So, inspired by Alex's attempt at a vague summation, here's my own equally inept and incomplete (no offense, Alex) attempt at some sort of summarization of everything I learned in this class.
1. I don't know anything. All the stuff I thought I knew about teaching I found out is wrong. Then I found out that the stuff I learned about the stuff I knew before was wrong. Then I found out that was wrong, too. I don't think this is a bad thing. Being self-reflective (reflexive) is one of the most important lessons I've taken from the course readings. As long as I'm thinking about what I'm doing and whether it's working and so forth, I can be useful to some extent to my students.
2. I know a lot more than I used to. Reading all these articles and books about teaching must have taught me something, right? But seriously, folks, I'm personally a fan of how Kent State does this, where we don't teach in the first semester. Having a good, solid background in teaching theory (maybe not both good AND solid, but certainly at least one of the two) makes me a lot less nervous about being flung into a classroom (flung is an excellent word and would make a good band name) with 25 doe-eyed recent high school graduates who expect me to know stuff.
3. This blog has annoyed me from time to time, but it sure is nice to have somewhere to vent my creative impulses. I like words.
4. Language is funny. And it's much more funny if we don't try to pigeonhole it (pigeonhole. How could anybody argue that language is funny?). Errors are subjective, grammar police are despicable people (a bit of an exaggeration, but let's fight fire with fire!), and recognizing various dialects is an important part of language. While it's good for us to educate students into an understanding of a somewhat standardized form of English, it's equally important to acknowledge other dialects.
5. Nothing about teaching is ever simple. This doesn't mean it's difficult. It also doesn't mean it's easy. It just means it's not simple. I suppose this is something of a repeat of number 1. Self-reflectiveness and all that.
6. Multimodality is something I'm going to have to reconcile myself with. With which I'm going to have to reconcile myself. I may not like it (see earlier post), but I have to admit it can be fun sometimes (I had a surprisingly good time making that video of my brother and his wife). My focus remains on the language itself, but presentation style is an inescapable part of language production.
7. Portfolios are a better idea than I had at first thought. Than I had thought at first. I like the process emphasis, the lack of finality in earlier drafts, the grading focus on where students are at the end rather than the beginning, and so forth. I'm still working out exactly how to structure my class, but portfolio grading will be part of it.
8. My class isn't about me. It's about my students. And about me. Really, it's in the interplay between us, the differance if you will (and I won't...Derrida gets brought up too much), that meaning will be formed. This means that I'm going to be simultaneously putting my personality and attitudes into the class structure and trying to get the hell out of the way and let the students do the work from time to time. I'm not sure exactly how I'll strike this balance, but I look forward to it.
9. I need to watch my words so as not to accidentally convey myself as a racist. My comment in class drew a good (though not intended) laugh, but it also reminded me that I need to be conscious of what I'm saying and try not to offend anybody. This probably won't be possible.
10. Ache with caring. Like Alex, and several others, I think the Mem Fox piece was one of my favorites. I haven't really taught in this type of setting before, so I'll be interested to see just how much it clicks for me. But I hope I'll be able to put the amount of effort and caring into it that the students deserve. At least the good ones. Well, okay, the bad ones too.
There's what I think.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
David Crystal's outlook on change in language reiterated and summed up most of the readings we did for this course on the topic. What Crystal manages to affirm, and which no one else pointed out, is that change in language occurs slowly, and in a manner that seldom impedes communication. However, the amount of ballyhoo generated concerning the deterioration of the standards of English is enough to convince one otherwise. As Crystal writes: "There are indeed cases where linguistic change can lead to problems of unintelligibility, ambiguity, and social division. If change is too rapid, there can be major communication problems. But as a rule, the parts of language which are changing at any given time are tiny, by comparison with the vast, unchanging areas of language. Indeed, it is because change is so infrequent that it is so distinctive and noticeable" (458). This makes sense. So why is the uproar by the mechanics, quacks and thieves so loud? I don't know. Is this just a self-righteous impulse to safeguard the notionally sacred purity of language?
