Teacher Comments and Student Reaction

McGlaun’s piece on teacher comments and student reaction is very thought provoking.  The way that she presented her thoughts, which was through the use of a timeline, was different than most academic works.  The reader is able to follow McGlaun’s experiences with writing over a ten-year span.  This kept me interested in wanting to know more about what McGlaun learned throughout this time.

            McGlaun’s journey begins in 1991, when she was the “tutee.”  She recalls that a professor was worried about her first draft; she even noticed his distress on his facial expressions during their meeting.  This led her to go to the writing center at her school.  On the top floor of an academic building, she found the writing center welcoming as soon as she entered (5).  She found it even more welcoming when she began to work with the tutors.  They gave her the permission and the space to write as she wanted, and then they would work together on her ideas (5).  These ideas resonate greatly with me.  When talking to a peer or a consultant, I feel no pressure when talking about my paper.  Although I should feel comfortable when talking to my professors as well, sometimes I feel like there is pressure to say the “correct” statement.

            In 1994 and 1995, she was both a teacher and a student.  As a teacher, McGlaun admits that it is very challenging to not sound like you are making pronouncements.  She noted that sharing her suggestions to her students without them seeming like commands was not as easy as she thought it would be (6).  McGlaun realized that this had to be a process of engagement, not one of listening to the teacher and doing just as he or she says.  As a student, McGlaun made even more discoveries.  After working as a teacher, she now understood that each professor has different preferences, which led to different commentary and guidance.  Here, McGlaun states the importance of continuous dialogue (6).  Talking about your paper with others is something I believe in whole-heartedly.  I have even noticed that I have made strange arguments in certain papers when I say them aloud to friends.

            In 2001, McGlaun earned her Ph.D. and became a director of a writing center.  When in conference, McGlaun would ask her students to read their professor’s comments aloud in the tone they presumed the teacher was talking in (7).  All of the tones were negative; this was a theme seen by many of the consultants.  McGlaun started to record her voice for her students so that they could understand what tone she was speaking in (7).  This is an excellent idea.  It, however, seems taxing, and is probably not something that many professors would do.  McGlaun ends with saying that the professor’s voice should sound like one of an ally (7), but does not, in my opinion, give enough information on how to make this possible.  How can we get students and teachers on the same page when discussing writing?  Dialogue and conferences are important, but there has to be more, and I do not think McGlaun gave enough advice on how to make this happen.

The Assignment Sheet Mystery

In Anna Kendall’s column on “The Assignment Sheet Mystery,” she includes an interesting point by Muriel Harris: “The tutor’s role is one of translator or interpreter, in which he or she turns the teacher’s language into the student’s language” (3). In class, we have talked about translating teachers’ commentary or feedback on papers to students, but we have not discussed translating the prompts to students in full detail. While I agree that de-coding the assignment sheet should be an essential part to the writing process, I think it is important for writing consultants to refrain from taking too much control, both in the meeting and in regards to the professors' guidelines.

The role as a translator or interpreter is beneficial to students who do not have full or easy access to their professors. In my experience, some professors have been more than willing to meet with me outside of class and discuss ideas for writing assignments, but others are not as open to discussion, or have limited office hours. The writing center makes it easy for students because consultants are both readily available and keen to offer help.

Additionally, many students may feel more comfortable seeking help from a consultant than their professors, because we have fewer expectations and strive for a judgment-free zone. Students may feel intimidated or stupid asking their professors for clarification on a prompt, or meeting with them when they do not have anything prepared. Writing consultants at the writing center can help students at any stage of their writing, even if it is just decoding a prompt.

I was also intrigued when Kendall writes that “active learning is more effective and students can learn a lot from working with each other" (3). Papers are almost always written all outside of class, because professors cannot afford the class time to discuss ideas or allow students to exchange thoughts. They usually just read the assignment and ask the class for any questions immediately after when they have not had any time to digest what is being asked of them. The writing center is all-active, so it offers a completely different environment. I like the idea of de-coding the prompts with the students, but instead of consultants blatantly explaining exactly what the “strategy words” are, I think it is would be more interactive to ask the student what he or she thinks it means. That way, students are actively participating as opposed to simply being told what to do.

Lastly, while I think it is important for consultants to translate the prompt, I think it is more important to never guess what the professor is asking, or take any liberties on the assignment. If there is any confusion, I suggest emailing the professor, or advising the student to meet with the professor outside of class.

