The Shaughnessy reading this week really made me think about how I consider errors. I do agree with the points she makes especially that errors are not a function of stupidity, laziness, or a character deficiency, but I do find it interesting that that’s how I’ve come to view errors. To me, errors have always been a product of laziness or apathy and one reason for that is I always assumed that students knew what was correct and what wasn’t was. Students were making errors because they were simply too lazy to reread a document and find the errors, because I dare say it, I didn’t always proofread every paper I turned in in undergrad. But then I really started to think about writing errors during and after class on Thursday. I never really considered that errors could be a factor of conditioning, and that students actually don’t know what an error is and what it means.
It’s exactly like the coding language scenario: when you code something wrong and the program tells you it’s wrong and why, the explanation looks like gibberish. Either the student knows when there’s an error but they do not know why there’s an error, or they can’t tell when there’s an error at all. I hate it, but all this really does come back to conditioning and pattern recognition. I know when there’s an error because I have a voice inside of me telling me it doesn’t sound right because of all my years reading and recognizing patterns. But most of these students don’t have that experience, because most of them just don’t read anymore. It’s really very sad. I wish there was some way to have these students go back in time and read more so that they know what errors are and how to correct them. But that would be too easy wouldn’t it?
I’m positive these thoughts will continue developing throughout this semester. I will also continue to question exactly what error is because it automatically implies that there’s a correct and perhaps this is due to social factors amidst other things. I wonder what a class on the history of English grammar and error would be like. I imagine it would be both excruciatingly painful and quite interesting at the same time.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Response to Macrorie’s “Telling Writing” and Write Freely Mantra
Ken Macrorie’s Telling Writing was deeply interesting and problematic all at the same time. While I love the notion and concept of writing freely, it deeply troubles me to consider this a legitimate method of writing. Throughout the article I constantly found myself asking how one would use his methods of writing freely with and without focus to invent a legitimate piece of writing. There’s no doubt in my mind that writing freely serves a purpose, but I cannot even fathom that purpose in an academic setting. To just sit down and out my thoughts as truthful as I can serves no purpose academically and I think it would actually hinder my academic identity. Writing without organization, without the invention process as Crowley sees it, seems trite and silly to me. Writing needs to be organized and structured, it needs to be processed and methodically implemented. Otherwise, what you end up with is a stream of consciousness that serves no purpose in an academic setting. If I had to pick out my biggest argument with Macrorie, it would be his blatant lack of consideration for the audience. In my opinion, audience is the most important rhetorical device in any piece of writing. It constructs how you communicate, it applies meaning to a given piece of working, and Macrorie’s complete disregard for considering the audience when one writes seems almost amateurish. True there’s a lot to be said and commended for writing to yourself and for yourself. However, it doesn’t work when communicating and writing outside of yourself. Ken Macrorie’s “Telling Writing” was a fun read and his use of Engfsh is memorable, however his methodology of writing composition doesn’t and cannot function outside the realm of creative writing and even then it's pushing it.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Response to Brereton’s “The origin’s”, along with other thoughts
Brereton’s article really made me think about the logistics of the freshman composition course. It was an eye opener, especially from Scott’s perspective, on the struggle that still exists between the number of available teachers and the amount of students. Never before had I considered how teaching this kind of course worked out; I had always taken it for granted. From a student perspective it’s easy to take the teaching for granted: there’s an instructor that stands in front of the class that I’m supposed to acknowledge and maybe listen to every now and then, and then go home and complete the writing assignment. Now as a pseudo teacher, I realize that there’s so much more that goes into teaching, especially teaching composition, and since I’ve started this class I find myself constantly asking what the most crucial part of teaching composition is. Is it to stress grammar and make sure the student never makes a grammatical error? Is it to emphasize the writing process, so that the student understands that writing is an ongoing process, and sometimes may never be finished? These are questions that I struggle with and I don’t have the knowledge or experience to answer them ye, and may never be able to. I do champion Scott’s notion of the three essentials (Brereton 106), however I don't think that it is possible to achieve all three, especially the third essential, within the course of a semester.
I also find myself struggling with the evaluation aspect of the composition course as well, and while I do believe that evaluation is essential in promoting “good writing”, it’s the definition of “good writing” that eludes me. How do we evaluate the student’s writing, if we as a field of composition cannot define the terms and necessities that make “good writing?” True, we can outline the ways in which the student should be able to achieve good writing and enforce constant drilling and repetition of writing exercises with the hopes that they’ll produce “good writing”, but if we cannot universally agree and define what “good” is, and what makes certain writing more successful than others, how can the composition course as a whole succeed?
