Elbowing my way into the Allyn & Bacon

I thought this week's choice of readings was an interesting combination. Or rather, I thought it was interesting that both of this week's readings related exactly to what I'm doing this week. I just assigned the chapter "Composing and Revising in Closed-Form Prose" (a little bit each day), and we're about to chat about structuring their essay and "sign-posting." So, I got some interesting ideas from Elbow for metaphors that I can use to give students options, and I got some of my homework done for teaching by reading the Allyn and Bacon. Score!

Going back to the combination, what I found interesting was that I've noticed many references to Elbow in the Allyn and Bacon Guide. They discuss his doubting/believing game (which my students love), and they use his idea of thesis statements sticking their neck out (which was in a different chapter--not the one for this week). So, I noticed some fun cross-over. It's like the Allyn and Bacon Guide does the best hits of Elbow.

I wonder then, what are the best hits from this Elbow reading that could get smashed into "Composing and Revising Closed-Form Prose" or the chapter on "Writing as a Problem Solving Process"? I could go into a bunch of things, but the one that stands out to me the most is from the end of "The Music of Form." Elbow writes, "But there is a simple writing practice that good writers have used down through the ages--and it may be the most practical "moral" of my essay: we should revise by reading our late drafts aloud.... I think a good part of the power of reading aloud comes from the way it helps us experience the inherent temporal and even aural dimension of any text" (Elbow 656). I realize that this is a funny quote to pick since, at least for me, it seems like it has a bit of a different focus than the rest of the text. However, this is something I wish the Allyn and Bacon Guide would have provided more in its discussion of revision.

Out of the "ten expert habits to improve your writing processes," the Guide says nothing about reading your paper aloud. It says to revise with many printed copies. It says to exchange drafts. However, it doesn't say to read your paper aloud. The reason I take issue with this is that I've tried something new this semester. When my students peer review, they get into groups of 2 or 3, depending on the time, and the writers read their papers aloud to the group. After the writers read, the listeners discuss the essay with the writers and then the writers take their own notes. (I adapted this method from Rachel Patterson, BTW). And, when students conference with me, they bring 2 copies and read one aloud while I follow along on the other.

I've been shocked by how well this method works. And, what I love so much about it is that writers take ownership of their essays. They get to hear the rhythm, and then they often critique it themselves. And, readers have a discussion--they have to verbally respond to a text, and then they get to have a dialogue in return. I like that. (It's not just a bunch of quiet students sitting in a room with someone else's paper, awkwardly writing things in the margins. What's not to like?) However, because the Allyn and Bacon Guide is so focused on reviewing and revising on paper, I find that many of the exercises in the book don't really work with this method, and the students don't have examples or tips of advice from the book to back up this method. Fortunately, I can talk my way through this and explain the benefit. But, if this reading aloud method is as great as Elbow thinks it is, I'd like to see it in more textbooks. Maybe then it'd get into more classrooms. Who knows?!

100 reasons...

...not to go to grad school! Have you seen this blog yet? If not, don't blame me.

Student Feedback

I don’t want to sound annoying here, but I really love Boice. I think its because I read a chapter by Boice right before I started teaching at the college level for the first time, and I sort of subconsciously adopted a lot of his theories. I strive to be the kind of teacher that all of my non-english friends never had--- to address the needs, the fears, and the shortcomings of those students who “hate” or “aren’t good at” writing. Years of teaching my friends—in a very informal way, reading their papers in college, helping them write statements of purpose, led me to a very hands on, patient, yet silly form of teaching. I’m not afraid to make a fool of myself while teaching, to say ridiculous things to help someone understand a concept.

