Eagleton is sassy!

I seem to recall, either in the reading or in class, something being said about how Bordieu did not ever really subscribe to any particular theory, but that he seemed to have pieces of all of them weaved into his writing. The same, I think, could be true for Eagleton, except Eagleton heralds, and rags on, post-modernism and Marxism with equal fervor. Both theories encompass the dispossessed, and yet they do not do enough. They promote change in a world where change is happening so quickly that, by the time theorists and reactionaries get their foot in the door, the door has decomposed and there are vines growing around the edges.

Eagleton's biting wit and commentary on the world at large, especially where powers are seen to take themselves too seriously, tears down the very illusion of stability and order, which is a distinctly post-modern tactic, especially when he talks about the fact that the center is constantly migrating (20). However, Eagleton refers to the idea where all things "normative" are undesirable as a "crass Romantic delusion" (13, 15). No one and nothing is sacred or safe with Eagleton, and yet his bleak (starkly realistic?) outlook is forgiven because of very Izzard-like ability to castigate eloquently.

[An addendum. There has been a misunderstanding, for which I take full responsibility. I confused the terms post-modern and post-structuralist. I meant the latter and not the former, which caused confusion. For me and others].

Did they deserve to die?

In literature, especially in times of great sexual repression, it was quite popular to end the lives of characters who were considered to be sexual deviants. Also, to express homosexual love, to be one of the Other, requires, even now, a generous amount of indirection. After reading Goldberg's depiction of the death of Christopher Marlowe, it struck me that, while I had heard how he died, several times, the fault always seemed to reside with Marlowe, his temper or something like it. Now it seems that he was killed for believing and being something other than what the popular society had dictated was appropriate. And I am sure that there were a great many people (including those who were relieved to get away with similar activity) who believed Marlowe deserved to die.

Sedgwick also mentions societal mores condemning homosexuals to being as denigrated as women, if not moreso: "the suppression of the homosexual component of human sexuality, is a product of the same system whose rules and relations oppress women...Our own society is brutally homophobic" (1686). It was this latter sentence that really caught my attention. It made me think of Matthew Shepard and Tina Brandon.

I was surprised (sort of) to read about homosexuality during World War I in the Barry. I actually read a book called Regeneration that was about Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. It was the primary read for the last theory class I took, in fact. I dropped the class before we got to Queer Theory, but I read some of their poems, and they were beautiful, and they were also about the brutality of government and war (two things that always seem to want to squelch beauty). Something in us is bred to fear and hate things that we are told are different. Sad. Keeps us from evolving. And it'll kill us in the end.

Championing the "Other"

A lot of the theories that we have read about this semester have indicated a gap in how texts are regarded, and this week is no exception. In fact, New Historicism and Postcolonial criticism seem to fill in the gaps where no other theories have been able to. I do find it interesting that the New Historicists feel the need to invent a theory that allows them to go back to the beginning and back to the basics in order to rediscover literature through historical documents as read/discovered by "non-historians" (Berry 171). Giving fresh eyes and a new perspective (with goals different from how history had previously been applied to theory), however, can allow for texts to be useful. Nevertheless, I fundamentally disagree with critics cherry-picking data from historical texts in order to prove their points. To disregard the whole of history and the potential for how literature has been created negates the whole purpose of reinventing historical theory.

In any case, I find myself more interested in Postcolonial theory. Between reading Bourdieu and my chosen book for review, Folk Women and Indirection, I have become fascinated with the idea of giving the powerless a voice. Whether that voice is opposed, beleaguered or cloaked in "sly civility" (Fulmer 28), it is important to recognize that the voice of the dominated or the "Other" is still a legitimate voice (especially since we have all been reared with a Western Mentality). For instance, Bhabha, like Yoda, asks us to "unlearn what we think we have learned" about "colonial discourse" (294). It is our job as teachers, critics and, indeed, truth seekers to transcend this Western idea that the dominated or the "Other" must be either idealized, sensualized or demonized. Both of these lenses encourage misrepresentation and, while the former is seen as positive, stereotyping: "the site of dreams, images, fantasies, myths, obsessions and requirements" (Bhabha 295).

The only true way to experience literature, without these prejudices, is to go back to texts with fresh eyes, and with a new way of discovering literature through it's non-fiction sister texts in order to fairly critique certain pieces, keeping in mind the possibility (probability?) that a lot of the available historical texts are biased.

The Snake that Eats Itself

This week's reading left me feeling raw.

