Little Thoughts

I have spent a good portion of the weekend working on my pedagogy and the rest of it working on other homework, so it is safe to say I am mentally exhausted right now.

Anyway, I can happily say that the core concepts of my pedagogy came together fairly quickly as I looked over the articles we have read this semester. These blogs have been a great help as well—it’s interesting to see how my ideas have developed over time into what they are now. There is a progression of thought through all the posts, and reading them again really helped to remind me of the various theories, sessions, and discussions that have influenced my advising philosophy.

On a slightly different note, I have sort of been testing my pedagogy in the sessions we’ve had with English 101 students (we all have been, I’m sure), and it’s been going surprisingly well. My first session earlier in the semester was a little stressful, of course, but the following ones have really helped me to understand my preferred approach. Although I am still looking forward to getting the writer’s feedback on the most recent sessions, I do think I can safely say they were productive. Thinking back over it all, I’m actually a little excited to finish getting my thoughts organized into my pedagogy, but my brain is not really reaching its optimum level of performance right now, so I think I’ll have to get some sleep before I continue working on my draft.

Well, this is a short post. I really, really hope I can make up for some of these blog posts in the following weeks. For now, though, I guess this will have to do. I hope your drafts are coming together nicely! I’m really excited to hear about someone else’s pedagogy on Tuesday. Happy writing, everyone!

Reflecting on this Semester

This weekend, I spent some time looking over everything we read this semester. I definitely think the exposure to all the contrasting views of the writing center and advising in general has helped me to gain confidence in my own advising abilities—I think there is always a certain benefit to learning from the actions of others rather than blindly jumping in and trying to make it on your own.

In a way, the great contrast in advising strategies we’ve seen through all of these articles concludes perfectly with Jeanne Simpson’s “Whose Idea Of A Writing Center Is This, Anyway?”. Instead of being taught one supposedly-superior advising method, we’ve been exposed to many and asked to conform to none. We haven’t been pressured into considering one inferior to another; on the contrary, we’ve been encouraged to see each of them from the perspective of the author. Quite similar to what Simpson states in her essay, this whole class seems to be structured around the concept that “[c]linging to a fixed idea of a writing center, whatever each of us thinks that idea is, shuts of opportunities.” Now, having examined many possible perspectives of the writing center, we are being given the opportunity to determine where we stand—whether that place is somewhere within them or outside of them. Still, I think we will all continue to benefit from this background knowledge of contrasting opinions. I know it has helped me to see the writing center and writing itself in many new ways, and I will carry all of those ideas with me into the center—even if I didn’t particularly agree with some of them, they’ll be in the back of my mind to constantly serve as a reminder that not all think as I do. More importantly, though, I think our exposure to the wide range of voices within writing center discourse could serve a much more general, yet highly significant purpose: to show us just how many different perspectives there may be on one certain situation, or how many different approaches there are to one certain task. As advisors, we’re exposed to the same sort of contrasting spectrum of ideas in our sessions with writers, and it is undeniably important for us to keep an open mind to those ideas. Our goal is not to enforce a completely identical writing style and thought process among all students, just as Dr. Mattison’s goal was not to get us all to follow one advising method. Instead, we must appreciate the value of the great range of ideas and approaches we will undoubtedly find throughout our time as advisors. Consciously making these connections between this class and our future work is probably not necessary for us to succeed as advisors, but doing so has made me see just how well this class has prepared us for what lies ahead.

Peer Editing

A few of you have posted your opinions on peer editing, so I thought I’d join the discussion (a little late, I admit).

Anyway, I think there are certainly benefits to peer editing, as Ana Jeanne mentioned, and I am all for it in the writing center where the peers doing the editing are trained, experienced writers who are genuinely interested in helping others, but I am not sure how I feel about it in general.

I’ve been more aware of what takes place in peer editing sessions in my other classes this semester, and I have come to the unfortunate realization that some students have managed to get through English 101 with virtually no understanding of academic essays. Some students think the thesis is always the first sentence of the essay; some think paragraphs that take half of a double-spaced page are always too long. I am not sure how these misconceptions started or survived within a writing-intensive curriculum, but I have come across students with them more than I would like to admit. When I have had peer editing sessions in my other classes, I have often found that the advice given to me is tainted based on these misconceptions, and if I were to adjust my paper accordingly, it would be for the worst. Fortunately, I am familiar enough with academic writing standards to avoid the potential pitfalls of these peer editing sessions, but I know that some other students have a less thorough understanding that may make them accept advice that could harm their papers.

Although I don’t think peer editing sessions should be altogether eliminated from the classroom, I do think these problems need to be addressed. Perhaps we need more thorough explanations of the structure of whatever type of writing is involved in the class itself, rather than expecting a certain level of acquired knowledge in this area already. These explanations would be especially applicable to classes that directly follow English 101 (English 180, for example), and any writing-intensive non-English course with its own standards. The classes need not spend a great deal of time on these general instructions, but even a fifteen minute workshop or a handout might help. On a more fundamental level, I think these sorts of classes could simply avoid assuming that all students know and fully understand terms like ‘thesis,’ ‘topic sentence,’ ‘counter-argument,’ and ‘rebuttal,’ as well as more general aspects such as the extent of evidence needed to support a claim. These terms and composition strategies don't need to be re-taught in every class, but the assignment handouts could easily work in a clear definition of what is required instead of having vague statements such as “Your paper should have a clear thesis.”

