Annotated Bibliographies for Fall 1996
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[The format is irregular--this page is still being worked on as of 11/05--but I just discovered three past classes' research preparation and wanted to make it available to the class of '05.]
Olson, D.R. "Towards a psychology of literacy: on the relations between speech and writing." Cognition 60 (1996): 83‑104.PRIVATE
In his article on the relations between speech and writing,
Olson undertakes a grand project. He repudiates a long‑standing
belief, first introduced by Aristotle in his De interpretatione,
that written words are merely "signs of words spoken." Olson
argues that writing is not only a transcription of speech, but
it serves as a model for understanding various properties of
speech such as sentences, words, and phonemes. According to the
author, "the history of writing and the acquisition of literacy
are less matters of learning how to transcribe speech than a
matter of learning to hear and think about one's language in a
new way." In order to prove his argument, the author analyzes the
evolution of the script and shows that the history of scripts is
not a history of a linear ascent that ends with culmination of
discovering the alphabet, but rather a "by‑product of a series of
attempts to adapt a script to a language for which it is ill‑
suited." Thus, the author argues that the inventors of scripts
were not fully aware of the syntactic properties of speech before
they developed a writing system. Through the development of
scripts, they attempted to represent meaning rather than to
transcribe speech.
Having established the role of script, Olson then undertakes
a cognitive‑developmental method as the one described by Barritt
and Kroll. Just like Barritt and Kroll, he points out the
differences in the "cognitive pathways from thought to
expression" in writing and speech but also goes further and
traces the interactive link between the two modes of expression.
Following the cognitive‑developmental theory, the author examines
the process of learning to read in young children to prove that,
when they learn to read, they start hearing speech in a new way,
in terms of the alphabet with which they have become acquainted.
In a similar way, learning to read helps children understand
syntactic properties of language such as words and sentences.
Whereas, before learning to read, they see signs as a
representation of objects, afterwards, they realize that signs
are representations of words. Thus, "word‑based scripts provide a
model which allows a new consciousness of linguistic form."
Olson's article is important in that it evaluates the
positive impact of word‑based scripts on the ability to represent
meaning unambiguously. This ability is crucial to the development
of logics and "technical prosaic discourse." However, Olson warns
us, word‑based scripts have the downside of creating "blind
spots" by failing to capture some aspects of meaning. This
failure to fully represent meaning is often felt by writers in
their so‑called "planning" process, described by Flower and
Hayes. As Olson concludes, "the claim must not be that writing
only improves thought but rather that it tends to promote a
certain bias." Jenia Iontcheva, 9/15/96
Shulman, Polly. "We'll Always Have Parrots." Discover October 1996: 30‑37.
Polly Shulman's "We'll Always Have Parrots" is an excellent
humorous account of the modern struggle for creative looseness in
writing. She demonstrates the uncertainty, the irony, and the deep
motivation all wrapped up in the search for such inner flow. As one of
those moderns who has experienced the numbing of her own creativity at
home and in the workplace, she is able to vividly show how very
meaningful the search for the internal creative writer can be to a
person. Shulman's personal anecdotes and pithy assessments of
popular methods for contacting this creator within‑‑ the article
discusses these methods from finding a "spirit guide" to aid the creative
process to finding a scientist to increase the percentage of the brain generally
put to use‑‑ end in her wise resolution that the intense rush to engage
one's creative side may be unnecessary after all. If the writer is there
inside, it may only need to be quietly encouraged to come to the
surface. "There's no fighting inspiration," Shulman says. "You just
have to take what comes and go on walking along that dangerous road, keeping
yourself safe with your song." Jeannette Lareau, September 13, 1996
Aubry, Valerie. "Audience Options for High School Students with Difficulties in Writing." Journal of Reading. 38.6 (1995): 434‑442.
In this article, Aubry reports on her research comparing the
effects of different audience options for high school students with
difficulties in writing. Her research is based on a study involving
eight high school juniors and seniors with previously documented writing
difficulties. These students presented their work to a range of
audiences including "small groups of students, one of the teachers alone,
one individual student, and finally, themselves through the use of
videotape" (435). Aubry found that students could develop a sensitivity
to audience. This new ability increased the students' confidence and
independence in writing (435).
Aubry's research describes one factor in students' motivation to
write: their anticipated audience. In "A Cognitive Process Theory of
Writing," Flower and Hayes share Lloyd Bitzer's theory of communication,
which also includes one's audience as a significant contributor to the
way in which one expresses himself: "speech always occurs as a response
to a rhetorical situation, which he succinctly defines as containing an
exigency (which demands a response), an audience, and a set of
constraints" (365). Later in the essay, Flower and Hayes' example of the
English teacher's formation of content goals for addressing a teenage
female audience exemplifies the role of audience consideration in
writing. Aubry explains that high school students' writing suffers when
the teacher is the students' audience because students try so hard to
please the teacher that they "deny their ability to formulate and convey
their own thoughts" (434). According to her study, students prepare more
carefully when their audience includes other students (436). So, by
simply including other peers in the audience of students' writing, a
teacher can elicit higher quality writing. Aubry's study also reveals a
second benefit of peer audiences: After having a peer audience became
routine, students came to utilize their peers more often for feedback on
their writing, becoming less dependent on the teacher (442). Some
students were even more receptive to suggestions from their friends than
to those from the teacher because these students were more likely to ask
for clarification from their peers (441). This findng supports the
efficacy of peer writing tutor programs such as the Writing Center at
Goucher College. Christine Willingmyre, September 15, 1996
Miller, Hildy. “Sites of Inspiration: Where Writing is Embodied in Image and Emotion.” Presence of Mind: Writing and the Domain Beyond the Cognitive. Alice Glarden Brand and Richard L. Braves, ed.s. Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers, 1994. 113-124.