I’m also not afraid to ask my student(s) what they need. I agree that one can come very attached to one’s teaching--- its your life’s work! And frequently, those who give teaching advice aren’t teachers themselves. But I do love to hear from my fellow colleagues how they make things work. I am more open to taking criticism from my students than other though, I think. I am there for them. Since my class is largely about the process, and about a lot of revision, I am always asking my students what they need/want. Today we revised conclusion. They have a new draft of their paper due next Wednesday, so I asked them what they felt would be most beneficial for this Wednesday’s class: sentence level edits, or editing structure. They voted and picked structure, so that’s what we’ll do. I do this “pick your own adventure” English class method a lot. At first it seemed scary, to deviate from my ‘plan’, but then I realized how much easier it is to each students who want to learn something. If they want to spend a day on structure revisions, then they will be more receptive, they will be easy to work with, rather than resisting something that they ‘don’t thin is necessary’. I should probably get more input at the beginning of the semester though. I think that’s why I liked Shelly’s syllabus, because the students voted on the course content a lot in the beginning.

48 Pages, Elbow?!

Who doesn’t love a self-help top ten list? Me! But “ten expert habits to improve your writing processes” in A&B’s Chapter 16 did catch my eye. And I think there’s some connection between number one on the list—using exploratory writing and talking to discover and clarify ideas—and Elbow’s article.

I’ve spent the last week grading first drafts of my second formal essay assignment—a film essay, so please don’t try to discuss the nature of evil in The Dark Knight with me this week. I’m all talked out. The level of analysis in the essays was a happy surprise, but even my best writers fell victim to densely fancy, probably attempting to sound film-y, language. When I sat down for individual conferences with students and we talked through their films, they had no problem discussing in clear language their favorite scenes, the themes they saw at work, etc). I’m trying to teach them to write more the way that they think and talk—what Elbow calls the rhythm and energy of voice, and what chapter 16 points toward with expert tip number one: talk through what you want to write.

I feel like so much of what I’m teaching this semester is unlearning high school writing habits. Moving away from rigid five paragraph thesis-driven essay structure and opening the mind to more natural, energetic, even rhythmic formal writing. I wonder if students were taught more of Elbow’s free writing in high school, and formal writing in college, maybe the teaching process wouldn’t feel so backward. I love a classically organized, closed form thesis-driven formal essay as much as anyone, but when students are taught how to organize their essays before they’re really taught how to write with clarity and movement, I think the value of formal writing gets lost.

On Over-attachment and Over-reaction

One of my students complained about his grade, quite rudely in fact. He cut the line of students waiting to speak to me, slammed his paper on the desk in front me, and told me my comments “made no sense” because his ideas were “implied” and he shouldn’t have to “clearly write them out for me to understand them.” Did I bristle? Um yes. What I did do was tell the student to take 24 hours to look over his paper and then come talk to me during my office hours. What I shouldn’t have done was snap back “look at they syllabus” when he asked me when my office hours were. However, by the time we met again we were both much more calm. Not only did I figure out how this student communicated, but also how to approach him, and now he’s taking all his papers to the writing center before he turns them in to me. I think there is a lot to what Boice says about telling a student that it’s best not to discuss things when upset. Though, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable telling the student they are upsetting me and therefore I can’t talk to them. Maybe that’s a bit of my over attachment to my pride and wanting to think I can be professional enough to deal with a student no matter how upsetting I find their behavior. One thing I’ve taken to putting into practice is requiring my students take 48 hours with their returned papers before coming to speak with me about them. I’ve found this helps the student approach the paper/grade discussion with a less of a tendency for an emotional outburst, which allows me to calmly address their concerns and create an environment where the student and I work together, instead of becoming combative.

Elbow's Article

On pages 647 and 648, Elbow writes, “even though we apply spatial criteria most naturally to spatial entities like pictures, and dynamic criteria most naturally to temporal entities such as music and speeches, the two styles of organization apply to both space and time. Thus, we always have a choice of lenses for any entity. Each lens brings out organizational dimensions that the other lens tends to neglect or hide.” I thought this was really interesting, and I’d like to incorporate these ideas into my teaching. Specifically, I’d like to use it in teaching the last formal assignment, the one in which students present their argument papers in a different medium, but I’m not sure exactly how I’ll do it. Maybe I should have students read the article…? Probably not. I’d love to hear your suggestions.

