Blog Prompt: How can we learn from what we do/teach? How can we continue to better ourselves as teachers? What are some ways we can become “reflective practitioners”?
This may sound like a bit of a crock, but I actually began this blog post a few weeks ago. I had written a handful of short but powerful sentences on Zen ideology and how the teacher should always be a student and a few other of those kinds of things that you might see in The Karate Kid or similar, covertly inner-balance focused movies.
But after sitting and reflecting on what I was writing, I realized that these things are key, but to relate these lofty and possibly distant concepts to a West-Texas setting, and more specifically, a group of teachers, and professional readers and writers, I could use a more appropriate analogy: revision.
For myself, and presumably for many of you, my fellow 5060′ers, revision-in-writing is a constant and unending process of reflection, realization, and reworking. These are concepts that are at the core of the writing process as it is largely taught today, and have likely gotten us to the positions that we now find ourselves in, within the field of academia. But why constrain these concepts to writing? Well, in truth, we usually don’t. We just do not think of what we are doing as “revision.”
Whenever we apologize or negotiate (or even resist change. see the page on “Literacy Autobiography”), we are revising some kind of original thought and action; we are realizing that what we had initially produced may not have been the best way of going about things. So we revise our ideas, or we revise our actions and we move on in the best ways that we can. Just as in the common(?) mantra, “don’t dwell,” staying stuck on past thoughts or actions–on past versions–can lead to reduced or failed effectiveness in personal, social, or professional circles (as well as many others). There is an underlying concept of systems theory at work here, but for the sake of space, I will leave that for another time.
Let’s return to the original question, “How can we learn from what we do/teach? How can we continue to better ourselves as teachers? What are some ways we can become “reflective practitioners?” In order to maintain a pedagogy that stays competitive in a competitive field–that is to say, maintains an effective classroom pedagogy–we, as teachers, must practice in teaching, what we practice in writing: revision. We have our prevision–our lesson plan, our vision–our in class experience/pedagogy, and our revision–0ur “in the moment” or “post-hoc” reflection on and consideration of how the classroom experience emerges between author (teacher) and reader (student).* Now, while there are several different ways to teach writing, there are several different ways to approach this style of revision-in-practice, and each one should be considered evenly. This concept also highlights the value of experience in teaching, just as an experienced writer is better at the three primary stages of writing, so is an experienced teacher (hopefully) better at classroom and self-assessment. To play devil’s advocate, this may sound easier than it is, since revision can be difficult and in the case of teaching, can possibly lead to changes in course materials, syllabi, or established pedagogies of “doing what works.” As in most things academic and institutional, change can be difficult at best. I hope that we can all learn to consider one style of revision for revision-in-practice, or a combination of several styles, otherwise becoming “reflective practitioners” will be difficult, nay impossible.
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*I recognize that this is extremely reductive and may lead to an assessment of my model that suggests that it is a pipeline-model, but this is missing the point of the comparison: the pedagogy is emergent (just as theory is lost without practice and practice is lost without theory) and must remain so in either an authority-based or user-centered communication model.
Blog Prompt: What should a FYC teacher come to class knowing? What should a FYC student come to class knowing? How can we prepare for “Plan B” when they don’t?
An FYC teacher should come to class knowing the history-even a little bit-of theory and pedagogy. Without practical pedagogy, teaching theory is purely teaching philosophy, but without teaching theory, composition teachers are stuck “doing what works” and not reflecting on their pedagogy or the pedagogy’s of others. At least this reflection will lead to questioning of practice, at best, this reflection will lead to a consideration of effective teaching practices. A FYC student should come to class ready to learn! Or at least with a “beginner’s mind” as Zen teaching suggests that we avoid the pitfalls of getting into a routine or allowing our prototypes of an action or concept from allowing our ideas to change and grow with each new experience. In business this is called avoiding “acting old.”
Beginner’s mind applies to teachers as well. I have heard stories (Take 20, anyone?) of teachers going into classrooms and “then learning” how they are supposed to teach-as if their classes on pedagogy were nothing more than misguiding or un-guiding. However, based on the experience that I have had, if I consider my experience as an extension or supplement to my classroom education, then the two ideas are not exclusive of each other, rather they are supportive of each other. So, as mentioned in an earlier blog post, theory and practice should not be so misaligned. Clearly, the field and the academy should be in close relation and communication with each other, they should each say “what do you think? How does this actually pan out? Why does this work the way that it does?” Of course, this is not always the case, but there are always ways to change (some more or less resistant or foundationally-shocking than other).