All in all, I really support the idea of peer editing, but at this point, I cannot fully support it in action. There is a pervasive lack of thorough understanding among students when it comes to academic writing techniques, and it has an alarmingly powerful ability to spread within peer editing sessions. If these sessions continue as they always have, many students will leave them feeling confused, and professors may see weaker writing from students who were on the right track to begin with. However, if these issues are somehow addressed, the quality of writing among all students could greatly improve.

Response to “From Silence to Noise: The Writing Center as Critical Exile” by Nancy Welch

This post is somewhat delayed, but I wanted to share this article with all of you. Rather than summarize it again, I’ll share a few of my favorite sections so you can get the basic idea of the piece without reading the whole thing. However, if any of you get the chance, the article is definitely worth the time it takes to read. It can be found here.

In the article, Welch uses narrative of her personal experiences advising one particular student to emphasize the value of her modified collaborative model—a model presented in response to the earlier one described in an article by Andrea Lunsford. It’s referred to as “The Writing Center as Critical Exile,” as one may see from the title. Basically, the center as a place of critical exile is intended to serve as a place for students to escape the many “off-stage voices” that attempt to control their thoughts and opinions—a place that provides “critical distance from, rather than immersion in, those social conversations” that structure one’s life in society. Welch explains that this idea comes from Julia Kristeva’s assertion that “writing arises as much from a sense of exile as from a sense of participating in social conversation”:

For Kristeva, “exile” doesn’t mean retreat into a silent tower room or banishment or alienation … Instead, some kind of exile means the creation of a space in which we can reflect on and intervene in the languages, conventions, and belief systems that constitute our texts, our sense of self, our notions of what is “common sense.” The writer as exile, Kristeva writes, seeks to form, scrutinize, and remake meaning ceaselessly … Through this process, the writer not only questions received knowledge and social norms but transforms them. Exile or the role of the stranger … is not an escape; it’s a means for one to write and act in the world rather than be written and acted upon.

Here and elsewhere, Kriteva helps me to think of the writing center where I work as, potentially, just this kind of critical exile. That center is located on the boundaries of the university where it is vulnerable to the yearly rounds of budget cuts but where it is also freed from the constraints of a pre-determined curriculum and the normative force of grades …

… the writing center asks both students and teachers to view writing as a means to examine, as well as participate in, that “living conversation” that … forms our writing and our lives. The writing center as critical exile offers time, space, and (yes) quiet that enables a student … to become a stranger to and collaborator with her writing … such a center also challenges teachers to become stranger to, rather than representatives of, the social conversations and conventions that students are struggling to locate themselves within.

…

… the writing center is not an escape from the social realm, a silent and isolated garret room. It’s also not a place where they are assisted by a teacher or a tutor toward uncritically joining and reproducing the norms of a particular discourse community … Instead, the writing center as critical exile is a place where these students converse with, question, and rework the conflicting often unsettling, always potentially creative other voices that populate their words. By turning into this collaborative conversation between writers and their texts, writing-center teachers can also enter into exile, call into question their ‘common-sensical” teaching practices, and become more reflective and aware collaborators with students and their writing. (Welch)

If you want to get a sense of this model in action, check out the article. I think I have quoted enough of it already for one blog post.

As a philosophy major, I enjoy critically examining nearly all aspects of life, so this article was definitely interesting to me. In my opinion, writing center advisors should try to be especially aware of all the discreet “voices” that influence both our advising pedagogies and writing itself. We’re in a position that allows us to guide the writing process of others, and having such an influence makes the awareness that results from a critical examination of the reasoning behind our actions and words an absolute necessity. 

Thoughts on Today's Session

I know I briefly mentioned a bit of these ideas in our discussion at the end of the class period, but I figured I could elaborate on them here.

Until today’s session, I had a slight preference for the paragraph-by-paragraph approach when reading through a paper with a writer. This preference was largely based on theory and imagined scenarios, but most of my own visits to the writing center have involved advisors who also follow this approach, and their generally consistent ability to provide helpful feedback has made it somewhat natural for me to drift toward a similar method. I really liked how the paragraph-by-paragraph approach allows the advisor to provide feedback to the writer by re-stating what is understood to be the paper’s points and predicting where the paper seems to be headed, but after today’s session, I am starting to reconsider this preference.

The writer I advised today had been to the writing center many times in the past, and because of this, he knew what he preferred. After the pre-textual stage, he very willingly volunteered to read through his paper so that he could look for errors and awkwardly-worded sentences. He was definitely interested in revising his writing, so I was able to let the session flow very naturally. Even as he continued reading at the end of the introduction, I didn’t find it necessary to stop him, so it wasn’t until the end of the paper that we began the most significant part of our discussion. I was a little surprised at how easy it was for me to follow along with his argument as he read it aloud—I wasn’t worried about examining the text itself because it was out of my sight, so I simply listened and took mental notes as we went along. Then, in our discussion afterward, I found myself remembering almost his entire paper, which made it very easy for me to point out places that worked well already as well as places that needed further clarification. Because I understood what he was trying to say in his essay (as a result of the complete read-through of the paper and some of our pre-textual discussion), I think my advice was much more meaningful than it would have been if we had taken a paragraph-by-paragraph approach. I was able to help him improve the clarity and flow of the paper in certain places because I had the complete image of it in my mind, whereas the paragraph-by-paragraph method I used in my previous session with a 101 student seemed to force me into giving potentially-awkward feedback when I really just wanted to see how the rest of the paper played out. I know this is only my second session with a student outside of our class, but I would definitely consider it to be more of a success than my first, and I have the somewhat unexpected change in direction to thank for that.

