Response to Readings for 5 May 08

“Contemporary Composition: The Major Pedagogical Theories” by James Berlin

Berlin states that, rather than debate different theories for an accepted, singular composing process as they usually do, compositionists should be exploring the theories that stand behind the many processes for writing. Berlin points out pedagogical methods for writing have always been “grounded in rhetorical theories” (256), so teachers need to know how the various rhetorical theories shape the way writers view audience, knowledge, etc.

In demonstrating what he means, Berlin does an excellent job of explaining how each major pedagogical theory compares to the others. In Neo-Aristotelian, or Classicist, theory, truth and knowledge is something we can gain through our senses, and our primary rhetorical concern is figuring out how to use language to invent this knowledge for others. The Current-Traditionalists, or Positivists, base their theory on a type of scientific knowledge that can be observed objectively. As opposed to the deductive approach of Neo-Aristotelian theory, Current-Traditional theory relies on language to arrange and style an inductive argument. Neo-Platonist, or Expressionist, theory posits knowledge as a perfect form residing outside of us and asserts that we must work together to chip away at the errors that prevent us individually from reaching the truth. Finally, Berlin explains the New Rhetoric theory – his personal favorite – to show how knowledge can only be created through the social construction of language.

I like Berlin’s essay because it helped me understand the underpinnings of the major pedagogical theories. I know I’ve said this many times this semester, but I wish I had read some of our readings – like this essay – at the beginning of my graduate study. I think I would have approached writing instruction with a more informed teaching strategy.

“Post-Process ‘Pedagogy’: A Philosophical Exercise” by Breuch

While she sees potential for post-process theory in teaching, Breuch feels the post-process theorists actually do themselves a disservice with their current focus on separating themselves from process theory. Rather than concentrating their efforts on discrediting process theory, Breuch wants theorists to highlight the post-process concepts of: 1) writing is something that cannot be mastered and 2) teachers and students should be collaborators who use dialogue to work together. If post-process theorists do this, Breuch sees a future where writing in a classroom is more similar to writing in a writing center – writers work one-on-one with tutors to develop their skill.

While Breuch’s essay is interesting, I kept wondering why we have to now come up with a new term – post-process theory – for concepts that have been covered in composition and discourse analysis theories for some time now. The idea of writing with students in a collaborative partnership, for example, sounds like Elbow’s Writing Without Teachers, except I think Elbow actually does a better job with the concept. Where Breuch advocates student writers working with “mentors” (120), Elbow suggests students work with other students. I think Elbow might be closer to writing as something that cannot be mastered because the interaction between student writers would not carry with it an implied power dynamic. Mentoring, on the other hand, implies that one person in a dyad is more knowledgeable or skillful, and therefore has a higher “power” position than the other. Even Breuch’s writing center analogy is slightly naïve because, as a consultant in the UNLV writing center, I know that students still saw me as an authority figure of sorts even while we worked one-on-one. Overall, this essay frustrated me because it seemed as though people are just trying to come up with something new to write about versus finding something that can actually be useful to teachers. I agree with Fulkerson’s assertion that writing about post-process theory might just be a “way of showing yourself to be au courant” (670).

“Composition at the Turn of the Twenty-First Century” by Fulkerson

Speaking of Fulkerson, his essay points out what is probably already common knowledge in composition theory – that there is a lot of division and debate within the discipline. To see what had taken place since his earlier study of metatheory, Fulkerson compared recent events to his work of 1990. In doing so, Fulkerson noted three primary “axiologies” (655) that form the basis of most contemporary teaching strategies: 1) Critical/Cultural Studies(CCS), 2) Expressivism, and 3) Procedural Rhetoric. Like Berlin, Fulkerson feels that each pedagogical theory looks at process but not in the same way.

I thought this essay was very interesting in the way Fulkerson explained his view of each axiology, but I especially agree with Fulkerson’s conclusion that “Preparing our graduate students in composition for the discourse…is becoming increasingly difficult” (680). From my own experience, all of the various ideologies have confused the way I see my own teaching philosophy – perhaps this is a good thing. I know I am not comfortable teaching from a CCS stance because I don’t want to unduly influence a student’s political/sexual/religious beliefs. Like Fulkerson, I often wonder if the goal of a CCS class is to develop writing or to push an agenda. I also am not happy with the expressivist ideology because I’m not sure that this method really prepares students for writing beyond the composition class. However, I do feel certain elements, like freewriting, can be very helpful to students. I suppose I most easily fit within the good old rhetorical camp because I want students to: “invent” through social interaction with each other (not with me – I prefer the students collaborate with their peers); “arrange” their writing in the best possible way for an audience and context because it’s not enough to express oneself if no one can figure out what is being said; and “style” their words in the most appropriate way for their specific purpose. Call me old-fashioned….

“Teaching about Writing, Righting Misconceptions: (Re)Envisioning ‘First-Year Composition’ as ‘Introduction to Writing Studies’” by Downs and Wardle

In a very thorough treatment of their proposed pedagogy, Downs and Wardle attempt to demonstrate how changing FYC to a writing studies course would not only develop better writers but also bring more awareness to the composition discipline. The authors begin by questioning the conceptions that “academic discourse” is universal or transferable (or even exists) and asserting that students need to understand that writing content has to work within a specific context. To resist current misconceptions about writing, Downs and Wardle argue that a writing pedagogy has to involve students on a foundational level in which students would be slowly invited into the composition discourse community through interaction with published research, etc. In this manner, students would begin to care about writing on both a cognitive and affective level. Ultimately, I believe Downs and Wardle would like to see FYC evolve into a sort of combination rhetorical, discourse analysis, and composition theory course.

Wow, I absolutely loved this essay! Although there are some problem areas with Downs and Wardle’s pedagogical theory, which they openly acknowledge later in the essay, I thought their ideas were very refreshing. I think they actually may have come up with a resolution to the dissonance I expressed earlier about my preferred style of teaching. By heightening students’ awareness of rhetoric, discourse analysis, composition theory, and previous works in those areas, I feel FYC as a writing studies course could show students how writing has different dimensions that change with the context. This approach could also change the way many students accept published works as fact – without questioning the rhetorical appeals or construction of the discourse – and empower students to join the conversation.

Even though Downs and Wardle discount that writing about “what makes good citizenship” (568) and other topics that are being used in many FYCs could work as well as writing about writing research, I do think even those topics that Downs and Wardle disparage could be worked into a writing studies course. For example, students could choose to respond not to their stance on stem-cell research but to the writing strategies of various authors on the topic. In this way, even the rhetoric of scientific discourse could be illuminated for students. Overall, I think this is a fascinating proposal for writing instruction, and I wonder if Downs needs any help up in Utah.

Reflection on Creating My Website

Like some of you, I was a little apprehensive at the beginning of the semester when I realized we had to create a website as part of the requirements for this class. While it is true that I have been maintaining the content of the English Department’s website for a couple of semesters, I had nothing to do with its creation. In fact, when Dr. Tillery (the professor who designed the website) asked me to take on the responsibility for updating the content last semester, I had never even used Dreamweaver or any other software to work on a website. I can only say that I have come far from where I began, and I hope to learn more about website design in the future. That’s why I’ve attended several TLC workshops already; I recommend these workshops to anyone!

So, for this class, I decided to use what I had learned in Dreamweaver to build a website that would highlight my experience and skills for prospective employers. Since I don’t intend to be a full-time teacher, I didn’t want to spend a lot of time on teaching philosophies, etc. Instead, I wanted to use the space for a fairly clean presentation of information that would give employers insight into my professional and academic background. I hope that I have achieved my goal. You can see my efforts at http://complabs.nevada.edu/~garci296 (or use the link at the top of this blog site).

Response to Readings for 28 Apr 08

“The Adult Literacy Process as Cultural Action for Freedom and Education and Conscientizacao” by Freire

Freire advocates the need for critical consciousness on the part of both teachers and adult students in his essay. First, Freire speaks to teachers and asks that they be aware of their methodology and praxis for teaching. Using examples of “good” and “bad” primers, the author asks teachers not to sustain the “digestive concept of knowledge” in their instruction (617) because, (my use of a biblical analogy here), this way of teaching only feeds the illiterate for a day and does not help them fish for themselves in the future. Instead, teachers should find ways to help adult students facilitate their own learning experiences.

Then Freire explains the steps of the National Literacy Program that he began in Brazil prior to 1964. Each phase takes the illiterate participants through the cognitive stages of learning to include a higher level of synthesis (when they learn to first analyze and then synthesize syllables of words). The first phase of this program touches on some of our readings from last week in that Freire demonstrates how student-centered literacy has to take the students’ lives and environment into consideration. During the first phase, researchers studied the orality of groups and determined what might be the most meaningful instruction for their needs. From there, subsequent phases built upon this orality and slowly added literacy to the program.

When Freire points out at the end of the essay that the “ex-illiterate” became more political after going through the program, I thought of Ong’s assertion that purely oral people cannot really reflect on their lives, etc. I think Freire’s essay refutes Ong’s idea fairly well because I believe the illiterate of Brazil had already considered the political environment but did not previously have a way to communicate their concerns.