Time and again, consideration of this question leads me to one single point of inquiry--if communication is impeded, it must be impeded for someone. Why is there no effort to locate this someone? Because I am sure communication is impeded at different levels for each one of us. So why is Crystal not concerned with this fact? His historicized account of using "potato's" was very entertaining. But what if the usage really does confuse a non-native learner of the language, who will then proceeds boldly to the grocery store and addresses the person behind the counter, evidently the proprietor of the establishment, as Mr/Ms. Potato?
I quite like Crystal's argument about the interconnectedness of social and linguistic change. It is folly to attempt to control either without in some way trying to control the other. And any attempt to control both together is madness. So what do we do? The answer seems to be awareness. We remain aware of the changes going on, in society and in languages we speak. When I go out each morning, I am quite aware that I am in the United States, and quite expect to see advertisements for 'hair color' in print media, and not of 'hair colour'. I know what is being advertised, and meaning is not impeded.
But what about 'mistakes' that do not impede comprehension, but yet, are there? Do we correct someone saying "Drive safe", or (as I read in a recent magazine article, choking on my apple cider) "Promiscuity can be anyone"? Do we avoid them when we write, and go on using them orally? And if yes, to what extent is such oral usage applicable?
Time and again, consideration of this question leads me to one single point of inquiry--if communication is impeded, it must be impeded for someone. Why is there no effort to locate this someone? Because I am sure communication is impeded at different levels for each one of us. So why is Crystal not concerned with this fact? His historicized account of using "potato's" was very entertaining. But what if the usage really does confuse a non-native learner of the language, who will then proceeds boldly to the grocery store and addresses the person behind the counter, evidently the proprietor of the establishment, as Mr/Ms. Potato?
I quite like Crystal's argument about the interconnectedness of social and linguistic change. It is folly to attempt to control either without in some way trying to control the other. And any attempt to control both together is madness. So what do we do? The answer seems to be awareness. We remain aware of the changes going on, in society and in languages we speak. When I go out each morning, I am quite aware that I am in the United States, and quite expect to see advertisements for 'hair color' in print media, and not of 'hair colour'. I know what is being advertised, and meaning is not impeded.
But what about 'mistakes' that do not impede comprehension, but yet, are there? Do we correct someone saying "Drive safe", or (as I read in a recent magazine article, choking on my apple cider) "Promiscuity can be anyone"? Do we avoid them when we write, and go on using them orally? And if yes, to what extent is such oral usage applicable?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Some kind of vague summation
We've covered a lot of ground in this course. Pulling everything together into one, grand unified theory of teaching seems kind of daunting to me. Thus far, everything I've come up with has been hopelessly vague or obvious.
But that won't stop me from writing about it!
At the moment, I keep coming back to something Zebroski wrote in "A Hero in the Classroom." He states "I cannot, and will not, treat students as a bundle of free-flowing textual shreds and threads, as a site of textual fragments, as a text-processing machine spewing forth voices, as merely one location of Intertext." (36)As simple as it may sound, I think it's important to keep in mind that our students are not text-processing machines, they are people. I know, that was pretty deep. It's a good thing you are sitting down while reading this.
Seriously though, I think that we can get a lot of guidance as teachers by just keeping in mind some basic facts about human nature. For example, people are lazy. Well, maybe lazy is a harsh word. But for the most part, people won't do any more work than they have to. This is why I'm becoming more and more a fan of the portfolio approach. It circumvents the natural tendency to calculate the path of least resistance while still making an acceptable grade. Portfolios also help students to keeps improving upon and learning from their own work.
Another fundamental human tendency is that people are emotional creatures (or in the case of our classrooms full of teenagers, very emotional creatures). We can't program our students. We can't re-tune or recalibrate them. I wish we could! Maybe that's my laziness speaking... If our students are going to learn anything they are going to have to want to do so. We have to keep in mind what motivates them. Making the grade is just part of the equation. Of everything we've read this year, I still think the words of Mem Fox are some of my favorite. If we are passionate about something, then we will excel. I've seen this proved in my own life over and over again. I won't lie, when I write a story or a chapter of a novel, I produce vastly better work than when I write an academic paper. Is this because I, as a person, am better suited to creative writing? Who knows. I rather doubt it. The more interested I am in an academic paper the better it will be as well. As teachers, it will behoove us to find writing material that captures our students imaginations.