This chapter deals with the way in which mental images and sensations influence and are a part of the writing process. Miller notes that writing is so often thought of as a strictly verbal activity, detached from sensation or visual image. However some writers are able to enliven their words and bring them closer to sensation , imagery, or emotion. Miller describes her study, in which she tries to find out some roles of mental images in the writing process.
Her method consisted of having a number of students write samples, during the process of which they were stopped three times and asked to report on their thoughts at the moment before interruption. Students also filled out a questionnaire at the completion of their piece. Select students were then extensively interviewed (using standardized questions) about their outlooks and habits of writing, as well as their thought reports and questionnaires.
Miller found that images played at least a part in about half of the students’ thoughts while writing. Students who were really interested in what they were writing tended to give a visual form to their idea. Alternatively, students who were trying to muster some interest in their writing would give visual form and activity to their ideas, thereby making their words “come alive.” Some students used their writing to resolve emotions--although the actual piece may or may not have revealed this. In these cases, images charged with personal emotional significance resided in the minds of the writers as they composed. Moments of high emotion and imagery could either be distracting or helpful to the writing process, depending upon the student. Some writers even felt overwhelmed by the strong emotional or even physical sensations brought out by their writing assignment. In light of these findings Miller states the need to further examine how writers embody ideas in order to learn more about the role of images in the composing process.
Miller presents her expirimental method of thought-sampling in contrast to Flower and Hayes’ method of protocol recording--taping the writer as she is talking out all her thoughts as she composes a piece. It might be useful and interesting to both student and instructor to use these experimental methods as teaching devices. Students, in talking out their compositions, could gain a better idea of the effectiveness of their own process and a basis upon which to make developments or improvements. Teachers would gain insight into their students’ writing and could use the proocols to determine problem areas. Although time consuming and not universally suitable, these protocols could provide a non-grade-based feedback on students’ writing.
Miller’s findings indicated that students spurred their own interest in their writing by creating images for their ideas. This finding could be developed into activities to help unenthusiastic writers become inspired, or just to plain overcome writer’s block. Corinna Yost, 9/15/96
Salvatori, Mariolina. "Conversations with Texts: Reading in the Teaching of Composition." College English 58.4 (April 1996): 440‑454.
Salvatori discusses an aspect of composition which, as yet, we have not examined in class: the role of reading. She stresses reading as a means by which the reader can engage the text in a "conversation", questioning the argument(s) presented
and the author's mode of presentation. She ties in notions of reading and composing as extensions of the social activity of oral communication and examines reading as a crucial part of the composing process (though one that is generally separated from it). Salvatori breaks her article into four parts: historical context, theories of reading and writing as interconnected activities, theoretical justifications for focusing on the
interconnectedness of reading and writing, and countering objections.
Salvatori notes that the reading of compositions (including one's own) is important at all levels of writing proficiency, for the beginner and the experienced, the student and the teacher. However, she warns her audience against reading solely for the message of the work and then composing a regurgitation of what the reader perceives as the most important parts of the reading. Stressing a "concern for the 'acts' rather than 'facts' of reading", Salvatori says that the reader must "imagine a text's argument not as a position to be won and defended by one interlocuter at the expense of another, but rather as a 'topic' about which interlocuters generate critical questions that enable them to reflect on the meaning of knowledge and on the different processes of knowledge formation"(440). She suggests using reading "as a means of teaching 'writing'"(441), "of reading and writing as interconnected disciplines"(443). Salvatori wants the focus of reading to be shifted from something that is separated from writing and individualized to a method that is taught in conjunction with writing. She sees reading and writing as a type of conversation between the reader and the text. The reader must dissect, digest, and question the written work instead of taking it at face value or imitating it in a response to the work (441). This method of reading allows us to analyze, scrutinize, and reflect on our own reading and composing processes (445).
The last portion of Salvatori's article offers strategies for the teaching of the "interconnectedness" of reading and writing. A term she calls "critical self‑reflexivity" is what Salvatori claims we all need to explore and nurture. If we make use of this, Salvatori believes that teachers and students can better communicate and understand one another. She uses it to help her students improve, so that the class becomes a learning experience for all.
Salvatori also mentions two arguments of the opponents to her theory, those who believe that writing is a unique and individual experience of "creativity"(450) and those who view writing as a type of "cultural studies", an experience that should be shared by everyone(451). Salvatori claims that the agument for "creativity" ignores the question of "'how' it is that we tend to construct one and not another critical response to a text"(450). On the other hand, the "cultural studies" argument is based on the opposition to "human beings as independent, self‑relying subjectivities" as is encouraged by self‑reflexivity (451). Salvatori presents a convincing argument
for the need for critical self‑reflexivity, but certainly one that she hopes her readers will dissect and question.