“Rhetoric and Ideology in the Writing Class” by Berlin

Berlin deconstructs cognitive, expressionistic, and social-epistemic rhetoric to demonstrate how each supports an inherent ideology. In doing so, Berlin cautions us, as teachers, to be fully aware of the implications of the practices we choose to engage in with our students because “teaching is never innocent” (735). Berlin first examines cognitive rhetoric illustrating how the ideology of this practice tries to assume a scientific objectivity. What often happens, however, is that this rhetoric reinforces the power dynamics of societal classes because it uncritically accepts the status quo. In his explication of expressionistic rhetoric, Berlin shows how the struggle to fully individuate oneself actually works to bolster the very system it purportedly fights against – capitalism. Making no secret of the fact that he most appreciates social-epistemic rhetoric, Berlin admits that this is the most difficult ideology to master. The potential for analysis of self and society is high in this rhetoric, but the ever-changing dynamics of dialectics does not provide us with a set of rules to follow.

Berlin’s essay was eye-opening for me in that it suddenly made connections between the various rhetorical theories that I had not made before. (I know…I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes!) For example, I find cognitive processes to be very interesting, but I hadn’t really considered their shortcomings (despite the fact that we read Bizzell…okay, I’m REALLY slow on the uptake sometimes!) At the same time, I am very interested in social-epistemic rhetoric because I believe that our thinking is deepened through our interactions with others. Who knows…maybe I’m a socio-cognitivist?? I guess I should have figured this out by this point in my graduate study, right? That’s the problem with taking a theory course in the last semester of a program.

“Monday Morning Fever: Critical Literacy and the Generative Theme of ‘Work’” by Shor

Extending Freire’s use of generative words in the National Literacy Program to North American classrooms, Shor details how he has used social-epistemic ideology to help students become better writers and thinkers. Rather than use generative words, however, Shor uses idea-sparking topics, such as workplace experiences, to reach students on a personal level. In addition to assisting students in the invention stage of their writing, the interactive exercises that Shor uses, like the “dictation” drills and the “voicing” sessions, help young writers learn more about the arrangement and style of their texts.

Wow, Berlin wasn’t kidding when he said Shor provides a very comprehensive and detailed look at social-epistemic ideology in this reading. Shor’s explanation of the importance of his voicing exercises especially hit home with me because I saw what he meant every day when I worked in the UNLV Writing Center. We, as consultants, always had students read their work aloud to us. It never failed that students I helped would either correct their wording or add missing words as they read to me. When I would stop the students and ask them why they had vocalized something other than what was on the page, they would shrug their shoulders or look at me with no awareness of what they’d done. Reading aloud to others or yourself is definitely a helpful tool in becoming more self-aware. I just wonder, as I usually do, how we can implement Shor’s detailed process in the limited time we have with our students.

“Diversity, Ideology, and Teaching Writing” by Hairston

Opposing the ideology of writers like Freire, Berlin, and Shor, Hairston believes that freshman composition is no place for teachers with a political axe to grind. Hairston sees danger in a teacher taking social-epistemic rhetoric too far with students because the teacher might inhibit a student’s writing and voice with a “prescribed political content” (709). Acknowledging that freshman composition has seen an increase in teachers who want to push a certain agenda because of a rise in student diversity and political turmoil, Hairston feels we can fight against this trend by allowing students to write from their own experience.

I understand the concern that prompted Hairston to write this essay because I don’t like the idea of anyone pontificating to students about a personal belief. But, I’m not sure I agree with the way she typically extends her points to the worst case scenario. I don’t know about anyone else, but I guess I’ve been lucky in that I never had a college professor who made me feel that his/her political stance was the only correct – or “prescribed” – one. Most of my teachers have been willing to discuss their views but have also challenged me to find my own stance on issues. I feel like I learned how to do this better by seeing how someone else who is passionate about an issue speaks and writes about it. (Again, I like the practice of modeling writing for students.) In the end, I think Hairston also comes across as politically motivated as some of the writers she criticizes when she speaks rather condescendingly of composition teachers fighting for a place with the literary teachers and calls for an upheaval of the power struggle in the conclusion of her piece. As Berlin points out, sometimes a writer’s call to action can actually work to reinforce the status quo.

“Students’ Goals, Gatekeeping, and Some Questions of Ethics” by Smith

Smith argues that compositionists who fight against or deny gatekeeping miss the essential point that gatekeeping is already intrinsic to the system in which they operate. Students are only in teachers’ university classrooms, for example, because there were checks and balances along the way that decided which students would go on to college and which would not. As a result, Smith believes teachers should recognize that students have come to the university “not to resist but to join an elite” (304) in their efforts to pursue professional/managerial positions after college. Therefore, rather than trying to influence students’ political or social beliefs in the few weeks they have with students, teachers should focus on helping students achieve the long-term goals they set for themselves.

I have very mixed feelings about Smith’s essay because I found myself both cheering and jeering along the way. I thought it was refreshing to hear someone in composition speak about teaching writing for foundational and practical reasons versus as a way to expand an audience for some current literary theory trends. I completely agree that teaching cannot and should not always be done using “the motherheart” (306) approach. In the military, for instance, the most effective way for me to help someone learn how to think strategically under extreme pressure was not to treat them in a warm and fuzzy manner. And, in my business writing classes, I don’t think any of my students would call me maternal because I hold them to the same tough standards that their future bosses will probably maintain. (Maybe that’s why the drop rate for my classes tends to be high.) I do believe, however, that my students would say that I am firm but fair.

At the same time, I don’t agree with Smith about certain aspects of his discussion. First, gatekeeping cannot be universally applied in the same way that he uses in his essay. In his example of Felicia, for instance, Smith acts as though gatekeeping in the medical arena has the same meaning as gatekeeping in the classroom. I don’t think we can equate removing doctors from the field who might be putting patients’ lives at risk in the same category as ensuring someone in a writing class does things a certain way. Second, I disagree with Smith’s assertion about people being used instrumentally to achieve a higher goal as being “the only way things can work, period” (312). Companies like Google have shown that treating employees well and as “ends in themselves” has a beneficial effect on all aspects of an operation. I think the best we can do as teachers is to be aware of what our students’ plans for the future are and try and help them achieve those goals within the standards we set for our classroom.

Response to Readings for 21 Apr 08

“Protean Shapes in Literary Events: Ever-Shifting Oral and Literate Traditions” by Heath

Heath argues that, rather than seeing orality and literacy as having fluid meaning in contexts of their own, traditional theories have set orality as a binary opposite to literacy. In other words, orality has traditionally been placed at one end of a continuum that had fixed points which worked up to literacy. In contrast, Heath believes orality and literacy should be points along their own individual continuums because communities decide when and to what extent they will practice either one.

In a very interesting example, Heath explains the “literacy events” (445) that took place in Trackton, a town in the Carolinas. Although the people of this community knew how to read and write, they typically chose oral communication to discuss events and experiences. They were able to gather more information and meaning through social interaction (talking to neighbors instead of simply reading a letter or instruction manual). As Heath mentions, reading was mainly done on a functional level, meaning the Trackton residents only read what they absolutely needed to in order to gain information about addresses, street signs, etc.

I like what Heath had to say because I have always felt that people want to know the practical value of anything they learn. For example, I think students retain information better when they know how the topic is directly applicable to their lives. Otherwise, they often see no need to practice writing, etc. I was also particularly struck by the transcription of the prayer that Heath included in the article. The fact that the Trackton schoolteacher took the time to write out a version of the prayer in SWE but delivered the prayer in AAVE shows that Heath is correct in placing orality on a parallel line with literacy. Even thought the vernacular would have been considered lower on the traditional orality-literacy continuum, the schoolteacher used a higher level of ability (on a purely oral scale) by using complex sentences and phrasing.

“Sponsors of Literacy” by Brandt

Brandt’s conceptual approach is that economic development goes hand-in-hand with a person’s literacy development. Coining the term “sponsors of literacy” (166), Brandt explains how the people and factors in our lives have a huge influence – and thus sponsor us – on the literacy that we acquire (or do not have the opportunity to acquire) throughout our lifetimes. To illustrate her concept, Brandt uses several real-life case studies which bolster her argument that the sponsors of literacy can both help us grow and hold us back.

I found myself relating to Brandt’s article because I know my own literacy has been influenced in ways that sometimes worked in opposition. For example, as a military dependent, I moved quite often as a child. In fourth grade, I moved (once again) to a new town and found myself in a classroom with a teacher who automatically assumed that, since I moved around so much, I was probably an average reader and put me into a corresponding reading group. This group used very basic flash cards to learn new words, etc. What this teacher didn’t realize was that I had a powerful literacy sponsor in my mother. (My mother always insisted that we travel from one base to another with a box of challenging books in the back of our station wagon. My siblings and I were required by my mother to read a certain number of books by the time we arrived at our new residence.) After about a week, my new fourth-grade teacher saw my actual level of literacy and moved me to the most advanced reading group in the class. In this advanced group, we used a machine (a very early form of computer) that helped increase our reading speed, etc. I often wonder about how the differences between the methods used in my fourth-grade reading groups affected the literacy of the students.