Another key to motivation is audience. We're social creatures, and when our reputation is on the line, that's when we really start to care. Again, Mem Fox provides good examples of how this human characteristic can be put to good use, as does Pam with her experience with the Dreamers and their (potentially) judgmental German peers.
I know I'm pretty much rehashing stuff we've gone over in class time and again. I'm putting it down on paper (or online, as it were) to help clarify my own thoughts more than anything else--which is another interesting fact human nature. Sometimes we need to have our own ideas spelled out right in front of us before we know that they are there.
But that won't stop me from writing about it!
At the moment, I keep coming back to something Zebroski wrote in "A Hero in the Classroom." He states "I cannot, and will not, treat students as a bundle of free-flowing textual shreds and threads, as a site of textual fragments, as a text-processing machine spewing forth voices, as merely one location of Intertext." (36)As simple as it may sound, I think it's important to keep in mind that our students are not text-processing machines, they are people. I know, that was pretty deep. It's a good thing you are sitting down while reading this.
Seriously though, I think that we can get a lot of guidance as teachers by just keeping in mind some basic facts about human nature. For example, people are lazy. Well, maybe lazy is a harsh word. But for the most part, people won't do any more work than they have to. This is why I'm becoming more and more a fan of the portfolio approach. It circumvents the natural tendency to calculate the path of least resistance while still making an acceptable grade. Portfolios also help students to keeps improving upon and learning from their own work.
Another fundamental human tendency is that people are emotional creatures (or in the case of our classrooms full of teenagers, very emotional creatures). We can't program our students. We can't re-tune or recalibrate them. I wish we could! Maybe that's my laziness speaking... If our students are going to learn anything they are going to have to want to do so. We have to keep in mind what motivates them. Making the grade is just part of the equation. Of everything we've read this year, I still think the words of Mem Fox are some of my favorite. If we are passionate about something, then we will excel. I've seen this proved in my own life over and over again. I won't lie, when I write a story or a chapter of a novel, I produce vastly better work than when I write an academic paper. Is this because I, as a person, am better suited to creative writing? Who knows. I rather doubt it. The more interested I am in an academic paper the better it will be as well. As teachers, it will behoove us to find writing material that captures our students imaginations.
Another key to motivation is audience. We're social creatures, and when our reputation is on the line, that's when we really start to care. Again, Mem Fox provides good examples of how this human characteristic can be put to good use, as does Pam with her experience with the Dreamers and their (potentially) judgmental German peers.
I know I'm pretty much rehashing stuff we've gone over in class time and again. I'm putting it down on paper (or online, as it were) to help clarify my own thoughts more than anything else--which is another interesting fact human nature. Sometimes we need to have our own ideas spelled out right in front of us before we know that they are there.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Trying to Put it Together
I'm still considering what my "theory of teaching" is and will become. I have been strongly influenced in the past few weeks by several of the readings. In response to Brian Huot's chapter in Practice in Context, I have to say "write it out!" I have always, on a tacit level, suspected that this must have something to do with evolving a writer's abilities. In my own experiences as a student, I have found this to be resoundingly true. When I was young, I wrote almost compulsively. I have had a discussion of this with some of the other members of this class, and discovered that they have had similar experiences. But it comes down to this: the more I write, the better I become at it. After I left undergrad, I went "out in the world," to work in the mortgage business, in which I did little writing, and if I did write it was limited to form letters and memos. I came back to school after six years and discovered that I was quite rusty. Of course we all know how much writing is involved in a graduate level program in English, so of course, my writing has improved by leaps and bounds since then. This must certainly be true for more basic writers as well. Since considering this, it has become a part of the theory that I will require lots and lots of writing. I definitely want to do informal dialogue journals and cover letters or memos that will be included with drafts. I like this idea of this not only because it forces them to write more, which forces improvement, but also because as I have read this week's readings, it becomes more and more apparent to me that I must respond, and it's better to respond more rather than less.