I especially loved this quote: “Still, I’ve always been interested in the uses of the ‘wrong’ lens. It usually takes a wrong lens to find trace elements that most readers or viewers don’t notice—and yet those elements may play an important role in how the audience reacts.” Taken out of context and tweaked a bit, it could be read as profound words to live by. Or maybe I’m just reading it with the wrong lens.

Judge Me Kindly

Yesterday, I asked my students to write anonymous evaluations of my class. I asked them to tell me what has been working for them, what hasn’t, and anything else they wanted me to know. I made sure to emphasize that I wanted to know their criticisms, but I wanted to read them in a nice way, dammit, and there was no reason to make me cry. It makes me feel warmer and fuzzier than I can describe that everyone had really positive things to say, but they also gave me some really thoughtful evaluations of the things we’ve done in class. Doing this was immensely helpful, and it has made me feel a lot better, too. Why didn’t I do this sooner?

The book suggests doing this every week, though, and I do kind of feel that this would be a bit much. I feel like students would start to feel like they were repeating themselves after a while. I also think it might be hard to evaluate some of the things we do in class until the students have used the concepts on their own, like when they start writing the papers the day before they’re due. Does anyone else do evaluations every week? Is it helpful?

By the way, the one thing that students hate more than anything else is the informal writing assignments, but I knew this before I asked. I think on Monday I’ll give them a choice between doing reading quizzes and informal writing. Not that I intend to start giving quizzes; I just think they’ll appreciate informal writing more when they hear the alternative.

Our brilliant, life-sucking work!

Oh, Allison, you crack me up to pieces! If this dumb blog let me reply to other people's blogs, I would comment on yours and make you feel famous for a second.

A week ago I might have said that Boyce is full of it when he talks about becoming to attached to your work. After all, the more attached you are to your work, the better the product of your labor; right? Well, maybe so to a point of diminishing returns. But that's not the point.

A few days ago, I made a flying, twelve-hour trip (10 diving, 2 visiting) with my husband and kids to Springfield, which I have been putting off because I don't have time. I am a very important person with no extra time. My dad is sick and has been in the hospital for thee weeks. I have been receiving frequent updates from my hillbilly (it's not a pejorative if it's true)relatives in the Ozarks on his welfare and his care. The visit could no longer be put off.

Lost-story-short, it appears Daddy is going to take the train to Glory fairly soon. His overarching goal at this point is to convince the doctor to allow him to board the train from the farm "surrounded by his great-grand kids, where he belongs" rather than from a 10 by 10 foot hospital room, where his beloved wife of 55 years sleeps on a narrow cot in a sad, little corner.

Now bear in mind, my dad is good-natured, funny, always full of silliness, and avoids seriousness at all cost. From his hospital bed, Daddy made a point of cutting the crap and telling me to quit working my life away, to slow down, and that someday I would regret the things I didn't do with my kids.

As I read Boyce's words suggesting that we fail to pause because our "preparedness or teaching seem too brilliant to interrupt" I thought of what I was actually thinking when my dad told me to stop working so hard. My work is so important, so wonderful, surely my life will wait. Trouble with that mindset is that you might never get back to living.

Smile

I’d like to give my students informal, periodic opportunities to evaluate my teaching, if I can just get over my fear of their responses. It’s discouraging to realize that students like a teacher who is willing/able to show some level of emotion in class. I’m certainly not an exciting lecturer. Part of this is because I’m nervous, but part of it is also due to my personality, I think. And how am I supposed to change my personality? It’s not that I dispute the importance of a teacher’s visible engagement with the material and concern for the students…it’s that I think it’s hard for me to demonstrate my affections so openly. Perhaps giving students the chance to fill out evaluations of my class would be an obvious way to tell them, “Look, guys, I DO care.”

When I got my senior photo taken for highschool (Mom made me do it), I remember the photographer kept telling me, “smile with your eyes, not your mouth!” He wanted me to show some emotion while looking into the camera, but not the obvious (cliché) signs of emotion. So maybe I can convince my students that I AM a real human, not a robot, by just allowing myself to look happy, just a little. One can be happy and professional at the same time, of course.