The system perpetuates itself, makes itself stronger through its continuation. It reinvents itself, it's domination. Bourdieu hits on all of the major social systems and the whole time I was reading I kept thinking...uroboros: "More precisely, the struggle tends constantly to produce and reproduce the game and its stakes by reproducing the practical commitment to the value of the game and its stakes which defines the recognition of legitimacy" (58).

According to Bourdieu (and also myself), all people have the capacity for truth and freedom, and yet they do not all have the opportunity. The "philosophical salvation" is only open to those who can free themselves from the popular social language, the popular social ideas and the popular method of domination and submission, though Bourdieu admits that some predetermined social milieus are "partly beyond the grasp of consciousness and will" (89), which makes it extraordinarily difficult for the average person (or Dasein) to grab hold of the spark and run with it (especially when it is the primary goal of those who dominate to rule "by disburdening [the Dasein] of its being" (147). Once the common man believes that he cannot be the means of his own salvation, and once his trust is in those who are counting on his submission, he is lost.

Also, I'm not convinced that the people in power deserve my sympathy. Yes, they have the responsibility of behaving in a certain way (a greater amount of censorship is required, etc.), and of fulfilling certain promises, but they would not have these burdens if they weren't so stoked on stealing the souls of men and women.

There is a lot of lore surrounding the power of naming. Once something is named, its power is taken away. So, the lofty sit on their thrones, pointing crook'd fingers down into the crowd, saying, "I name thee, common man. I name thee, hysterical and embarrassing woman," and once the named own their titles, the power has shifted.

So, what is the job, then, of literary theoreticians? To unveil the lies or to help others tell them better?

Fun with Marxism: Hegemony

Something that Williams said got me thinking... The word "normal" (1277). While I know that he meant the normal way of interpreting "rule," but it made me start thinking about power being a normal thing, a natural thing. It is given and taken and, if it is truly interconnected with everything else in society, and if it is also indissoluble from the "specific activities and products of real men" (1275), then is it, then, natural?

If power and the power struggle is, indeed, natural, then what is it about humans that has us hardwired to either crave or bow to power? Is it our need to be part of a structure (and not to be banished from the polis)? It also seems that if this is true then maybe (though I hate to admit it) Jameson was right. From this standpoint, too, the other theories are more abstract than Marxism. Marxism has a firm grounding in what is knowable and calculable, even if the realm of changing idealogies takes us more into the abstract (especially when the extremes of various class systems ebb and flow).

The other question is how can we allow our class values to "override" our personal values? Yet this takes me back to last week and feminism. We allow a lot of things to override our personal values in order to belong.

Why Do You Always Write These Strong Women Characters?

Robot Chicken

When reading Barry's rendition of the feminist movement I flashed back to Tony's post all those weeks ago about everything being chicken. I think, however, that a lot of these activistic theories are more like the meat grinder. They are looking for ways to expose the current structure as a fraud, to point out that the center we have depended on since our infancy is an illusion to keep us in our place, whether that center is capitalism, patriarchal promulgations, or simply religion (and I seem to be, along with many of my classmates, a vulgar Marxist, and I don't seem to have a problem with it).

I also see in feminism a similar paradox to those of the post-structuralists: if language is male constructed, yet it must be used in order to communicate, then the domination succeeds. It has put the female sex into a bind that we cannot escape from...If language is male constructed. However, I think that this argument over language is trivial. We can only be dominated by language if we choose to be. Those male writers with their strangle hold on language can sit back in their chairs and laugh as the "fairer sex" uses their own clubs to beat them with (phallic symbolism notwithstanding).

I think that the real argument here, though, is how women are perceived by men and women, both in how they are written as characters and how they are seen by other characters (the male gaze?). It might also be wise to take an androcentric approach. How do men see themselves? And how does that sense of manliness, or lack thereof, make them react toward women?

Side note: I was in Chili's the other day having dinner with my sister. We sat at the bar because it would, otherwise, have been a twenty minute wait. This bartender (who looked like he had just cut his first tooth) came up and said, "So, what would you girls like to drink?" My first impulse was to slug him. I have no idea what his intent was in calling us girls. He may have meant it very innocently, but--to me--it was tantamount to a white man calling a black man "boy." It shows a complete and utter lack of respect, and it shows a sort of "natural" chauvinism that tends to be bred into men. When I worked for the airlines, we were always called "girls." Even the flight attendants who were older than fifty (or older than the pilots) were "girls." So, yes, semantics, but this is language that can be identified and, hopefully, avoided.

According to Barry, men and women are both slaves to sexism. So, wouldn't it benefit everyone if we just cut it out? I think that feminist theory, even as more of the kinks are worked out, is a valuable instrument to do so.

blah blah ginger, blah blah blah...