“Hearing Other Voices: A Critical Assessment of Popular Views on Literacy and Work” by Hull

Hull takes popular assumptions of literacy in the workplace to task because they discount the experiences of the very people – U.S. workers – that they profess to be helping. Hull points out, for example, that a lack of literacy in U.S. workers is often blamed for a sluggish economy when other contextual elements are really more often the culprit. Researchers and curriculum designers then compound this misconception by designing literacy education that completely misses the objective. As a result, workers spend hours in expensive literacy training that offers no real functionality for their personal lives.

I’m sure it will come as no surprise that I found Hull’s examples of literacy testing in the military to be an interesting part of this reading. Hull’s comment that “literacy performances that appear flawed on the surface do not necessarily imply a lack of intelligence or effort by the writer” (671) matches what I saw in the people with whom I worked. I know people who scored low on verbal and reading tests, for instance, who were excellent leaders because they intuitively knew how to relate to workers in a manner that inspired others. Conversely, the military has its fair share of educated officers and enlisted personnel with multiple graduate degrees who cannot function well in a leadership role because they only have “book knowledge” and don’t seem to be able to translate this education into action.

I believe what Hull is saying is that we need to pay attention to the first rule of Instructional System Design (ISD) – accurately determine what type of education is truly needed to fill a void – before we move on to curriculum preparation. We can only do this if we talk to the people who will be receiving this instruction and really listen to their concerns.

“A Stranger in Strange Lands: A College Student Writing Across the Curriculum” by McCarthy

Using an inductive approach, McCarthy conducted a two-year study of one student’s experience with writing as the student progressed through three different college courses. McCarthy admits that she had “no hypotheses to test and no specially devised writing tasks” (236) at the outset of the study. Instead, McCarthy observed what the student, Dave, wrote and thought about as he was writing for each class and talked to Dave’s friends and teachers.

McCarthy’s conclusion is that academic writing is “context-dependent” (261) in a couple of ways. First, different classes often do have different ways of writing as they construct meaning within a particular discourse community. Students will feel as if they don’t fit into this community if teachers do not offer some assistance. Second, even when academic writing is similar between classes, students will often perceive the writing as being unfamiliar. In that case, teachers can help students by reminding them of other situations in which they wrote successfully.

I thought McCarthy’s article was useful, and she explained her study and methodology well, but I wondered why she chose to follow Dave’s writing in his Cell Biology class. The Freshman Composition and Introduction to Poetry classes were entry-level courses and easily showed Dave’s discomfort with what he perceived as being a new form of writing. The Cell Biology class, however, was Dave’s “third semester of college biology” (236). Wouldn’t Dave have felt a little more comfortable with the writing in the biology class? If so, this might explain – along with his interest in the field – how Dave could be more “successful” in that course.

Response to Readings for 14 Mar 08

“Taking Control of the Page: Electronic Writing and Word Publishing” by Sullivan

Citing what were innovations in word-processing and desktop publishing software at the time (1991), Sullivan explains to writers and teachers how the “visual page” will set its own agenda if they do not fully understand and control the “published page” (44). Sullivan maintains that writers had not previously had to concern themselves with the publishing or visual aspect of writing because this task was usually performed by someone else. Thus, there was some distancing between creation of text and the formal publication of it. With the advent of computer software, however, the writer was now essentially performing multiple roles (writer/editor/designer/publisher), working on more than simply the content of a manuscript.

Although the article is a little dated, and some of Sullivan’s concerns have probably been overcome by events, I think the author did a nice job of explaining how writers and writing pedagogy had (up until that point) viewed computer technology as either an alien concept that had no valuable purpose in writing or merely a “tool” (45) for achieving the greater purpose of producing text. I particularly liked the way Sullivan practiced what she preached by using images, bullets, etc., to emphasize the importance of a writer’s rhetorical skill in using the spatial component of writing. With today’s market for e-books and websites, Sullivan’s points still have relevance. In fact, I saw parallels between Sullivan’s argument and my research topic – technology’s impact on group-authored texts – for this class.

“The Internet-Based Composition Classroom: A Study in Pedagogy” by Harris and Wambeam

Harris and Wambeam explain the impetus for and results of the empirical study they conducted to study the impact of Internet-assisted assignments on writing development. Using two geographically separated composition classes – one class in Pennsylvania and the other class in Wyoming – Harris and Wambeam established requirements on overlapping syllabi wherein students had to interact synchronously (on MOO) and asynchronously (on Internet journals). The students’ progress was monitored and then compared quantitatively with the performance of a control group – a traditional class in Wyoming.

The study’s findings were very interesting in that they show how engaged students can be through meaningful (and fun!) interaction with their peers. In addition, the study shows how students often don’t realize they can actually enjoy themselves when writing. Ironically, this aspect actually troubled me in a way because Question 4 on the “Journal Attitude Survey” (363) indicates the students still were not cognitively aware of how valuable writing is to their everyday lives. Although the students stated they thought journaling was enjoyable and helped them with ideas, they did not seem to make the connection that the process was also building their writing skills. How do we help students appreciate and value writing on an affective level then?

“The politics of the program: MS WORD as the invisible grammarian” by McGee and Ericsson

McGee and Ericsson explore the transparent (and insidious) way in which grammar instruction is forced upon writers as they use word-processing software, such as MS Word. The authors explain that we, as writing teachers, do not critically examine the forces behind this software and the impact of these elements on our students. For example, we do not often ask about the rationale behind the programming language. And, we do not question how having a constant reminder of grammar affects the way our students compose. As a result, the article challenges us to look more closely at the intricacies of these programs and then urges us to determine the best way to harness the power of the grammar instruction.

This is the type of article that I probably never would have read if I had not been in this class. When I saw the title, I thought, “Wow, these authors must really be desperate for something to write about.” But, I am so happy that I did read the article because McGee and Ericsson brought up points that I had never thought about before. For instance, I have become so familiar and complacent with the grammar and spell checker in MS Word that I never realized it could be affecting my writing process. I have to admit that I often stop while composing to check out what the little green line under a phrase is complaining about.

The authors’ statement that MSGC “could well have a negative effect on the development of writing ability” (454) also made me imagine MSGC as an irksome collaborative partner, of sorts, working with a student writer. It would be as if a student writer were trying to freewrite the content of a passage while an irritating co-writer kept focusing on only the mechanical issues. The two cognitive processes would definitely be in conflict, degrade the writing development, and probably end a relationship. As the authors point out, this conflict could also be detrimental to non-native English speakers who are trying to generate ideas before they switch the final version into SWE. This is a very interesting topic!

“Undistributing Work Through Writing: How Technical Writers Manage Texts in Complex Information Environments” by Slattery

Using a quantitative research approach that studied the writing processes of five Senior Technical Writers at a technical documentation services firm dubbed “Document Services Unlimited (DSU)” (314), Slattery outlines how the participating technical writers had to call upon both their technological and rhetorical skills to produce texts. For example, since the writers did not have a hand in creating the products described in their work, they had to rely on Subject Matter Experts (SMEs) for much of the content. This meant that the technical writers spent a considerable amount of their time coordinating with geographically separated SMEs via e-mail and instant messages and assembling comments from other personnel into the documents. In addition, since portions (or at times, all) of most technical manuals, etc., are boilerplated into other similar materials, the writers had to know where to find existing materials that could inform their current project and when to use this previously approved content in the new project.

I found Slattery’s article interesting in the way that he shows both the problems as well as the opportunities that distributed work brings to the field of technical writing. On the one hand, Slattery seems to feel that distributed work has the potential to relegate the technical writing profession to the lower ranks of an assembly line, thus endangering the future of the profession. This could happen, as Slattery points out, because advanced technology might one day be able to accomplish the technical aspects of pulling material from one document and inserting it into another with little intervention from a human. On the other hand, Slattery is right to point out (as did some of the other authors from this week’s readings) that machines cannot be programmed to think rhetorically about the implications of what they are doing. So, a technical writer’s expertise in considering audience and context would be an absolute necessity to the production of texts.

Response to Readings for 7 Apr 08

Well, I typed up my responses to the first 3 readings while I was in New Orleans, but I didn’t post them until today. I was a little busy, to say the least, so I’m just happy that I did some reading and writing while I was at the conference. Regarding the conference, I can honestly say that the 4Cs convention was a very educational and interesting experience. I heard some really great speakers, and I had the opportunity to speak to Lisa Ede, Andrea Lunsford, and Kathleen Blake Yancey about my project for this class. They were very helpful!

Anyway, if my responses don’t make very much sense this week, please understand that I was suffering delirium as a result of the 100% humidity in New Orleans….