Thinking back over it all now, I have come to some general conclusions. First of all, I definitely think sessions should be allowed to flow as naturally as possible according to the writer’s direction, only to be altered by the advisor when it is absolutely necessary. I know this is not always possible, especially when working with writers who are less interested in their session and/or paper, but I still think it is my ideal approach when possible. Even for these less-interested writers, we can perhaps try to encourage them to share their thoughts by finding discreet ways to reinforce the value of their ideas. (That statement reminds me of the article I chose to summarize—I’ll have to write a post about it in the next day or so.) This writer-directed session concept is also tied into my newfound appreciation for the whole-paper approach—instead of attempting to force sessions into a paragraph-by-paragraph reading, I think it may be best to find a sort of natural flow here as well. To state all of these ideas simply, I guess I now have further solidified my belief that sessions should be conducted in a very personal, flexible manner—I don’t think there is any one approach that could consistently succeed in all sessions without a willingness to adapt.

Mock Sessions, Fake Sessions, Real Sessions...

I know several people in our class have claimed that the sessions we had with each other about our summaries were not “real” because we already know each other and are on the same level as advisors-in-training. Personally, though, I wouldn’t consider the session I had with Kari to be fake. Yes, I do know Kari, but we will have sessions with people we know in the writing center—Wittenberg’s campus is small enough to practically guarantee that—and I know some current advisors come in for sessions with other advisors as well.

Some people seemed to emphasize that there was an unrealistic balance in perceived authority in the summary sessions because both participants were capable of conducting a session on their own. However, after contemplating this claim, I cannot help but think that our work as advisors isn’t really about being expert writers who advise those with less skill/experience, which would therefore place us in a position of authority as the statement implies. Instead, I see advisors as experienced readers. We all have our flaws when it comes to writing. We’re not perfect, and I think I can safely say that perfected writing ability is not a required trait for advisors. In contrast, our strongest trait—out greatest power in a session—is simply that of our own perspective as readers. When we lend this perspective to writers by reading through their work and providing honest feedback, we allow the writers to get a sense of their audience—a chance to see how others are understanding what they are writing. Our knowledge of academic writing conventions is certainly a plus when we’re helping writers revise their papers, but I think someone lacking this knowledge that provides an honest reader’s response to a writer’s piece could help improve the quality and clarity of the paper quite significantly, too.

In my opinion, these sorts of sessions are a good introduction to writing center work. When we’re comfortable around the person we’re advising, we are able to focus less on finding the right words to say to avoid sounding overly critical, and focus more on the writer and his or her paper—the heart of a session. These sessions allow us to begin advising without having to focus on all aspects of the session at once—in a way, starting here allows us to divide up our concerns in order to learn how to handle the core of sessions instead of being overwhelmed as we attempt to consciously think through all aspects of what may be deemed “real” sessions that we will soon face in the writing center.

Thoughts on the Summary Sessions

Last Thursday, as Kari and I had sessions with each other for our summaries, I noticed something about advising that I hadn’t thoroughly considered previously. When we’re working with writers, there are occasionally going to be weaknesses in their papers that we will overlook—not because we lack the skill to catch these weaknesses, but because professors’ expectations for various types of writing are not universal.

For example, both Dr. Mattison and my English 101 professor have taught summary writing in class, but their expectations regarding the content and length of a summary differ in many ways. (Now, of course, I am stuck with two opposing voices in my head that attempt to control the structure of my summaries…great fun, that is.) Being aware of these differences, I made a conscious effort to write my most recent summary according to the comments I received from Dr. Mattison, and I was glad to have the opportunity to get Kari’s feedback to see if she thought I had addressed the issues mentioned in my previous summaries. However, I quickly realized that my main concern (including enough of the smaller details instead of focusing on only what is necessary to understand the main idea of an article) was impossible for someone other than Dr. Mattison to address. What is considered necessary information for a summary is somewhat subjective (and dependent upon one’s definition of ‘summary’), which makes it impossible for an advisor to evaluate a particular piece in the same way the professor would. Granted, in my situation, Kari had experience writing summaries for Dr. Mattison as well, but needless to say, it was still impossible for her to see my paper entirely from his perspective.

This problem reminded me of the second day of class when Dr. Mattison gave us all the essay written with many, many errors, then later explained that the assignment was to write like someone in grade school (the particular grade slips from my memory). On the surface level, advisors may begin to offer constructive feedback immediately, but doing so blindly may actually lessen the quality of the paper according to the particular assignment’s requirements. Still, for the aforementioned case, there is an additional problem: no matter how thoroughly an assignment is explained, no advisor can see a paper exactly as a certain professor would, which would be necessary in order to help a writer with a concern similar to mine. We can learn to understand general expectations, but for certain types of writing, it is impossible to know how a professor will evaluate it in the end. There are alternative ways to handle the situation, including suggesting that the writer visit with the professor, or asking about any previous feedback given for similar pieces, but my final thought it this: there are, of course, sessions in which we, as writing center advisors, cannot be as useful as we hope to be, and in some cases, we may not even realize how little help we’re actually able to give a writer. Because of this, I think it is important that we consciously evaluate both the writer’s assignment and his or her concerns in order to be sure the advice we give is helpful. Then, if we’re aware of the possibility that some of those concerns may extend beyond our advising abilities, we’ll be prepared to direct the writer to the professor instead of offering advice that may harm his/her work.

