something that would like to be a conclusion...

...but probably isn't...

In one of my possible writing assignments for next year, I would like my students to write about how one of their classes has helped them to understand another. I would like them to find an “interdisciplinary link,” or a place where their classes overlap in an interesting or exciting way. Part of the reason I would like them to write about this is that it happens to me every semester. It seems that no matter what classes I have, my combination of classes always influence one another. I think I’ve already mentioned that for my 18th century Br. Lit. paper, I’m looking at how Jane Austen is presented in the high school English classroom. For part of this, I am looking at writing prompts that texts give on Austen. What usually strikes me is that they ask students to write about a topic but not a thesis. So often, they ask students to pick out examples of an element in a way that does little more than demonstrate that the element exists in the text, which the question already presumed anyhow. My reading for that class has helped me realize how important a thesis can be for making a paper relevant and interesting. I remember talking in high school about thesis statements, but I don’t remember being challenged to make them interesting or original or even necessarily arguable, so long as we had something like them. Now, however, I keep finding myself telling the students in the writing lab to deal with the tensions in their paper. They shouldn’t try to skirt it, but rather deal with it and take some sort of stance on it. One student I had this morning had an interesting contradiction—well, it wasn’t so much a contradiction as a place of complexity that I encouraged him to develop. I guess I’ve managed to come full circle; I think the ABGW started by talking about “wallowing in complexity” and this semester has certainly helped prove to me the importance of that.
In some ways, I feel that now that the semester is almost over, I should be able to make some grand statement about the “function of the composition course,” but I can’t. Actually, I don’t know that I could after teaching for 30 years, or I’m sure someone would have come up with an answer by now. But I guess for me part of teaching composition is encouraging students to wrestle with complex ideas in their papers but write about them clearly. This very idea of expressing the complex clearly is never easy. Some students have the ideas but don’t quite articulate them, and I think other students are afraid to have the ideas because it would complicate their writing. Hopefully, I will be able to challenge students to complicate their thinking but at the same time give them the tools they need to feel like they have some control over their writing.
But, this leads directly to one of my questions: What business do I have teaching students how to think complexly? Do I think that my critical thinking skills are so great that I can now teach them to others? This is the part where I should probably call my mom so that she can remind me that as a teacher I don’t have to know everything—I just have to remember that I’ve learned a lot from my freshman year of undergrad (which I know I have even if I can’t remember that I have) and that I have to help students make some of those small steps in learning (they won’t learn it all in one semester of comp).
The other question still runs something along the lines of “What am I going to do with them every day?” The reality of this one is that I don’t think I can answer it till I’ve done it. I’ll go back to my mom, who has basically told me that the first year will be hell. I think she said something to the effect that I will feel like they are pulling my teeth out and I have no teeth left to give. (At times my mother can be wonderfully motivating and inspiring, but she can also be simply terrifying.) So, I will plan and then realize that sometimes it will go better and sometimes worse than planned.
Every educator I’ve every talked to has basically told me that the education classes never substitute for the experience. I’ve always been terrified about making that jump to experience, and now that it is almost here, I’m still terrified. But, I also know that I’m excited, and I’m going to try to use all the enthusiasm I can because it is enthusiasm that has made some of the best teachers I’ve ever known, and I want to dedicate my teaching to emulating them.

dealing with diversity? (4-13)

When I glanced at the class blog the other day (and I do mean glanced, so I apologize if I misrepresent it here), I got the feeling that several of the bloggers felt like they had never really thought about diversity and how it might inform their teaching practice before, although they certainly know it is a key area of discussion. I actually can say that I have thought about this issue before, primarily because I had Sally Cook’s class Language and Learning class at Truman, where one of our main texts was Shirley Brice Heath’s Ways with Words, which Moss and Walters mention in their essay. That class, and Dr. Cook in general, had a huge impact on my understanding of language (probably because I took three classes with her—she was just a fabulous teacher in so many ways). But, throughout the linguistic courses that I took with her, a continual theme was emphasizing the constructed nature of language and communication. In some ways, communication is so natural and we do it so often, that we do not realize everything that goes into it. Thus, we may not fully understand those times when communication breaks down. I actually think about successful communication almost every day in the Writing Lab. When I begin working with a student, I find myself both consciously and unconsciously adjusting to the verbal and non-verbal communication cues of the student. Thus, I try to figure out if they will answer questions, take notes on their own, interrupt me, look me in the eye, smile, etc. I want to know how they will respond to me so that I can respond to them. Now, this doesn’t always work. Sometimes I just can’t figure out how to connect with a student. And sometimes I’m frustrated because I suspect that a session might have been more successful had we been able to communicate with each other. I am also completely aware that I probably have more success communicating with students who have a similar background to me. They are probably white and female, and they are probably from the middle-class and a medium sized high school with a fairly traditional family. This is not to say that everyone like that is easy to communicate with, or that I can’t communicate with someone from a different background. However, I know that even with ESL students I sometimes feel there is something more challenging our communication than just the differences in language. The actual language we speak is only part of how we communicate. Even as a student, I am aware of particular teachers who (I’m assuming) share the same background as me, and therefore I feel more successful communicating with them. It is not that I try to avoid other students or teachers, but like the African American students who want African American faculty in the Faegin article, I am conscious of the way in which background affects successful communication. However, beyond awareness, I’m not quite sure how else I am supposed to change my teaching. About the only concrete suggestions seemed to be trying to make sure the readings are diverse, and be aware of why students may make the “mistakes” they do. But beyond this awareness, I still got the feeling that part of teaching was helping diverse students be more able to join the mainstream, which does not quite satisfy my questions about approaching diversity in the classroom.