In re: overattachment: I find I can’t write well unless I’m totally invested in the project. (In other words, overattached.) If I have to write a paper I don’t really care about, I can tell I’m noncommittal by the first word of my intro. And I can’t even BEGIN to write a poem unless I’m thinking, “hey, I’m onto something here…” But maybe it would be helpful for me to allow mistakes and half-prepared lectures in my teaching, in a way that I couldn’t accept in my writing. I think “half-prepared” isn’t the same as “under-prepared.”

Oh no, it's those music lessons all over again

Back in the day, when I was but a wee lass and my father had dreams that one of his daughters would go into music because that translated to being good at math (he, an accountant, had dreams that one of his daughters would, at least, be able to balance a checkbook. alas) he forced me to take piano lessons from a con man who insisted that my fingers were the perfect shape, size, and had just the right amount of curve to be a prodigy. In retrospect, the man was something of a con. I have embarrassingly short fingers and could barely play a scale. I'm also tone deaf. I can demonstrate with my sad attempt at song.

So, reading Elbow's article was something of a horrified memory of music lessons being attempted to be translated into something else. Maybe I have this mental block, but anything with music makes me shut down immediately. Too many hours sitting frustrated at a piano pounding away at the keys and shivering at the dissonance. Except that there wasn't any satisfaction at the end, as Elbow says. Because I had to do it again tomorrow! Gods! And I have no rhythm! I can dance or write a poem to demonstrate my lack of ability there.

so I'm actually more interested in the block that I feel when I approach this subject, and wonder if that's how my students feel when they approach writing (probably) and heck, even reading (still, probably). Can I translate music and movies into words that make sense to them and will influence their own writing? I don't know. sometimes things make innate sense to the reader and they are the hardest to explain to someone else. Gah, now I'm thinking too much.

Attachment to students

I hate to say it, but when I was reading this I was thinking of that teacher (I think from Joplin, Mo?) who was very attached to her students. If you get my drift. wink wink nudge nudge horrified face. Apparently her veganism led her to it. I'm sad Boice didn't mention the dietary/twinkie effect on our teaching. I'm sure Semenza (sp?) would have.

It's interesting the way Boice approaches this subject, that we treat our students like we approach our writing. I never thought about it that way. Mostly I thought I was approaching teaching as sort of mentor position, a hybrid mother/friend who was there to guide them, but now I wonder if I'm going at them like they are a pile of washing that needs to be done, which I guess is my approach to writing as of late. Am I being humorless to them? I didn't think so, but maybe. I admit I feel somewhat annoyed that some of them keep asking about what their grades are and are not satisfied with my answer of adding up the points on their own because I don't think simple math is beyond them but, apparently, it is.

I haven't given evals midway through this semester, though at my previous institution we did. They were helpful, to a point. I don't know if it was the students there but they seemed incredibly hesitant to tell me what they wanted improved. They all said it was good and fine, and I was like well, what is your basis for comparison? High school? How do you want to be taught, kids? And they didn't know.

I have been asking in class if students like the things we do and if they find it helpful, and some nod, some say yes, and others stare at me like I'm this strange creature they still can't quite figure out and I may bite them at any moment. It's weird. I think I will incorporate evals into my schedule next semester. Why not? Especially if I make my own I can probably ask more in depth questions.

Overattaching

The mystery of why certain lessons go over well in class and flop in another is just that…a mystery. Or, it is? At the beginning of the semester, we watched a video addressing the ways in which people—and by default students—think differently. The way we come to a topic and understand it varies across a wider spectrum than imaginable. It is more than the difference between a visual versus oral versus analytical thinker. It involves experience, connotations and more. Just as we try to incorporate or accommodate different ways of thinking into our class, it would make sense that these differences would also underlie the disparate reactions to assignments.