“The Writer’s Audience Is Always a Fiction” by Ong

Ong appears to have two primary purposes for writing this piece: 1) to illustrate how writers – regardless of what they might believe – create an audience as they are creating a text and 2) to promote future research for “a study of the history of readers and their enforced roles” (57). The latter purpose is clearly stated several times in Ong’s piece, although the author does take it on himself to provide a brief timeline in Section Four of different ways in which audiences were fictionalized in the past. In this timeline, Ong covers such methods as “frame stories” (66) and “hyperrhetoricizing” (67) to explain how writing to audiences has evolved with time.

Ong accomplishes his primary purpose, however, by explaining how “audience” was originally a rhetorical function of oral communication. In Ong’s view, audience cannot mean quite the same thing in written communication because the act of writing distances the writer from the necessary social interaction with others. Writing to an imagined audience lacks both the immediacy and relevance that is an intrinsic element of speaking. Therefore, the writer must not only imagine a possible audience but must also find a way to instruct readers as to the roles they will play.

The question that kept coming to my mind while I was reading Ong’s article was: “As a writer himself, what instructions is Ong giving us as far as our roles in his piece?” I generally like Ong’s ideas and his writing, but at times in this article he seemed to imply that we, as his audience, should all take the position that oral communication does not invent and assign roles to an audience like writing does. The one exception to this is when Ong admits that an “oral narrator calls on his audience to fictionalize itself to some extent” (66). I agree that writers must work harder to create a connection with a discourse community than a speaker does, but speakers have also used plenty of rhetorical devices in the past to create situations in which to establish roles for their audiences. For example, don’t epideictic speeches ask audiences to place themselves into a state of suspended reality at times?

“Intertextuality and the Discourse Community” by Porter

Porter asserts that all writing is intertextual to some extent because writers always draw upon previous works to develop their own texts. As Porter points out, a writer’s connection to precursor works can range from the “explicit citation” (34) that we see in research papers to the subtle influences of one writer’s ideas upon another writer’s work.

In defining what he means by “intertextuality,” Porter specifies two types: iterability and presupposition. Through iterability, texts show “traces” (35) of other works by using repeatable clichés, phrases, etc. Presupposition moves beyond the surface features of iterability and carries an indication of a writer’s beliefs about an audience. In terms of Ong’s article, I see presupposition as indicating how a writer might fictionalize his/her audience through the assumptions made in the writing.

I know that I am in the minority who actually liked the Flower and Hayes article last week, but I feel that Porter’s example of Jefferson’s borrowing from other texts while he was writing the Declaration of Independence (36) is one example of how we pull things from our “long-term memory” (Flower and Hayes). We cannot help but be influenced in some way by all of the materials that have come before us. This is why I am always slightly uncomfortable when I am doing creative writing. I often wonder if I am unconsciously including elements that are not truly of my own invention.

“Collaborative Learning and the ‘Conversation of Mankind’” by Bruffee

At a time when collaborative learning was just beginning to interest writing teachers, Bruffee advocates the value of teamwork in the writing classroom. Bruffee asserts that since knowledge is a socially constructed activity that leads to introspective thought – and, as a result, externalized cognition through writing – students will be able to develop their understanding of a project, etc. through their working conversations with their peers. Bruffee provides us with the principles behind collaborative learning, as well as a little history, but does not try and prescribe any specific practices for teachers.

Interestingly, one of Bruffee’s points about collaborative learning – the idea that “human conversation takes place within us” (419) conflicts sharply with the view Ong espoused about diary writing. Whereas Ong feels “we do not normally talk to ourselves” (Ong 73), so a diary audience is extremely fictional, Bruffee believes that we do talk to ourselves in order to make sense of our everyday social interactions with people. To me, that is the best reason for keeping a diary because you have a chance to reflect back on conversations with people and work out any tension you might have so you can learn how to improve your life, etc.

Anyway, it should come as no big surprise that I enjoyed Bruffee’s article. As I have already mentioned in previous blogs, I try to use collaborative learning in my classes as much as I can. I have personally seen how a student’s knowledge can be enhanced through conversations with his/her peers and how social interaction can increase the “buy-in” factor for less motivated students. In fact, at times I know that students are much more adept at explaining some concepts to their peers than I am.

“Consensus and Difference in Collaborative Learning” by Trimbur

Trimbur seeks an expanded view of consensus in collaborative learning – one which welcomes dissensus as a way to help students understand how and why “outsiders” of a discourse community might have difficulty entering a discussion. Noting that the usual criticism of collaborative learning includes the concern that the practice “stifles individual voice” (461) and “overlook[s] the wider social forces that structure the production of knowledge” (462), Trimbur argues dissensus would actually empower students to express themselves more fully and allow them to see how past attempts to access a discourse community have failed.

Like Trimbur, I like collaborative learning because it focuses less on the teacher and more on the students. While working together, the students’ ability to hash out differences and create solutions to problems prepares them for the “real world” better than any lecture I could give them. I also feel working in groups provides students with another audience for their texts besides myself – the students must consider and write to each other as they try to complete a document. As much as I like collaborative projects, though, I still have to remind myself to pull back a little when students are engaged in collaborative learning. It is very easy for me to slip into the authoritative role because I want to know that things are going as planned.

“Plagiarism, originality, assemblage” by Johnson-Eilola and Selber

Comparing a writer’s natural tendency to call upon precursor texts and images in the creation of a new document to “remix” (376) tapes made by musical artists, Johnson-Eilola and Selber maintain that our traditional – and stagnant – ideas of plagiarism need to be changed to include “assemblages” (380). The authors explain assemblages as a textual mosaic of sorts wherein a writer would be allowed to freely mix his/her own ideas with the text from other authors. Instead of worrying about percentages of writer contribution to a paper, the authors argue that teachers should focus more on a student’s rhetorical ability to decide when and how often other writers are worked into his/her classroom assignment.

Well, I read this article on the plane as I was flying back from New Orleans yesterday. Unfortunately, I was not very helpful to the lady sitting next to me because I kept saying “WHAT?!?” as I read through the piece and disturbed her naps. Okay, I can see the authors’ point about showing students the rhetorical value of knowing when it might be appropriate to bolster their own ideas with the ideas of others without requiring citations, etc. A teacher could even have students do an exercise in which they must support their reasons for including certain material and so on. And, I understand the value of benchmarking available tools (like pre-existing webpage templates) to build a document.

But, even I think collaboration, iterability, and intertextuality can be over privileged in a classroom. In my view, Johnson-Eilola and Selber’s belief that “assemblages” are “a powerful form of rhetorical invention” (388) is inaccurate. To me, assemblages would be more similar to the canon of arrangement than invention, especially if students were working on “complete assemblages” (400). After all, if students are simply moving around pieces of other authors’ work, aren’t they just organizing and arranging rather than composing? And, how would we go about helping first-year composition students in assembling their work with other texts when the students often don’t have an idea of what they want to say to begin with?

Response to Readings for 31 Mar 08

“Writing Is a Technology that Restructures Thought” by Ong

Ong reminds us that, even though we have become very accustomed in today’s world to writing and the notion of literacy, the act of writing is still an external form of technology that helps us think more deeply. For example, Ong asserts oral, or pre-literate, societies have a functional way of relating to their everyday environments, but they cannot be reflexive or philosophical about their lives because they can only speak to what is going on within the present context. In other words, writing gives us the ability to separate ourselves from and transcend above our immediate surroundings. To help illustrate his point about this technology, Ong lists 14 ways in which writing has changed the way our thought processes have evolved over time and further distanced “knower from known” (24).

Every time I have read something by Ong I have been completely amazed by his ability to make me re-think my ideas of orality, writing, and cognition, and this reading is no exception. Ong’s example of the different ways in which literate and illiterate people would consider the word “nevertheless,” for example, really reminded me that the sound of words and the words themselves would have either great meaning or no meaning at all depending on the person involved. As a member of Ong’s targeted audience, I too forget that writing is not always a large part of everyone’s existence and that it really does allow us to think about life on different terms.

As usual, I liked Ong’s writing a great deal, but one curious area for me was in his assertion that we “grasp truth articulately only in events….Full truth is deeper than articulation” (20). I’m sure he doesn’t mean “truth” in the Platonic sense, but he does make it appear that truth is something outside of ourselves here. Or does he mean that writing, as a technology for helping us discover how we feel and think about life, allows us to obtain our own interpretation of truth?

“A Cognitive Process Theory of Writing” by Flower and Hayes

Flower and Hayes acknowledge that the traditionally accepted “stages models of writing” (275) give us a general idea of what a writer does during the writing process but assert that they don’t really allow us to understand how a writer thinks while writing. To provide a starting point for more research on this issue, Flower and Hayes study think-aloud protocols to determine the cognitive patterns of writers and explain the results of their analysis.

Using four key points to sum up their cognitive process theory, Flower and Hayes suggest the writing process is made up of discrete ways of thinking that function together within a hierarchical organization. Based on the goals – process and content – that writers establish during the writing process, authors can access the different cognitive processes and organize them into whatever form best fits the current situation. In other words, writers do not think in a linear way but in a recursive fashion and pull “tools” from their toolbox as needed.