Once I got past Jameson's claim of supremacy of Marxism over all other theories (Marxism is the brand of theory that nine out of ten Marxists recommend), I was able to nestle into the warm bosom of (anti?) sociopolitical repression.

The main point in Jameson my brain glommed onto was that necessity creates dependence, just like how a domesticated animal comes home after a quick jaunt around town because it knows where its meal is coming from. It was also the reason that tribes were created: we keep each other warm, safe and fed, and we'll choose the most intelligent, and the best hunters, among the group to run everything. It made sense then, and it makes sense now. The only difference is that now it's sort of humiliating. We are willing slaves ("crumbs, crumbs, crumbs!").

I, in spite of this realization of gentle enslavement, prefer Althusser's off-brand version of Marxism (what is voluntary slavery, after all, if not compromise). There's that notion in physics that every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, but since when are things so clear-cut? A single moment in time is created by a confluence of events leading up to that moment, and each piece of art (especially writing) has an infinite amount of influences. The French Revolution didn't start because Marie told them all to eat cake.

Indeed, we are all a product of our times and economic status, and what we write about tends to reflect this. Marxism is definitely one of the better lenses through which a piece of literature can be read. We are, after all, severely repressed, and repression tends to produce some of the best (if not most interesting) art.

Post-modernism helps reduce blood pressure

Barry and Jameson both point out that the modern period was an artist's way of dealing with the anxiety of their particular time, and it seems that this anxiety was dealt with through a deep and meaningful interpretation of the world.

Post-modernism, on the other hand, deals with this anxiety by jumping into the pool of superficiality and rampant consumerism, by simply ignoring that there is any anxiety by a complete and total disconnect. The post-modernists seem to be saying that there is no way to go back, there is no way to improve the present, all we can do is deal with the now, and the now is so depressing that we have to do a little airbrushing. The new superficiality also seems to escape this anxiety by over-emphasizing reality and by making a joke of it.

I am the Walrus, goo goo g'joob

In the mind, all things are possible, and in the mind, all things that could be, might be or should be become signifiers. To know whether what we think is the signifier or the signified is the real trick; a trick I still haven't mastered.

The metaphor of "ordinary language" as the soil and of there being a displacement made me think of a bulb. Derrida uses the words "rupture," and that made me think of something very similar to the destabilization of the image of reality. You have a bulb, planted in the ground, then you apply some water and all of the life inside the bulb bursts out and spreads until the bulb is no longer the center. The roots take up a life of their own and they grab hold of the ground, but the life doesn't stop there, it pushes its way up to the surface to the sunlight, where it learns to feed itself without having to explain why it does so. Essentially, I see poststructuralism and deconstruction as a way to get out of the damned cave.

And the things outside are scary, and messy and chaotic.

The professor I mentioned before in the previous blog gave a lecture on the limits of our perception, and he "blew my feeble clerk mind." I was so freaked out and I blithered on so much that the professor called me later that day to make sure I was all right.

For so long the idea of a cohesive universe was all that kept me together, and I think that, since that time, I have felt distinctly uncomfortable with the world. There are moments, of course, that stick out, and that moment, when nothing had changed except for my perception, was a defining moment in my life.

I like how Derrida emphasizes (or, perhaps, I emphasized the words myself) the words "concept" and "thought." Perhaps that the "desire for a center" is what created structure rather than an actual center. Maybe the center was an idea that had to be believed in so that it could "function" in order to spawn countless other "sign-substitutions." Or perhaps a center has to be believed in so that we can feel at ease with the world.

Yet Derrida does not exclude himself from the "conception, the formulations, the gestations, the labor," because we cannot actually choose to live beyond the cave and still operate in kind society, because society, and language, is constructed on order and cohesion (which is why I think Derrida can be so incomprehensible).

Centering

This blog is in response to Barry’s questions on page 8 of Beginning Theory.

I first decided to study English because I enjoyed reading and writing. Simple. The stories that we read in high school, though more limited than what I was exposed to in college and after, were new to me. Until I reached high school, my reading was mostly limited to R.L. Stein, Christopher Pike and Anne Rice.

The first real piece of literature that I read was Gone with the Wind, and I loved it. I hadn’t realized that books could entertain as well as educate (which is what rhetoric is supposed to do, no?). Over the next few years I read Arthur Miller, Shakespeare, Homer, Mark Twain and several other big names, but I never gained an appreciation for them until college.

What my experience with literature has taught me (which also pertains to what I thought was absent) is that everything has multiple sides to it, not just one, and not just two, and that each side could be equally as valid as the others. It taught me that there are multiple ways to think about anything, to view anything, and it taught me that, without an open mind, it is impossible to appreciate anything.