And, from this perspective, Boice seems to be right on target, particularly in terms of being aware of this fact and providing us with tools for handling the disparities. While I appreciate value such suggestions as mid-semester evaluations and having fellow instructors sit in on classes, what I find even more useful is just the mindset in which Boice advocates. Overattaching is undoubtedly something I know I have been troubled by (it is an awful disease, really!?!). In part, it seems like, as new teachers, we overcompensate or just set unreasonable expectations for ourselves. We take on the burden of seeing a lesson flop and look to ourselves for the fault, as we were both the creators and administrators of the lesson. And, yet, much of this is beyond our control. Yet Boice rightful tell us that there is no reason to let these setbacks affect us personally or give up entirely. Rather we should look make compromises and adjustments, but, more than anything, we should not to overattach.

Random musings on excessively high emotions

I agree with Boice that it's good for teachers to prepare for courses collaboratively and invite others to sit in on their classes. Last spring, I had the privilege of having Cheryl Hall come see my classroom, and when we talked afterward, she said that she had never seen someone talk and teach with so much energy. At first, I thought this was a good thing. And, I don't think Cheryl ever said it was not. But then I got to thinking: why do I teach this way? Did I always teach this way? How did it come to be like this? And, I realized....corporate America had infiltrated my pedagogy.

In another life, I worked for The Princeton Review as a GRE-prep instructor. Part of working for a corporate entity meant that they had the right to "brand" my teaching style. Unfortunately for me, that teaching style is best described as pretend you're an annoying bunny on acid who's doing standup. Yes, everything had to be high-pitched, fast-paced, completely directive (always calling on students and never offering choice to answer), and totally focused on lecture and me as the teacher giving the right answer. I did this for a while, mostly because I had to, but I quit this year when I realized that I just couldn't do that bunny routine any more. Unfortunately, I think that this crazy teaching personality bled over into my other teaching.

Part of me wonders whether this is what went wrong last spring in my English 1000 class (which I've mentioned, I think, didn't go as well as I'd hoped). Boice says that "too much emotion, even positive emotion, interferes with effective teaching and learning....New teachers who rely too much on enthusiasm to maintain student involvement risk becoming superficial entertainers" (70). I wonder if that's what happened. Maybe my emotional excitement wore them out. Maybe they had to just give up because they couldn't keep up. I'd say that half of them did keep up, but I was insensitive to the other half.

So, if I've learned anything about teaching this semester, it's to slow down. Don't do too much. Pick one topic or issue, plan a few activities around that, and then end class. I've pared away much of my content/reading/writing in order to have a slower paced class. And, I think it's going well.

I have an idea! (and it just might work)

I've been trying to find ways that I can intersect feminist theory, food, and composition studies in the undergraduate classroom, either in English 1000, a 2000 level Writing Intensive WGST course, or a 2000 or 3000 level Intermediate Comp or Rhet/Comp studies course. I think I came up with something! Before I write up an assignment sheet for Thursday's class, I'm wondering if y'all can help me expand on my idea. Or, feel free to shut me down if this is too crazy. I'll start with the situation that I'm trying to improve on:

I am sometimes disappointed when I get to the end of the semester, and I realize that half of my students never looked at their issue through the lens of an alternative point of view. Many of them write their claim and reasons and load their "argument" with evidence, but not once do they say "someone else believes x, y, or z, and I understand why and appreciate this idea, even though I don't agree." I don't know what to do to fix this, other than encourage them to explore these alternative views more. So far, that hasn't worked well, so I'm interested in going a little "radical" and revising my paper sequence so it allows them to respond to things from their own POV, then requires them to look at issues through someone else's POV, and only after those assignments would they argue. Here's how I think this would go down:

• The first unit in the sequence would involve reading about the food system, watching documentaries on the food system, listening guest lecturers into the classroom, and observing and reflecting on students' own expereinces. I already have a few speakers, readings, and documentaries lined up. Students would write up exploratory responses to each form of media encountered, and get feedback from myself and their peers as we go along. At the end of the unit, they would revise a selection of responses and then make a "collage" of their responses. It'd be like a "book" with chapters in a way. They'd write an introduction showing what they knew about the food system before, and they'd have "chapters" of their 5ish 2-page responses, and then they'd have a "conclusion" stating what they know now and what they're curious about now. This would be kind of like an exploration, but I would provide the sources they explore. Concept/content wise, the goal of this unit would be to help students understand the context of the food system and examine the systems of oppression that impact people within the system.
• This would require that I teach students how to write reading/viewing responses, how to explore, and how to challenge their previous assumptions through writing. I would also need to teach synthesis and revision.