I found this article to be very interesting, and I have rarely read through a cognitive analysis as quickly as I did this time. I have to say that I admire the way the authors took an abstract theory and made it more clear and concrete. The model (278) the authors provided for their theory of writing was very helpful in showing how the different cognitive processes interact over and over again as a writer develops a text. I can definitely see, for example, how the “generating” process not only ties to “planning” as a writer composes but also is a factor in the “reviewing” phase as a writer decides what he/she needs to revise about a text. As I think about my own writing, I know that I often – to my own detriment at times – “evaluate” sentences and paragraphs as I am “translating” them. I need to learn to turn off the “monitor” in me sometimes.

I also now understand what Flower and Hayes mean about long-term memory and its influence on the schematics we might have for writing. I believe this is why some students have problems adjusting to an assignment and say, “But, this is how I write (or have done it).” I think we often become locked into writing a certain way based on “muscle memory” rather than accommodating whatever task we need to do.

Flower and Hayes make me now wonder, though, how a writing teacher’s comments on a student draft would affect the writer’s cognitive processes. Off the top of my head, I would think a teacher’s comments would re-activate the “planning” and “evaluating” cognitive processes as well as impact the overall goals the writer sets for the task. For example, a student’s new goal might be to fix whatever perceived problem exists in the text. This would be a very intriguing study, I think.

“Cognition, Convention, and Certainty” by Bizzell

Interestingly, Bizzell appears to try and answer the question I raised after reading Flower and Hayes. Bizzell, for example, believes that the purely “inner-directed” (388) cognitive theories of writing, such as Flower and Hayes’s, do not adequately address questions like mine regarding how a student’s thinking would change based on interaction within a social context (i.e. discussions with a teacher). Similarly, Bizzell asserts that purely “outer-directed” (388) cognitive theories do not provide a good answer either. Instead, Bizzell ultimately calls for a combined cognitive approach which would contain elements of both inner/outer theories.

I could certainly see Bizzell’s point of view in her article, but I was a little disappointed in the way she took Flower and Hayes’s theory a little too literally at times. For example, Bizzell frequently states that Flower and Hayes feel their theory is the only one that will work and that it is “superior to other theorists’ work” (394), but I did not comprehend that to be Flower and Hayes’s point in their piece. In fact, early on Flower and Hayes referred to their efforts as at attempt to “lay groundwork for more detailed study of thinking processes in writing” (Flower and Hayes 274). So, obviously Flower and Hayes were leaving room for future theorists.

Another way that Bizzell oversimplifies Flower and Hayes’s work is in her assertions that Flower and Hayes’s theory separates “planning” and “translating” with no thought to how they correspond. Again, I don’t think Flower and Hayes ever said that the cognitive phases remained separate and distinct when a writer is working. They simply had to show the cognitive processes as distinct elements in order to easily explain the components of their model. In fact, Flower and Hayes repeatedly showed how the “planning,” “translating,” and “reviewing” processes continually melded with each other during the writing process. I can understand Bizzell’s desire to illustrate the weaknesses of what she believes is an undeveloped theory, but I think she did a disservice to Flower and Hayes.

“Distributed Cognition at Work” by Dias et al.

Dias et al. argue that distributed cognition in a university classroom cannot have the same meaning or goals as distributed cognition in a workplace. They assert that, since students do not work in cooperation with the higher levels of academic hierarchy to move toward a common goal, the university is not able to duplicate what takes place in the distributed cognition of a business such as the Bank of Canada (BOC). The BOC must rely on many different employees from various levels to produce thinking and text (which include specialized genres, styles, and modes of argumentation) so the bank can function within the corporate discourse community and achieve the institution’s ultimate goals. The authors conclude that the cognitive processes which involve students should be thought of more as “socially shared knowledge” (137).

I always try to find something positive to say about our readings, but I’m having a difficult time with this one. I found myself repeatedly thinking “Okay, so what?” to most of the points that Dias et al. make in their extended analysis of the BOC. I don’t know about other readers, but I never really thought in the first place that employees – whose primary responsibilities are to further the interests of a company – were very comparable to university students whose primary goal is more personal and ego-centric. Maybe I could understand the need for this reading better if I had read it in context with the rest of the book from which it came. This could help because Dias et al. consistently refer the reader to previous sections.

Response to Readings for 24 Mar 08

“Diving In” by Shaughnessy

Shaughnessy encourages teachers of basic writing students to be more reflective about their own methods. Using her own “developmental scale for teachers” (312), Shaughnessy explains her four stages of: 1) guarding the tower, 2) converting the natives, 3) sounding the depths, and 4) diving in. To better understand how to improve our students’ writing, Shaughnessy argues that we must make a shift in our thinking between stages 2 and 3 from that of “what is this student’s problem?” to one of “what is problematic about my teaching strategies?”

Before reading Shaughnessy’s article I had not heard the term “basic” used in connection with writing done by students with special situations. I have never taught a basic writing course, but I have heard teachers who do refer to their students as remedial or unfortunately by more derogatory words. For example, I actually overheard a graduate student once say about her basic writing students, “They either need to get with the program or go start flipping burgers.” I have to say I like the term “basic” better because to me it connotes a foundation on which to build improvements.

I think Shaughnessy’s four stages adequately sum up the way many teachers feel about students who are not easy to teach. I know I have fallen into the gatekeeper (guarding the tower) trap in the past and thinking my methods should work for everyone. I quickly found myself in the illogical position of hitting my head against a wall thinking I would eventually break through without changing my actions. My only concern regarding Shaughnessy’s stages is that very few graduate students – the very people who end up teaching most of the basic writing courses – have enough time in their positions to fully evolve to the third and fourth developmental stages. How can we speed up the awareness and development of graduate students teachers?

“Inventing the University” by Bartholomae

Bartholomae argues that basic writers often are unable or lack the experience to easily enter the academic discourse community. Using samples of student writing, Bartholomae explains how each example either fails or succeeds in meeting the requirement to participate in a specialized discussion. Many times, the students who have the hardest time entering academic discourse use “commonplaces” (626) that originate from an author who is focusing on his/her own intentions versus writing for the needs of the reader.

Bartholomae’s points remind me of many discourse analysis theories that discuss how language-in-use conveys unique meaning to the individuals within a discourse community. By using specific words, phrasing, etc, members of a discourse community recognize others as having the right to speak. For basic writing students, Bartholomae asserts that the academic’s language-in-use has up to this point eluded the students’ understanding.
I know modeling writing behavior for students is not a popular method of teaching for many researchers, but I feel this might be a good way to introduce students to academic discourse. Providing a guide, of sorts, to a strange environment could help students grasp the “native” language more quickly. Total immersion in a discourse language may be appropriate for some students, but other students (e.g. basic writers) might benefit from seeing how insiders of a discourse structure their writing.

“The Language of Exclusion” by Rose

Rose demonstrates how the language writing teachers use to discuss basic writers actually excludes the very people they say they want to help. Much like Shaughnessy, Rose feels academics often reduce writing to a skill with easily identifiable parts, thus treating basic writing as a problem to overcome and influencing teaching that misses a larger issue. To illustrate his message, Rose discusses “five notions” (549) – behaviorism and quantification of writing, English as a skill, remediation, illiteracy, and the myth of transience – providing some history and explanation for each.

I think Rose proves once again how we often fall into the trap of reducing complex issues to the simplest, most measurable terms in order to make our tasks easier. As Rose points out, early efforts to quantify writing errors was “very American in its seeming efficiency” (552), and we continue this way of teaching in many classrooms because it’s quicker and lends itself well to delegation to graduate students, etc. In addition, when we reduce writing to a skill, we are in effect saying that anyone should be able to master the task and then move on to more challenging occupations such as research, discounting the fact that writing motivates us to think more deeply about that research.

The area of Rose’s piece that most interested me, however, was his discussion of remediation and illiteracy. I had never considered remedial writing as coming from medical terminology before, but I can see how this premise applies to many writing classrooms. As I mentioned earlier in this blog, I have never taught a basic writing course, so I don’t know how I would fare in that arena, but I have heard teachers discussing their students. As I recall, many of the teachers talked about themselves almost as surgeons would when they were going in to do exploratory surgery – “I need to take a look at him and see what I can fix about his writing.” I can also see how – as Rose mentions – literacy really depends on the context in which the term is being defined. Some basic writing students are literate in their own communities but not in others. Overall, I feel Rose accurately warns us to be cautious about the terms and labels we put on writing and writers.

“Narrowing the Mind and Page” by Rose

In this article, Rose continues to warn writing teachers and researchers about reducing their practices to the narrowest definition of a theory. As he explains the origin and premise behind such cognitive theories as field dependence-independence, hemisphericity, cognitive development stages, and orality-literacy, Rose shows how the over-generalization of each theory creates barriers to any real understanding of student needs. Specifically, Rose concludes that marginalizing cognitive theories collapses any differences in cognition, degrades careful study of student writing processes, and evinces unfortunate stereotypes. As Rose and the authors for our other readings this week have stated, our desire to simplify practice and theory typically results in a binary opposition.

