rhetorical aspects, Freedman and Pringle say teachers “ignore the interrelationship between the intellectual and rhetorical dimensions” (322). A central point to desired teacher re-education then is recognition of intellectual growth and development is not linear.
The authors close with a call for further studies on the topic.—Mike Meno, 22 September 2004
Tobin, Lad. “Reading Students, Reading Ourselves: Revising the Teacher’s Role in the
Writing Class.” College English. Vol. 3, No. 3 (March 1991), 333-348.
Lad Tobin’s commentary on the relationship between teacher and students is often very personal. His experiences as a teacher dominate the essay, but are well balanced with research from the writing process field. He begins his essay by explaining the problem of tedious misreading into a student’s end of the semester composition. Tobin asked his students to compose a reflection on how their writing changed over the course of the semester. One of the essays, written by a student named Nicki, was “so well written,” that Tobin articulated his delight and pride to his colleagues. Nicki wrote in her essay of the comfort she felt when writing in Tobin’s composition course, leaving behind the academic voice Shambelin dreads, in favor of the personal voice (words like “you” and “I”) (194). Nickin attributed her comfort to “the encouragement [Tobin] gave her to explore ideas that mattered to her in personal and informal language” (333). Tobin realized that after explaining this writing success to his colleagues, he was “overstating” the thoughts and feelings of the writer; including “all of the interactions” they shared throughout the semester. He was “making the argument more elegant and sophisticated that in actually was” because he felt accomplished as a teacher, who shared the same views on personal voice as the writer (334). Tobin’s point is to emphasize the fact that the teacher and writer significantly influence each other. His example helps to introduce his main purpose: “We need to develop a theory of reading student texts that takes into account our reading of the students themselves, of our own unconscious motivations and associations, and, finally, of the interactive and dialectical motive of the teacher-student relationship” (335).
The biases, beliefs and the fake sense of objectivity that teachers may or may not be aware of influence their reading of the composition. Tobin says that teachers “conveniently forget those issues and pretend that [they] can willingly suspend those beliefs and disbeliefs” (336). These are limitations that need to be addressed in order for readers to objectively comment on students’ assignments. As Writing Center tutors, we’ve got the one up, simply because we’re not the professor who gave the assignment. We have no particular agenda or motive behind the advice we provide. There are also no expectations of the students who come in for help. But do our expectations of the students who frequent the Writing Center develop (consciously or unconsciously) as they bring new essays and compositions? Since a student can become a regular, it seems logical that biases, opinions or even tension can develop to create lasting memories that could easily be unconsciously remembered by reading familiar text from that regular tutee. Nonetheless, we are hopefully more objective than their professors.
Tobin draws on the advantages of psychotherapy in creating more aware teachers and students. Aareness of the “unconscious,” according to the writing process teacher Don Murray, isn’t achieved through a “stereotypical therapeutic role” the teacher plays. By no means does the teacher only listen; instead he is the “master workman” teaching the “apprentice,” who he “identifies with – and wants desperately to please” (341). Tobin, with the help of Louise Rosenblatt, is quick to mention that “teachers have the power to impose themselves on their students in dangerous ways” (342). As tutors, it is apparent that we possess this power to “impose” ourselves upon tutees. We are somewhat the “master workmen” who are found by “apprentices” looking for answers to their compositional ailments. Although, we don’t give answers to the questions and topics that teachers present, we vive alternate directions and suggestions that hopefully would be the result of close interaction, similar to psychotherapeutic sessions.
Tobin concludes his essay in an interesting manner. He tells of the experience he had with four adolescent males he taught in his freshman English course. They frustrated him daily, eventually causing him to snap a few times. The problem was within both Tobin and the four students, even though Tobin was in denial. Once he figured out that the problem was internal and that he needed to change his teaching style to improve his entire class, their conferencing sessions became entirely more productive.