After that first assignment, we'd spend some time outlining and brainstorming different groups of people exploited by the food system. We might even talk about intersectionality (to get some feminist theory in there) and layers of oppression. After this, students would spend a unit looking through the eyes of a stakeholder or group of people oppressed by the food system:

• For this second unit (and this is the one that I thought of first and then decided to fit into a sequence) students would choose an exploited group to be "theirs" for the rest of the semester. The students would be required to pick a group that they are not a part of, but they could pick a group that they have an investment in for some reason. The students would research that group to find out more about that type group's experiences with the food system. The student could actually find a specific person in this group, or many people in this group, and do interviews, or the student could find research on the internet/databases/biographies/etc. to accumulate research.
• Then, instead of arguing that this stakeholder is exploited because x, y, z (which I think many would try to do), the student would write a narrative of a day or week in the life of someone in this exploited group, telling the story of this exploitation from the POV of this person. The end product would be a narrative told in first person, but the first person narrative would not be the student's narrative, it would be the narrative of the person in the exploited group. So, students would literally be required to write a story from someone else's perspective.
• To be accountable for their research, students would accompany the narrative with an annotated bibliography of all sources consulted and a research log/journal. The narrative, bibliography, and journal would then be submitted for a grade.
• This would require that I teach narrative/open-form prose, research methods, note-taking/journaling/research-log methods, and annotated bibliography form.

After these two open-form style projects, students would work within 2 more units, both of which are argumentative in nature somewhat derived from what we're doing in English 1000 this semester.

• The third unit would be a problem/solution paper that jumps off of the previous 2 units. Students would write a problem/solution paper about the issue of "their" group of people being exploited by the food system. A small portion of the paper would focus on arguing for what the problems are with this exploitation, and a majority of the paper would focus on solutions to end/reduce/diminish this oppression. This would require students to do more research in the field, through observation, and on the internet/in the databases/in the library. And, this would require students to write outside of the 5 paragraph argument mold: there'd be a problem section and a solution section, with subject headings and a lengthy intro and conclusion.
• The fourth unit, then, would be short, and it would ask students to take their argument from unit 3, looking at the problems and solutions, and make that into a visual argument. The specific visual/multi-media form would ask them to make an 11x17 poster that calls their peers in the University to action around this problem. Part of the requirement for the submission of this assignment would be that students receive permission from the University to make 10 color copies of the poster and place them around campus in specific places, ensuring that they place at least one copy in the building that our class is in or in a nearby building. For the "final," the whole class would get together and walk around the building and neighboring buildings, looking at the posters their classmates presented. Each student would be responsible to show us his/her poster and verbally explain a rationale for why the writer made the choices he/she did to persuade students at Mizzou to make a change. I'd also ask the students to write up a 2 page rationale that would be turned in before the "tour" of their posters. And, since I love food so much, the whole thing would end with muffins and juice and snacks and debriefing.

The idea behind these arguments is that they ask students to actually propose changes. The poster assignment asks them to present an argument to a new audience with the goal of enacting change--that's an entirely different rhetorical situation. I feel like students could learn a lot about writing but they could also learn a lot about the food system (which impacts all of them) and how that food system exploits others--hopefully this would get them out of just thinking about their POVs and consider those of others. And, I know I'm idealistic, maybe one of them will go and actually do something to enact change. I can only hope, right?

So, I know that was a lot, but what do you think? Is it too crazy? Or, is it just crazy enough that it might work?

Damn Passing Airplane!