  

In “Grammar in the Writing Center,” Glover and Stay challenge the common understanding of grammar’s role in an educational setting. They assert that while mastering certain grammatical forms is essential for “providing students and teachers with a common vocabulary for analysis” (130), the formal instruction of grammar can potentially do more harm than good for the growth and development of a student’s writing. What interested me most about Glover and Stay’s argument was the notion that grammar is not simply an index of rules and guidelines, but rather a style of thought. Grammar is important because it gives students a template (as Graff and Birkensten might say) to clearly present complex ideas and opinions.

While parallel sentence structure, subject-verb agreement, and proper punctuation are important components of a well-written argument, it is important to remember their function. First and foremost, our rules of grammar exist to allow us to present our ideas clearly and efficiently. Readers and reviewers should be more focused on the writer’s ideas than their style of presentation. However, if writers cannot demonstrate a certain degree of grammatical proficiency, their arguments will not only be more difficult to read, but also inevitably less profound. Even if a writer has a unique and intelligent perspective, he or she will likely be unable to present it without mastering more complex grammatical formulas. Thus, Glover and Stay are correct when they describe grammar as a “tool for empowerment” (132).

However, as our spoken language diverges from grammatically correct English, the author’s dismay that students see grammar as “merely a rite of passage to the world of the educated” (132) seems increasingly justified. Indeed, many students see grammar as a limitation. Because they don’t understand more complex grammatical guidelines, they limit themselves from expressing their more complex thoughts in different contexts. When students ask their peers to look over their work, they more interested in correcting misplaced commas than making changes to their argument. As Glover and Stay suggest, they worry more about the “correctness” of their language than what their language actually says (132).

Glover and Stay argue that writing centers are uniquely capable of teaching “grammar of discovery” (132). In other words, writing centers empower to “allow learning to occur contextually within a framework of personal, moral, and political growth” (132).Certainly, writing centers are particularly effective at helping students structure their ideas within a grammatically correct, academic context. However, in order for us to teach this “grammar of discovery” (132), we must give ideas priority. We might fix every grammatical error in a student’s work and still leave them with a weak paper. Grammar is only a priority insofar as it enables the sort of critical thinking necessary for a successful argument. If we focus on the students’ ideas and identify better ways they might use their voice to make an argument, then the major grammatical errors will fix themselves. We can save the blue ink for smaller missteps.

Trusting the Primary Source: Yourself

            As I was grappling with Keith Hjortshoj’s chapter 5 on “Rules and Errors,” I found this section precisely relatable to being a young scholar as many of us confront tasks that seem to be categorized as “right” or “wrong.” Immediately, I found Hjortshoj’s portrayal of the “right,” “wrong,” “always,” and “never,” clever, as she seemed to confine them into rigid categories that do not bend. As an academic, it is always a tedious process when answering a prompt, proof reading, or responding to questions, because it is easy to allow our minds to slip into that narrow minded perspective of limitations and endless restraints.  

            I respect Hjorshoj’s recognition that college professors add to this confusion by “…maintaining that their students should have learned all of the basics of writing in high school” (80). Personally, I have come across this a variety of times as professors and or doctors feel the need to remind their students of their inferiority due to a grammatical error. Often instructors will make a specific section of the rubric that automatically will deduct points if the student engages in “obvious” grammar mishaps. Although, I think there needs to be a line drawn between penalizing a student for missing a period and making a careless mistake, I do agree with Hjorshoj’s point that comments such as “awkward,” “unclear,” and “weak” are too ambiguous to be productive. It is comments such as these that heighten a writer’s confusion and “undermine” their efforts of writing correctly and successfully.            

            In regards to a solution for this, I found Hjorshoj’s definition on fluency in a language helpful as she explains it as “…thinking in a language, without having to translate words or deliberately assemble sentences” (84). With this natural intuition, if the writer follows this rather than honing in on the machinations of grammar, one can become dependent on their basic knowledge and depart from this place.

            I think a lot of us do not trust our own intuition or the knowledge we have ingrained in our brain since young ages of schooling. Not only do we become ignorant to what Hjorshoj classifies as “primary knowledge,” but we also become tainted and or resistant to our ears. Proofreading through our ears is crucial as we often can recognize when something sounds “off” or “wrong.”

            Instead of strictly abiding by what the author classifies as “false rules,” such as avoiding first person, leading a sentence with “because” or “although,” resisting passive voice, I think it is a necessity for the writer to develop a trust with/in him/herself before engaging in all the specifics of grammatical issues, therefore initiating a reciprocative/autonomous relationship with oneself.