Also in Huot's chapter, I like the idea of responding with correctness. In a way, it seems like this is more obvious than at first it seemed. If we assume that our students are cognitively deficient because they make errors, it would make sense that we should get out the red pens and scrawl "awk" and "comma" etc. on their papers and in their journals, but what if we consider that maybe....just maybe...(is it really such a long-shot??) that our students are not cognitively impaired and that they can and will respond to seeing something written in the "correct" form next to a mistake that clearly is in the same format as the correct response from us? By thinking that our students cannot understand what this probably means, I think we're underestimating their cognitive abilities to a point where it's just insulting. If you do this orally with an elementary school student, they would probably be likely to respond. I think that the fact that many teachers have not tried or thought of this method reveals some underlying assumptions that are quite unfounded. I see no need to go crazy and "call them out" on things like that when maybe just a little nudging in the right direction would serve them better and allow them to keep their dignity.
On a related note, and in connection with writing it out, I can't really understand why anyone would want to teach a freshman writing course where the only writing activities are the papers, it makes it seem like a real "do or die" situation, which I'm sure would cause some anxiety, and if it's not necessary or serving a purpose, why put them through it? So I hereby declare "write it out!" Give them a little practice where their grade doesn't hang in the balance, and further, give them a response to their writing before it comes down to impacting their grade. It only seems fair to me. Speaking of response...this leads me to my next discovery...
Reading Kynard's article has reaffirmed something about response that has become a part of my "theory of teaching," as it continues to evolve. The first thing, and I think the most important, is that we should respond to student writing, and a lot. I love how many different ways that Kynard responds to her student's writing. This kind of ties into my discussion above, but I think it's important that I have them writing a lot, and getting responses to that writing a lot as well, and further, that they have a chance to write in journals and memos in addition to papers, so they get some experience in writing at different levels of formality. Not all the writing anyone will do in life is going to be research papers...it would be ridiculous to think so. I think it's important to do this because when someone writes in their lives outside of academia, there are so many different levels of formality and informality that are appropriate. I think it's good for them to get experience in a variety of formats, so that when the times comes, they are able to make those kinds of stylistic choices themselves with confidence. Maybe a research paper seems ridiculous when it's written informally, but a memo inviting your department to the informal holiday party would look every bit as ridiculous written in academic jargon.
I also found it incredible in Kynard's article how much writing outside of class her students were engaging in and bringing to her. I think this, more than anything, is the dream that most teachers of writing have. What could possibly be better than your students breaking down your door with pages upon pages of writing that they want you to respond to? That must be really satisfying (a little overwhelming, maybe, but satisfying nonetheless).
I also found Zebroski's article interesting, particularly his discussion of "voices." I liked the way that he broke down different types of responses to a piece of student writing that in most circumstances would probably not have "gone over" so well. I think he's right in asserting that we have to really consider the different voices that circulate within us as we are responding to writing. There are certain ideologies that we espouse, often tacitly, that are given voice in our thoughts. I think many teachers have the voices of Strunk and White and other grammarian types screaming at the top of their lungs when they're responding, (probably because they screamed inside their own teachers' heads) which was made clear in last week's reading. There are also other voices, political leanings, teachers, you name it...they're all there and they're all yacking. I don't think there's much we can do about that except to be aware of it and try to engage as closely as we can with the student writing at hand and really interrogate those voices when they start vying for attention. Maybe they're right and have something valuable to say...and maybe they're a little off the mark. It's a really interesting notion that if kept in mind will certainly help us consider how we respond to texts.
Also in Huot's chapter, I like the idea of responding with correctness. In a way, it seems like this is more obvious than at first it seemed. If we assume that our students are cognitively deficient because they make errors, it would make sense that we should get out the red pens and scrawl "awk" and "comma" etc. on their papers and in their journals, but what if we consider that maybe....just maybe...(is it really such a long-shot??) that our students are not cognitively impaired and that they can and will respond to seeing something written in the "correct" form next to a mistake that clearly is in the same format as the correct response from us? By thinking that our students cannot understand what this probably means, I think we're underestimating their cognitive abilities to a point where it's just insulting. If you do this orally with an elementary school student, they would probably be likely to respond. I think that the fact that many teachers have not tried or thought of this method reveals some underlying assumptions that are quite unfounded. I see no need to go crazy and "call them out" on things like that when maybe just a little nudging in the right direction would serve them better and allow them to keep their dignity.
