In her chapter, Hairston applies Kuhn’s model for revolutions in science to the composition field. She claims that a paradigm shift is (or was, in the 80s, when she wrote the article) happening in the composition field. The shift that Hairston sees is from the traditional paradigm, based in classical rhetoric and an idealization of what an efficient writer do, to the new paradigm started by process writing theories. The author offers a very good overview of research in composition and provides a neat summary of the main features of the new paradigm (p. 124). When I finished reading the three articles, I pictured Hairston’s article drawing a line in the development of composition research, where Berthoff’s article would be placed closer to the process writing theory end and Reither’s article would be situated closer to the other extreme, and closer to sociocultural theories. In some way, I found similarities between Reither’s and Berthoff’s claims. Despite I associated both authors with different trends (Berthoff being more a “literature” person and Reither being more a “social” guy), I found that both conceptualize writing as a knowledge-building activity. Berthoff (“the philosopher” in my imagination) does it in a broader way[1] and conceptualizes the composing process as a meaning-making process, as something we craft. Reither (the “social scientist”, as I picture him), on the other hand, conceptualizes writing as a knowledge building activity but more linked to the specific communities where it happens. Writing, according to Reither, is grounded in the need to communicate unknown things and is based on inquiry and thus, linked to learning. For this author, writing can’t be separated from the social-rhetorical situations.
[1] “Teaching composition as a mode of thinking and a way of learning” (p. 109)
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Response to February 22nd readings - Landmark essays: Perl and Runicman
One thing that didn’t completely convinced me from Perl essay is the concept of “felt sense”. While reading this chapter, I remembered our discussions about voice, and how this felt sense concept resemble the voice concept since both of them are kind of blurry and ambiguous. What does she mean by “inner reflections” and “bodily sensations”? I felt that this chapter, in general, was more confusing than the previous chapter that Perl has in the book (chapter 3). Although, I do agree with the author that the writing process is recursive and that what is recursive in the composing process varies from writer to writer.
I think that her ideas of writing as a recursive activity resemble a lot what Flower and Hayes propose. Actually, the first two recursive elements that Perl proposes (re-reading and key words or items called by the topic) are named by Flower and Hayes in their chapter. But again, the third recursive element, the felt sense, is still not clear to me.
On the other hand, when reading Runicman’s article one question kept on coming to my mind: it all depends on what kind of writing we are talking about. Runicman mentions “the literary impulse” (p. 202). I do not necessarily associate every kind writing with an impulse or a pleasurable activity since different kinds of writing pose different kinds of challenges. However, I think that he makes a point by calling to our attention that the word “problem” in conceptualizing writing as a problem-solving activity is not a happy one. Well, that word, as Flower and Hayes state, comes from the psychology field, and in that context is not necessarily linked to a negative connotation. Although, as we all know, scientific vocabulary is never detached from everyday language, therefore, we could think of a better word to conceptualize the writing activity. Personally, I like Casanave’s metaphor: writing games.
I think that her ideas of writing as a recursive activity resemble a lot what Flower and Hayes propose. Actually, the first two recursive elements that Perl proposes (re-reading and key words or items called by the topic) are named by Flower and Hayes in their chapter. But again, the third recursive element, the felt sense, is still not clear to me.
On the other hand, when reading Runicman’s article one question kept on coming to my mind: it all depends on what kind of writing we are talking about. Runicman mentions “the literary impulse” (p. 202). I do not necessarily associate every kind writing with an impulse or a pleasurable activity since different kinds of writing pose different kinds of challenges. However, I think that he makes a point by calling to our attention that the word “problem” in conceptualizing writing as a problem-solving activity is not a happy one. Well, that word, as Flower and Hayes state, comes from the psychology field, and in that context is not necessarily linked to a negative connotation. Although, as we all know, scientific vocabulary is never detached from everyday language, therefore, we could think of a better word to conceptualize the writing activity. Personally, I like Casanave’s metaphor: writing games.
Response to February 20th readings: Landmark Essays: Graves, Perl, Flower & Hayes, and Sommers.