The Dangers of Traditional Grammar Instruction?

During the process of reading Glover and Stay's article "Grammar in the Writing Center," I found myself disagreeing with many things they asserted about the effects of elementary grammatical pedagogy and its harmful and unproductive effects on young writers. I wish that they had explained more clearly the opposing view to their argument so that I was not so confused about their very serious charges against teaching grammar in the traditional style, especially after Glover and Stay assert that grammar 3 instruction "threatens to undermine the writing process by allowing power to remain in the hands of the instructor" (131). This is a serious claim, since the purpose of education is to empower the students by allowing the teacher to share his knowledge with his students and relate to them the lessons he has learned. Glover and Stay claim that, "instead of transferring power from the teacher to the student, grammar instruction often does the opposite" (131). How is this gauged? What exactly is wrong with the way teachers have taught grammar for the past hundred years?

Grover and Stay also claim that in the process of grammar 3 instruction, "the student becomes a pawn in the struggle between correctness and personal and intellectual growth" (132). Why does there have to be a struggle? How exactly do students feel overwhelmed or stifled by grammatical rules and customs? I believe rote memorization of grammar and learning it in a classroom setting at an early age would and has only worked to remedy this "problem." The more familiar the student is with the rules of formal grammar, the easier it will be for him to form coherent and sophisticated language in his academic work. Memorization ensures that a student has all the tools he needs to clearly and effectively communicate without being tripped up by doubts as to whether or not he has used the correct pronoun or punctuation. This is indeed then being used as the "tool for empowerment" (132) which Glover and Stay hope for the future of grammar instruction.

Throughout Glover and Stay's article, the main point the authors seem to be asserting is that grammar ought to be taught mainly for the purpose of clarification. They claim that "the focus of the tutorial [should] shift from 'correctness' to 'implication' (132)" in order to more directly and effectively communicate subtle implications of relationships and worldviews seen in a student's argument. I agree that this is an important tool to bring to the consciousness of a writer, but I also wonder what Glover and Stay choose to do with their opening examples of poor grammar in everyday life. Would they see a need to correct the parent saying, "Let it on the table" (129)? These are obvious linguistic errors which most teachers would correct if they encountered them in student writing, but Glover and Stay never tell us whether or not they believe that this is helpful grammatical instruction. Is it wrong to correct these errors even if we understand the meaning clearly? Wouldn't elementary grammatical instruction have helped the students to avoid these types of errors? I would have liked Glover and Stay to have referred back to their opening anecdote and to have established their position on such blatant grammatical errors.

I do believe, however, that Grover and Stay's theories on the benefits of refining grammar in the specific context of when it is being used is a valuable added dimension for grammatical pedagogy. Students often learn the best by doing, and once they begin writing papers frequently, grammatical helps should be placed into the context of meaning in the paper and how grammar specifics pertain to thought processes. These theories, though, make more sense to me as a second step to the teaching of grammar - not a replacement. Elementary school ought to teach students the formal rules of grammar so they know how to then properly explore their language. As students grow older and begin forming essays of their own, grammar should be tweaked as necessary to help students understand its particular effects on the meaning of a thought. I wish that Glover and Stay had explained to me more clearly and definitively why the traditional methods of teaching grammar should be replaced by what seems to me a dangerously informal and incomplete teaching of grammar.

First Person: Self-indulgent?

It is interesting to me that the first person has such a new presence in academic writing. After being taught so vehemently all these years not to use “I,” all of a sudden it in encouraged. I wonder whether elementary school teachers will eventually begin to teach students its proper usage, as Graff and Birkenstein attempt to do.

In chapter five, “And Yet,” Graff and Birkenstein endorse the first person, while making an important distinction in when using it is appropriate. When introducing an argument, to distinguish one’s own argument from that of others, for instance, it acceptable to write, “I will be arguing.” The time to avoid using “I,” however, is when asserting another’s point. Graff and Birkenstein use the example, “’she is correct’ instead of ‘I think that she is correct’” (73). I would agree that this is a valid point. Using “I” too often runs the risk of sounding monotonous, to use Graff and Birkenstein’s word.