What struck me the most about Rose’s piece is that it appears we, as writing teachers, have usually shown ourselves to be “field-dependent” when using cognitive theories. As I understand Rose’s explanation, early researchers thought field-dependent individuals tended to make broad generalizations, among other errors, about a given topic. So, when we try to apply hemisphericity theory or orality-literacy theory to a broad range of uses, we also ignore the specific tests and conditions for which the theories developed and force their adaptability to inappropriate functions. It also would appear that as children develop into the “formal operational” (362) stage, they become more field-independent.

Although I found Rose’s writing to be interesting, I was a little disappointed that he did not provide us with good examples of how writing teachers employed cognitive theories – in a good way or an unfortunate way – in writing classrooms. I can understand what Rose was alluding to as he worked his way through the various cognitive theories, and I learned a great deal of new information, but I would have been interested to see how problems played out in actual classrooms. For example, Rose asserts that field-dependent writers might have differences from field-independent writers, but “these differences should not, theoretically, lead to gross differences in quality” (349). I would have liked to have seen how papers produced by these two types of cognition groups compared.

Annotated Bib - Part 4

Lowry, Paul Benjamin and Jay F. Nunamaker, Jr. “Using Internet-Based, Distributed Collaborative Writing Tools to Improve Coordination and Group Awareness in Writing Teams.” IEEE Transactions on Professional Communication 46.4 (Dec 2003): 277-297.

As the weighty title of Lowry and Nunamaker’s article implies, this source lays out the parameters for good collaborative writing tools. The authors feel one of the best features of face-to-face collaboration is that the members can operate in a synchronous fashion. Being able to work together in real time improves group coordination, awareness, and document quality. Accordingly, the authors believe a primary requirement for computer-assisted writing tools used by physically separated group members is that the technology allows authors to replicate this synchronicity. Therefore, the article strongly advocates the need for tools that support “parallel-partitioned” (279) functions and division of roles.

This article is very pertinent to my research question, but I will have to be cautious about accepting their viewpoints at face value. On the positive side, the authors spend the first part of the article explaining why face-to-face writing teams often dislike computer-assisted writing tools but cannot avoid them due to today’s global corporate structure. The authors then do a good job of detailing the group dynamics that should be accounted for when searching for a way to collaborate in a distributed environment. I do have to be somewhat critical when using this article, however, because the second half is a comparison in which the authors show the superiority of a new collaborative writing program, Collaboratus, over MS Word. Of course, the authors don’t clearly mention that one of the authors of the article, Paul Lowry, is also one of the co-developers of Collaboratus. So, I will have to overlook much of the last half of the article in favor of the first part that speaks directly to ways we can gain the benefits of face-to-face collaboration in a virtual arena.

Ede, Lisa and Andrea Lunsford. Singular Texts/Plural Authors: Perspectives on Collaborative Writing. IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1990.

In their study of collaborative workplace writing, Ede and Lunsford primarily wanted to convince composition teachers that collaboration had a valuable place in the writing classroom. The authors thought teachers needed to understand how important it is for students to work together because collaboration will play a large part of their future success in many occupations. Therefore, Ede and Lunsford conducted an empirical study of the writing processes of seven organizations (including the Modern Language Association) that have a major role in their particular fields. Using detailed questionnaires in the first two phases and interviews in the third, Ede and Lunsford’s analysis ended up providing us with much more than a lesson for composition teachers. In fact, their study is the starting point for many other researchers on collaborative writing in general.

I am still working my way through all of the results for Ede and Lunsford’s field surveys, but I could not proceed any further with my own research until I had read and commented on their book. Every other source, without exception, that I have looked at so far refers to or quotes Ede and Lunsford’s groundbreaking study for one reason or another. One of the most interesting points I have discovered so far in Ede and Lunsford’s work is that most workplace writers responded that they spent the majority of any writing session on drafting versus revising or any other phase of the process. Drafting is difficult enough in a face-to-face session, so how can we best use technology to retain the benefits of the group dynamic in an efficient manner?

Annotated Bib - Part 3

Rogers, Priscilla S. and Marjorie S. Horton. “Exploring the Value of Face-to-Face Collaborative Writing.” New Visions of Collaborative Writing. Ed. Janis Forman. NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers, Inc, 1992.

Although collaborative writing can mean many different ways of composing a multi-authored text, Rogers and Horton narrow their definition to the face-to-face completion of all facets of the writing process. In other words, Rogers and Horton believe that true collaboration is best when all of the authors in a group work together during the planning, drafting, and revising phases of a project versus dividing up tasks and then working on the parts individually. While they acknowledge that technology can be a valuable writing tool, the authors insist that the physical interaction of authors during all phases of a project offers benefits we cannot ignore.

While conducting an empirical study of 19 professional collaborative writing groups, Rogers and Horton observed four primary benefits of face-to-face planning, drafting, and revising: 1) the group members better understood the rhetorical situation of a project; 2) the resulting document had a clear “group voice” (124) and group vocabulary; 3) the group members considered more deeply the ethical issues of the project; and 4) the group members reflected on group decisions more thoroughly. Rogers and Horton assert that these benefits were a result of the time the group members took to discuss and debate the different aspects of the writing process. The authors refer to Bruffee’s concept that we, as social beings, “talk about talk” (122) in order to learn.

I tend to think of collaborative writing in the same terms that Rogers and Horton do. As I mentioned in my dissonance blog, I believe that teamwork and problem-solving improve as group members are able to talk through their concerns. Rogers and Horton raise some very good points, but they wrote this article in the 1990’s, and technology has come a long way. After doing some preliminary research, I now have to question the direction I initially wanted to take with my project. I’m thinking that my research question should really be: How can we use the different forms of today’s technology to replicate the face-to-face collaborative writing that Rogers and Horton support? I now feel this is a better question than my original idea of determining which form of collaborative writing is better because the benefits of both forms could be combined.

Selfe, Cynthia. “Computer-Based Conversations and The Changing Nature of Collaboration.” New Visions of Collaborative Writing. Ed. Janis Forman. NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers, Inc, 1992.

Selfe concedes the value of face-to-face collaboration but maintains that time and distance do not always allow authors to be physically present with each other during the writing process. In addition, Selfe argues that computer-assisted collaboration provides a barrier to problems that often arise in face-to-face exchanges. For example, groups are often dominated by people with “high status within the culture at large (e.g. whites, males, people with high socioeconomic status, etc.)” (149). Many times, these dominant individuals prevent other group members from taking turns in conversations and reduce the number of new topics introduced.

Selfe cites findings from a study tested in an on-line forum called Megabyte University that show in the “asynchronous, on-line discussion” no participants were interrupted and each member was allowed to complete their thoughts (158). Furthermore, the online collaboration allowed members to use pseudonyms that masked “visual cues of gender, race, and social status in organizational hierarchies” (155). As a result, members felt they could participate more equally in the collaborative process.

Although Selfe’s target audience for this piece was composition teachers and their students, I feel her observations are also applicable to the business environment. In fact, employees within a corporation are probably more susceptible to pressures of social standing, etc. Selfe does not provide suggestions for which technological advances are best for collaborative writing, but some of the research I have done on hypertext, blogging, etc, lends itself very well to her ideas. Again, I feel my research project is going to be headed in a different direction than I originally intended.

Annotated Bib - Part 2

Selber, Stuart, et al. “Issues in Hypertext-Supported Collaborative Writing.” Nonacademic Writing: Social Theory and Technology. Eds. Ann Hill Duin and Craig J. Hansen. NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1996.

Selber et al. provide a brief overview of hypertext and then show how this “emerging” (this was written in 1996, after all) aspect of technology affects the authorship, group dynamics, and organizational structures of workplace collaborative writing. The authors maintain that the benefits of hypertext greatly outweigh any problems. They state that rather than hindering social interactions, hypertext actually encourages better discussion among authors because writers who might normally be reticent during a face-to-face meeting feel they have an individual voice in a virtual forum. Furthermore, Selber et al. point out that the group dynamic of a collaborative writing team are often better when using hypertext since the writers are not only writing portions of a document but are also reading and revising the work of other group members as they interact within the database links.

I am always somewhat excited when I find a source so early in my research that really challenges my point of view on a project topic. I started my research with the general belief that face-to-face collaborative writing is better than virtual collaboration; however, Selber et al. make a very convincing argument for the superiority of hypertext-assisted group writing. In fact, the authors assert that hypertext is far better than other electronic forms of collaborative writing. I really did not know anything about hypertext’s applicability for collaborative writing before reading this piece. Once I understood how the process might work, I can acknowledge that fostering “dissensus” (267) – the elimination of group think – could be easier within a hypertext document since members have a better opportunity to review the work of others, maintain some individuality, and “defuse the tendency to position their text as the singularly approved one” (267). Selber et al. have motivated me to look for other information on hypertext’s value to workplace collaboration.