On a related note, and in connection with writing it out, I can't really understand why anyone would want to teach a freshman writing course where the only writing activities are the papers, it makes it seem like a real "do or die" situation, which I'm sure would cause some anxiety, and if it's not necessary or serving a purpose, why put them through it? So I hereby declare "write it out!" Give them a little practice where their grade doesn't hang in the balance, and further, give them a response to their writing before it comes down to impacting their grade. It only seems fair to me. Speaking of response...this leads me to my next discovery...
Reading Kynard's article has reaffirmed something about response that has become a part of my "theory of teaching," as it continues to evolve. The first thing, and I think the most important, is that we should respond to student writing, and a lot. I love how many different ways that Kynard responds to her student's writing. This kind of ties into my discussion above, but I think it's important that I have them writing a lot, and getting responses to that writing a lot as well, and further, that they have a chance to write in journals and memos in addition to papers, so they get some experience in writing at different levels of formality. Not all the writing anyone will do in life is going to be research papers...it would be ridiculous to think so. I think it's important to do this because when someone writes in their lives outside of academia, there are so many different levels of formality and informality that are appropriate. I think it's good for them to get experience in a variety of formats, so that when the times comes, they are able to make those kinds of stylistic choices themselves with confidence. Maybe a research paper seems ridiculous when it's written informally, but a memo inviting your department to the informal holiday party would look every bit as ridiculous written in academic jargon.
I also found it incredible in Kynard's article how much writing outside of class her students were engaging in and bringing to her. I think this, more than anything, is the dream that most teachers of writing have. What could possibly be better than your students breaking down your door with pages upon pages of writing that they want you to respond to? That must be really satisfying (a little overwhelming, maybe, but satisfying nonetheless).
I also found Zebroski's article interesting, particularly his discussion of "voices." I liked the way that he broke down different types of responses to a piece of student writing that in most circumstances would probably not have "gone over" so well. I think he's right in asserting that we have to really consider the different voices that circulate within us as we are responding to writing. There are certain ideologies that we espouse, often tacitly, that are given voice in our thoughts. I think many teachers have the voices of Strunk and White and other grammarian types screaming at the top of their lungs when they're responding, (probably because they screamed inside their own teachers' heads) which was made clear in last week's reading. There are also other voices, political leanings, teachers, you name it...they're all there and they're all yacking. I don't think there's much we can do about that except to be aware of it and try to engage as closely as we can with the student writing at hand and really interrogate those voices when they start vying for attention. Maybe they're right and have something valuable to say...and maybe they're a little off the mark. It's a really interesting notion that if kept in mind will certainly help us consider how we respond to texts.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I think you's full of it up in here
I hope this won't be construed as racist (though I know I have something of a history on that subject), but I really didn't care for Carmen Kynard's piece. I appreciate the merit of informal languages and different types of discourse and I can't see myself communicating with my students in only that stuffy, academic tone I despise so much but with which many academic writers tend to write.
But I thought Kynard's writing deserved one of those dreaded "awk" marks beside it.
Maybe it's because I'm not black, but I found her ebonics forced and contrived. To me, at least, they just didn't feel natural. Not that ebonics could never have a place in academic writing, but hers felt like she said to herself "I'm going to cram some ebonics into this article to prove that I can." It was conscious and deliberate, yes, but not in a way that flowed naturally with her points and her style of writing. And as the article went on, I thought it felt more and more forced. Based on what she says, it's obvious this style works for Kynard, but based on the tone of the article it certainly doesn't work for me.