A session with one of the boys involved the discussion of his essay on “productive procrastination.” He ends the essay by saying, “oh, by the way, it is now 3:27 a.m. And you probably thought I wouldn’t have time to write a good essay” (345). He ended the essay with a response to his teacher, a defensive affirmation. Tobin begins his closing paragraph of this article in an intensely similar fashion, “Now I suspect that this concentration on my own feelings and associations seems self-indulgent and misguided to composition specialists who believe in more ‘scholarly’ research” (347). He continues on and defends his use of personal anecdotes and experiences which helps to further his idea of the student-teacher relationship and how easily it can influence writing on both ends. Whether this was a conscious decision or not, his conclusion has in interesting subtle influence from a former student. It is exciting to think about how much our writing has been influenced in the past and how it may be influenced in the future when we participate in our own tutor-tutee relationship.—Paul Des Marais, 23 September 2004
Mandel, Barrett J. “The Writing Writer is Not at Home.” College Composition and
Communication, Vol. 31, No.4 (Dec., 1980), 370-377.
In this fascinating article, Barrett J. Mandel takes a philosophical approach to focus on the idea of consciousness and his belief that writing is not considered in the conscious mind. Mandel defines the conscious as an image of reality which we project upon everything we experience; it is a, “projected model of an inner idea or picture which a human being calls ‘reality’”(371). Mandel believes that the conscious mind is not necessary to analyze, understand concepts, absorb information, reason, or think. Past theorists believed that these processes did occur in the conscious mind, a belief which led to many of the more structured writing curriculums. Mandel believes this approach to be misdirected and that instead teachers must work to encourage “insight”, the true well for potential writing.
Mandel compares the thought process of writing to the act of breathing and sitting, two acts which work without the participation of the conscious mind. He says, “What slows up the writing process and makes it a burden is the time devoted to thinking and worrying about it, just as trying to get comfortable in a chair makes it very difficult to be comfortable”(373). Just as we breathe the easiest when our mind is not concentrating on our breaths, Mandel suggests that we write most successfully when the process is not meticulously thought through. He believes that the thought processes that allows writing to develop are performed without the writer having to think about when steps they are going through and that, in fact, it is a focus on the logistics of writing that blocks the work. Writers are not conscious of how they are organizing, connecting, and supporting their claims, because these procedures occur involuntarily. In his own words, Mandel believes that, “one writes before one is conscious of what one has to say”(373).
Mandel criticizes teachers for focusing too much on their role as editors and, by doing so, ignoring the true source of writing: personal creativity or “insight.” In order to create writing, a writer must pass over their fixation upon the logical elements of writing and go to a creative place, “allowing the flash of knowing from nowhere to occur”(374). In this place of inspiration, there is no ego or self doubt; it is the feeling that all writers have experienced at some time, when the light just suddenly comes on and you have no choice but to write what it shows you. Mandel argues that it is the ideas that insight makes possible which create the need for grammatical structure, not the other way around.
Although this opinion may seem extreme, Mandel does not attempt to state that the conscious mind has no role in the writing process. He believes that consciousness is active in the moments of planning and the act of revision, steps which he sees as essential to quality writing before and after the occurrence of insight. However, he does state that it is in these moments of consciousness where the problems occur for writers because these are moments when the writer, “wracks his brain, suffers, feels that all is hopeless, wants to rush from the desk”(372). Even though the activities associated with the conscious mind are the steps which may create blocks for the writer, Mandel feels they are a necessary part of writing.
Mandel makes two suggestions to teachers on how they could incorporate this idea into a realistic curriculum. Firstly, Mandel suggests that teachers encourage free writing, a practice which he believes to be the easiest way for a student to access insight. In fact, he refers to free writing as “actual writing”(376), because it is a natural way to develop viewpoints and to help students commit themselves to a direction without the inhibition caused by the conscious mind.
Mandel’s second suggestion is a little more unusual; he suggests rote writing, the practice of copying quality prose passages. Mandel believes that there is no better way to understand essential writing procedures than to experience with one’s own hand the quality you are attempting to obtain. Although this may sound like an antiquated practice, Mandel makes an important point that the best way to know what good writing is would be to experience it, not just by reading it, but by having a physical understanding of how it feels to create such work. This would be a particularly good suggestion for students who have trouble with visual learning and would benefit from the act of re-writing what they read.