Locker, Kitty O. “What Makes a Collaborative Writing Team Success?” New Visions of Collaborative Writing. Ed. Janis Forman. NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers, Inc, 1992.

Taking advantage of the collaborative writing performed at her husband’s workplace, Locker had a rare chance to study “two teams in the same organization working on the same task” (38) in order to find out why one team was successful and the other was not. Locker’s qualitative case study evinces key differences between the two teams. The first team was not able to produce a successful draft of a class-action complaint in 13 attempts. By comparison, the second team’s initial draft on the same case resulted in a document that far exceeded the quality of all of the first team’s efforts.

After studying the two teams’ processes, conducting interviews, etc, Locker attributes the primary differences between the teams’ documents to seven factors: “power and leadership, dealing with feelings, involvement of group members, understanding the rhetorical situation, collaboration on revisions, attitude toward supervisors’ comments, and attitude toward revision” (46-52).

Of the seven factors Locker identified, I think that the first two (power and leadership and dealing with feelings) ultimately affect the emergence of the other five. For example, in the first team, one individual dominated the entire writing process and treated the other members as if they were there to support him. The team did not interact together in a way that motivated all members to share ideas or discuss problems. This, in turn, degraded the involvement of the team members and their attitudes toward the project. Conversely, the second team shared power and leadership and often reached out to each other (both in and out of their writing meetings) to ensure each member felt validated.

The differences Locker observed between the teams again make me wonder how much worse or better their experience might have been if they had worked together in only a computer-assisted realm. (Both teams had regularly scheduled face-to-face planning and writing meetings.) To me, technology has the potential to magnify whatever issues might already be occurring in a group. If one member is power hungry or controlling, technology might enable that person to isolate the writing project even more so than in a face-to-face meeting. On the other hand, the second team’s cohesiveness in producing an excellent document could have been highlighted even more with technology. Locker also points out that the second team knew each other fairly well before the project, but ended up being very close friends once the document was finished. I believe the dynamics of the second team were strengthened by their face-to-face interactions with each other. The ability to see the non-verbal communication of team members allows us to monitor how people might be reacting to problems, stressors, etc. and offer them assistance when needed.

Annotated Bib - Part 1

In my search for literature on collaborative workplace writing, I have found several books and articles which I believe will inform my research project. As I mentioned in my dissonance blog, I am specifically interested in looking at the benefits and drawbacks of using technology to mediate a group-authored text. This blog is my effort to annotate a few of the sources I plan to use in my paper.

Colen, Kerryn and Roslyn Petelin. “Challenges in collaborative writing in the contemporary corporation.” Corporate Communications Vol. 2 (2004): 136-145. ABI/INFORM Global. ProQuest. University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Lied Library. 8 Mar 2008 .

Colen and Petelin present research on collaborative writing in the workplace to highlight the “pervasiveness” (136) of group writing in corporations and demonstrate why employees need to understand the skills required for team authorship. While not making any new arguments themselves, the authors provide solid explanations for the work of researchers like Ede and Lunsford who have looked closely at collaborative processes in various occupations. In doing so, Colen and Petelin predict a future need for studies in the “best practices” (142) for collaborative workplace writing.

I agree with Colen and Petelin’s suggestion that we need to define what the best practices are for collaborative workplace writing. In addition, I believe that one question we need to ask about best practices is whether it is better to work in a face-to-face setting or in a virtual realm when working on group-authored documents. I often wonder how working in one setting affects the benefits that would normally come from collaboration. For instance, the authors mention that one benefit of collaborative writing is that it often develops employees’ “active listening skills” (140). So, what effect might online collaboration have on effective listening and the interaction among authors? They also cite G.A. Cross who feels collaborative writing is often “protracted” (139) when participants are physically separated. This would indicate to me that online collaborative writing might delay a document’s completion. Overall, Colen and Petelin don’t answer these types of questions directly, but they provide me with a good starting point for further sources that might.

Jones, Scott. “From Writers to Information Coordinators: Technology and the Changing Face of Collaboration.” Journal of Business and Technical Communication Vol 4 (2005): 449-467. ABI/INFORM Global. ProQuest. University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Lied Library. 8 Mar 2008 .

Following up on his 1994 research on a company’s collaborative writing practices, Jones returns to the same company to see how the implementation of intranet and e-mail have affected the writing process. Jones first clarifies what he means by collaboration because shared responsibility for a text can take various forms. Using what he calls the “Comprehensive Collaborative Continuum” (451), Jones demonstrates how collaboration can move from the “Contextual” to the “Hierarchical” to the “Group” (451) – each movement becoming more overt in collaborative interaction. Then, Jones applies these forms of collaboration to the company he is studying, showing how e-mail and intranet has impacted the writers.

I found Jones’s conclusion that “changes in technology are creating new types of writers” (464) to be evident in the new responsibilities the company’s writers have. The writers, for example, tended to spend more time manipulating data in an online space versus collaborating on the production of new text. I think one positive aspect of this change is that writers could now template certain information to speed up “document cycling” (464). On the other hand, the company added new positions to the intranet – such as an intranet editor – which slowed down the progress of transmitted documents.

I was a little disappointed that Jones could not find strong indications that the company used group collaboration because this is the area of his continuum in which I am most interested. Jones even admits that more research is needed on group writing to see how technology affects texts and group identity. At the same time, I think Jones’s findings on “hierarchical” collaboration are applicable to certain group processes. One example of this is when Jones states that information stored on the database meant that “writers required much less collaboration with content experts” (459) in content interaction (hierarchical) collaborative writing. This same result could be evident in a group dynamic if the members of a writing team used the intranet to access data from a subject matter expert.

Response to Readings for 10 Mar 08

“Mechanical Correctness as a Focus in Composition Instruction” by Connors

Connors explains how various factors influenced a narrowing of instructional focus in the writing classrooms of nineteenth-century America. In essence, writing instruction became a course in proofreading because rigid rules made it easier for teachers to manage their huge workloads. Connors points out that the progression of writing manuals from textbooks to handbooks to grammar workbooks gradually degraded the experience students had with actual writing. At the same time, these manuals often became a crutch for teachers who knew “no more of their discipline than [was] contained in the texts” (69).

Connors’s piece once again startled me with the fact that today’s composition classrooms reflect some long-standing issues. First, we are still battling increases to class sizes for composition classes due to budget cuts in education. For example, I have heard that the English department at UNLV is asked to justify on a routine basis why freshman writing classes should be kept at a more manageable enrollment. Teachers must be allowed the time to focus on the way their students communicate in writing. If not, we will often have to make the decision that Connors mentions between what we will and will not have the opportunity to look at in a student paper. Second, we still have composition instructors who are unsure how to proceed if they do not have a textbook in front of them. Unfortunately, some graduate students I know were placed in writing classrooms without adequate foundational training in teaching or classroom management. They usually keep their heads above water by staying just one reading ahead of their students, if that, and feel uncomfortable explaining concepts in-depth to students. I often wonder what this experience is doing for both the students and the teachers.

Overall, I think Connors’s piece, like some of our previous readings, points out again how harmful it can be to over-emphasize an isolated component of writing or rhetoric. Just as current-traditional rhetoric relies too much on one mode of discourse, focus on mechanics places too much importance on a particular canon – style. Rhetoric and composition work best when different elements function together to accomplish a goal.

“Grammar, Grammars, and the Teaching of Grammar” by Hartwell

Citing long-standing debates between teachers/researchers who are passionate about grammar and those who are not, Hartwell tries to show definitively that grammar instruction – when done in isolation from rhetorical strategies – does not improve students’ writing. Hartwell counts himself among teachers who do not concentrate on grammar and wants to put this issue to rest and “move on to more interesting areas of inquiry” (228).

Although Hartwell raises some good points about the deficiencies of grammar as a focus for instruction and supports his ideas with plenty of research, I found his style a little off-putting. I tried to overcome my distraction so I could focus on his meaning, but I believe Hartwell forgot a major rhetorical factor: his audience. For example, if he sincerely wanted to persuade a “hostile” audience of grammarian “worship[ers]” (223) to his way of view, I don’t think repeatedly using terms such as “hammer in” (215-216) is a good way to go about doing it. Inferring that those who oppose your way of thinking are stubborn and fanatical could alienate the very people you might be trying to reach. I’m not sure why Hartwell’s approach bothered me so much personally because I don’t really focus on grammar when I teach. I suppose I was irritated because I do try and consider my audience when I write. If we want students to reach the “metalinguistic” level of learning, then we have to demonstrate rhetorical concepts, such as audience awareness, for them.

When I was able to get past the tone of Hartwell’s piece, however, I did find it interesting that researchers believe some writing instruction might work only because teachers think that it does. If a focus of instruction can have a placebo effect for a classroom, I wonder what an experiment with a “control” group would look like.