Plan “B” should be integrated into every stage of the pedagogical design process: plan for every student coming to class-and every student (or most) skipping. Plan for every student having done his/her homework-and none of them having it done. Plan on students actually listening and actively learning-and plan for a catatonic class that simply stares through you. “Wow this is a lot of work.” Yes. It is. But if you do not expect your class to do anything except the bare minimum and the basic qualifications for completion, then ought to, nay need to consider alternatives that avoid a culture of punishment. Prison sentences discourage not because they correct, but because they supress. Punishing students rather than planning routing techniques and being cunning as a teacher, usually forces students to become spiteful, disengaged, and furthers the kind of thinking that leads to “bare minimum” class participation.
Blog Prompt: Why do you grade the way you do? How does that focus/practice help you understand your “philosophy” of composition?
I grade the way that I do because it is the way that I want my work graded. Pragmatically, I make sure to point out issues with syntax and mechanics but I do not spend too much time on them unless they are consistent and suggest a misunderstanding rather than an oversight. The weight that I give to these types of errors depends on the length of the assignment: if the assignment is short, I do not feel that there is any very good excuse for syntax and mechanical errors (unless the student really does not seem to understand the relative rule); longer assignments receive a little more leniency.
Regardless of length, I always give the most attention to content: development of idea(s), consideration of audience, et c. I feel that it is important for writers to be able to understand that no single idea is formed-or written-in a vacuum. That is to say that every idea is couched in a context both with respect to author and audience. Understanding and defining the causes, effects, and implications of ideas will help make the author’s argument (and, of course, all writing is arguing something) more effective.
Theoretically, I understand that I am grading a first-year student who may not necessarily have a full or even competent command of the English language and its faculties. I feel that it is important to avoid a pedagogy of punishment: my job as document instructor (not English gatekeeper) is to help students understand how and why their writing is effective or ineffective. The development of writing depends not so much on producing words in the right order, but creating a critical through process that works to create ideas through writing. Since I cannot tell students explicitly that writing is probably one of the most difficult things to do, I do my best to encourage and support the development of the kinds of thinking that produces effective writing. I also feel that the Harvard model where each and every student (what is the term? Philistines?) deserves “a sporting chance” to learn and develop good writing skills and therefore his or her democratic voice. I really do not feel that the Yale model of selective support or the Arnoldian concept of using literature to pacify the “irrational mob behavior” of the masses is particular appropriate in our current sociopolitical milieu. Perhaps these methods might work better if TTU’s FYC program was focused on writing about literature, as it was argued it should be, for decades. As a student of the technical communication persuasion, I do not fully understand the logical arguing of poetic as a more or less valid pedagogical method: both lenses have their places in the classroom. I can only try to act the part of the writing sensei, and instruct as “one who has gone before.”
Blog Prompt: Given what you’ve read for this week (or even from previous weeks), what puzzles you? What are you wrestling with? What questions do you have that others might be able to answer/help you wrestle with?
I am puzzled more about the “lost in translation” effect that occurs between theory and practice. I am interested in analyzing the causes of this effect and ways to shorten the gap between the two. Like philosophy and science (which arguably both operate through under beliefs in metaphysics) theorists and practitioners seem to both have their own ways of doing things. Our 5060 class is a perfect example of this; practitioners or experienced teachers provide a grounding basis for class discussion while the unexperienced and generally more theoretical students provide an infusing of theory that provides an overall balance of class thought. Unfortunately, requiring the entire class to negotiate one pedagogy or come together to teach a class en masse would be as challenging and reductive to individual experience and education as ignoring both would be. So, taking this discussion as a question that is all too familiar, “What works and why?” I am stuck in same place as I imagine many other students are as well.