These essays are connected by the idea that writing is not a linear activity. Although Graves separates the writing episode in different phases, in his analysis and his methodology it can be seen how writing is not a linear activity and that many micro and macro factors influence it. While reading Graves’ chapter, I was wondering if the methodology employed in the study has ever been used in adults. I think that the fact that they were working with children influenced the weight that observations and thick descriptions (in the ethnographic sense) had in the study (for example, in page 27). I got a little confused by the way the writing episodes were recorded, and once I understood it, I thought that if this study were replicated (has it been replicated?) the use of a video camera would be great. I liked the fact that the quantitative and qualitative research methods were combined and the focus on the large group and the case study were switched. I loved the last sentence: “it is ironic that research devoted to the full study of single individuals is so rare” (p. 37). As a matter of fact, while doing my literature review about academic writing in the U.S. (I was focusing on non-native speakers ) I only found a couple of articles that showed ethnographic studies that lasted more than two or three semesters.
Perl, as Graves, also worried about developing methodological tools that allow them to analyze the composing process. But again, while reading the article I thought that these authors were trying to find the code of the code to analyze the code. Too complex! But I guess that these methodologies help them to systematize the highly complex process of writing.
What I like about Flower and Hayes’ article was their critic to the myth of discovery in writing and how they propose that writing is not a matter of discovering the words but of creating meaning. According to them, the writing process is a “problem-solving activity” and not a “creative accident” (p. 64). And that the problem for writers is not to discover what to say, but to find the problem to solve (the rhetorical problem) since this is what will determine our writing. I absolutely agree with them when they state that “writers build or represent such a problem to themselves, rather than “find” it” (p. 65) and here comes our role as teachers, and here comes our problem: how to best present prompts to students. I think that by having a better idea of the complexity of the writing process teachers will be able to better guide students to develop their writing. In addition, on page 69, when they provide an example of how differently experienced and novice writers draw on their knowledge to represent the problem, I don’t agree with them. I think that experienced writers would focus on what Flower & Hayes say writers focus on AND on what the authors say the novice writers focus on. All in all, experienced writers also sometimes conceptualize writing for assignments in the way novice writers do, but in a more complex way. I also think that the fact that the experts they compared with students were writing and rhetoric teachers could have influenced the fact that these experienced writers are more aware of audience and other elements of the writing process. I wonder what would have happened if instead of writing and rhetoric teachers the authors would have compared students with scholars writing a paper in their field. Would they conceptualize in such a complete way the rhetorical problem as the writing teachers? In this regard, Sommers’ study, I think, is better because she chose experienced writers in different fields: journalists, editors and academics.
Perl, as Graves, also worried about developing methodological tools that allow them to analyze the composing process. But again, while reading the article I thought that these authors were trying to find the code of the code to analyze the code. Too complex! But I guess that these methodologies help them to systematize the highly complex process of writing.
What I like about Flower and Hayes’ article was their critic to the myth of discovery in writing and how they propose that writing is not a matter of discovering the words but of creating meaning. According to them, the writing process is a “problem-solving activity” and not a “creative accident” (p. 64). And that the problem for writers is not to discover what to say, but to find the problem to solve (the rhetorical problem) since this is what will determine our writing. I absolutely agree with them when they state that “writers build or represent such a problem to themselves, rather than “find” it” (p. 65) and here comes our role as teachers, and here comes our problem: how to best present prompts to students. I think that by having a better idea of the complexity of the writing process teachers will be able to better guide students to develop their writing. In addition, on page 69, when they provide an example of how differently experienced and novice writers draw on their knowledge to represent the problem, I don’t agree with them. I think that experienced writers would focus on what Flower & Hayes say writers focus on AND on what the authors say the novice writers focus on. All in all, experienced writers also sometimes conceptualize writing for assignments in the way novice writers do, but in a more complex way. I also think that the fact that the experts they compared with students were writing and rhetoric teachers could have influenced the fact that these experienced writers are more aware of audience and other elements of the writing process. I wonder what would have happened if instead of writing and rhetoric teachers the authors would have compared students with scholars writing a paper in their field. Would they conceptualize in such a complete way the rhetorical problem as the writing teachers? In this regard, Sommers’ study, I think, is better because she chose experienced writers in different fields: journalists, editors and academics.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Response to February 15th readings
I enjoyed Tobin text. Even though at the beginning I got lost with authors’ names and trying to figure out what was he calling “Process writing”, when I finished reading the chapter I had a somewhat vivid image of the debates in the field. I think that the way he wrote the article is also related to his postulates: he relates his experiences as a teacher and as a student with the theories and debates in the field. I think he is one of the few authors that openly accept that the link between research and practice is not a linear and neat relationship. As he states: “the differences in theory are less clear and less significant in the classroom” (p. 10). I loved his/her (?) confession: “When I arrived in grad school, I had an experiential, empirical belief in process but no real scholarly basis for my approach” (p. 8). I loved this “confession” because I think it describes how we forge ourselves as teachers and how sometimes, in the craziness of daily life and work pressures, we just “go with the flow” and don’t reflect in our teaching practices or our pedagogical beliefs. Of course, I don’t think this is good. It is my opinion that as teachers we need to reflect on why we do the things we do in the classroom, we need to recognize what makes us teach the way we do. But on the other hand, it is true that many times reality overwhelm us and we just go… and the fact that someone is voicing this in a book it is, in my opinion, good.