I realize that my response to this article, being saturated with quotations, suggests that I have chosen to disregard Salvatori's argument, but I know that that is not the case. Though I was taught to do exactly what she hopes readers and composers will not do, her essay made me rethink the way that I read, especially with regard to the assignments for my classes. Some may think that there is not enough time to examine
thoroughly and question a text, but I can see that this method of reading lends itself to thought, discussion, and creativity. Examining a written work rather than passively accepting it definitely generates introspection about our reading and composing processes. Emily Christman, 9/17/96
Lakoff, Robin. "Chapter 2 / Talking Like a Lady." Language and Woman s Place
The second chapter of this book begins to go into detail about
Women's language. Lakoff brings up the topic of color discrimination using the
example, " The wall is mauve" (8). She notes that this statement would be a natural
thing for a woman to say, however if a man were to have taken note of such a
particular color discrimination, one might well conclude he was imitating a woman
sarcastically or was a homosexual or an interior decorator (8). Lakoff holds that most
men consider topics such as color petty and unimportant to their everyday lives and
are therefore judged when they do so. Lakoff concludes that Since women are not
expected to make decisions on important matters, such as what kind of job to hold,
they are relegated to the noncrucial decisions as a sop (9).
The next few pages include even more interesting comparisons between
men's and women's speech including stronger and weaker ways of expressing
how one feels. For example, Lakoff compares the phrase "oh dear" with "shit" to
further her point about what is considered acceptable language for the different
sexes(10). Because women are expected to keep to more conservative methods of expressing their emotions, a statement about a serious situation using a
trivializing particle becomes either a joke or very inappropriate (10). She uses the
examples: Oh fudge, my hair is on fire. and Dear me, did he kidnap the baby? (10) Though some of Lakoff s observations are dated, (the book was published in 1975) all of what she writes is highly fascinating, and most of it is undeniably true.
Indeed, this entire chapter is intriguing. Each one of Lakoff s points make me think to myself, Why yes, this is true! I even found myself guilty of laughing at
the examples of women s sentences that seem out of place when used by
men, and are often laughed at under certain circumstances. The only real
inconstancy (this one is especially dated) that I noted is that Lakoff uses the word him
to describe the speaker, and not he or she or one or the like. (Ex: The problem
is that, by so doing, a speaker may also give the impression of not being really sure of
himself, of looking to the addressee for confirmation, even of having no views of his
own (17). Unless this is some big trick and at the end of the book Lakoff comments
on her own usage of he etc., it is almost distracting that someone writing about
gender differences in language does not seem to notice such an obvious
differentiation. On the whole, however, this book is well worth looking into. It is
undoubtedly the most gripping reading I have had thus far in English 221.
Fay‑Ellen Ellwood, 9/22/96
Guzzetti, Barbara and Wayne O. Williams. "Changing the Pattern of
Gendered Discussion: Lessons from Science Classrooms."
Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy 40:1 (Sept. 1996)
pp.38‑47.
` The minor position of females in the field of science has
been a significant issue of concern among researchers of gender
politics. Guizzetti and Williams present a wonderful study of
factors that have shaped social and, in particular, educational
practices leading to "the tendency for boys to achieve more than
girls in science." Guizzetti and Williams have uncovered social
norms, teachers' strategies and student interactions that work to
sustain male domination in science classes. Although the authors
focus on the science classroom as their object of study, their
work has broader implications for educators in that it discusses
important problems such as the merits of a single‑sex classroom,
the role of the teacher in fostering gender equity among
students, and, in general, the impact of gender politics on
students' academic performance.
Furthermore, the research shows that "small groups do not
necessarily facilitate females' participation unless [the
students are] grouped by gender." Usually, males take the lead in
small groups by giving out orders and asking only assumptive
questions. Guzzetti and Williams also find an expressed
difference between the conversational styles of males and
females. Girls are found to be "more interactive, more concerned
about consensus, more willing to consider others' opinions, more
prone to question, and more likely to consult authority to settle
disagreements," whereas boys are found to be "more assertive and
aggressive and less likely to negotiate shared meanings."
Finally, one of the most significant discoveries of Guzzetti
and Williams is that "students are well aware of gender disparity
in classroom discussion." In fact, they are more aware of it than
their professor. Moreover, the data indicate that a greater
percentage of girls than boys are aware of gender differences in
the classroom. This finding is crucial in that it reveals that it
is social relationships, especially interactions among students
themselves that shape gender politics in the classrooms. In this
sense, as the authors correctly acknowledge, "the teachers not
only need to be concerned with their own language that fosters
inequity in discussion, but must also monitor their students'
ways of talking."
Guzzetti and Williams present some strategies for bridging
the gender gap in the science classroom. Teachers should
recognize power relationships based on gender in class
discussions, i.e., "rather than simply listening to what is being
said, teachers must also listen to how it is being said, and by
whom." They should also "group [students] by gender in small
groups for refutational discussions." This approach offers an
interesting alternative to the debate about a single‑sex versus
co‑ed education. It provides females with the opportunity to
experience the reality of a dual‑sex environment, yet it protects
them from the pressures of an enduring paternalistic culture by
allowing them to develop a sense of confidence and even
leadership in small all‑female discussion groups. Finally,
teachers are responsible for establishing rules of discussion
that foster girls' participation and "expand acceptable notions
of science" to cover "women's ways of doing and talking science
[by] valu[ing] intuition, intimacy, and insight," not just the
typically male science talk of "rationality..., propositional
knowledge and theoretical understanding."