As I read over this post again, the problem and solution seem somewhat obvious, but thinking through these situations surely helps us to prepare for our future work as advisors. I know I certainly would rather evaluate these sorts of possibilities now instead of feeling lost when I encounter them in actual sessions, and in this case specifically, it is better to be aware of the possibility of these issues to avoid giving destructive feedback or false assurance.

Response to Randy

[This post is written as a response to Randy’s. I originally intended on this being a mere comment on his post, but it ended up being much longer than I expected. Everyone can read and respond to this, but it would of course make much more sense if Randy's post is read prior to doing so.]

First, I must say that I wholeheartedly believe Kincaid's statement that "The examination isn't the examined" is proverbial when it comes to the sciences. I absolutely loved science as a child and on into the beginning of my high school career, but after that point I began to feel disenchanted by the cold, rational view that was quickly enveloping all that I used to consider beautifully mysterious. I quite abruptly abandoned my academic pursuit of the sciences as I reached the conclusion that some things are better left in mystery—that a balance between humanistic emotional experience and rationality is vital to a healthy life.

However, I do not think Kincaid's statement applies equally to one's understanding of language. I do not think an advanced knowledge of the inner workings of language can "ruin the amazing thing that it set out to explain in the first place, by turning it into a cold, pedestrian paradigm." On the contrary, I believe that such an understanding enables us to form more complex thoughts about our lives and the world in which we live—language, with all its intricate structures, is still a beautifully functioning whole, for it is only through these structures that it may function at all. We, as skilled writers (and future advisors), need not break down sentences into bits of grammatical terms, consequently losing sight of the meaning and value of the thought being expressed; rather, we may use this advanced knowledge of language to help the original thought develop into all it can be. Language is, after all, a tool human kind has developed to convey organic thoughts and emotions to others. With our understanding of its fundamental aspects, we may better manipulate words to communicate a thought, idea, or emotion in its purest form, untarnished by misunderstandings that result from a less complete grasp.

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I, too, have experienced the uneducated approach to language and life in general—I am the first person in my family to attend college, and I was raised by a single mother who had "arguably no skill" in any sort of formal communication. She, like your step father, does not "lingually disassemble [her] examined world," and remains in a somewhat helpless state of mere examination. In her mindset, the world is unquestionably Biblical; she lives today according to the very same teachings she was taught as a child by her parents (a farmer and a Cherokee who did not complete high school), never questioning this apparent authority. When she encounters something she does not understand, she searches for an explanation through power figures rather than attempting to delve into original, independent thought.

I know not all of those lacking an advanced education see the world as my mother does, and of course, I must agree that there is a certain beauty to the simplicity of such lifestyles; however, throughout my childhood, I witnessed their flaws all too frequently to desire a similar approach. My mother's lack of any sort of ability to disassemble her world has left her depressed and closed-minded. Because she cannot seem to analyze the world on her own without her not-so-chosen authority's guidance, she feels trapped in a world she does not understand, yet unable to even consider alternative perspectives when they're presented to her by others.

While it isn't necessarily formalized communication that enables us to assess the world around us, I do think having a decent secular education (although it need not be traditional) and an advanced understanding of language helps us to see the full extent of the mystery and wonder of life with a peaceful, open mind. From what I have witnessed, lacking these things results in a very uncontrolled state of nearly unconscious action—my mother, for instance, has never harnessed any fraction of ability to choose how she reacts to any circumstance. The benefit of being a skilled communicator comes in to play as one seeks to examine the world in which we live on a more complex level—our thoughts are limited by the extent of our knowledge and awareness, and because of this I believe that continuing to advance one’s understanding of language can only further free one’s mind from the confines of outside authorities. Through this process, beauty, wonder, and mystery are not lost; they are seen and experienced in full color.

Miami University’s Howe Center for Writing Excellence

In general, Miami University’s writing centers (yes, plural) don’t seem drastically different from Wittenberg’s writing center on the fundamental level. The mission of Miami University’s Howe Center for Writing Excellence, the main branch of their writing center system, is “to assure that Miami fully prepares all of its graduates to excel in the writing they will do after college in their careers, roles as community and civic leaders, and personal lives.” The Center’s goals are:

• To foster a culture of writing in which students welcome the writing instruction they receive in their courses, seek additional opportunities to write outside of class, and strive continuously to improve their writing skills.
• To help faculty increase the amount and quality of writing instruction and practice that students receive throughout their studies at Miami.
• To help faculty tap writing’s tremendous potential for assisting students in mastering the content and thinking processes their courses are designed to teach.
• To assure that all students—from the most accomplished to the most needful—have ample help outside of their classes as they strive to improve their writing.

Appointments may be scheduled online or in person, and walk-ins are “provided whenever a consultant is available,” although “[the] appointment book is often full.” The consultants are a mix of undergraduate and graduate students who take a 3-credit course to prepare for their work.