I’m picturing Boice in his office working peacefully (moderately, beginning before ready) when an airplane flies overhead. He closes his eyes, rubs his temples lightly, breathes deeply and calmly resumes actively waiting.

I’m a big fan of early evaluations. I do an anonymous evaluation the third week of classes and two more before the semester’s end, a practice that helps me know what works and what doesn’t for each section so I can adapt my lesson plans. I’ve found that there’s no rhyme or reason to what tactics work between sections. A lesson that’s wildly successful in one class can be a miserable flop in a section two hours later. I think it’s important to recognize when something simply isn’t working in class and improvise a change. I know it’s not my job to spoon feed my students their comp, but I don’t assume student boredom or confusion is their fault. Sometimes they’re being lazy or not paying attention, but more often than not if they’re missing the point it’s a failure in my delivery, and I try to adjust.

I think my classes could benefit from Boice excerpts on overreaction, high emotion and self-criticism. I had a student come to me in tears a few weeks ago because he’d overslept and missed class. I couldn’t convince him that this one absence would have little effect on his semester and none on the rest of his life. This (uncomfortable) interaction renewed my belief that most students want to do well and that freshmen year is hard. If I can make their lives easier by not getting overly attached to what I think should work in class, instead adjusting to what does, I can only hope they'll all calm down just a little bit, ignore the passing airplanes, and make it out of this semester (relatively) unscathed.

Students DO Know How to Argue

The biggest issue I have with Kastely is that on some level he seems to assume that students don't know what argument is when they enter the academy. His article begins with a rather negative understanding of student familiarity with argument, assuming that most students view "argument" as a series of attacks between arguers. However, this hasn't been my experience, especially here at Mizzou. Whenever we have heated discussions in my class, my students seem to recognize that disagreement doesn't have to equate to a fight. Rather, disagreement is something that can be hashed out in a meaningful way, and the object isn't necessarily to change another person's mind. When my students argue, they seem well-aware of the academic connotations of the word and concept. For the most part, they recognize argument as a productive sharing of knowledge, not a system for verbal beat-down. So, my students aren't heathens after all.

I particularly thought it was interesting that Kroll spends so much time in his classes talking about how to ease the reader toward the writer’s view. My students have been talking about their paper questions/topics in terms of “my side and the other side,” and I’ve been trying to knock that type of thinking out of their heads for weeks now. I’ve been telling them that a more balanced approach to asserting their beliefs can show their audience that they respect them, so their readers will show them respect in return. (I actually said “fair and balanced” once. It just slipped out. I felt dirty.) I’m glad to see that I was right, at least according to Kroll, and I’m even happier to have suggestions for helping students understand what I’ve been telling them.

I also loved the fact that Kroll says “if you dig deep enough, both sides are concerned about some of the same things.” I think this is a great concept, and I will push this idea in my class until every student internalizes it. This may not work for every issue, but I think (I hope) that if there is a way to find common ground, my students will be able to find it. Of course, to do this, I would have to have my students identify their side and an opposing side of an issue, and that’s what I’ve been trying to avoid. Still, I think it could be a useful exercise.

Arguing Obliquely

Thinking about Kroll's essay, I am reminded of something my MA academic advisor told me: "other critics need not be wrong for you to be right." I have always taken that approach in my own writing, where rather than wasting time in trying to prove others wrong, I rather spend my efforts in showing a different way to consider things. Kroll seems to arrange everything in dualistic opposition though, and try to find some resolution that is in the center. When writing criticism, I certainly don't want to compromise with others--in a way what others think doesn't really matter. But again, Kroll places it into a two sided issues.

I think that there are grievous errors in this very method of thinking, and that this error lies behind all the endless bluster and argument. There is always this notion that there are only two sides to an issue, and that perhaps they can merely compromise, but that's about it.

Well, I suppose things are more stratified in political type issues--which is perhaps why I find political issues so boring. But even there, I think the much more interesting thing is to find a third way--born not of compromise but of oblique thinking.