Although Guzzetti and Williams concentrate on examining the
gender disparities in the science classroom and although the
authors might be faulted for drifting into some stereotypes about
male/female behavior ensuing from their largely empirical
approach to the problems, their study can be of use to writing
tutors. It can help us understand the gender relationships of the
classroom in general, not just the science classroom, and it can
help us relate better to some of the problems of our tutees, such
as the problem that Lakoff has recognized in the lack of
confidence and the insecurity in girls' writing (cited in
Guzzetti and Williams). As Brodkey has argued, we should not
ignore the effects of class, race, and gender on students'
academic performance and writing approaches. Rather, fostering a
discussion (or a writing mode) that addresses the impacts of
class, race, and/or gender, can often be helpful in unleashing a
student's energy and confidence to produce a strong and effective
writing, just like it has produced better performance for girls
in the science classrooms.--Jenia Iontcheva, 10/21/96
Burrows, Jackson, and Dorothy Saunders. They All Want to Write. 3rd ed. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964.
In "Writing and Growth," the final chapter of They All Want to
Write, the authors propose that teachers can "nurture the creative spirit
and at the same time to effect power in the use of writing skills"
(italics mine, 217). They explain that writing serves two purposes:
"that of artistic self‑expression and that of communicating functional
ideas" (218). The authors maintain that these two purposes are not
antagonistic as many others argue they are. We do not have to sacrifice
either purpose for the other. It is the integration of the artistic and
utalitarian functions of writing into one's writing styles that marks a
mature, successful writer. Plus, fulfilling each of these purposes of
writing helps develop the writer's identity and self‑confidence.
Therefore, "it is equally important to accept a child's own form for his
personal expresson and to help him learn conventional forms for practical
writing" (222). By encouraging both personal and practical writing,
teachers accomplish this dual goal.
Through personal writing a child grows by expressing his
cretivity and releasing his tension. This writing needs to meet only the
child's standards. The goal of personal writing is not in the product
but in the process. The energy and pride that creative action generates
creates a new and stronger person. Therefore, the role of the teacher in
developing children's personal writing skills is simply to provide him
with new experiences upon which he can base his writing and to completely
accept and respect all of his writing of this form. Correction of
personal writing is unnecesary because a flawless product is not the goal
of personal writing.
Practical writing also helps the child to grow. The acquisition
of this ability gives the writer a sense of pride and power. Some
people, including myself, "who cannot lose themselves in flights of
of this ability gives the writer a sense of pride and power. Some
people, including myself, "who cannot lose themselves in flights of
invention find their greatest satisfaction in the graciously worded
socail letter or in the unmistakeably clear report. For them, this is a
real outlet, no less worthwhile than lyric, phantasy, or enchanting
story" (220). I think the authors are correct in their assessment of why
some children prefer practical writing to persoanl writing: "A child can
be more certain that his product is good in the usual, conventional
sense. . . For some uncertain souls this assurance is necessary and
productive of their further strength in writing as well as further
self‑confidence and security" (220).
Teachers of young children must take advantage of children's
enthusiasm for both personal an practical writing. Young children are
generally uninhibited in their expression of their creativity and can
really "get into" personal writing in a way with which many older writers
do not feel comfortable. Plus, young children love the power they feel
by being able to communicate with others in practical writing. Learning
to appreciate and enjoy both personal and practical writing at a young
age leads to successful adult writers.--Christine Willingmyre, October 16, 1996
Zimmerman, Barry J., and Albert Bandura. "Impact of Self‑Regulatory Influences on Writing Course Attainment." American Educational Research Journal 31 (1994): 845‑862.
Barry Zimmerman and Albert Bandura present their findings on one
aspect of writing in "Impact of Self‑Regulatory Influences on Writing
Course Attainment." They measured the perceived self‑efficacy of a group
of 95 college freshman and related this to the students' achievement in
their writing class. To measure beliefs about personal efficacy to
regulate writing activities, they had students rate their perceived
competency on various skills conducive to effective writing, such as the
ability to construct a good opening sentence quickly and the ability to
concentrate on writing even when there are distractions around. They
also measured the students' perceived self efficacy for general academic
achievement by having students rate "the strength of their belief that
they could achieve each of 12 academic grades ranging from A to F
including + and ‑ graduations" (851). Students were also asked to rate
how satisfied they would be with each of these 12 grades spans and what
their grade goals for the writing course were.
Zimmerman and Bandura found that "perceived self‑regulating
efficacy for writing influenced both perceived self‑efficacy for academic
achievement and self‑evaluative standards, which, in turn, were linked to
grade goals. Perceived academic self‑efficacy affected writing grade
achievement both directly and indirectly through its impact on personal
goal setting" (855). Thus, the more assured a student feels of his
writing ability, the more confident he is about his academic
achievement. Considering the integral role of writing in most
college‑level courses, this makes sense. When students are confident
about their ability to manage their writing, they set higher goals for
themselves and are not satisfied with substandard performance. Higher
goals generally lead to higher achievement. Surprisingly, verbal
aptitude did not directly influence writing course grades. However, it
did affect "writing grade achievement indirectly through its effect on
self‑evaluation standards" (855).