However, Miami University’s writing center program does differ from Wittenberg’s in several ways:

1. Size and structure—there are many writing centers at Miami University. The Howe Center for Writing Excellence seems to be the main branch of the system, and the others are either satellite sites for students at Miami’s regional campuses or specialized centers for writing in certain disciplines (there is one for the business school, for example). With around 15,000 undergraduate students, Miami University definitely benefits from having multiple writing centers.
2. Session/Consultation length—the Howe Center for Writing Excellence offers 45-minute consultations. In the overview of a typical consultation, I noticed that students are “asked to complete a brief evaluation” at the end, but I am not sure if this is included in the 45-minute period.
3. Offers “Quick Questions” service—this is a fairly new operation at the Howe Center that provides 10-minute long quick consultations for students with “specific questions about writing.” The goal of the service was to “[eliminate] the need for writers to try and find an opening in the schedule” by offering “quick and efficient” consultations for writers while encouraging them “to take advantage of the open accessibility of consultants.”
4. Lists private, paid editing services—I am not sure if these services are offered by the writing centers at Miami or if it’s listed on the website as an outside resource, but I got the sense of it being the latter. Anyway, there is a note of caution at the top of the page that emphasizes the need for both graduate and undergraduate students to use these services for assignments only if it is allowed by the professor and does not violate the academic integrity guidelines of the University.

Aside from these differences, I noticed a few other interesting traits of the Howe Center. First, the Center is only three years old, yet they’ve had more than 10,000 consultations since their opening. Second, students are allowed to come in to the writing centers to work on their assignments on their own “[a]s long as there’s an open table or chair.” 

After reading through the Howe Center’s website, I felt as if Miami’s writing center program is in some ways a large public university version of ours. I didn’t find anything drastically different (although the paid editing service was surprising), but it was interesting to see how a writing center with similar values to ours is managed at a large university. If I remember correctly, there is some sort of writing center conference for advisors/consultants at Miami in the fall that we may be able to attend, which I think will be a great chance for us to learn from another strong writing center program.

Grammar

Before taking English 242, I had very little practice breaking down sentences into grammatical terms. I remember learning the terms fairly early on in elementary school and then relearning them in seventh grade, but I never had to apply that knowledge consistently enough to solidify it all in my mind. After a few weeks of grammar drills, the subject was never brought up by my teachers again.

However, during my last few years of high school and now on into college, I have begun to appreciate the basic rules of language that allow us to communicate with others so effectively. I cannot help but wonder how such an organized system was developed—through all its complexities, language is as fascinating as it is beautiful. Language allows us to take an idea, thought, or emotion and communicate it to others across a table or across centuries, so in my mind, it is hard not to appreciate its roots. Although learning grammatical terminology may at times seem unnecessary and painful, I believe that having such knowledge and being able to understand it well enough to break down language to its fundamental composition can only improve one’s ability to communicate. Just as a painter must understand the attributes of her medium in order to use it to reach her desired outcome, so must writers and speakers understand their language in order to convey thoughts as they are intended. However, knowing the colors and textures of paints is not enough for the artist—she must also understand how the individual paints react around one another, how they act together, and what new traits emerge. By doing so, the painter is able to slowly master her art, just as a writer or speaker who develops a more thorough understanding of the workings of language is able to gain more control over it.

All in all, I guess what I am trying to say is that I really appreciate language—grammar included. Although working to improve my knowledge of grammatical terminology may leave me feeling a little frustrated at times, I believe the end result has hidden benefits that will make having such an understanding far from useless.

Brainstorming Sessions

One speaker at the OWCC supported advisors sharing their own ideas when brainstorming with writers. Although I agree that collaboration in the development of ideas can be productive and even entertaining, I was left wondering how appropriate this sharing of ideas is in a writing center session. I know there has to be some dividing line between advising and doing what should be the writer’s work, but where exactly is that division?

In my past experiences coming to the writing center, brainstorming sessions have consisted of the thoughts of the writer (me) and thought-provoking questions from the advisor. I do not remember having an advisor share his or her own ideas with me, and I have always considered that to be a good thing—I was the one writing the paper, so the ideas should be my own. On the other hand, I have heard of other experiences in which the advisor played a more active role in the brainstorming session, offering his or her own ideas to the writer. I understand the argument in defense of this sort of approach: an idea given at such an early stage of the writing process would still become the writer’s own (I suppose) as it is formulated into words. However, I cannot help but wonder if the advisor set the writer off on an entirely different track than he or she would have taken without the session. What if the writer chooses to write about the idea because, if the advisor suggested it, it must be ‘good’? Regardless, the most significant problem to consider is the reason why most professors assign papers to begin with: to exercise students’ abilities to develop complex ideas and convey them coherently in writing. Even though brainstorming presents the illusion of coming before a student starts an assignment because it does not yet involve an actual draft of the paper, the resulting ideas highly influence the formation of the paper itself, and if the ideas did not come from the writer, the paper loses its authenticity. Consider a few definitions of plagiarize/plagiarism:

: to steal and pass off (the ideas or words of another) as one’s own : use (another’s production) without crediting the source [Merriam-Webster]

: the unauthorized use or close imitation of the language and thoughts of another author and the representation of them as one’s own original work, as by not crediting the author [Dictionary.com]

: In an instructional setting, plagiarism occurs when a writer deliberately uses someone else’s language, ideas, or other original (not common-knowledge) material without acknowledging its source. [WPA Council]

For the most part, people seem to think plagiarism is only possible if ideas were taken from a published work, but I would argue that deliberately taking someone else’s ideas from a session in the writing center is also inappropriate. Of course, brainstorming sessions present a unique problem because the advisors who share their own ideas are typically more than willing to allow a writer to take them and use them in their paper, eliminating the “theft” aspect of plagiarism, but the lack of authenticity in the final product remains. Professors typically expect to see the original work of the writer, not ideas freely taken from someone else and formed into writing.