This is what I teach my students.

talking for victory

While reading Kroll’s article, I was reminded of various Classics courses I’ve taken that stressed the importance of conflict in ancient Greece- that is, focused and constructive conflict, which encouraged citizens toward ever-greater achievement in battle, politics, athletics, and the arts. Competition was thought to bring out the best in people, in the way that horses usually run faster and harder in a herd than they do alone.

And, in a disorienting leap to eighteenth-century Britain, Boswell says that Samuel Johnson often “talked for victory,” without necessarily arguing for the side he himself believed in. Johnson just loved to argue, and it was part of his culture. I guess what I’m saying is that I can see Kroll’s point that our argumentative culture goes back a long way. And just when I found myself thinking, “hey, the argumentative approach isn’t ALL bad,” there Kroll was, acknowledging its good points. (Conciliatorily.)

I think the usual model given for thesis-type papers is way too simple, especially in the way Kroll characterizes them. Do most people really believe that thesis-type papers are about fighting? Where are such papers actually feasible options, besides in the highschool classroom? It seems to me that, when students get to college, they should understand right off the bat that a paper shouldn’t just ignore the other side(s) of the issue. A thesis-driven paper can and should have elements of Kroll’s “Conciliatory,” “Deliberative,” and “Integrative” models of argument. However, I’ve definitely received student papers that ignore or cursorily dismiss opposing viewpoints.

Wait! I miss Boyce....

What? No Boyce this week? I was looking forward to curling up with my favorite dog--
of course, I have a favorite, but only because we've got only one dog, a gorgeous, geriatric pit bull named Kimber -- and relaxing with some more of Boyce's advice.

Reading two argument pieces serves to bolster my confidence that I am not old school and validates my teaching philosophy as it pertains to the argumentation. I've previously written about enjoying the Kastely article already and finding common ground with him as he moves from trying to convince people to seeking truth. As for the Kroll, I've always asked that students respectfully nod to the other side of the argument. I liken it to karate fighters who bow to their opponents. I ask students to do this early in the essay for two reasons. First, it demonstrates that they understand the depths of the discussion into which they are entering. And second, it shows respect for others' views and minimizes bulldozing over others.

I actually received my one and only someone negative student evaluation because of this practice. This kid was just a stick in the mud, all the way around, so I didn't take his comment to heart. But, he was ticked because I told the class that I didn't want to read any pro-evolution OR pro-creationism papers. Been there. Done that. Old story! I asked for new and interested arguments. When he became insistent that he REALLY wanted to argue for evolution (as though evolution longs for his undying devotion), I reminded him that he would have to "nod respectfully to the other side." Oh, boy was he mad. Anyway, he changed his mind and wrote about something equally thrilling- like the legalization of pot. Wow! Never read that one before. ZZZzzz....

By the way, no matter how rehabilitated the NFL insists Micheal Vick is, I'll always hate him for Kimber's sake.

I thought the Kroll article was helpful. It’s difficult for students to see past the idea of argument as a sporting event of adversarial conflict with clear winners/ losers. I think students are terrified of not “getting it right” and so framing argument in terms of right/ wrong helps relieve that anxiety. Wrestling with the complexity of a conversation feels more abstract.

I’d like to piggyback Alison’s point: How to get students to write thesis statements that are not artificial, formulaic and static? My feeble attempt is to tell students to consciously avoid writing thesis statements like they did in high school. I once banned them outright. Maybe that’s too extreme. Recently, I try and frame the idea of a “thesis” using alternative language like encouraging a “line of reasoning” or “controlling concept.” Not sure how that’s working out for me. Some get it, others don’t. Some embrace it, others are resistant because the traditional “thesis” has worked for them in the past. But even these approaches can be presented in a forced manner. The best conclusion I’ve come to is to bring in multiple pieces of published writing and as a class examine various ways authors present an argument.

But I think one of the defining features of Kroll’s article is to help students see argument always in relation to audience. So getting students to argue effectively means having them see beyond the classroom assignment and make audience less of a nebulous concept.