So what does this mean for writing teachers? First, it
demonstrates how important perceived self‑regulatory efficacy for writing
is to students' overall academic success. English teachers have an
important job: they must build students' ability to self‑regulate their
writing. How should they do this? First, Zimmerman and Bandura advise
teachers to make "diagnostic assessments of students' self‑regulatory
efficacy for writing at the outset of the course" (858). By doing this,
teachers can provide instruction on the specific areas in which their
students feel deficient. Zimmerman and Bandura report that "students
registered the weakest sense of efficacy to stick to academic activities
when there were other interesting things to do" (858). Thus, teaching
students to motivate themselves should be a primary goal for teachers.
By increasing students' self‑regulatory efficacy for writing in the
specific areas which students find difficult, teachers will indirectly
improve students' overall academic achievement.--Christine Willingmyre
September 28, 1996
Welch, Nancy. "Resisting the Faith: Conversion, Resistance, and the Training of Teachers." College English April 1993: 55.
Nancy Welch's "Resisting the Faith: Conversion, Resistance, and the
Training of Teachers" (College English, vol.55, April 1993) is a
passionate, subtle account of writers' struggle to make real progress in
their chosen field without "let[ting] their language slip into easy,
seductive conversion metaphors." (399) In the article Welch relates her
own experiences in switching from a college that strongly promoted a
freewriting approach to composition (University A), to one that promoted
the view of composition as a form of combat rather than a form of
dialogue (University B). She explores writers' relationships to the
Institution, or "a powerful group of insiders we must both struggle to
join and try to change" (390); she uses this concept of an Institution
to describe the blatantly combative conversional tactics preferred by
the University B, and then demonstrates its quieter, still powerful role
in the teachings at University A. While teacher‑training at University
B was based on the understanding of learning as conversion (388), or a
highly politicized process close to indoctrination, teacher‑training at
University A taught what seemed to be the opposite: "stargazing"
(meaning exploration of topics not necessarily planned as part of the
curriculum) was promoted in the classroom, there were highly interactive
workshops, and the "process" approach to learning supported the
impression that learning was "exploration, reflection, and exchange."
The content of University A's teacher‑training program might have been
more polite, and more palatable for humanistically oriented future
teachers, but that program, laments Nancy Welch, did not invite its
participants to question its underlying assumptions any more than the
program at University B did. And, says Welch, although she left
University B without having been converted to its rather harsh outlook
on learning and had retained the beliefs she had collected at University
A, she did leave with "an awareness of her assumptions as assumptions."
(339)
I believe that an extremely important, extremely subtle point is
covered with some efficiency in this article. Nancy Welch is not
striking out to defend University A, the school whose teacher‑training
programs she personally prefers and utilizes. She is not out to rip
down University B for its strict dogma contradicting her personal
beliefs, and she is not out to say that there are a good and an evil at
war here in the form of "personal freedom" (University A freewriting)
and "bondage" ( University B "ideal teacher" molding). She does not see
the situation to be so clearly defined. There are many different views
of writing and Language, all of them based on assumptions that come from
personal histories with family, Institution, and infinite other factors;
these views may be accepted as being valid in their own way, and not as
subject to any larger organization, because they in turn interpret and
evaluate the larger organizations just as they are interpreted and
evaluated by those organizations. University teacher‑training programs
can urge their participants to think critically of all input to which
they are exposed, but they cannot do so if they have divided writers
against one another‑‑ talented versus untalented, enlightened versus
unenlightened, practical versus impractical, right versus wrong.--Jeannette Lareau
September 29, 1996
Salvatori Mariolina. "Conversations with Texts: Reading in theTeaching of Composition." College English 58‑4 (Apr 1996): 440‑454.
In "Conversations with Texts: Reading in the Teaching of
Composition," Mariolina Salvatori discusses the importance of
teaching reading and writing as interconnected processes. Her
justification for concentrating on the interconnectedness of
reading and writing is that such a method develops "one of the
most fundamental human activities‑ critical self‑reflexivity."
Salvatori begins her article by presenting the foundations
of her theory‑ a method of reading promoted by Hans‑Georg
Gadamer. This method is an "art of dialectic," an "art of
questioning," and a "hermeneutical conversation with a text‑" a
conversation "that can only begin and be sustained if and when
the reader/ interlocutor reconstructs and critically engages the
"question," or the argument that the text itself might have been
occasioned by or be an answer to." Salvatori slightly ammends
this theory of "interactive reading" to propose a similar one of
"introspective reading." The latter theory encourages the
teaching of reading "as an opportunity to investigate knowledge‑
producing practices." In the course of a three‑step strategy,
students are asked "first to write their response to a text,
second to construct a reflective commentary on the moves they
made as readers and the possible reasons for them, and third to
formulate an assessment of the particular text their reading
produced." Salvatori uses this strategy with the hope to make
students cognizant of the processes they go through in reaching
certain conclusions about a text: "how [their] thinking ignites
and is ignited by thoughts of others" and "what intricacy of
strands in a text's arguments" they pay most attention to and
how that affects their analysis. Another interesting component
of Salvatori's approach is that she asks students "to reflect on
the kind of argument that the assignment's frame invites readers
to construct about the text and the kinds of arguments that it
simultaneously closes off." Such exercises allow the students to
discern "the limits and the possibilities of how they choose to
structure an argument." Moreover, the exercises compel the
students to monitor the different procedures the latter
undertake in the different phases of text analysis. This enables
the students to engage in the "interactive reading" Gadamer
calls for: first they analyze the text, and then they analyze
their own analysis of the text in order to see yet more ways to
approach the reading.
