Let
me tell you a secret: as I write this post, I am nagged by a voice that asks whether
I am meeting my professor’s expectations. Am I using the right voice? What
about the content? You know, the usual writing worries. Now, however, another concern
occurs to me. After reading Valerie Perry’s article, “My teacher hates me!’ The
writing center as locus for a rhetoric-based WAC program,” I wonder if I, too,
am playing the “game” of figuring out what my professor wants in order to
receive a good grade (1).
A part of me protests this image of myself
trying to wheedle out each
professor’s likes and dislikes. Yet every time I turn in a paper, my immediate
thought is, “I hope the professor likes my paper!” For students, the professor
feels like the ultimate judge of our fates—the one who gives us a grade that
goes on our transcript. According to Perry, instead of learning the given
disciplines of writing and thinking critically, that dangling grade at the end
of the course turns writing into a task of learning to satisfy individual
professors, a type of learning she suggests many professors unintentionally
perpetuate (3). As much as I would like to deny that striving to get a good
grade means playing to the professor, I recognize the game.
In spite of that recognition, I was still surprised
by the perception of the students cited in Perry’s article. While I have a keen
awareness of the audience, who, in my mind, is usually a professor, I
nevertheless think of writing assignments as a chance to explore my own thoughts and ideas, along with what I have learned in class. To the students Perry mentions, however, writing is not an
activity that is intellectually stimulating, but a dry task of simply giving
the professor what he or she wants to read.
Upon reading these impressions, a classmate’s recent confession to me came
to mind. This student said that it seems his professor just wants the students
to reiterate in their papers what he has said in class. If students carry that
type of notion into a writing assignment, it is no wonder they see writing as a
chore. Their purpose of writing
could easily mutate into that dreaded “writing-to-get-it-done” approach that we
have discussed in class and that Perry mentions in her article (3). After all,
what is intellectually stimulating about regurgitating what someone else
dictates?
That is not to say that students do not fall
into writing-to-get-it-done because of other factors—even students who love to
write can fall victim to stress or work overload. Nevertheless, the more
classmates look at me like I have willingly signed my own death warrant when I
tell them I am an English major, the more I realize how many people have not
experienced the joys of exploring and crafting ideas through writing. When I
think about the perception of writing described in Perry’s article, I cannot
help but wonder if these perceptions may alienate some students from writing
who might have otherwise found it interesting.
Which leads me to Perry’s suggestion that
writing consultants channel students’ “fondness for attempting to determine the
motivations and desires of their professors” into determining the purpose of
specific writing assignments (3). Along with using the game to help students
figure out what is being asked of them, writing consultants can play a role in
redefining what it means to write. In particular, I believe prompting students
to figure out what interests them
within an assigned topic—a strategy that has been mentioned in class—can lead
to a shift in perceptions about writing. Redirecting students’ focus with such
strategies could lead to the “original ideas and critical thinking” that Perry
suggests expand students’ writing beyond reiteration (3). In addition, using these strategies has
the potential to awaken a student’s interest and when personal interest enters
the equation, learning becomes easier.
As we wait for a day when clear-cut standards
of “stylistic and rhetorical conventions” are introduced, perhaps writing
consultants cannot help but perpetuate the game, as Perry worries (3, 4). What
writing consultants can do, however, is clarify that writing should be a chance
to investigate and learn, even while trying to figure out what individual
professors want.
What's wrong with games? Most of our interpersonal relationships involve largely unwritten rules of etiquette, appropriate language, and the like.
ReplyDeleteYou ask, "I am nagged by a voice that asks whether I am meeting my professor’s expectations. Am I using the right voice? What about the content? "
YES.
Now for my next point :)
In class last time, several of you did not like Writer Two's first sentence and I LOVED IT. To these concerned Consultants, the sentence did not seem formal enough, and several of you, had you done that in the Center, would have hurt the writer's grade.
So let me advise you to do this, when learning to play these games of guessing what a professor likes: unless there is a clear violation of a standard rule, get the writer to ask. I'd have told Writer Two "your first sentence is catchy, but is it too informal for your professor? I'd ask him."
That goes for many of the "false rules" in Hjortshoj's little list. Just keep in mind that academic prose is changing as we become a more oral and less textual culture. It cannot help but drift toward informality. Luckily, informal but grammatically correct language can have real power. Much academic prose is dry as the Tut mummy.