Interestingly, and perhaps significantly, the one issue of diversity that I didn’t find in any of the readings was religion. They talked about almost every other issue (age, sex, race, class, sexual preference, disability, etc.), but I think that religious diversity also needs to be recognized because it does have an enormous influence (and certainly plays into some of the areas mentioned above). Religion is the one area, personally, where I feel silenced in academia. It is usually a matter of I don’t ask others and they don’t ask me, primarily because I am afraid others will judge me based on unfair stereotypes (and this judging on unfair stereotypes is what is at stake in every area of diversity). I can think of at least three different times this semester where I’ve had one-on-one discussions with students, both grad and undergrad, on the topic of religion, and we all agreed that we are afraid to bring it up for fear of offending someone or being labeled as uncritical because we ascribe to certain religious beliefs, or being presumed to be prejudiced or unaccepting of everyone else. Perhaps the best way to be aware of the diversity issue is to try to be diverse ourselves. That was easier in undergrad because in the dorms I knew people who were Muslim and atheist, black and white, gay and straight. I’ve realized that we, as grad students, are really homogenous. And like the articles, I’m not sure that this train of thought is solving anything, except raising my own awareness…

Simplify, simplify (4-6)

Occasionally I read the personal blogs from other students in this class, but not very regularly. For some reason, I decided to sit down for a while this week and catch up on what my fellow MAs hve been saying. I have to say that as much as we have talked about blogs in class and the benefits they can have, I’m just not sure that I “like” reading other’s blogs, and it is not because of the actual act of reading. Rather, I guess I feel like I become involved in the life of the blogger, and I tend to identify too much with their problems/difficulties/frustrations. In some ways, I guess it is comforting to read others’ blogs because I know they are going through some of the same difficulties I am: worries about handling the work load, fears about teaching and the future in general, complications in relationships with others, etc. In fact, sometimes it makes me extremely grateful that my life is as wonderful as it is. But then, I want to make others’ lives wonderful, and I just can’t solve everyone’s problems. There is also the fact that I tend to compare what another student is doing to what I am doing, and I almost always end up feeling inadequate. I hear about the papers they are writing, the jobs they are juggling, the skills they are developing, and I feel like I have so little to offer my professors, my students, my friends, and my family. But, as I am thinking about all of these thoughts, I am also remembering what I learn in my weekly yoga class that I went to today. (They offer yoga through the student health center, and I would highly recommend it for anyone who is interested.) Every week, the instructor reminds us that yoga is not about comparing ourselves to anyone else in the class. She stresses our individuality, and she repeatedly says that as long as we are feeling sensation, we are doing our practice perfectly. Well, if I try to keep that in mind, I shouldn’t feel so bad. Am I challenged in grad school? Definitely. Am I learning? Certainly—I’m probably not learning as much in class as I could, and I’m learning more outside of class than I expected, but that’s probably not a bad thing. Am I happy? Actually, yeah, I have every reason to be grateful and happy if I just stick to my own standards and quit trying to fit everyone else’s. And maybe the yoga idea applies to the reading that I’ve been doing about responding to students’ papers, particularly “less is more.” I think the whole I idea behind both yoga and responding is to quit worrying about trying to do everything perfectly, and just try to do a few things to the best of your ability. That may be the best way learning can happen. The problem is, I write this like it is a new idea to me, but it completely isn’t. I can’t remember a time when I haven’t struggled to be satisfied doing the best I can at a few things and being happy than trying to fit everyone else’s definition of what I should be doing. Maybe that comes with being the oldest child, although my youngest brother is just like me. And I think this blog is completely rambling with only a little bit about composition thrown in, but if I can remember to focus my own life and my students’, it probably will be a good thing.