I had one particularly brilliant professor in my first two years of college who taught me all of these things, and who refused to teach in the way of the New Critics. While studying any piece, we studied it from any angle that there was, and I learned history, philosophy and even science while in his classroom (though he made it quite clear that it was fairly impossible to study the author when it came to Shakespeare, since authorship is so frequently controversial).

Ultimately, I think that any reading of a text is important, and valid, but with New Criticism books are studied as if they were holy or unbroken; there is no context, and I think that literature without a context is difficult for many people to appreciate. I could read all of the entertaining young adult horror novels without a context, but what did I learn? Not much.

In Praise of Satire

Many of the philosophers, orators and rhetors that we have read so far have pretty much agreed on the fact that rhetoric is supposed to educate and delight an audience: "to invent arguments that move audiences as well as instruct them" (127), and I believe that satire does both. At the same time, satire acknowledges the other side of the argument through "embellishment" and contrast, in a very Agricolaean way.

Erasmus was a satirist, and perhaps the most interesting of the rhetors we have studied so far. I also agreed with his line of thinking: possibility rather than certainty, exploration and argumentation rather than judgment, and though his works were satirical, he did not tell others what to think, he merely gave them an opportunity to liberate themselves from ignorance. 

Ramus, on the other hand, seems to take the opposite tact. He believes that there are certainties, there is Truth. Yet the methods of finding this Truth seem to assume a lot of things. In my experience, topics that are immune to argument are either irrational or they conform to alleged Truth, and not necessarily because it is actual Truth, but because it has been engineered to be irrefutable, through circular logic and the like. I much prefer Erasmus's take on argumentation: the world is fundamentally unknowable, and "only probabilities are by and large accessible to anyone" (126).

Over the last few weeks we have been arguing a great deal about the idea of true eloquence and the ideal orator as a good man. Erasmus, like Quintillion, favored the idea of "eloquent persons of character" (120), and I think that Erasmus was lucky enough to find exactly the sort of man to fulfill Quintillion's prophesy (despite all of our accusations of extraordinary naivete). Thomas More was a good speaker, a good advisor and a very good man. He was also good humored, and did not seem to take himself too seriously. Though history is (supposedly) full of good men, I would think it difficult to find a man as good as More was. It is, however, interesting (and very sad) that More found his neck on the same block as people of half his worth. 

This, perhaps, is a very tragic example of what happens to good men. It also might explain why so many others in that time period were publishing for wealth and fame. It was probably safer.

And All That Jazz...

The Rhetorica ad Herennium is a fundamental guide on how to swindle a crowd. While reading that and Cicero’s excerpts I was reminded of the musical Chicago and the character Billy Flynn. Billy Flynn is exactly the kind of orator/defense attorney that is encouraged in these texts. In ad Herennium, the truth is not even secondary to the delivery; it isn’t mentioned at all. And the outcome of a particular dispute is not determined by the veracity of a particular argument, it is determined by who can best “razzle dazzle.”

With the trick of amplification and diminution, which Cicero suggests in De Inventione, Billy underplays Roxy’s responsibility in the murder of her lover, Fred, and overplays Fred’s malicious intentions toward Roxy. If the murder had really been self-defense, then the law would support such action, says Cicero, and Billy represents the murder as such. Cicero, admittedly, touches on morality, but only as a way to appeal to an audience, and he certainly does not champion ethics as vehemently as Quintillian does.

And speaking of morality... I have a feeling that it it too early in the semester to start railing about Marx theory and feminism (especially involving a society that is so completely stratified), but I’m going to do it, anyhow. I’ll start with the former theory and work forward (since I really only have one female remark to make about the texts).

One only has to see or read The Satyricon in order to see how highly the “humane and cultivated” Romans valued “all forms of virtue.” I also find it interesting that, throughout history, the wealthy have underestimated and undervalued the lower classes. I believe that morality is actually more real amongst the lower classes, because they have less to gain by false morality. The higher the classes get, the more creative are the crimes, the more fluid the morality. As Quintillian said, “There is always the risk of falling into the common fault of condemning what one does not understand.” Even as an afterthought, Cicero characterizes morality as belonging solely to an educated and superior class.

Perhaps I misconstrue. (?)

All I have to say about feminism relates to Philodemus. I’d be willing to bet that he never thought it possible that mere "foolish" women would be reading his words.