I don’t think we’ll ever reach a point when we’ll be able to list out steps and check boxes that define what good writing is. I think that we’ve achieved pinpointing bad writing and defining what bad writing is, but that still doesn’t help in defining what good writing is. Simply saying don’t do this, don’t do that doesn’t work when trying to write. However, it’s very interesting to me because I think not being able to define good writing is a good thing, because when we do define what is and how to produce good writing, so many other good things will be left out. That’s just my two cents anyways.
I also find myself struggling with the evaluation aspect of the composition course as well, and while I do believe that evaluation is essential in promoting “good writing”, it’s the definition of “good writing” that eludes me. How do we evaluate the student’s writing, if we as a field of composition cannot define the terms and necessities that make “good writing?” True, we can outline the ways in which the student should be able to achieve good writing and enforce constant drilling and repetition of writing exercises with the hopes that they’ll produce “good writing”, but if we cannot universally agree and define what “good” is, and what makes certain writing more successful than others, how can the composition course as a whole succeed?
I don’t think we’ll ever reach a point when we’ll be able to list out steps and check boxes that define what good writing is. I think that we’ve achieved pinpointing bad writing and defining what bad writing is, but that still doesn’t help in defining what good writing is. Simply saying don’t do this, don’t do that doesn’t work when trying to write. However, it’s very interesting to me because I think not being able to define good writing is a good thing, because when we do define what is and how to produce good writing, so many other good things will be left out. That’s just my two cents anyways.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Response to Parker’s “Where do English Departments Come From?”
William Riley Parker’s critical 1967 essay examines and critiques the history of the English Department through its earliest incarnations and while he does the examination rather successfully, albeit without any supporting research, he eventually comes to the conclusion that the “modern” study and teaching of English is failing. He begins his tirade stating with a quote from Cicero, “Not to know what happened before one was born is always to be a child,” and he uses this to do several things: first, to start on his history lesson of the English department, and second and more importantly, to critique the current state of English teaching. Ignoring Parker’s silly diatribe on the origins of English from the parents of oratory and linguistics, he begins his history lesson, as I said rather successfully.
He traces the beginnings of English study through the early literature reviews of the 16th century, to the start of the professorships of Rhetoric and Literature at notable British and American universities. However, breaking away from the history lesson to a critique, Parker begins his critique by stating that, “As scholars we have matured; as teachers we-the same people- are still children in our ignorance or innocence, still fumbling and lacking well defined goals,” and while he realizes these are “strong statements” he does not fully understand the failings of them. Parker criticizes the now current English department as we know it as a fumbling child that has forgotten about its history; about its mother and father and from whence it came. He states his feelings clearly by saying, “…it seems to me that English departments have cared much less about liberal education and their own integrity than they have about their administrative power and prosperity,” and while this does hold some merit, it does not hold very much. Parker’s feelings are held in a firmly rooted belief that if we don’t teach from where we came, i.e. oratory and elocution, then we will forever be lost and ignorant in the teaching of English and while I do share the same sentiment I don’t feel that anything has been lost. Parker fails to recognize the changes in teaching and public discourse and instead focus on terms like elocution and oratory and claims that we in the English department are losing sight of the real teaching of English. These are indeed noble pursuits, however I don’t feel that we have lost sight of anything; we’ve merely changed and adapted the teaching of English to the students of today and even though we’ve dropped the titles of elocution and oratory the methods are still the same.
It will be interesting to see where we progress and end up in both our teaching and scholarship of English in the future, however I am confident that rhetoric and linguistics will still play a huge part in the methodology of English. I wonder what Parker's opinions and views on teaching English would be in 20 years from now or even 50? Would he still hold his views that we are slipping away from the true purpose of teaching English? Perhaps there will be a regression to teaching the classics more formally and the use of technology and modern ideas of teaching will be cast aside? I guess we will just have to wait and see.
It will be interesting to see where we progress and end up in both our teaching and scholarship of English in the future, however I am confident that rhetoric and linguistics will still play a huge part in the methodology of English. I wonder what Parker's opinions and views on teaching English would be in 20 years from now or even 50? Would he still hold his views that we are slipping away from the true purpose of teaching English? Perhaps there will be a regression to teaching the classics more formally and the use of technology and modern ideas of teaching will be cast aside? I guess we will just have to wait and see.
Parker, William Riley. "Where Do English Departments Come From?" College English 28.5 (1967): 339-351.
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