New Profile Series

Over on http://onebirdwriting.blogspot.com/, we're sharing 10 Student Profiles from English 030-402 (Summer 2014). Students interviewed each other and composed profile essays of their partner. Our purpose is to show you who Forest Park writers are, in their own words.

Developmental Writing in the Historical Trajectory of Rhetoric

This post originally appeared at Balancing Jane. 

"So when you get your PhD, will they let you teach real classes?"

This question came from a student in my first year of teaching developmental writing. I was saddened by her apparent belief that she wasn't a "real" student and told her so, but the question kept coming up in different forms.

One particularly strong writer who had spent the semester producing complex pieces of analysis written with poetic flair seemed almost angry as he visited me in office hours (voluntarily) to talk about his future plans as a writer: "What is this? Are you just trying to be a big fish in a small pond? Why are you teaching this class?"

Most heartbreaking of all was a student who said in front of the entire class, "You seem really smart, so why are you teaching us?"

It's a question I've gotten from other sources, too. Colleagues and classmates have asked me what I want to end up teaching, as if a career in developmental education could only be a stepping stone and never a goal. They mean well, and I actually think it's often meant as a compliment, but it stings because I know that their perception is contributing to the cultural climate that makes my students think of themselves as unworthy of "real" teaching, as unfit for a "real" college class.

It, quite frankly, breaks my heart.

And as a scholar of rhetorical history, it also perplexes me.

Assignment: Profile

OVERVIEW

You already have many profiles in life: parent, sibling, child, employee, cousin, aunt/uncle, recovering from something, athlete, artist, musician, gardener, person with a disability, etc. This assignment asks you to write a partner’s Student Profile.

Code Switching and Culture Series: On Short Skirts and Black Vernacular English, Making Choices from the Intersection

Since we've been discussing code switching and culture on this blog, I wanted to share a post I published previously on my personal blog Balancing Jane. Check out the other posts in the series here and here. And if you have something you would like to add to the conversation, please let us know!

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"That student's skirt is too short. You should tell her. It could be a distraction."

Sigh.

I am an educator, and I want all of my students to be successful, but I understand that "success" is not a one-size-fits-all path. Besides, I am not just an educator. I am also a feminist. I am a rhetorician.

So when someone starts telling me that it's my job as an educator to interfere in my students' personal communicative choices, I have to make decisions from the intersections.

Let's Discuss Code Switching and Culture Series: Hallie Quinn Brown

The term code switching gained prominence in the last few decades due to the work of theorist Lisa Delpit and other scholars of linguistics, rhetoric and literacy.  The concept, however, has existed in U.S. educational arenas for at least a century.

In the United States, Hallie Quinn Brown, an educator at Wilberforce University at the turn of the 20th century, was one pioneer of the acceptability of alternative English vernaculars. Brown is credited with infusing her work as an orator and elocutionist with the African-American vernacular.  

Hallie Quinn Brown

Let's Discuss Code Switching and Culture

I grew up in a code-switching environment in Dallas, Texas. 

I used to puzzle over the Arabic language on labels of my family's Arabic pantry staples; for example, Ziyad Brothers brand of Tahini.

I knew the term Tex-Mex as an identity. The term Tex-Mex reflects a synthesis of Mexican and Texan traditions that result in a unique, vibrant culture.  

 And in Dallas, Texas, who can forget Big Tex at the State Fair, giving us a hearty, cowboy-friendly welcome?  Howdy Ya'll!

These linguistic curios represent subcultural and behavioral norms.

 If we think about it, most of us come from a code-switching environment. Our codes just reside in varying distances from our mainstream American-English code. From my American mother and grandmother, I learned linguistic novelties that most likely hailed from the fields of Alabama where my great-grandmother was from. Active kids were "little fireanzies" (little and full of frenzy) and during moments of levity or chaos we often wondered "what in the sam hill  is going on?!"  I noticed my maternal grandmother and mother liked to add words in-between the syllables of other words; for example, "I guaran (insert favorite word here) tee you" as in "I guaranDARN tee you." 