Captain Logic vs. Princess Emotion

The central theme of these readings seems to be pathos vs. logos. The first verbal sparring match we see is between Agamemnon and Achilles, which is super-charged with emotions: anger, pride, etc., and this argument is—essentially—settled by Athena. It is understandable why Achilles, a brilliant warrior, would take offense. However, Achilles does not handle the situation very well and behaves like a petulant child: "if you won’t play fair with me, I’m going to take my toys and go home!" One of the ways that Diodotus approaches his audience in The Peloponnesian War is by appealing to their sense of intelligence and self-preservation. If Achilles had handled his dispute with Agamemnon in this way, he might have yielded better results. As Diodotus says, “The two things most opposed to good counsel are haste and passion” (Matsen 25).

Though war is rarely the stage on which reason and cool-headed thinking prevail over blood-thirst and anger, there are those (such as Odysseus) who are able to keep their heads, and it is the thinkers who tend to come out on top: Achilles is killed in battle, Agamemnon is killed in a tub and Odysseus saves the day with an idea and gets to live a long and interesting life.

The same problem of emotional irrationality can be applied to Cleon. His speech is choked by emotion. I think that while passion can rile people up and get them to move, it can easily dissipate, so what Diodotus proposes is more logical. He would like for the Athenians to consider the fact that revenge, and the erroneous idea that the death penalty curbs violence, is not a good enough reason to put a great deal of people to death.

Cleon, on the other hand, is too much the warrior and not enough the thinker. His inability to grasp the possible results of bloody actions makes him unreliable and, thus, makes his speech less effective than that of Diodotus. In leaving out the possible (and logical) outcome of a mass execution, Cleon fails to comprehend that his proposed actions, as Diodotus points out, will hurt rather than help the state.

Isocrates faced the same dilemma, though he seemed to be on the losing side of the battle. His accusers were ruled by self-interest, and nothing rules self-interest like emotions. Isocrates’s arguments, on the other hand, seemed entirely logical. First off, when a perfectly good boat goes out to sea and gets torn to bits, whom do you blame? It’s not the boat maker, for heaven’s sake. It could be the captain or the crewmembers, Poseidon, the Fates, but the not boat maker. People can twist anything good into something rotten by allowing their emotions to bleed into their logic.

Second, he brings up the problem that, apparently, is age-old. If children do not choose to discipline themselves and apply themselves to getting an education, it does not matter how good the teacher is, the child will fail.

A larger aspect of what I think Isocrates and a lot of other teachers faced (and still face) is fear. For some reason (and this is just my own observation), people tend to be more afraid of those who are mentally acute than anything else. If a person is financially superior, they are despised, if a person is morally superior, they are revered, if a person is physically superior, they are praised (and paid disgusting amounts of money), but if a person is mentally superior they get beat up on the playground. Isocrates points out that people are encouraged to exercise their bodies in order to be healthy, and yet exercising their minds (through philosophy) is disdained. This goes back to what Diodotus said, “[If a man] realizes that while he cannot speak well in a bad cause, he can at least slander well and thus intimidate both his opponents and his hearers” (Matsen 25). If people cannot match a man intelligently, they'll go straight for the petty insults.

This is only the beginning...

Pedagogy Revised

After a semester of being inundated with the works of others, I feel that my current knowledge of teaching will pale in comparison with all that I hope to know by the time I actually begin. However, I feel that I have a greater grasp of the way that I would like to teach writing/composition after this last semester. In fact, I hope to approach this subject at greater length in my thesis. Ultimately, I believe that composition teaching must be a process. A product, then, would only be the post sign at the end of the journey.

While I have been informed by my distinguished professor that my ideas would be best appreciated at a liberal arts college, I feel that having pre-writing be the bulk of the work done in any composition class would be beneficial. There are so many prewriting techniques that we have learned in this class, and so many professors who have successfully (or so they say) educated students with these techniques that I feel it would not be out of line to integrate these techniques into my own teaching. I would like to cut down on lecturing (because a writing class should be about reading and writing rather than listening closely to the professor lecture so that, later, you can make them think that you are smarter through flowery, over-worded prose).

Again, my pedagogy will develop further from this point on, but I have come down on the side of writing in a composition classroom. Pretty revolutionary, I know.

Bishop

A large, looming question this semester is: what could ______ have done if he/she had lived longer? Bishop died at a comparatively young age next to some of the other late theorists we have studied this semester. 

As for her teaching methods, it seems that if writing can be taught in an interesting and creative way, it should be done. However, I think that someone in the class said it very well, that those who are gifted in a certain way of teaching should teach that way, but should not expect others to follow her lead. Creative non-fiction and personal narrative are very useful for getting students to write, but those skills, alone, do not necessarily teach a student to prepare for writing for the university, nor for the real world. Additionally, not all students are talented at being creative, and the best that they can learn to do is write cleanly and succinctly so that they can get their ideas across. Having the option of writing creatively in a composition classroom, however, might have a positive effect.