Salvatori also briefly discusses some critiques to her
approach only to dismiss them as limited in a certain way. The
"creative writing theory" rejects Salvatori's methods as a
"critical dissection," contradictory to creativity. The
supporters of the "creative writing" theory claim that reading
is usually "dream‑like and intuitive" and should not be
"dissected" by dry techniques. Salvatori dismisses the argument
as elitist and contends that reading is not always a "magical"
process. While some texts might induce a "magical" reading in
some students, the effect would hardly be the same on all
readers. The "cultural studies" critique blames Salvatori's
theory for fostering "the illusion of human beings as
independent, self‑relying objectivities" and for paying too much
"depoliticizing attention to form." Salvatori responds to that
with the argument that teaching "critical reflexivity" does not
necessarily interfere with the investigation of texts in their
social and political context. I would add that, in the contrary,
the development of "critical self‑reflexivity" can only help
readers in their exploration of a work in its social and
political context.
It is commendable that Salvatori discusses the critiques of
her approach. Thus, she reveals features that could otherwise be
seen as limitations of her theory. As "interactive reading"
teaches us, the acknowledgment of possible limitations of a
certain approach makes us able to explore many more
opportunities for understanding a text, a strategy, or a system.
In that sense, teaching "critical self‑reflexivity" has great
implications for composition teachers and for tutors. If
students are urged to analyze their assignments and their
approaches to various texts in light of Salvatori's theory, they
can significantly expand their views on how to investigate a
reading and an assignment. This will certainly lead to a more
comprehensive exploration of texts, encompassing more than just
the primary biases of a writer.--Jenia Iontcheva, 9/30/96
Hoff, Laurie, R. "From Omnipotent Teacher‑in‑Charge to Co‑Conspirator in the Classroom: Developing Lifelong Readers and Writers." English Journal October 1994: 42‑50.
In this article, Laurie Hoff shares her experiences in creating
and implementing a "program that would entice reluctant students to
become competent lifelong readers and writers" (49). She first observed
that her old teaching methods were no longer working with her students
because most of them viewed reading and writing as boring and frustrating
tasks that they had to put up with in order to graduate. Many teachers
attend workshops and read educational journals, but don't apply what they
learn because most teachers are as resistant to major change as they rest
of us. However, by incorporating the findings of current educational
researchers into her program, Hoff made significant progress toward her
goal of creating lifelong readers and writers. First, Hoff had
to create an appropriate classroom environment for her program. She
created a user‑friendly "studio for learning" by replacing the standard
desks with couches, bean‑ bag chairs and other furniture she found at
thrift stores. She made all of the supplies a student might need for
writing and reading (paper, pencils, white‑out, books, etc.) available in
the classroom. During the first few days of class, Hoff concentrated on
building mutual respect and trust with the students. She listened to the
students and let them participate in creating the curriculum, classroom
activities and assessment procedures. One method that she used that I
thought was very good was to have the students, as a class, develop a
list of the qualities of a "good"teacher and a "good" student. Hoff
then used these descriptions to develop teacher/student agreements that
both the teacher and the students signed. A typical class tarted with a
5 to 10‑minute "mini‑lesson" focussing on one specific aspect of reading
or writing. Then the students were allowed to individually choose how
they wanted to spend their "workshop time." They could, for example,
read a book of their choice or try out a new style of writing. Students
were responsible for assessing their own work. In the beginning of each
quarter, students received a grade rubric listing the required work. At
the end of the quarter, students would discuss their portfolios with the
teacher in a conference.
As a student, how would I feel about this class? I think it
would take me a while to get used to. I would be wondering, "Where's the
trick?" However, once I got into it, I would see how much I would
actually be accomplishing and would better understand the purpose of the
class. Grading myself would make me nervous because I have gotten so
dependent on grades as a primary source of reinforcement for writing. I
think the "mini‑lesson" is a wonderful idea. Even as a successful
student, my attention starts drifting about 5 to 10 minutes of
instruction. Hoff found that her students "were able to learn and retain
more information after 10 minutes than if I had spent the entire hour on
the lesson!" (47). I can understand how this is true!
I also like the idea of allowing the student personal choice in
terms of reading and writing. Learning is so much more enjoyable and
exciting when we are learning about something that interests us. I'm
taking this wonderful psychology class now that has reminded me how
thrilling learning can be. I come back from class excited and really get
into the readings because the topic interests me. It' sad that I don't
feel this way about all of my classes. However, I think that we also
need to learn about things that we wouldn't choose to learn about on our
own. First, we might learn that the subject actually doe interest us.
Also, we become more informed, well‑rounded people by studying things
that do not necessarily interest us. For example, I think history is
terribly boring, but I'm glad that I've been required to take
historyclasses anyway. I doubt that I would have chosen to study history
if I had not been required to. So, although I admire the idea of giving
students personal choice in their learning, I also think that there
should be some general requirements for everyone. ChristineWillingmyre
October 5, 1996
Lakoff, Robin. Language and Woman's Place, Chapter 3: "Talking About Women"
In this chapter, Lakoff continues to explain that certain
elements of vocabulary are demeaning to women and or derive from sexist
or unequal connotation. Near the opening of the chapter, she discusses
the use of the word _lady_ in the place of woman in conversation. _Lady_ is
"the more colloquial word: it is less apt to be used . . . in discussing
serious matters" (22). Lakoff holds that when _lady_ is used in job
terminology, the lower the status of the occupation, the more likely it
is that the female employed will be referred to as _lady_. For example,
_cleaning lady_ is socially accepted and "appropriate," whereas, _garbage
gentleman_ is unheard of (23). As far as I'm concerned, this is, for the
most part, generally true.