(Oh, and the title for this is thanks to Dr. Barbara Price from Truman--and I'm sure she is quoting an American Lit. author, I just can't remember who--but I find the quote to be wise and yet maddeningly redundant.)

rules as tools to create meaning (3-30)

So, yesterday I visited a teacher at Hickman High School to try to get some information I can use for the seminar paper in my 18th century Br. Lit. class on how Jane Austen may be presented to high school students. This teacher primarily teaches an AP Language course, and when I asked her how she came up with the course, she told me that she had created it several years ago. Previously, they had not had such a course, and she created it based on her own background knowledge to fill in the gap in the curriculum. Even though we have already spent half a semester talking about and preparing for English 1000 which we will be teaching, the fact of “creating a course” still terrifies me. The logical part of my brain tries to tell me that I have a fair background in composition theory and practice, both as an undergrad and from this class. By the time I start teaching, I will have completed five years of college level work, which is certainly more than my students. And yet in some ways, I still feel like I am being told, “Teach students how to write—Go!” and the task seems impossible. Now, there is a connection here (at least in my mind) between my angst and the readings about grammar. While I am interested in the ways grammar work, I am definitely not a prescriptivist. As long as people share enough grammar in common to be able to communicate, I really don’t care whether or not they are using formal, long-standing rules. The rules of grammar are just the necessary tools to making meaning. So, what I think I’m lacking in the area of teaching is a firm understanding of its grammar. I know there is meaning that I want to convey to my students. I’m just not quite sure how to structure it to get that meaning across. And, I’m not sure there are many hard and fast rules about teaching. Even as a student, I know that teaching approaches vary widely. I’m not sure this analogy really solves anything, but it helps to write about it. Maybe I should also remind myself that when I stutter in the classroom, both literally and figuratively, it just means that I am trying to acquire a new language.

a love/hate relationship (3-9)

This probably doesn’t come through either in class or in my blog because I am generally a very reserved, formal type of person, but this class tends to evoke some fairly strong emotional responses in me.

First, I just have to share some of my reactions to class discussion from last week. Personally, I fully realize and appreciate the value of invention activities. I had some great professors as an undergrad who made excellent use of these, and therefore I definitely want to use them in my class. This is not, however, to say that they are foolproof, which I think is sometimes the hope. I get the feeling that our textbooks are very optimistic about what can be accomplished in freshman comp. The ABGW, especially with its statements about what students will learn at the beginning of each chapter, gives the idea that students can’t help but learn and improve. And our other readings are also usually positive because teachers are talking about strategies that have worked for them. The fact of the matter is that sometimes even the best invention activities fail. I remember one composition assignment where I thought I came up with a fairly original idea using and analyzing photographs, but by the time it came due, I hated my project, thought it was dumb, and finished it the night before just so I could turn it in. So, its fabulous to say that first year comp students can contribute in original ways to the conversation (and I’m not going to deny that they can), its just that we have to realize that it won’t always happen like that, no matter how good our preparation to help stimulate and guide them.

Which leads to some of my reactions to the idea from class about being in a “constant state of invention.” Again, this sounds great, and I do realize that it is important to always be open to new ideas because you never know when a good one is going to show up. But at the same time, the use of the word “constant” frustrates me. (And I should preface whatever I am going to say next with the fact that this week has somehow become incredibly busy, and therefore my following statements could probably be dismissed as somewhat of an irrational rant triggered by the usual “What happened to the first half of the semester!” stress.) I guess what bothered me about the use of the word “constant” is that it denies those necessary breaks in mental activity that are so necessary to staying fresh and inventive. I don’t know if this is as true here, but at Truman, as much as I loved living in the dorms, one of the things that occasionally bothered me was their attempts to incorporate and combine dorm and classroom life. While I understood that they wanted us to realize that what you do in class can and does have broader significance, sometimes I just wanted them to realize that we need our time away from school. It is easy to feel the same way here—every aspect in your life seems to relate to class, and it is hard to find a moment when you are not thinking about school, either consciously or unconsciously. (Well, I do have non-school related parts of my life, but they seem a bit lost in the chaos right now.) I always hope that when I am a teacher I will remember that there is more to my students’ lives besides school. I guess it is just finding that line between caring deeply (which I have to admit I do) and realizing that apathy also happens (I know it does to me). I wonder what it would take to balance my life so that I could care deeply but also be able to walk away at times so that apathy wouldn’t happen?