I know, though, that whatever opinions I might have about Bishop, after knowing so little, will not do her justice.

Berlin

As has been the case for much of the semester, Klayton has given us a new perspective on the world (I believe I only saw one Human Element commercial that was sent to me in an email, but I won't be able to ever watch one again without seeing that little girl running in the street), as well as on the perspective of composition. Though he admits that most of his ideas come from others, that could be said of anyone. Berlin, apparently, was inspired by Marx and other so-called subversive visionaries. I have often thought that it doesn't matter who originally came up with an idea or why, but what ideas we choose to embrace, manipulate and execute to serve our own journey.

The real striking idea from Berlin, however, is the tendency toward anti-capitalism, which is an interesting notion in a capitalist society. The game must be played, even if we choose to play by our own rules, and I think that is the real concept behind Berlin: taking strong notions of what is right and, perhaps, individually moral, and using them to help the machine run. This is such an antithetical notion, but yet it must be done.

I can also correlate Berlin's ideas, somewhat, to the study of composition. As teachers we can celebrate individuality and encourage broad thinking without completely breaking down the point of the university, which requires some sort of authoritarian construct. Composition, as is life, is a balancing act. 

Kathleen Blake Yancey

Rhonda rounded out the presentations (at last!) very nicely with Yancey, who was certainly my kind of woman. Yancey believes in responsibility, purpose and patience. Responsibility, according to Yancey, goes both ways and is to be embraced by teacher and student alike. Purpose is emphasized mainly in what is being taught (through assessment) and why we, as teachers, do what we do. Patience is necessary on the part of the educators, mostly as a means of evaluating/assessment.

Responsibility in the classroom is often placed primarily on the teacher (how well that teacher teaches is reflected in how well the students perform), but in Yancey's classroom, students are to be responsible for their writing. Teachers, then, are left to concentrate on their responsibility with regard to last point, patience.

Purpose in the classroom becomes a fairly large question, which is gathered through a few assessing questions: what, as educators, is our intention? Is it to help our students to create a body of work that they can coalesce into a portfolio (and Yancey is a proponent of ePortfolios for students)? Is it to help our students to write so that an audience will be able to understand their points? Is it to "create writing publics" (i.e. blogs)? The answer to these questions, and many others, will greatly influence how we teach. Yancey argues that our students are already writing vigorously, through blogs and emails, and they will do it with or without us. With us they can write more purposefully, and more effectively.

Patience, the last point, falls mostly to us as instructors. We must recognize that students come to us from various writing backgrounds and will have varied capabilities. It is up to us to be open-minded and flexible enough to teach all of these students and not cling to old methods. We also have to realize that our students might have ideas that differ from ours, and we should not gage their effectiveness in writing by our own beliefs and prejudices.

The most interesting concept in the presentation was the ePortfolio. I found myself wishing that we'd had such a thing when I was an undergrad.

Cynthia Selfe

A very encouraging point of this week was that most of the presenters seemed to have a surprising affinity for their theorist's ideas and, even, ideals. Cathy was probably the most enthusiastic. That enthusiasm does not, however, seem unwarranted. Cynthia Selfe is, as Austen might say, "A very accomplished woman." Her interests and accomplishments range further than most theorists, so far as we have studied them. The most emphasized point of the presentation, though, seemed to be the focus on balance.

Cathy presented three important points that Selfe promoted, the first being the knowledge of the professor, the second on technology us and the third on technologic dependency. The first of these was pretty easy to relate to. Selfe has kept up with technology during its entire evolution, and says that other responsible educators should do the same. Not to do so is irresponsible, and it can create a "gap" between students and teachers that might make teachers ineffective in their teaching.

The second point is that technology is lovely, but sometimes it is used too often and is not used conscientiously. Students, therefore, need to learn to use technology judiciously. Most often, the trick is knowing which sites are supported by educational institutions, which sites need to be used with caution (like Wikipedia), and which sites to avoid entirely (for instance, sites that are entirely opinion-based and have no textual/reasonable support for the assertions made on them).

The third point is that computers are often viewed as angels from heaven or demons from hell when, in fact, they are neither. Computers must be used as needed and a teacher must not become dependent on their usefulness. Like the now-old ruse of parents letting the television babysit/raise their children, teachers must not allow computers to teach students. We are the educators, we are responsible, to some extent, for what is learned in our classrooms. Therefore, we must be active participants in what computers are used for in our classrooms.

Overall, Selfe encourages good judgment, common-sense and a certain adventurous and open spirit. If these things can be achieved, then we can use computers to our advantage in our classrooms.