Until now, Lakoff has been making mostly observations, though
dated, about certain sexist characteristics of the English language; I
have only been interpreting her opinion through the text. As the book
unfolds, however, her dated opinion emerges quite blatantly. Some of it
I agree with, yet I feel free to attack her on certain points that
have been proven wrong by contemporary fact. Lakoff holds fast to the
notion that woman contains so much sexual connotation that its use is
"embarrassing" or inappropriate in certain settings. Thus, "we may
expect that, in the future, lady will replace woman as the primary word
for the human female, since woman will have become too blatantly sexual"
(26). This, of course, has not taken place, so it gives me a sense of
wicked pleasure to attack such a poorly thought out prediction.
It is at this point in the text that Lakoff reveals her true
colors about men. Many feminists, including myself, consider women and
men to be equal. Lakoff is of another opinion: "A little thought should
convince anyone that, in fact, it is men who are self‑centered and
egocentric and that women's seeming vanity is not that at all" (27).
Though women are the wronged sex in this analyzation of vocabulary, let's
not make hasty generalizations! Lakoff further adds that "[i]n fact, men
are the vain sex. Men may derive pleasure directly from their own
works. Men do things purely for their own satisfaction, not caring
nearly so much how it will look to others. This, surely, is the true
egocentricity" (27‑28). It is unfortunate that all of the praiseworthy
observations that Lakoff had been making until now are jaded by her
degrading sexist opinions.
Lakoff's opinion grows still further from mine as she addresses
the subject of pronominal neutralization. Lakoff contradicts
herself by stating it is best to use the masculine pronoun to represent
an individual in a mixed gender group. She points out that this is an
element of English, as well as in other languages, that is
too deeply integrated into the language to practically try to remedy.
The use of _their_ instead of _his_, she notes, is frowned upon by
grammatical authorities, however she never suggests the possibility of a
sentence such as "Everyone take his [and her] seat" (44). Had no one
thought of that at this time? Although I again have the advantage of
reading this twenty years later after certain changes in grammar have
taken place, I continue to hold some of Lakoff's opinions against her.
Ultimately, however, her study, no matter how opinionated, has sparked my
interest and it is because of this book that I hope to continue research
in this area.--Fay‑Ellen Ellwood, 10/5/96
Nancy Sommers, "I Stand Here Writing" College English 55 (April 1993) 420‑428.
Meanwhile, aside from its theoretical implications, life inside the system of constructs humanity has exchanged for individual and communal God‑ consciousness continues. Life, full of runny noses and ironing and bad hair days, afternoon snacks and sunny Saturdays and warm socks. Is the confusion between human nature and human illusion really necessary for human survival? Do we have, or did we once have, collective needs and instincts that relate(d) us to something larger than our surface‑oriented lives as a child is related to a parent‑‑ do we need to feel locked into an inescapable format, a hug, a Grammar? Do we deny the fact that we ourselves are responsible for such a Grammar, or do we claim that this Grammar is the only one of its kind that could arise from human contemplation? Will humans crumble and fall without their societies, on which they have become so dependent? Should we talk about the possibility of infinite diversity and the falsehood of society *only in the context of mass communication and self‑exploration,* only on the way to a reformed set of cultural boundaries that reflect a reformed sense of what confinement we wish to embrace? Should life be wasted in complaining about the fact that much of what we are taught to revere is suspect, or should we, as Joseph Harris says, "...accustom ourselves to dealing with contradictions, instead of seeking a theory that appears to abrogate them?"(Graves 276) Are we capable, and should we be capable, of distinguishing between dream and reality? (I remind you, Harris says that *healthy* discourse systems, like *healthy* humans, are full of contradictions. He does not say normal, he says healthy.)
In this essay, Nancy Sommers describes her life's changes through childhood, adulthood, parenthood, learning and teaching, writing and speaking, and, most of all, reflecting. She tells of the delicacy and personal nature of writing, inadvertently backing the writer‑ based method of composition. In one example, she tells of a boy who discovers *by pointing out and examining* the barriers and boundaries that humans set for themselves, chronicles "an intellectual journey" and "makes connections among the sources that circulate within him...;" this excellently demonstrates the benefit of philosophy, the helpfulness of questioning every single piece of information one has ever assimilated in order to know that it is indeed assimilated, not instinctive. The instinctive, natural, *healthy* part of the potent dreaming process is the added dimension it gives to everyday life when indistinguishably combined with what I believe to be, and have spoken of as, human nature. Sommers ends her essay with these words: "Having the courage to live with uncertainty, ambiguity, even doubt, we can walk into all of those fields of writing...We need only be inventors, we need only give freely and abundantly to the texts, imagining even as we write that we too will be a source from which other readers can draw sustenance." We do indeed invent and imagine as humans, more than we realize. This last statement of the author supports the audience‑ based method of writing, implying that our writing for our own satisfaction, our own delicate fulfillment, is actually our means of furthering the society in which we find ourselves dreaming. If our writings are going to touch society regardless of our denials, and if our society is determined to hold us forever, writers ought to be very careful with their craft. Life should be balanced and respected and appreciated for what we have made it, if there can be nothing else.