Although Mandel’s article is less scientific than many of the pieces we have read, he makes articulate points which speak to many of the difficulties troubled writing students experience. Mandel reminds us that the problems a student may be having might not stem from a lack of ability in writing, but instead from a constant awareness of the practical, logistical elements of writing. Much as Peter Elbow showed us that it is difficult for students to work with the pressure of an audience looming over them, Mandel displays that the rules of writing can cause the same kind of immobility.
Reading Mandel’s article does bring up the question of whether we are truly able to discuss the thinking process that goes into writing. If Mandel’s assertion about the conscious mind is believed, it would be to say that the action that occurs when creating writing is something the happens without the writer’s knowledge, and therefore can never be taught or discussed. Although I do believe that Mandel is right that a freely structured curriculum encourages and develops personal insight, his theory does present a problem for those of us who are working to understand how to articulate the writing process to troubled students.- Sarah Capua 9/22/04
McLeod, Susan. “Some Thoughts about Feelings: The Affective Domain and the Writing Process.” College Composition and Communication 38 (1987): 426-435
It would be wonderful if every writer could sit down and have the confidence to write, and write and write, without unnecessary exertion. But as McLeod discusses in her article “Some Thoughts about Feelings,” there is much that can inhibit writers in the process of composing.
Because emotions are involved when writing along with the cognitive functions, McLeod brings up the importance of creating a perspective for observing what she calls the “affective domain,” the emotional side of writing, and separating this aspect from the cognitive process (426-7). She examines three different components that the affective realm mainly directs: in writing anxiety, motivation, and beliefs. If confidence is the road to an easier composing process, or lacking in a student, then writing anxiety is worth tackling. McLeod makes a good point that anxiety can be present in writers who are fully capable of completing a particular assignment, but somehow still struggle with it (427). What is it that causes the anxiety within a writer that inhibits their given ability to complete the assignment? Such research is necessary to fulfill the understanding of the affective domain on how one writes, but difficult to achieve because we know that each writer has a different history acting on their writing process. It is important to notice, though, that McLeod moves away from the negative influences that writing anxiety has on writers, and attempts to examine how this foreboding emotion can actually be facilitative to the writing process. Yet instead of delving into the thoughts herself, she uses other research to help her, even though what the research ends up proving is that a lack of excitement, interest and of anxiety allowed for writers to become more engaged in their writings (428), the opposite of what may be expected. What writers look for though, is that “flow” that allows them to forgo the editing/revising for those moments when the sentences come together perfectly, and the research found that the over-excitement could be distracting.
McLeod addresses the Flower and Hayes concept of motivation for writing, and separates them into two groups, those who are intrinsically motivated versus those who are extrinsically motivated. Here, she brings up an important idea in suggesting that the intrinsically motivated, “ego-involvement” is what eventually prompts a writer to change their writing (whether process or the actual words) because they are spurred by “wanting to look smart, or wanting to avoid looking stupid” (429). This allows for focus again on the confidence of a writer. If one writer is already confident, then he/she may not have to overcome these insecurities of not appealing to an audience, and can use their drive to “look smart” as motivation for writing. An unsure writer, however, may have difficulties in using these insecurities as motivators, and the affective domain becomes an inhibition when writing. She does mention that those who are extrinsically motivated have a more difficult time overall in changing their writing, because they are not doing it for themselves, but rather for a grade or another person.
Writers also use their beliefs to guide what they think about their own writing, and confidence is therefore an “affect” under McLeod’s definition of belief, it is emotional. She again creates beneficial categories which she has discovered many students fall into: the “gamblers” who do not believe they have any influence over their writing and therefore can do nothing to help it; and the “bowlers” who believe that their efforts will change the outcome of their writing (429). It is the gamblers that we as tutors, teachers, and writers ourselves must learn how to help alter their views so they can take control of their writing, and learn to believe that their effort transforms the result.