This is all subjective, of course (like most of my boneheaded and arrogant opinions). But it served the purpose of reminding me that students see through phony informality in a heartbeat up in here and will quickly tune a teacher out if they think he or she is trying to put on airs to impress them. So even in level of informality, it's very important to be conscious of what you are doing and how you are acting. Once again, I think this relates to our reading about being a self-aware teacher who does everything intentionally. Doing something intentionally doesn't necessarily mean doing it effectively, and attention must always be paid to how well something works.
But I thought Kynard's writing deserved one of those dreaded "awk" marks beside it.
Maybe it's because I'm not black, but I found her ebonics forced and contrived. To me, at least, they just didn't feel natural. Not that ebonics could never have a place in academic writing, but hers felt like she said to herself "I'm going to cram some ebonics into this article to prove that I can." It was conscious and deliberate, yes, but not in a way that flowed naturally with her points and her style of writing. And as the article went on, I thought it felt more and more forced. Based on what she says, it's obvious this style works for Kynard, but based on the tone of the article it certainly doesn't work for me.
This is all subjective, of course (like most of my boneheaded and arrogant opinions). But it served the purpose of reminding me that students see through phony informality in a heartbeat up in here and will quickly tune a teacher out if they think he or she is trying to put on airs to impress them. So even in level of informality, it's very important to be conscious of what you are doing and how you are acting. Once again, I think this relates to our reading about being a self-aware teacher who does everything intentionally. Doing something intentionally doesn't necessarily mean doing it effectively, and attention must always be paid to how well something works.
Monday, November 17, 2008
writing writing and more writing
The more we discuss student writing in this class, the more and more I see not only how important it is for them to write, but how important it is for us to respond to what they write. We can have them write pages and pages and while that will help, it will not be nearly as effective as us responding to what they write. I think the article by Connors and Lunsford shows how important response is, and how so many teacher seem to be lacking in this area of their job. They point out the obvious, the overworked teachers who sometimes don’t have time to respond just as our overworked students sometimes don’t have the time to write the papers we assign them, but if they can accomplish their task why can’t we? I think even worse than not responding at all were some of the horrific negative responses teachers wrote to their students. “Throw away!” or “I refuse to read this research paper.” OUCH! Talk about discouraging a writer! But while these are obviously hurtful comments can discourage writers, no response or little response is just going to create angry disconnected writers.
Where Connors and Lunsford show us the comments teachers make, Sommers helps us to be better respondants to student writing. Connors, like so many authors we have read in the past, have suggested students including writers memos as a sort of introduction to their papers. I really like this idea. I think so many times teachers write to students “what did you mean by this” or “why was this included” and maybe these questions can be addressed prior to reading the paper. What I liked even better was the predesigned questions for the memos. I think if we’re going to ask students to write a memo we should give them some direction. My favorite was “What should I try to help you with as I comment on this draft?” This helps us and the student so much! They are telling us exactly what they think needs work and ask us to concentrate on it. Although we will obviously be commenting on the entire paper, helping someone work out what they feel is their weakest part of the paper is a really good idea.
Where Connors and Lunsford show us the comments teachers make, Sommers helps us to be better respondants to student writing. Connors, like so many authors we have read in the past, have suggested students including writers memos as a sort of introduction to their papers. I really like this idea. I think so many times teachers write to students “what did you mean by this” or “why was this included” and maybe these questions can be addressed prior to reading the paper. What I liked even better was the predesigned questions for the memos. I think if we’re going to ask students to write a memo we should give them some direction. My favorite was “What should I try to help you with as I comment on this draft?” This helps us and the student so much! They are telling us exactly what they think needs work and ask us to concentrate on it. Although we will obviously be commenting on the entire paper, helping someone work out what they feel is their weakest part of the paper is a really good idea.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
To rate or respond, that is the question
Whenever I have received a paper with only a grade and no comments, I assume the grade is the most important part of the class (from the teacher's perspective). Thus, it has been difficult for me to focus on the writing process outside of the things the teacher "expects" (i.e. as has been the case, mechanics and style). The authors note, that “if papers had no other markings, they had grades or evaluative symbols” (p. 453). The discussion of the results pertaining to grades within Connors and Lunsford's sample was of interest to me, particularly because assessment is something in which I’m not well versed (yet, obviously).