If life is not necessarily destined to be ruled by society, and we can indeed loose it to fit our natures instead of our constructs, who knows what the truth will be?
Wadlington, Elizabeth, Shirley Jacob, and Sandra Bailey. "Teaching Students with Dyslexia in the Regular Classroom." Childhood Education Fall 1996: 2‑5.
All regular education teachers should read "Teaching Students with Dyslexia in the Regular Classroom." In the past, when a student had a learning disability, he was pulled out into a special education classroom for help. However, the movement today in education is toward inclusion. In fact, Public Law 94‑142 gives students the right to be educated in the least restrictive environment, which means children with
disabilities must be educated with non‑ disabled children to the maximum
extent possible. Since about 10‑15 percent of the general population has
dyslexia (2), teachers should be familiar with the characteristics of
dyslexia and with the teaching strategies that are effective for children
with dyslexia. This article provides this information in a concise, understandable form.
At first it seems unreasonable to expect teachers to make the
numerous special accommodations and modifications that students with
learning disabilities need. However, all students can benefit from the
suggestions for teachers of students with dyslexia provided in this
article. The authors of this article differentiate between children with
learning disabilities [who "often do significantly well in some areas but
very poorly in others" (3)] and slow learners [who "consistently perform
at below‑average levels in most areas" (3)]. However, in "Response to
Historical Perspective: A Developmental Language Perspective," Kamhi
makes the valid point that "all children will probably be better served
if the teacher assumes that the learning problem is not specific to
reading (i.e., word recognition)" (51). Most of the recommendations in
"Teaching Students with Dyslexia in the Regular Classroom" are general
teaching strategies from which all children could benefit. For example,
all children learn better from and enjoy the multisensory methods that
the National Teacher Education Initiative Task Force identified as
effective for children with dyslexia.
According to the Bowman Gray Program Project, "dyslexic readers
need highly structured, explicit and intensive instruction in phonics
rules and their application to print. They profit from building a base
of phonetically regular words before learning nonphonetic sight words"
(4). Thus, the whole language approach encouraged so strongly by today's
educational researchers is not the most effective technique for teaching
reading to children with dyslexia. These children learn better when they
are directly taught the rules that certain groups of words follow. I
wonder whether children with dyslexia would similarly benefit more from
learning the formal rules of grammar (Grammar 2, according to Patrick
Hartwell in "Grammar, Grammars, and the Teaching of Grammar") than from
picking up these rules through actively "manipulating language in
meaningful contexts" (Hartwell, 178). Hartwell advocated the latter
method for teaching students in general, but perhaps students with
dyslexia would profit more from direct and structured instruction of
grammar. --Christine Willingmyre, October 24, 1996
Needles, Margaret, and Michael Knapp. "Teaching Writing to Children Who Are Underserved." Journal of Educational Psychology 86 (1994): 339‑349.
In "Teaching Writing to Children Who Are Underserved," Needles and Knapp
present their findings on a sociocognitive approach to writing. This approach proves to be a potentially successful method of writing instruction for these
students. It varies from the most common approach used today for teaching writing to children from low‑income families, the skill‑based perspective, by including some components of this perspective in addition to some from the whole language perspective.
Advocates of the skill‑based perspective recommend direct instruction of "the
discrete skills of written expression ‑ spelling, sentence structure, paragraph
construction, and other facets of grammar, word usage, or composition" (339‑340). The authors cite research which shows that this explicit and structured
method of writing instruction is especially beneficial to students of low income
families and of nonmainstream cultural backgrounds. This technique would include
instruction on the rules of "Grammar 2" as criticized by Hartwell in "Grammar, Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar."
The whole language perspective, on the other hand, is similar to the
method of instruction that Hartwell advocates in his article. According to this
theory, written theory, written language is best learned through active manipulation in meaningful contexts.
The sociocognitive perspective incorporates some aspects of both the
skills‑ based perspective and the whole language perspective in addition to other
components. According to this theory, "literacy involves not only the
acquisition of reading and writing skills but also 'a way of thinking and speaking'"
(340). The new element of this theory is the focus on the role of social interaction in the development of writing. Application of the sociocognitive theory unites the other two theories by including "direct instruction in needed skills and strategies within the context of an authentic task" (340).
To test the effectiveness of the sociocognitive perspective, the
authors first developed a list of the six most important components of this theory:
1. Component skills are best learned within the context of the writing task
2. The quality of children's writing increases when school‑assigned
writing tasks are meaningful and authentic
3. Children's fluency and competence in writing are influenced by the
degree to which the task connects to the child's background and experiences
4. When children are allowed to interact while performing writing tasks,
their involvement and learning are increased
5. Children develop competence in writing when they approach writing as a
problem‑solving process 6. Ample opportunities to write extended text help children develop writing competence
The authors then compared the writing proficiency of students who were taught
writing by various approaches, including the three discussed above. A
substantial substantial percentage of children the classes studied were from families with low incomes.
Although the research was correlational and thus does not prove
cause and effect, the findings show that "the more that writing instruction displays
sociocognitive features, the more it is associated with high levels of
writingcompetence. Conversely, the less these features are in evidence ‑ which
means that writing instruction conforms more closely to the premises of the skill‑based perspective ‑ the lower the levels of writing competence" (347). Educational researchers currently advocate the sociocognitive method of writing
instruction for most students. However, they recommend