Where my opinion differs from that of Graff and Birkenstein, though, is on the point of why using “I” has been looked down upon for so long. They use two words to describe the way first-person writing sounds, according to teachers: “subjective” and “self-indulgent” (72). Subjective? Sure, for what word is more subjective than “I”? Self-indulgent is where my views diverge. To me, rather than looking to make a point or a whole paper self-important the use of first person shows a lack of confidence. Instead of asserting one’s own opinions as truths (which in itself is a bit self-indulgent, isn’t it?), as in the example above of “she is correct,” the phrase “I think that she is correct” shows reluctance, almost shyness, in the writer’ own point. In feeling the need to preface a point with “I think” or something of the like is indicative of “in my humble opinion,” which asserts a significant lack of confidence.

I am partial to first person, and hope it is here to stay in academic writing. It is an effective way to begin an argument, or counter a differing point. And yet, as the saying goes, all good things in moderation. Its over usage has the potential to hinder student writing by sounding insecure. The use of “I” should be limited in academic writing to build confidence in student writing and the points they are trying to make. 

The Originality Stigma

     I am a notorious skeptic.  Upon picking up Graff and Birkenstein’s They Say I Say, I was not sure I believed that this book should be “required reading for faculty and students” or “would make for a better classroom—and a more articulate world” as one critic remarked.  I wondered: how could a two hundred-page book teach me how to be a better writer or a more effective writing assistant?  Maybe this was my naïve know—it—all young man attitude speaking, but nevertheless, I was skeptical.  However, after reading the sections on agreeing and disagreeing in academia, I now have a greater appreciation for They Say I Say.  In fact, Graff and Birkenstein’s points on creating originality and potential ways to foster originality were quite intriguing.

     As a student, one thing I am always mindful of is ensuring that I create an original argument one way or another.  From my relatively small amount of academic experience it seems to me that this may be a universal problem for students.  In fact, Graff and Birkenstein acknowledge this when they voice a common student concern “it often may seem that you need to be an expert in a field to have an argument at all” (55).  This is the sort of stigma that should be a priority for us to exterminate.  How would we ever go about doing this, students always push back and claim they can never make a better argument than a professional academic?  I have been searching for an answer to this question and could not seem to find a lead.  Although I am still looking, Graff and Birkenstein have helped me in my search.  In fact, Graff and Birkenstein’s use of templates have definitely pointed me in the right direction.  They offer the explanation that, either for agreeing or disagreeing with a claim, students can draw emphasis to a point the original author had not.  To illustrate this, the authors provided us with some very explicit templates.  Ones that resonated with me that I think should be introduced to students are: “X’s theory of ______ is extremely useful because it sheds light on the difficult problem of _________”, or “X is surely right about_____­­­­­­­___ because, as she may not be aware, recent studies have shown that________” (62).  Although this clearly does not explicitly help us find a way to beat the “originality stigma”, I think the answer may be in the templates.  To sum it all up Graff and Birkenstein offered the comforting words to aspiring academics and myself “as long as you can support a view taken by someone else without merely restating what he or she has said, there is no reason to worry about being ‘unoriginal’” (63).   If students were exposed to templates like this it may help them think of making arguments in a new way.  Maybe it is as simple as showing students these templates, but the septic inside of me wonders—maybe not?

     Writing this blog post has proven to be a very stressful but very valuable experience for me.  It has put me in the shoes of the writer instead of just the potential writing consultant.  In essence, after writing this post I now have a better feel of what it is like to be the student requesting help.  It surely is intimidating knowing that fifteen other bright students will be critiquing and responding to my work.  All my worried thoughts and questions about my writing have bubbled to the surface.  I am worried that the preceding paragraph is too long or does not make a coherent point, I have misspelled things, or used incorrect grammar.  I think this exercise has proved even more to me the importance of being approachable to the student because submitting one's academic work to another is scary!  Moreover, I realize even more that it is important that the student doesn’t feel judged.  We are supposed to be supportive not unapproachable.  I think a perfect example of how you may have judged my work was my intentional typo of “skeptic” in the previous paragraph.  I typed the word “septic” instead of “skeptic”.  In this situation you may have judged me.  Maybe you laughed and thought how careless I must have been, but either way you passed some sort of judgment.  I think it is important to limit this as much as possible when it comes to the students.  To truly make an impact on the students they need to see us as their peers not a superior.  Consultants need to be approachable!

          Mitchell Kneeshaw

Works Cited

Graff, Gerald, and Cathy Birkenstein. They Say / I Say: The Moves That Matter in     Academic Writing. New York: W.W. Norton &, 2010. Print.