In addition, I also agree with Tobin when he states that “pure practitioners” of one or other theory or movement do not exist: “even the most process-oriented teachers acknowledge that a meaningful process ought to lead eventually to some sort of written product, and even the most product-oriented teacher accepts the fact that writing occurs in a series of steps and stages” (p. 7). And here again I think that what Tobin proposes is realistic. Personally, I think that being eclectic sometimes helps teachers, given the fact that he/she can justify the eclecticism. In other words, I think that as teachers, we need to try out many things but never forget to reflect and give foundation to our pedagogies (I don’t think “pedagogy”, as a singular word is good), never forget to reflect on those postulates that are in the back of our head and lead us to teach in the way we teach.
Response to February 6th readings.
I think that Geisler text provides a really good summary of research done on academic writing. While reading this text, I was thinking “how do I relate this to those authors who were talking about happenings and writing as a creative act more than as an intellectual or academic activity?”. And sincerely, even though I would love to try out the happenings, I do recognize that if I put myself in the first-year comp teacher’s shoes that would be really hard. Why? Because I do know that writing in academic settings is different than writing in other kind of social contexts. Because I think that academic writing it is highly framed by institutional and disciplinary “boundaries”. Boundaries that despite of being fuzzy, are boundaries. I do think that writing, as any other social action, highly depends on context. The problem, I guess, for comp teachers, is to decide how to define context. And if to the previous we add the fact that in many first year comp courses we have 1) students who do not know what major they will pursue (so what disciplinary field are we dealing with?), 2) students whose first language is not English (how do we teach them?), 3) students who think that writing is not important in their disciplines (or in their lives!), 4) institutional demands, 5) department demands, and so on. In summary, we have to deal with a great amount of heterogeneity not only in regards to student body, disciplinary fields, institutional frames, and type of contents taught in the class. Let’s add to this the fact that in current times, we do not only have to teach how to write one word after the other, but also include new modes of representation that affect the composing process (Are you overwhelmed yet?, I am!). And it is at this point when I read Geisler’s third alternative and it makes me feel good: we should “reinvent general education” and “remake the writing practices of the U.S. academy into something other than a tool for the creation and recreation of the Great Divide between expert and layperson” (p. 118). What I would love to know, though, is how to bring to life these beautiful words in my own teaching practice. I am still trying to find the way, reason why I took this course. I think that the mere fact that we are discussing these issues is a step further in being better teachers. Answers? Not even one. Questions? Many.
Some housekeeping
OK, in an effort to put some order and recapitulate my contributions in the blogsphere, I added labels indicating the readings’ dates. Here go some more:
My answer to Danika (http://danikarockett.blogspot.com/2007/02/not-another-random-post.html) and Erika (sorry, I could not make the permalink work) related to February 13th readings.
My answer to Adam (http://asknatz.blogspot.com/2007/02/workshop-outcomes-open-for-discussion.html) related to February 1st readings.
Forthcoming: neat and ordered comments about the readings.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
My dialogue with Landmark Essays.
Composing process are so complex that it was necessary for scholars to break them down. Each researcher collaborated adding a different perspective to the phenomenon. I think this correlates with the switch that was observed in social sciences, when researchers stopped trying to define closed and neatly defined categories or units of analysis for the social sciences (based on natural sciences’ research model) and they started to assimilate reality as a highly complex construct, where each stance is valid to add to the effort of deciphering human activity. And as the process writing scholars stated, I am implicitly assuming that writing is before than any other thing that: a social activity.