In other cultures that are less focused on individuality, such collaborative work in the development of ideas would be easy to support. However, these same cultures are not concerned with extensive citations to avoid what our culture calls plagiarism. I believe it is important for us, as future advisors, to carefully consider our approaches to brainstorming sessions and to decide whether or not an advisor’s ideas belong in them. Perhaps we’ll reach our conclusions as we gain more experience, but I think it would be best for us to approach such sessions with caution until we are sure where we stand.

On Listening, Speaking, and the Development of Opinions

Well, I am currently in the process of writing another blog post, but I had to interrupt it as I encountered the notorious (in my own little world, at least) Little Quirk #2. Welcome to my list, odd little personality trait. Here comes your analysis.

Little Quirk #2: I am a listener first, and a speaker second. Since the beginning of this class, we’ve been encouraged to “join the conversation” about writing center theory and practice, but I am the type of person who wants to do extensive research and know what others have said before developing my own opinions or theories on a subject. I somewhat obsessively aim to consider all possible perspectives before deciding on my own, which makes it very difficult for me to speak impulsively. Throughout high school and now into college, I have been mistakenly labeled ‘shy’ because this little quirk keeps me from immediately sharing my thoughts in class. However, I love class discussions and would definitely consider myself to be an active participant; I just really try to make my contributions count. It can be frustrating for me to attempt to share my thoughts before I believe they are fully developed with all sides considered (this is where quirk one and two come together). I’m doing my best to adapt to a more spontaneous method of speaking when it becomes necessary, though. I think this desire to extensively develop my thoughts before sharing them is the result of my open-mindedness—a common idea in Chinese philosophy explains my predicament well: when a person declares that something is ‘good,’ they are therefore implying that something else is not ‘good’ (ah, the problems that arise with distinctions). In other words, as an open-minded individual, I do not want to write off any other possible perspectives that I have not yet considered by declaring my position too early. Of course, it would be easy for someone to argue that there is nothing wrong with changing your mind, and I wholeheartedly agree. Still, I would rather not be forced to make a decision without considering all the facts.

Bringing this quirk back to English 242, though, I must add that I truly appreciate being given the opportunity to examine various theories and methodologies before developing my own pedagogy and working as an advisor. On a slightly different note, I think this open-mindedness and desire to consider other perspectives will actually be useful in writing center work. I will definitely be able to understand students who come in torn between opposing sides of an issue, and it will not be difficult for me to consider beliefs or opinions that differ from my own (although my own thorough consideration of that second statement requires me to mention that there may be very, very rare exceptions).

I am undeniably an advocate of informed action, in case you all haven’t figured that out already.

Self-analyzing and Quirky Goodness

I think I may be too critical about my blog posts. I push aside many ideas simply because they are not fully formulated, and it is becoming increasingly counter-productive as I try to think of new post topics every week. I know these sites are intended to serve as a place for us to continuously develop our thoughts, so I am going to try to free myself from this inner resistance. Maybe I’ll write in support of an idea one day and against it the next, but at least I’ll be getting my thoughts down in text. 

Anyway, now I move on to a semi-related topic: the self-analyzing this course seems to stimulate. Kari, I know you’ve mentioned that you’ve grown more and more conscious of personal habits and traits, and you are definitely not alone. I am starting to see little quirks in my writing and writing process as well as other random aspects of my personality that I previously didn’t notice. Most of these ‘little quirks’ relate to working in the writing center in some way or another, so I might as well address them here.

Little Quirk #1: when I write a paper, I often spend hours perfecting the structure of each sentence. I will write one line, read it a few times, then erase it and rewrite it entirely until I reach a satisfactory result. This habit is likely a product of my extreme appreciation for the aural, artistic quality of language and the effects various word choices have on the intended meaning of a sentence. (No, ‘extreme appreciation’ is not an exaggeration. I won't even begin to describe how much I adore speeches simply because these traits play such a significant role for them.) However, while this focus on the flow of a piece from one sentence to the next has its benefits, I think it may occasionally cause me to overlook other aspects of academic writing that need equal attention. There haven’t been many repetitive occurrences of neglect of any certain aspects yet, but I do recall two papers for which I did not fully evaluate how accurately my thesis reflected my argument as a whole. Still, it's definitely something for me to keep in mind when working on future papers. Blogging about this may not be of much help to anyone other than me, but I think it is important to critically analyze personal habits, especially unconscious ones, because awareness enables improvement.

 Well, I believe that concludes the first of my little quirk analyses, but I assure you there will be more coming eventually.

By the way, quirk is quite a quirky word.

Thoughts on Directive and Nondirective Approaches to Advising

I know it has been a while now since we interviewed advisors for the Profile assignment, but I wanted to share one part of the conversation I had with Katie Chounet, a second-year advisor. During the interview, we discussed the ongoing debate about directive versus nondirective advising approaches. We agreed that both may have their place in the writing center, but Katie described their places particularly well. Although most writing center advisors seem to prefer a nondirective approach, Katie acknowledged that “at some point, you need to be a little more directive than nondirective. If the biggest problems in a paper are big ideas,” she explained, “you need to be less directive to draw out the writer’s thoughts. However, if the problems are more sentence-level, you need to be more directive in order to help them.”

To me, this application of a nondirective or directive approach according to the particular aspect of the paper being addressed made a lot of sense. Instead of using only one advising approach to conduct an entire session, each may be used as different types of problems in a paper are discussed. If a student writer seeks help with the ideas or style of a paper, a nondirective approach is best to ensure the writer’s control over the paper. On the other hand, if a student comes in seeking help with more basic, structural or sentence-level issues, the advisor may be able to safely take a more directive role. By alternating between the two advising approaches according to what is being discussed, it is quite possible that both approaches may be used in the same session. In summary, an advisor must always maintain the student’s full control over the paper while finding the best ways to help the student learn and grow as a writer, which may require both nondirective and directive approaches at different points in each session.