Erika Lindemann

I have been reading the Rhetoric for Writing Teachers for my final project and have become even more impressed with Lindemann since Rebecca's presentation, which was very engaging and I enjoyed the interactive bit as well. Lindeman's courses are primarily student-driven, and her primary concern is in taking in all of the potential writers who come to her doorstep (whether they be strays who have previously been rummaging around in the garbage or well-bred animals) and nourishing them to help them become healthy writers.

I also find it very interesting (I must not have gotten to this part yet) that she believes that literature has no place in composition courses. At first, I disagreed with this and I thought, if students don't read it in composition courses, when will they? Then, as has become a daily epiphany for me, I realized that it really doesn't matter. The purpose of a composition course is, after all, to get students ready for other college courses and for the "real world." Indeed, it will be our job to teach students how to use language both effectively and correctly and, in the end, it will not matter if they have read Shakespeare, Swift and Shelley (the husband or wife). What will matter is if they can be understood by others in their writing. Like Donna said, if students want to read "higher" literature, they will take a literature course.

Also, as we learned during Rebecca's exercise, the most important thing (that our group came up with, anyhow) to teach burgeoning learners is critical thinking and how they, as individual thinkers, fit into a culture (or cultures).

Lindemann, in many ways, is also focused on process, and the various kinds of processes that exist in writing. I appreciated Rebecca providing us with the information that she did. I am still, however, a little confused about the Systems that Rebecca spoke about, and included on the handout. I suppose that I will have to do further research into those. It seems that all of these processes and systems generate various modes of learning, so that each student will have the opportunity of becoming a better writer, which is admirable.

Lindemann seems to have great hopes for those that she educates, which should, indeed, be every educator's goal.

Thomas and Brufee

I think that, for the sake of the final, it would be very nice to have Thomas post his Power Point Presentation on Blackboard, because there was a lot of information in the presentation and not really enough time to let it all sink in.

As for the points on Brufee, he, like many of his contemporaries (Lunsford), argues for collaboration. However, his argument principally concerns human interaction, such as peer review, where another mind and voice can add to the writer's piece through questions about point of view and preconceived notions.

Brufee presented "Competing Models" for peer tutoring:

 - Monitoring (which deals primarily with a power-based diad where the tutor is "all-knowing" and the tutee knows nothing)

- Collaborative (the preferred method, where the tutor aids in the fundamentals of writing, an the tutee educates the tutor on the subject matter)

In the Collaborative method, the tutee brings the subject and support to the table, whereas the tutor can help refine the tutees writing methods.

Within the collaboration of education, Brufee commented on The Teacher, The Classroom and The Student. The teacher acts much like the tutor in that she contributes "her knowledge of learning, speaking, writing and thinking." The Classroom acts as a "real world construct" that models real conversation and writing that students will be expected to engage in once they leave academia. And The Students are the primary collaborators.

The benefits of collaboration, in a real-world context, seem to be much more logical than the drawbacks expressed in the presentation. However, Klayton raised a very good point. Some students act best on their own, especially if these students are constantly acting as both tutor and tutee in that they are constantly questioning what they know and are capable of. Lunsford seems to understand that a person can collaborate with a text or other ideas presented out of a real-world construct, and this did not seem to be what Brufee had in mind. I enjoy working in groups, to a certain extent, usually at the beginning of a project when ideas are scarce. When it comes time to get down to work, however, I do not want to be responsible for anyone else's activity, and, likewise, do not want anyone else to have to take responsibility for mine.

Brufee did have some good points, but he also seemed to offer a regurgitation of points already offered through our other readings and other theorists. 

After meeting Dr. Burns it has occurred to me how misplaced the values of Americans are. Here is a genuine celebrity within the academic field, someone who has helped to shape nor only our understanding of composition and computers, but someone who also helped to create many of the early computer programs that run our country. This is pretty major, and yet we revere either people who entertain us or politically control us. Unless we are in the academic community and are acquainted with people like Hugh Burns, we rarely revere people who shape our learning, with a few notable exceptions who have been dead for thousands of years (Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, etc.).

What I really enjoyed about listening to Dr. Burns was his wealth of knowledge, which spread across several disciplines, and was also applicable to just about every area of life, especially if what Graff says is true, that all communication is argument. Whether he intended to or not (although I suspect that a teacher's goal is to always promote further thought and study into what he says), I have several more avenues of knowledge that I would like to pursue with regard to our study of composition theory. I have never read anything by Aristotle, which seems amazing since I have taken so many English classes over the past ten years, and there were several important scholars Dr. Burns mentioned that I have never even heard of (Kenneth Burke, for example). So, if I hope to be a writing instructor, especially a creative writing instructor, I feel that I have a lot more reading to do.