I think that the alibis that writing process scholars faced in their research activities are similar to those faced by scholars in other fields or disciplines in the social sciences, such as psychology. Actually, many of them (i.e. Flower and Hayes, 1996) based their studies in psychological theories. What were these alibis? Well, the way I see it is that at the beginning they were so concern in defining clear-cut units of analysis and defining their object. Later, they turned to ethnographic or case-study methods, which opened a new world of research. Not as in tune as previous lab research was with “mother science” (the old scientific-method speaking here). Variables were controlled, concepts clearly defined, but where was reality? And this is what Pearl claims (p. xv) in her introduction to the Landmark Essays. The thing is, I think that all this was necessary. I guess that we, human beings, historically and ontologically, need to put reality in little neat boxes, classify it, in order to later being able to kick the boxes and discover the beauty that lies out there, in the real world.
I guess this goes along the lines of what I was reading in the last class session (chat modality) when my classmates were discussing process writing. Now, after opening the word file with part of the chat record in it, I can read their statements in a different way. Again: I recontextualized my classmates statements after reading the readings I could not read last week… and that’s the beauty of communication: it depends so much on context that it is so hard to grab it and brake it down in neat categories that help us, as writing teachers, to present it to students in a clear way. Personally, if I were asked to define “writing” I guess I would be blabling for a while and end up saying “you know what? I just can’t define it. Because what I enjoy about it, it’s that: the non-definition of writing is what makes it so desirable. Because there is always something more to want in what you never finish to get to know.
Furthermore, this unfinished characteristic of writing is what every writing researcher should be more aware than any other researcher, just by the mere fact that we have to recognize that at the time of communicating through writing our findings we are also in some way creating a reality, a science tale that can help or not others to figure out the process of writing. It sounds like a tongue twister, but when we write about the process of writing, how much of our writing intertwines with the way we conceptualize it? I think this goes along with what Pearl states about the “researcher’s shaping role” in scientific discourse (p. xix). As she states, after composing what they observed, “researchers find themselves faced with another composing task: fashioning what hey have come to see into a text that will convey their understanding to others”. What is left to ask, as usual, is how well I conveyed my understanding in this post.
I think that the alibis that writing process scholars faced in their research activities are similar to those faced by scholars in other fields or disciplines in the social sciences, such as psychology. Actually, many of them (i.e. Flower and Hayes, 1996) based their studies in psychological theories. What were these alibis? Well, the way I see it is that at the beginning they were so concern in defining clear-cut units of analysis and defining their object. Later, they turned to ethnographic or case-study methods, which opened a new world of research. Not as in tune as previous lab research was with “mother science” (the old scientific-method speaking here). Variables were controlled, concepts clearly defined, but where was reality? And this is what Pearl claims (p. xv) in her introduction to the Landmark Essays. The thing is, I think that all this was necessary. I guess that we, human beings, historically and ontologically, need to put reality in little neat boxes, classify it, in order to later being able to kick the boxes and discover the beauty that lies out there, in the real world.
I guess this goes along the lines of what I was reading in the last class session (chat modality) when my classmates were discussing process writing. Now, after opening the word file with part of the chat record in it, I can read their statements in a different way. Again: I recontextualized my classmates statements after reading the readings I could not read last week… and that’s the beauty of communication: it depends so much on context that it is so hard to grab it and brake it down in neat categories that help us, as writing teachers, to present it to students in a clear way. Personally, if I were asked to define “writing” I guess I would be blabling for a while and end up saying “you know what? I just can’t define it. Because what I enjoy about it, it’s that: the non-definition of writing is what makes it so desirable. Because there is always something more to want in what you never finish to get to know.