The necessity of such adaptability while advising is further emphasized in Sharon A. Myers’s essay, “Reassessing the ‘Proofreading Trap’: ESL Tutoring and Writing Instruction,” which provides examples of the ways nondirective advising has failed to help ESL students. These students, who may frequently struggle with technical or structural aspects of writing, would likely benefit from an advisor who is willing to adapt and be more directive when an explanation of grammatical or cultural language rules is necessary. However, an advisor who remains nondirective at all times may not be able to help these students become “better writers,” which is, according to Stephen M. North, the goal of writing center work.

On a slightly different note, I really enjoyed Myers’s essay and could continue writing about it for quite some time. Unfortunately, though, I have an incredibly long day ahead of me, so I will have to save the rest of my thoughts for my next post.

Response to Thonus

Quote from Terese Thonus, “Tutor and Student Assessments of Academic Writing Tutorials: What is ‘Success?’” Page 188:

Of the 12 tutors, Tutor F provided the most extensive critique of his own “directiveness.” He felt that doing “more constructive work than Socratic work” was a decision harmful to the student: “The authority you have as an instructor—when you say that, it’s as good as said. Someone’s going to walk away thinking, ‘The instructor or tutor responded to that. I’m on to something.’ You want them to be on to it because of their winnowing out the wheat from the chaff. You don’t want them to be on it because you said, ‘I like it.’” 

I fully agree with the idea of this passage. The purpose of writing center sessions is to help writers grow and learn, which makes it necessary for the writers to think through their papers on their own rather than merely believing a certain detail is good or bad because of an advisor’s comment. This bit of Tutor F’s approach to advising will definitely be incorporated into my own. In the attempt to balance directive and nondirective techniques, I believe it important for an advisor to frequently analyze his or her approach to avoid taking a position of authority that hinders or eliminates a writer’s personal, thoughtful analysis of his or her work. A session should enable a writer to see his or her work’s strengths, weaknesses, and its potential, but the writer should be able to justify those critiques through their own thought process, not merely the authoritative voice of an advisor.

Example Essays in the Classroom and the Writing Center

This past week I have been working on a close-reading essay for one of my other classes. It’s the first close-reading essay I have written, and although it is not extremely different from a full literary analysis (other than the fact that it focuses on a very short section of the work), I have still been looking up more information about the structure and content of such an essay. The assignment handout asks students to “choose 1 compelling theme, issue or question we’ve discussed over the past few weeks and address it by close reading a short, 3-5 page section” of the novel. “Also,” it reads, “you will likely want to pay attention to such elements as sentence structure, style, imagery, figurative language, word choice, and maybe even grammar and punctuation.” It then lists traits of “an excellent close-reading essay,” including “a clear thesis statement” and “multiple examples from the passage.” This assignment has taken more effort on my part because of my unfamiliarity with this kind of paper, and has left me wondering why I have never seen example essays used in the classroom or in the Writing Center.

First, let me say that this post is based on my personal experiences, and that there may very well be example essays used in other classes or even in the Writing Center. If this is true, I would love to hear about them and their use in a learning environment.

Anyway, as I was working on this assignment, I realized that assignment sheets do not always help students to know what is needed to write a good essay, especially for those unfamiliar with that specific type of paper. The lists of requirements given on such sheets are often quite general, and could leave many students wondering where to start. An attempt to complete an essay strictly according to the information given could still be far from what is expected by the professor. For these reasons, I think the use of example essays may help students to grow as writers. Such examples would give students who struggle with basic structural or content issues an idea of what makes a good paper. Of course, the example used wouldn’t need to be an essay of the same topic (probably shouldn’t be, actually), but I think just seeing how someone formed his or her ideas into a particular type of essay may be more helpful than a mere list of requirements. I do not mean “example” as in a model essay format copied by the student—perhaps it would be better to show a few different papers to give an idea of the variety of possibilities while still giving the student writer an idea of how and why each paper was successful. Still, I am sure the use of examples would only be possible for certain kinds of papers (more analytical or technical ones would work well while creative ones may not).

Have any of you ever had a professor provide an example paper to show students what is expected of an assignment? Are there any such examples used in the Writing Center that I just don’t know about? If the answer to either of these questions is “no,” then why are examples not used?

Thoughts

Multiple articles we’ve read have presented the idea of focusing on the student rather than the paper in a writing center session. In the article “Minimalist Tutoring: Making the Student Do All the Work,” Brooks seems to be taking this concept to the extreme. Although I agree that making students take initiative in the process of revision is very important, I also know through my own experiences in the writing center that getting actual feedback on a paper can be helpful. I don’t think I’ve ever had a session where the advisor actually had no response to my paper and tried to make me come up with critiques entirely on my own. Still, these theories about minimalist tutoring bring me back to North’s statement, “our job is to produce better writers, not better writing,” which, as some of us have mentioned previously, can be a little misleading/inappropriate. Discussing the particular paper at hand and helping the writer to find ways to improve it can help the writer make mental notes of how to improve his or her writing in the future. I am not sure if it would even be possible to “produce better writers” if we did not help the writers see what is needed to produce “better writing.”