Writing is Like Metaphor Series: Revising is Like Sculpting with Play-Doh

I'm not just saying this one to my students; this is a lesson I need to be reminded of myself. Writing can take us on some weird, wonderful journeys. We can start out writing one thing and find ourselves in the midst of something completely unexpected. It's one of writing's joys. 

But, especially for students in a strict academic or professional setting, it can also be a liability. 

I always tell my students to talk to their instructors if they found a new project while writing. Maybe they can still use it. But the truth is that if your boss asked you to craft a memo by the end of the day and you bring her a fantastic epic poem, it's not going to go over well. Writing is situation- and audience-bound, and that means that we often (or, in my case, always) have to reshape what we're working on. 

That's why I like to use Play-Doh as a metaphor for revision. When you're just playing around, you can make all kinds of interesting shapes, and you can even discover new, interesting things. But often you have a specific goal in mind. Let's say you're sculpting it so your teammate can guess a clue in a board game. In that case, it doesn't matter how beautiful your T-rex is; they're never going to guess "car."

And once you've reached that point where you realize what you're sculpting isn't what you need, you have to squash it. That doesn't mean you lose the material; it's all still there. It doesn't mean it was a waste of time; you became more skilled at sculpting. It doesn't mean that your T-rex was bad; it was lovely. It just means that this particular shape doesn't fit this particular need. Squash it. Try again. 

For many beginning writers (and, if we're being honest, more seasoned writers, too) squashing our work and starting over can be really, really hard. It feels like time wasted and work lost. It feels like a failure. And if every time we start writing it ends in a failure, we aren't going to like writing very much. But squashing Play-Doh is one of the best things about playing with it (just hand that T-rex to a two-year-old and watch what happens). If we could bring some of that acceptance of change (and even destruction) into our writing revision, we'd be able to make a lot more peace with the process. 

Conversations: Time Management and Remembering Information

Robert Talbert writes about his experiences with "flipping" a college calculus class in a recent Chronicle post. He explains that one of the biggest challenges his students face isn't with the material of the class, but in crafting a time and information management system that allows them to be successful, particularly when there are so many little projects involved in their class work.

 

Talbert explains that he would create an online system of reminders for each part of the project (since all of the deadlines are given in advance), but his students handle it differently (and less effectively):

"But for students? Most of them simply try to remember what they need to do, and this is a terrible idea. The brain is an excellent tool for processing information but a terrible one for storing information. Students misremember what they need to do and when, or just forget it. As a result, the #1 negative comment about the class so far from students is having to 'remember several different websites' for their work--which in fact is not the case, as there's one website that puts all the resources and assignments within three clicks of each other. But in their minds, it's not one project but half a dozen disconnected tasks."

Writing is Like Metaphor Series: The Mess of Writing is Like Thanksgiving Dinner

One of the biggest challenges I face as a writing teacher is getting students to trust in mess. Writing is messy, but most of the finished products we see are neat, tidy, and easy to follow. Students start brainstorming and tell me that the draft they've produced is "a disaster" or "terrible." I try to tell them that the draft they've produced is perfectly fine, just unfinished.

To help drive that point home, I often compare it to Thanksgiving dinner.

Conversations: Overcoming Dispositional Barriers

                 Phone with Arabic Numbers.

How to Overcome Dispositional Barriers in Developmental Education? Make a phone call.

When our students are absent from class, do we call them or not?  I say yes, and I do call my absent students.  I call all of my college-ready online students too, in order to put them at ease with the course. Sometimes the absent students return to class and sometimes they don't, but I've always been able to establish a connection that leaves the door open for that student to return the next semester.  When I see my absent students on campus or in my community, I ask them where they have been.  I invite them back to class. I have had a few successful outcomes where students who thought they had no chance to complete their studies return and do well. This is known as intrusive advising, a practice that faculty and advising or counseling staff can do to help students adjust to college culture.