With three teachers and nearly 50 fellow students in one class, I am forced to ask myself: how important is hearing this answer? I feel that there is not an answer in the world that I would be satisfied with: many would be reductive or omissive. Education seems to be one of those fields where schools are only bettered by the field members that they are able to bring in and both the academy and industry are mutually dependent. In other words, I am going to have to learn for myself, through experience. Just as technical communication education must look to the field for pedagogical and curricular guidance, so much the field of education instruction look to the field for guidance and pedagogical suggestion. However, the inverse of that is that industry must take an active roll in giving back to academia and providing a guiding role to its members if it is going to expect or demand any kind of a change in the field. It may be easier to add evolutionary change in the field by creating generational change in students still in the academy.
If we write because we have questions, then my writing here is self-fulfilling. What are your opinions on this? I imagine that most 5060′rs that read this (and others?) will not agree with this post. Let me know what you think.
Blog Prompt: Respond to the Take 20 video. What was most surprising? What were some “themes” you saw emerging? What was most inspiring?
What surprised me, although once I thought about it I really was not that surprised, was the way that a theme I saw was the way that the teachers reflected on their early teaching experiences as largely experimental and foundational. Foundational in the sense of what NOT to do. I have actually had one of the teachers, and her comment actually went the other way since it became the foundation for the way that she began teaching and has continued to teach. For the sake of professional courtesy I will not include her name, but I found her maintenance of a culture of punishment to be rather counterintuitive considering everything that we (not royal, the 5060 class) have learned so far this semester. What was most inspiring, to me, was the way that the teachers mostly mentioned that their early teaching experiences were…rocky. My teaching experiences, although limited, always involved an element of “diving right in.” I have found that as long as I am prepared with content and an outline, I can mate the two and an emergent system develops that works off of a basic outline (with goals) and is flexible to the situation. I find the teacher who mentioned her maintenance of strict authority over her class as an inspiration of the kind of classroom culture to avoid.
Blog Prompt: Describe YOUR process: How do you write? Can you think of things that might make the process more successful? How do you think we should value “process” in our classes?
My process of writing is long and drawn out. I will usually try and think of a topic weeks if not months in advance of the due date, and then spend that time compiling a body of work that I use to serve two ends: 1) developing my thesis, and 2) supporting my thesis. If certain ideas occur to me within that time I will try my best to create a small map of them: ideas in association with ideas, works, theories, et c. At least a week before the project is due I will compile all of my notes and produce a framework of my ideas with cited material intermixed. This way, once I start writing I have all my cited material readily available. If I am using a relatively small body of work as support, I will go through and compile all of my quotes and citations into a list or group that is separate from my theoretical work: if the support is fresh in my mind, it is easier to access when I am writing out my argumentative design. Finally the project is produced as much as is possible on paper: hand writing the argument out and developing my ideas with citations intermixed. The ultimate goal is to take this hard-copy and produce an electronic version of my work that will be revised for content, syntax, and mechanics, while undergoing critical document design. Revision of this work never fully ends.
Blog Prompt: Does “voice” that resonates compete with or enhance “academic voice”? How can we write successfully as “academics” and still have voice? Or, you can talk about how important you think voice is in teaching/grading: how do you teach “voice”? How do you assess it?
A voice that resonates can easily make the difference between effective and ineffective academic writing. Truthfully, content, mechanics, and syntax make up the core of good academic writing. Voice, however, is what makes writing memorable and moving.* Development of a personal voice can be difficult since writers must contend with issues of self-confidence, acceptance, and accountability. The benefits, though, are obvious in the adjectives I use to describe the development of a personal voice in writing: memorable and moving. I feel that if the author can convey to the reader a degree of personality then the reader is more likely to remember the particular text. The reader stands a better chance of connecting to the author/text if he or she can develop an emotional connection, as well. For these reasons, development of a personal voice in writing can be the key to an effective piece of writing.
On a side note, personal voice can function in an academic sphere as well since it is entirely possible to be objective and professional in writing while maintaining a notable authorial presence [developed through a consistent use of voice]. The three works that students needed to read for BA2 are perfect examples of this.
*I understand that this metaphor-strong vs. weak-is problematic since it posits traditional gendertypes onto the effective/ineffective writing argument and therefore only supports a gendered stereotyping. I shall replace the “strong vs. weak” metaphor with “memorable and moving vs. passing and unaffecting.”
Welcome 5060′ers. I want to make you aware of something that you may not already know. There are a lot of posts on this blog that do not necessarily pertain to 5060. You can narrow the view to only 5060 material by clicking on the “5060″ category in the left-hand column. Enjoy!