The issue of students who come to the writing center hoping to get a good grade on a paper is hard to criticize. The structure of schooling since we were young has encouraged this outlook, and in some cases the students who care about their grade also care more about their work than others do (I’m not talking about those who merely wish to avoid failing a class—that presents a very different problem). As an example, I will present my own case.

I have been guilty of avidly following this reward system of grades and grade point averages since I was in elementary school. I’ve always been a straight-A student to a fault—I recall an occasion in seventh grade when I received a B+ in a class and didn’t know how to handle it. I am embarrassed by this past obsession now, although I habitually continue to strive for As. I truly do enjoy learning, though. The problem with this high-achieving standard for grades is that it draws the focus away from the learning process itself and instead leads students to relentlessly struggle along this ranking system that supposedly has some correlation to success in the world beyond. It’s quite disheartening for me to think about—many people seem to miss what is truly important. Anyway, the point of this rant is that I do care tremendously about learning and improving my own skills, but I also am a member of a society that has led me to care about my grades. I know there are many other students like me who come to the writing center, and I don’t think they should be viewed in a negative light for caring about how their work will be received according to the reward system that affects us all.

Peers have opinions too!

Unlike Peter Carino conveys in his essay, “Power and Authority in Peer Tutoring,” I don’t think a session automatically loses its egalitarian or peer-to-peer environment when the advisor steps outside of the “nondirective” method to offer advice. We, as advisors, may be more knowledgeable than students who visit the writing center when it comes to writing, but we don’t always know more about the subjects of papers, as Carino notes. In any situation, knowledge is not entirely equal—even friends give advice to one another. I know I don’t sit around with my friends asking, “Well, what do you think you should do?” if it appears that they may benefit from my opinion. The fact that I do give advice doesn’t really place me in a position of authority; it is simply collaborative thought. However, I think it is important to be aware of the way we word our advice to another person. For example, instead of saying “You need to. . .” I would prefer “I think doing this may help you. . .” or “It would probably be a good idea to. . .”. (<-- Is that period out of place?! The ellipsis is throwing me off.) Then again, these preferences may just be the result of my less-assertive nature.

On the other hand, I know the position of the advisor and the position of the student differ in a session, even in the eyes of most students. After visiting the writing center for the first time, I did view the advisors differently for a while when I saw them around campus. They were still my peers, but their position as an advisor set them apart from other people in some ways. Perhaps it would have been different if I had initially seen them outside of the writing center in a more informal environment. Still, that initial view of advisors was not necessary for me to accept their advice, though it may be for other people. I occasionally have friends look over my work and give me feedback as well, and their non-authoritative position does not make their feedback insignificant either.

On a slightly random note, the problem with “faculty who suspect tutoring is a form of plagiarism” might benefit from in-class demonstrations of tutoring sessions. Then again, a suspicious professor may opt out of such a demonstration, but there has to be some way we could show faculty members what goes on in the Writing Center. . .

Lastly, it’s great that “coffee, cookies, and couches” are common enough throughout writing centers that they can be called “the three Cs.” I was actually sitting on a couch, drinking coffee, and eating a cookie when I read that statement (not kidding), so it is pretty clear that I enjoy each of those things. They make me happy.

Response to Stephen M. North's "Revisiting 'The Idea of a Writing Center'"

In contrast to North's original essay, "Revisiting 'The Idea of a Writing Center'" was clearly written in a more rational and realistic mindset. He and his colleagues have modified the approach of the Writing Center and related programs at Albany to better suit their needs and capabilities as a large research university, which is great—every Center must do its best within its limits. Still, as I was reading, I found myself increasingly thankful to be at a small liberal arts college—many of the issues discussed in this essay are not significant problems at Wittenberg. The close-knit, familiar environment North attempts to foster at Albany is already present here naturally, enabling the Writing Center to play a larger role throughout campus. Fortunately, our Writing Center has established the "tutor-to-student and staff-to-faculty ratio[s]" that make many of North's original ideas possible.

North's reevaluation of the relationship between tutor and writer seemed much more accurate than the original. It's undeniably important that tutors accept the fact that not all writers are going to be passionate about their work. Still, even when a student is required to bring a piece of writing to the Center, the tutor is presented with an opportunity to make the student more comfortable talking about his or her work and possibly even more enthusiastic about expressing ideas in writing.

Response to Stephen M. North's "The Idea of a Writing Center"

Although I respect North's passionate attempt to refute the views of Writing Centers as remedial or "fix-it" centers, there were certain points in his essay that seem a little too polarized. For example, I agree that Writing Centers exist first and foremost to talk to writers about their work, but should those seeking help with more specific skills (such as spelling or punctuation, as North mentions) really be turned away? While helping students with more basic aspects of writing is not a Center's primary role, there are few other resources for students with these issues. Still, I know it would be frustrating if professors only referred students to the Center when "special problems" are identified, as North seems to have experienced prior to his essay. The key issue is the perceived purpose of Writing Centers, and I agree with his attempt to correct that image. However, I don't think refusing to assist students with these more basic issues is the best solution. Writing Centers should, in my opinion, help writers with all aspects of the writing process. If a student comes in willingly and wants to learn more about spelling, punctuation, or whatever else, I see nothing wrong with tutoring him or her in the Center.

For further clarification, I fully agree that students should not (and hopefully cannot) simply drop off their papers and expect tutors to serve as editors. However, if a student comes to the Writing Center hoping to actually learn how to identify and correct their mistakes themselves, I think that is perfectly acceptable.