The authors note the ambiguity and vague nature of the grading notations made on papers in the sample: “we had meant to attempt an average of these grades, but the different systems they used and the different contexts out of which they came made such an attempt seem silly; we had no idea how to average notations such as ***, 94/130, 3.1, +, F+, and [smiley-face]” (p. 453). What does an ‘F+’ mean? That you’ve failed, but with an honorable mention? It’s somewhat ironic that although we assume there is a standard of correctness from which to assess writing and language, but we’ve yet to achieve a standard grading system to assess a text’s “standardness.”
If we follow Janet Auten’s advice (“that we need a rhetorical context for every disruption we make in a student text”), then we might think twice before disrupting an entire student text (and perhaps the student’s writing process) with an arbitrary or vague grade and no comment (p. 463). Or even a grade at all. By looking at comments or grades as potential disruptions, we may be more apt to make comments that come with distinct rhetorical context and purpose; comments that encourage the writer to continue.
I checked out NCTE's position statement on writing assessment, and thought it might be helpful for others to see.
NCTE position statement on writing assessment
Result #2 of guiding principle #4 stood out to me: "Best assessment practice clearly communicates what is valued and expected, and does not distort the nature of writing or writing practices." In relation to what Connors and Lunsford had to say, the NCTE guidelines articulate the assessment practices that would be in tune with responding rather than rating. NCTE presents a set of guidelines, not a strict set of standards by which to follow in order to assign a grade.
The first NCTE guideline states that the primary purpose of writing assessment is to improve both teaching and learning. I would hope that is one of the primary purposes of the writing classroom in general: to improve both teaching and learning. What goes on in the writing classroom is recursive: the teacher teaches, the students learn, and in turn, the students teach, and the teacher learns. And the cycle continues. When assigning a grade, we should take into account that each ‘A’ or ‘C’ or (God forbid) ‘F’ reflects our teaching in some way. The student hasn’t written in a vaccuum, but quite the opposite: the student has written in a social community, the classroom, and thus should be assessed in such a way.
The authors note the ambiguity and vague nature of the grading notations made on papers in the sample: “we had meant to attempt an average of these grades, but the different systems they used and the different contexts out of which they came made such an attempt seem silly; we had no idea how to average notations such as ***, 94/130, 3.1, +, F+, and [smiley-face]” (p. 453). What does an ‘F+’ mean? That you’ve failed, but with an honorable mention? It’s somewhat ironic that although we assume there is a standard of correctness from which to assess writing and language, but we’ve yet to achieve a standard grading system to assess a text’s “standardness.”
If we follow Janet Auten’s advice (“that we need a rhetorical context for every disruption we make in a student text”), then we might think twice before disrupting an entire student text (and perhaps the student’s writing process) with an arbitrary or vague grade and no comment (p. 463). Or even a grade at all. By looking at comments or grades as potential disruptions, we may be more apt to make comments that come with distinct rhetorical context and purpose; comments that encourage the writer to continue.
I checked out NCTE's position statement on writing assessment, and thought it might be helpful for others to see.
NCTE position statement on writing assessment
Result #2 of guiding principle #4 stood out to me: "Best assessment practice clearly communicates what is valued and expected, and does not distort the nature of writing or writing practices." In relation to what Connors and Lunsford had to say, the NCTE guidelines articulate the assessment practices that would be in tune with responding rather than rating. NCTE presents a set of guidelines, not a strict set of standards by which to follow in order to assign a grade.
The first NCTE guideline states that the primary purpose of writing assessment is to improve both teaching and learning. I would hope that is one of the primary purposes of the writing classroom in general: to improve both teaching and learning. What goes on in the writing classroom is recursive: the teacher teaches, the students learn, and in turn, the students teach, and the teacher learns. And the cycle continues. When assigning a grade, we should take into account that each ‘A’ or ‘C’ or (God forbid) ‘F’ reflects our teaching in some way. The student hasn’t written in a vaccuum, but quite the opposite: the student has written in a social community, the classroom, and thus should be assessed in such a way.
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