“Reflections on Academic Discourse: How It Relates to Freshmen and Colleagues” by Elbow

Like Connors, Elbow maintains that academic discourse cannot benefit students if it simply centers on the stylistic or mechanical features of writing. Elbow goes a step further, though, and asserts that academic discourse is not a Platonic form that waits to be discovered. Instead, academic discourse – like non-academic discourse – must incorporate all of the rhetorical appeals to logos, pathos, and ethos. In other words, students must be able to not only state facts and arguments clearly but also be able to apply their own character, experiences, and feelings to the writing.

I am not typically a huge fan of Elbow’s – probably because I am still ambivalent about his “writing without teachers” concept – but I did relate to his premise that students’ ideas should not be discounted if they are presented in less-than-recognized academic language. I vividly remember one of my undergraduate professors who consistently corrected us in class with the advice to “use words that are more collegiate” during discussions. Most of us used to sit in class trying to figure out the best words to use and ended up not saying much at all. (Of course, this may have been what the professor was hoping for?) Then there was also the one student who could use every term in the textbook but didn’t know what any of it meant. Anyway, I agree with Elbow that we often cannot tell if students have really grasped a concept until they can express it in their own way. Elbow suggests that academic discourse is the result of reflection, experience and writing as a process, not something we can use as a text in the classroom.

“Responding to Student Writing” by Sommers

Sommers reflects some of our other readings this week as she discusses effective and non-effective ways to give feedback to students on their drafts. For instance, Sommers explains that focusing on mechanical issues in a first draft is usually counter-productive to improving student writing. Sommers advises us to first motivate students to work through the larger issues of ideas and content before we direct students’ attention to surface details.

I enjoyed Sommers’s article a great deal because I feel responding to student writing, particularly in business writing, is a definite weakness in my teaching. I want to help my students, but I freely admit to changing my reviewing methods practically every semester. I’ve tried commenting only on content, but then my students often miss the importance of formatting for business documents. I’ve tried commenting on formatting and content only to find that students don’t realize how important mechanics are to their ethos in the corporate world. I know that I most often overload my students with comments on their drafts, but I’m just not sure how to cover everything when we don’t have time for multiple drafts during a semester. What is the best way to respond to student drafts when we are under a time crunch?

Response to Readings for 3 Mar 08

“Teach Writing as a Process Not Product” by Murray

Murray addresses composition teachers as he advocates a change in the way we typically see writing instruction. Rather than viewing an established text as something to model, he suggests we allow students the time and space to develop their own ideas. On one hand, I have to agree with Murray that each student must develop in his/her own way. Every one of us is unique and therefore will go about the invention process a little differently. For example, my version of the “prewriting” process always involves a great deal of chocolate eating and house cleaning. I’m not proud of my dependence on the two activities which are necessary to my creativity, but there you have it. I also see value in Murray’s assertion that we shouldn’t rely on the modes of discourse, although I think some discussion of modes is important if students are truly going to be able to respond to “audience demand” (6).

On the other hand, though, I have to wonder how we could best incorporate Murray’s ideas into a typical semester of composition. First, we typically don’t have the time to allow students “the opportunity to write all the drafts necessary for him to discover what he has to say” (5). Our students must accomplish certain requirements before the end of the semester, so we have to move their writing process forward. Second, I think Murray discounts the potential value in modeling the writing process when he asks us not to do any prewriting for students. I understand we shouldn’t tell students what to write, but students often benefit from seeing how another writer approaches the process. In a class I took, for instance, the professor wrote his own paper as we were writing our required texts for his class. Seeing how the professor went about the different tasks was very enlightening to me.

“Writing as a Mode of Learning” by Emig

Showing how the traditional kinesthetic, visual, and auditory styles of learning are combined in the act of writing, Emig makes an interesting case for writing as an all-encompassing – and thus unique – form of education. I have to admit I never really thought of writing in the way that Emig does in her article, but I can now see how writing does involve most of the senses. This idea is very intriguing to me because I believe students learn best when they are engaged on multiple sensory levels in an activity. Since it was also Emig (in Reynolds et al’s article for our 4 Feb 08 readings) who suggested writing should be seen as “composing,” I would like to read more of Emig’s work when I can. (Although, I’m sure Hillocks might not share my enthusiasm for Emig since she doesn’t support his view of experimental research.)

I also appreciate the way Emig’s list shows the differences we need to be aware of when using talking as prewriting. For example, she points out that talking is natural – a premise that is well covered in Stephen Pinker’s The Language Instinct – while writing is acquired. This affinity for talking is one of the reasons I like to engage with groups in a face-to-face session because it seems more natural than trying to conduct a discussion online. At the same time, it would not be helpful to simply record what we said. Instead, the group members would have to reflect on the conversation and have the time to write about their observations. Item number five on Emig’s list of differences (9) seems to conflict with Perl’s study, however, because Perl demonstrates that writing is possibly as “redundant” (by which I mean there is reiteration) as talking can be.

“The Composing Processes of Unskilled College Writers” by Perl

Focusing on less developed writers, Perl provides us with a quantitative analysis of individual writing processes. Her overall message is that writing teachers can misjudge the needs of unskilled writers, spending too much time on the technical aspects of a product versus addressing the more important issues in a student’s approach to the process. I have to admit that I recoiled initially when I skimmed Perl’s article. I assumed (wrongly) that I would not take much away from a piece full of charts and tables and coding structures. I was pleasantly surprised by all of the “ah-ha” moments I had while reading Perl’s explanations for the data.

For me, the most interesting aspect was the section about “miscue analysis” (24). From my experience in the UNLV writing center, I already knew that weaker writers often misread the text from their own papers. This is the very reason why we always had students read their papers aloud during their visits to the writing center. Still, I could never figure out why a student continued to misread their paper even after I had asked them to slow down or highlighted areas they tended to change when they verbalized the text. It was as if the students could not understand or see the words on the page. Perl shows in her analysis, though, that this is a natural tendency for some writers. The information about miscuing also made me wonder if there are writers who compose aloud in vernacular English while encoding in SWE. In other words, could a student compose aloud using the word “axe” but literally write down “ask” or vice versa? This would be an interesting study from the aspect of code switching.

Another interesting idea in Perl’s piece is the premise that writing is possibly more recursive than we might think. The observed behavior in the study certainly indicates that it might be. As I mentioned earlier, since the writers in the study were asked to compose aloud while writing, this also appears to contradict one of Emig’s differentiations between writing and talking. It makes me question if the talking (composing aloud) required in Perl’s study may have actually influenced or increased the recursiveness of the writing process.

“Revision Strategies of Student Writers and Experienced Adult Writers” by Sommers

Sommers illustrates the different ways in which student writers and experienced writers view revision. She explains that revision is a process that should be taught because it is ignored in current models. I think Sommers made several good points about the way student writers often get bogged down in the weeds when they need to be looking at the forest. For example, my own students have a rough time with peer reviews at first. They will usually point out mechanical errors and ignore the fact that the writer has completely missed the purpose of the assignment. It takes me a while to convince my students that they have to think globally when they revise. So, I definitely understand what Sommers is saying, although part of the difference between student writers and experienced writers is exactly that – experience.

I do have to confess, however, that I was perplexed by the semantics in the article. Sommers insists that revising is not rewriting; however, she goes on to use the terms interchangeably in her piece. For instance, she states, “Each writer…rewrote each essay twice…Each writer was interviewed three times after the final revision” (45). Furthermore, when demonstrating the enlarged view of revision that experienced writers possess, Sommers shows that four out of the six writers call revision “rewriting” (49). I realize this is a minor distraction, but I had to keep re-reading passages to ensure I hadn’t missed something.

“What Works in Teaching Composition: A Meta-analysis of Experimental Treatment Studies” by Hillocks

Refuting claims that research on experimental methods has no value for composition teachers, Hillocks performs a quantitative meta-analysis of various studies. While his article is difficult to read at times due to the volume of methodological terms, Hillocks clearly illustrates how experimental research can inform writing instruction. I struggled a bit with the terminology, but I found Hillocks’s article to be extremely eye-opening. He practically sets Elbow’s theory of writing without instruction on its ear because Hillocks’s data reflects teaching practices, such as the “natural process” (143) are not as effective as we might suppose.

I could not help trying to situate my teaching behavior into the different modes of instruction as I was reading the article. I would guess that I fall somewhere in a gray area between the presentational mode and the environmental mode most of the time. As an instructor, I was trained in Instructional System Design (ISD), so I tend to set specific objectives for my students, but I also try to allow the students to gain hands-on experience after a short discussion in class. In truth, my determination would really depend on the class session because some days I feel I need to provide more instruction than I do on other days. Overall, I was happy to see that the environmental mode is actually more effective than I would have thought.

The only aspect of Hillocks’s piece that confused me was his statement that “…although we know that the environmental mode appears significantly more effective than other modes, we do not know how it interacts with the various focuses of instruction” (163). I might be oversimplifying here, but to me it seems fairly obvious that certain focuses of instruction would fit seamlessly with specific modes of instruction. In other words, wouldn’t an instructor using the environmental mode tend to focus more on models or inquiry? And wouldn’t an instructor using the natural process mode tend to focus on freewriting, etc? At least that’s what the results of the meta-analysis implied to me.