The other thing that has inspired some strong reactions in me is the articles for this week about the use of technology. I do realize the great things that technology can do. Typing in a typewriter and working in a library have made me fully appreciate word processing on a computer as well as how computers allow us to sort, save, and retrieve information. That said, there is also a part of me that hates working on computers. Part of this, I realize, may be from my limited knowledge/understanding/familiarity with them. I am one of the ones who makes the argument that I would rather have the human interaction than communication by machine. When I saw the title of the Ray essay about using computers, I was all ready to hate the essay. Once I started reading, however, I found it to be very reasonable, and I agreed with a lot of it, but he seemed to be ok with a very limited use of computers. Personally, the idea of holding class discussion via some type of instant messenger sounds absolutely horrible to me because that is not how I like to communicate. I guess it is just another of those areas where I will have to find a balance between how much technology I want to use, how much I have access to, and how much my students want/need to use technology.

Invisible Teaching (3-2)

So, I have still been thinking about my post from the class blog. Over the past however many years that I’ve been in school (and I really don’t want to count right now), I’ve obviously had lots of teachers with very diverse teaching styles and philosophies. It has only been more recently, however, (like since I’ve realized that my own time of teaching is near) that I’ve tried to make myself consciously aware of how the teachers go about teaching. For some teachers, I’ve decided, “Yeah, they seem effective, and I could do that,” while I’ve had others who have left me wondering, “What is their purpose, and how could I ever replicate their class, and why would I want to?” So, obviously, I have a vague idea of what works for me. But, I guess what is hidden from students is sometimes the goals of a class and how the teacher decides what to do to meet such goals. Now, I’m not saying that all teachers should come into class and write on the board the goals for that day and then the class plans. I had one teacher who did that, and I don’t think the students really cared; they were possibly even turned off by it. But, a class like this is the place to talk about the fact that teachers have to decide what they want their students to learn and how they are going to go about that. (Otherwise students probably think that teachers are born with a lesson plan in mind that never changes.)

Interestingly, both of my parents are high school teachers, and my aunt and cousin are also both teachers. And as much as we seem to talk about school and education around the family table, I’ve never heard any of them be really explicit about how they plan their classes. I guess most of them have taught so long that they know what they want to teach and the planning is more unconscious. (Although I have heard more from my dad recently as they have been making some curriculum changes.) (And with my mom, when I had her class, I know that she did ask my opinion about some of the things she did and whether or not she should change/keep certain lessons.) I guess what this all comes down to is just being aware of and appreciating the choices we have in the classroom and perhaps gaining confidence in our ability to make such choices.

a new genre for me (2-23)

Well, I’ve been sitting here on and off during the past several days alternately reading the readings for this week and attempting my first draft of my syllabus. Although I always expected that designing a course would be one of the most difficult things I would ever have to do, the worst part is having those fears confirmed. Usually, when I write, I am able to generate broad ideas as well as specific points in my head. Later, I can sit down and write them, and though the first draft is far from finished / polished, I would hardly describe the writing process as painful. The syllabus, however, is another matter. I find myself staring at the computer screen wondering how I can make some words appear that will contain meaning. But, in thinking about the readings for this week, especially the statement of “outcomes,” I realized once again that where I am is a perfect example of the writing process. For me, writing a syllabus is a completely foreign genre. Although I’ve read many of them during my past 5 years in college, I’ve never had to write one. Thus, I have a vague general idea of what a syllabus should look like and what it should do, but because I’ve never had to practice the conventions of syllabus writing, I’m not able to apply the rules when I need them. I guess this is my attempt to console myself at what I consider to be a rather failed, frustrated attempt at writing. I am trying to both develop new content while learn a new writing style at the same time. On a tangential note, I found the Hess article to be interesting, but not because I could ever imagine teaching a course with Surrealism as a theme. (I simply don’t feel comfortable enough with Surrealism. However, I found his use of student-generated primary and secondary sources to be brilliant, although I would be hesitant about trying it because of the problems he had with those who didn’t complete the work.) I guess what I appreciated about his article is the fact that he used it to admit what didn’t work about his class plan. Perhaps one of my biggest fears is that if my class is not absolutely perfect, I will somehow fail my students and jeopardize the potential success of the rest of their education. The truth is, I’m really not that important. I want students to learn, and will try to ensure that they do, but the fate of the universe hardly depends on this class. My first year may not be a success, but like writing, I’m sure teaching is a process, so I will revise my syllabus and try again.