As much
as we would like to think that the English language has a set of strict guidelines
that apply to all writing, Hjortshoj refers to our language as a “wonderfully
complicated, living system” (81) with varying rules and exceptions for nearly
every situation. The continually
evolving nature of English, however, can put a serious strain on students as
they attempt to establish a definite set of rules for writing their
essays. Comments teachers make in the
margins are oftentimes vague, and confused students may believe that those
corrections are all-encompassing and apply to every essay they will ever
write. When various teachers offer contradicting
critiques, writers become frustrated and wonder why a common standard for all
English writing still eludes us.
In this
chapter, Hjortshoj explains the two different ways through which we learn the
proper patterns of the English language: primary knowledge and secondary
knowledge. The former is almost
instinctive – we have learned what is and is not grammatically correct by
reading and listening to basic patterns of speech. The latter, however, must be taught, as it
involves all of the complex names for grammatical concepts that many forget
shortly after leaving their middle school English classes. We typically rely upon primary knowledge when
drafting and revising our writing, mainly because, as Hjortshoj explains, we
can “hear and correct the error before we can explain it.” (84)
This
concept of audibly catching mistakes is an extremely useful one that I have seen
applied successfully in numerous situations.
In my high school’s writing center, we would frequently have the younger
students who needed help with their grammar go out into the hallway with their
paper and read it aloud. When they
re-entered the room, they would immediately take a pen and fix half of the
mistakes without the consultants having to say or do anything at all. I have also witnessed firsthand the usefulness
of this technique here at Richmond.
During my observation last week, I noticed that the consultant read
much of the paper out loud – it was remarkable how many times the writer would
interject mid-sentence to admit that something sounded awkward or needed to be
rephrased.
Although
this verbal editing technique is indispensable, it still does not address the
larger issue of the English language’s lack of an absolute standard for
writing. Yes, reading aloud will enable
you to detect subject-verb agreement errors, but how will it help guide you
when your history teacher comments that your sentences are too cumbersome, yet
your English teacher notes that your sentences are underdeveloped? While I am in no way trying to insult
educators who merely seek to improve their students’ writing, the tendency of individual
professors to act as if their rules are absolute and universal is a great
disservice to developing writers. Many
students want to approach writing as a rigid step-by-step process that can be
applied to any essay and result in a desirable grade, but the absence of one
generally accepted writing guide combined with teachers’ my-way-is-the-only-way
attitude makes a “formula for success” unattainable. Although I embrace the notion that language
should be flexible and subject to change, I believe that these ambiguous yet
authoritative corrections are what cause many students to become frustrated and
declare writing to be one ridiculous game that is impossible to play due to the
absence of a rule book. Just as
Hjortshoj discussed in an earlier chapter, students oftentimes find themselves “writing
for a specific professor” because no one in the academic world can seem to
agree once and for all as to what constitutes proper English. While I can appreciate that each teacher has
his or her own stylistic preferences, they need to help students understand
when a correction is a mere personal preference and when an error violates a
conventional grammatical rule. If
educators are going to force students to adhere to one strict set of rules for
that class, then they should write something more specific than simply
“awkward” or “unclear” in the margins.
Madeline Smedley
A strength of English is precisely its lack of an "absolute standard for writing." As for the manual we need? I'd argue that Hjortshoj has written the best little guide since Strunk and White, and, in fact, a better one. The earlier book is witty, informative, and utterly biased to the tastes of Strunk and White. It cannot, like the language its authors cherish, flex with the ages.
ReplyDeleteBrittle things break easily. And the French Academy, for all its efforts and fines for foreign words, cannot stop le weekend from entering modern French.
My hope is we can teach writers to be both flexible and formal. What constitutes formality and correctness change over time.
Note how one sentence there in my comment begins with "and." Here we have a rule in flux, and, indeed, changing even for published work in top-notch journals.
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