A leftist revolution is (unfortunately) not in my job description

Daniell did a great job of discussing contrasting issues within rhetoric/composition under the framework set down by Lyotard. Daniell explains Lyotard’s argument that, “in the modern age knowledge is justified, or legitimated, through narrative” (p. 393). She uses Lyotard to discuss issues of interest to us: “The conflicted politics of composition studies over the last two or three decades, the relationship of theory and ideology, the ethical questions of research, the problematics of separating the spiritual from academic study” (p. 394).

First off, I would like to point out the connection made by Daniell between her questions of ideology and Farrell’s argument that “if African American students learned the standard forms of to be, they could then think propositionally, thereby raising their scores on standardized IQ tests” (p. 397). Not only does this quote (I’m going to assume it’s an honest representation of Farrell’s argument) argue that there is a connection between thinking propositionally and a high level of intelligence, but it also makes standardized IQ tests the litmus test for intelligence. A standardized test. Not only do I despise these tests personally, because I have a difficult time with them, I think they are the anti-education. Standardized tests reduce the knowledge students need to learn to basic memorization and do not take into account different learning styles and literacies. These tests set students up for failure. But they do keep ETS in business, so who am I to argue with capitalism?

Enough ranting.

Back on topic: Daniell explains how Street argues that “literacy is never autonomous, never separate, never innocent or neutral, but always embedded in and embodying the practices, beliefs, and values of a culture, always therefore ideological” (p. 398). I think this argument is something of great importance to us as teachers. We need to be aware of our students’ literacies and where those literacies come from. They are not singular skills, independent of the students’ beliefs and histories, but instead stem from life experience. Rather than assuming the grand narrative is the key, instead, we should look at how the little narratives are at work in our students’ writing, and understand how “the dominant tradition is not the only one, that counter-traditions run along side, that history [and literacies?] is usually more complex than it is presented” (p. 407).

With Daniell as a framework, I think Durst’s case studies make great examples of the little narratives at work. The four students he chose to look at in great detail are vastly different in their life experiences, beliefs, writing and literacies. Each student is asked to “lay an interpretive framework onto their subject matter, to critique the ideas of others as well as their own ideas, to develop their own understandings and opinions, and to support these with carefully considered and appropriate arguments and evidence of different kinds” (p. 94). These requirements allow students to use their own lives and beliefs to inform and drive their work.

While the previous sentence sounds great and I’m optimistic that it might actually occur in my classroom, I do understand the reality of the situation. Students’ concerns may be at odds with mine. For example, Durst explains that, for some students, rather than solving a problem within their paper topic or question, “the problem they actually attempted to solve was that of writing a paper for their English class” (p. 114). This points to something I still struggle with myself at times, the contradicting desire to further one’s knowledge and the hope for an excellent grade. For many students, grades have been touted as paramount for 12 years, and so it is difficult to convince them otherwise. I am still trying to figure out how to navigate this particular possibility, and I’m hoping I can make the transition a smooth one for my students.