Furthermore, this unfinished characteristic of writing is what every writing researcher should be more aware than any other researcher, just by the mere fact that we have to recognize that at the time of communicating through writing our findings we are also in some way creating a reality, a science tale that can help or not others to figure out the process of writing. It sounds like a tongue twister, but when we write about the process of writing, how much of our writing intertwines with the way we conceptualize it? I think this goes along with what Pearl states about the “researcher’s shaping role” in scientific discourse (p. xix). As she states, after composing what they observed, “researchers find themselves faced with another composing task: fashioning what hey have come to see into a text that will convey their understanding to others”. What is left to ask, as usual, is how well I conveyed my understanding in this post.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Voices shouting to be heard
Lambert’s last words kind of put into my face what I do really believe “finding our own voice in writing means”. His words: “Through whatever means possible – by example, by flattery, by cajolery, by thread—the composition instructor should encourage students to remove their masks and to reveal their faces—however pimply, however shallow, however frightened, however bored. These faces, at least, are their own” (p. 34). I interpreted this in the following way: he is asking for composition teachers to help students to leave their masks and show “their real faces”. Wouldn’t this be to help students to find their own voices? I think it is. And I thought: this guy in the 60s was already worried about that! Then, I recapitulated what I wrote about finding my own voice in writing and how hard it was for me in a second language. Well… let me throw here a Bakhtinean point of view. We never “own” our voice. We always speak through other’s voices because the words we use and allow us to communicate are embedded with social meaning, they carry a history in them, they don’t belong to only one person because communication does not exist in a one-way-fashion. In this way, allow me to reformulate my opinion: my problem, when writing in a second language, is not that I can’t find my own voice, but that I don’t know (because I lack many shared cultural experiences and cultural knowledge) how to use the multiplicity of voices that socially construct that thing we call English. On the other hand, I could argue that I have a different voice in English, that I write “with an accent”, an accent that can be viewed as my mother tongue trying to shut out loud what I can’t express in English.
Gracias for reading this.
Violeta
Gracias for reading this.
Violeta
Friday, February 9, 2007
New media
Last class topic was fascinating. I guess you could notice that (yeah, I couldn't stop talking). My apologies, sometimes I can't stop when I get passionate, but, please, do not doubt in interrupting me or shutting me up. :)
This is the thing: I found myself reading how the author articulates "voices" that I heard years ago when I was studying literature in my country, and I loved it. While reading the texts I felt that my neurones were so happy "synapting" with each other!
I also liked the way Wysoki structured the text with 5 openings that came together at the end. I absolutely agree with her definition of new media, specially when she affirms that "new media texts do not have to be digital" (p. 15) and that interactivity was present in the act of reading and writing before clicking-on-the-mouse appeared in our lives. I guess this is part of how some technologies and new medias and materialities become invisible to us. For example, many times we used the phrase "writing with technology" to describe the fact that we are using computers to write. But we have been using technology to write when we grab a pen! A pen is technology. In the same way, texts have been interactive long ago, being this implied in the relationships that texts (or authors?) build with readers...
And I guess I will call myself to silence, since I talked a lot in class.
Have a great weekend, everybody!
This is the thing: I found myself reading how the author articulates "voices" that I heard years ago when I was studying literature in my country, and I loved it. While reading the texts I felt that my neurones were so happy "synapting" with each other!
I also liked the way Wysoki structured the text with 5 openings that came together at the end. I absolutely agree with her definition of new media, specially when she affirms that "new media texts do not have to be digital" (p. 15) and that interactivity was present in the act of reading and writing before clicking-on-the-mouse appeared in our lives. I guess this is part of how some technologies and new medias and materialities become invisible to us. For example, many times we used the phrase "writing with technology" to describe the fact that we are using computers to write. But we have been using technology to write when we grab a pen! A pen is technology. In the same way, texts have been interactive long ago, being this implied in the relationships that texts (or authors?) build with readers...
And I guess I will call myself to silence, since I talked a lot in class.
Have a great weekend, everybody!
Thursday, February 1, 2007
What to do... or where is my voice in the blog?
OK, I just added the links to my classmates pages... one didn't work... I realized that the two graduate students' blogs have their last name in the url. Weird, uh? I also realized that some people is more "talkative" than others in the cyberspace... is this related to the medium? Who knows... And why did I title this post in this way? Well, because in this media I found myself lost and "not finding my voice". Let me explain this: what do I do? I write in my post or I add comments in my classmates' posts? What kind of language should I use? Informal? formal? How much should I show myself in my writing... What about register? The blog cries for informality, the class cries for formality. Auch! I am gonna cry! (Just kidding). To all the previous, let's add the fact of writing in a second language, situation in which finding my own voice is harder. And here is where I go with my argument that having a voice is putting the subject in letters. Putting your subjectivity, your "mark" in the page, screen, blackboard, wherever you write. Having a voice is when the other can "read you" between lines. I don't think it is much of having a good argument, but a good way of communicating things. Maybe my definition is closer to what others call style. And sincerely: I am still trying to construct those terms in my mind.
OK, gotta run. Friends waiting. It will continue...
OK, gotta run. Friends waiting. It will continue...
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