Both the gamblers and those focused on the extrinsic motivations struggle most often, and these groups should be studied to discover how we can begin to use their processes to help them. It seems overall however, that confidence in one self as a writer is the solution to almost any writing problem. And these must almost always be dealt with on a case by case basis. Where did the emotions go? I don’t know, but I think that this article inferred to me a lot about confidence- and what is confidence but an emotional belief, one that we can rewire in our cognitive self if the effort is directed correctly. Maybe one way to help this struggle is find the joy in writing, and then we will forget our insecurities that hold us back.—Katherine Caouette, 23 September 2004
Schindler, Kirsten. “Invent an Audience – Create a Context. How Writers are Referring
to Readers.” Paper presented at the International Conference of the European
Association for the Teaching of academic Writing across Europe (Groningen, Netherlands, June 18-20 2001).
http://www.edrs.com/Webstore/Download2.cfm?ID=677006&PleaseWait=OK
In this article, Schindler asks three main questions: What abstract constructs do writers form about their audience? How does the concept of Audience influence and/or organize the writing process? Is the audience orientation a relevant task in the writing process?
She begins by defining four subgroups of the term “audience:” the recipient, the reader, the audience, and the addressee. The recipient implies oral communication “or to similarities between written and oral communication . . .The reader refers to a concrete person, who is, at a specific moment, reading a text.” Audience refers to more than one person, and “is used for both the text and the process.” The addressee “only refers to the writing process. It focuses on the writers and their concept of the ‘other’ they are writing for” (4).
Instead of continuing in the tradition of existing research, like Flower and Hayes’ protocols, she depends instead on recorded collaborative writing exercises. This situation provides immediate, present readers in the other writers, and the broader audience can be controlled. She chose students from Bielefeld University. She assigned tasks that were unfamiliar to them in order to promote more discussion. They were challenged to write a manual for a computer game. Sixteen groups of students participated, and they were assigned to either write for grammar school children, persons over 50, or with no specific audience. The whole process was video-taped.
She noticed a considerable difference between two particular groups. They were both writing for children. One group began writing on the computer right away, focusing on simple vocabulary and elementary sentence structure. They argued a bit over the addressee, like whether the child would be familiar with computers or not. They were finally inconsistent in this area, assuming in one section that the child is not advanced in computers and then using computer terminology in the next section. Schindler calls this type of writer “product oriented” (6). They began working on the final product right away without planning and deciding on a specific addressee. “As a result of that,” Schindler concludes, “they produce an incoherent text” (6).
Another group with the same task proved much more efficient. They began by writing “different drafts and versions on paper and think[ing] about the game in a more global way” (7). They also discussed their target addressee, deciding age, computer knowledge, etc. Schindler regards their work much more successful than the previous one, crediting “their detailed planning and conceptual thinking within the creating of a coherent image of a addressee” (7).
The most noteworthy observation of this experiment was that “the writers themselves create their addressee” (7). This new understanding of audience as a “highly flexible concept” changes a lot in the realm of teaching and tutoring writing. The concept of audience may even be used as a “didactic” one. For example, if I am tutoring a student who claims that their teacher is a ruthless grader, I may choose to question the flexibility of that remark. Perhaps the student the teacher has constructed a terrible image of the teacher on her own. I may ask, “How do you know that?” Then I could at least get a clue as to where the student may have heard this, or if she had that teacher in the past. It may be the concept of audience that is inhibiting her. Or, it could be vice versa. The student may perceive the teacher as being laid back, and therefore write a shoddy paper.
This article was very interesting because I had never considered the possibility of an elastic audience. There have been many, many times when I spent more time or less time on a paper depending on the teacher. I have also been guilty of audience inconsistency. I may write for hours and upon revision, realize that my tone has changed completely from beginning to end. I think that it is a good idea to encourage students to establish a target audience as a step in planning. It would not hurt to question students about their concept of their audience. The teacher may not be strict at all, or they may have formed that opinion from an unreliable source. Or, if they choose to write for an ambiguous audience, it may be a good idea for them to be aware of that while they write, so that they remain consistent.—Kelly Gilpin, 23 September 2004
Berkenkotter, Carol. “Decisions and Revisions: The Planning Strategies of a Publishing Writer” College Composition and Communication. Volume 34 Number 2 (May 1983), 156-168.
In this article, Berkenkotter describes a case study of writer Donald M. Murray’s natural writing proces