Another aspect of the talk that I appreciated was hearing about the other big dogs of composition that Dr. Burns has known, such as Kinneavy and Booth. Since both of these men are now deceased, it is useful to get a perspective from someone who knew them when they were alive, someone who learned from them, got advice from them and someone who has now passed that advice onto a new group of scholars. For that I am grateful. Thanks to both Dr. Souder and Dr. Burns for arranging for this opportunity.

Tasker & Holt-Underwood: Here it is!

Here is finally the bloodshed and carnage that Tony longed for in the debate of Elbow and Bartholomae. It is not surprising that, in the world of feminist acadame, there would be differing opinions, for the arguments that have encompassed the male-dominated theories of composition and rhetoric have fizzled down over the centuries. Feminist rhetoric, however, has only been in discussion in the academic world, according to the article, for the last forty years, and most of the headway (and argumentation) has been made in the last decade and a half.

This article brings up quite a few discussions, however, and does a good job of representing quite a few points of view, especially about how feminist critique is approached. The first argument is that which Nancy presented in her Lunsford presentation, that women authors (silent or no) should be presented alongside the male: "the task of discovering neglected authors, providing basic research on their lives and theories" (54). 

The second argument, which came against feminist authors, was the inability of feminist authors to stay objective. My response to this accusation is first, that most scholars are passionate about their research and objectivity does not come naturally. Second, the article says that feminist authors have had difficulty remaining objective, too, but there has been objective research done in the field. Also, the paucity of female rhetoric from times past seems to require a bit of interpretation on the part of the scholars (which is where lack of text as well as text is significant in constructing the past), but, again, this is not all that unusual: "like much humanistic research, feminist methods are highly interpretive, difficult to identify, and often only implied" (57).

A third argument, made by Patricia A. Sullivan, is that women "should move toward a qualitative" model of research, possibly because of the highly interpretive mode of research that must be done in fields such as feminism, but maybe also because of the lack of quantitative evidence. However, there have been areas of study in feminism where authors (like Catherine Hobbs) have been able to recover both qualitative and quantitative support for their claims. In situations where information is limited, I feel that it is certainly wise for a scholar not to restrict herself to one mode of research or explanation. 

Indeed, with so much influx of information in support of feminist rhetoric throughout the millennia, it seems that we may be even closer to achieving "Lunsford's often-quoted call to recognize the 'forms, strategies, and goals' of female rhetoric" (59), though there will continue, I'm sure, to be arguments about how the information feminist research is arrived at (such as the debate between Gale and Glenn, Jarret and Ong, and then the more heated argument between Biesecker and Campbell). 

Brammer & Rees: Lots O' Data

The purpose of this article was to report data on whether or not peer review is useful in composition classes, the teacher perspective vs. the student perspective. The article draws strongly on the idea that Andrea Lunsford subscribed to: collaboration. Whether or not this collaboration is helpful or desirable is the larger question of this article.

Peer reviews have the potential to expand the idea-base and audience-base further, and offer students a prospective different from that of the professor. It can also give weaker writers the opportunity to collaborate with stronger writers. However, as the article says, "institutionalized educational collaboration in whatever form...is never unproblematical" (72). There are, of course, many ways of experiencing a peer review, and not all experiences are positive. The article explains that one of the least successful methods of peer review is to give students a handout and let the students roll with it on their own. It is also a mistake to allow students to think that editing is the goal of peer review, rather than analysis of ideas and content ("brainstorming" (81)). I can understand why students who might have been exposed to negative versions of the peer review might be less than impressed with it.

Another idea presented in the essay was "building rapport amongst classmates" (81). I agree that students are more likely to trust each other and have faith in the criticism received if the teacher encourages this. This would mean accepting that not all peer review time will be productive. In my own experience, about half of the peer review time has been spent getting to know my classmates and joking around, and the other half doing real work, but I received good feedback on my pieces, and they were analyzed through a personal microscope rather than a institutional one. It is true that people are more likely to ask their friends' advice, or a parent, etc., when getting feedback on a piece, so why not make the composition classroom a base for building community amongst classmates?

I have engaged in several peer reviews, myself, in the past, both successful and failed and I think that something that was not presented in this article that I have learned is that we need to teach students that not all feedback is helpful, and some of it will be repetitive, which brings us back to teaching students to be able to discern between constructive criticism and unconstructive criticism. Villamil and de Guerrero "found that 95%" of comments from the peer review were the same as corrections that they might have also made. This means that, as reviewers, the critical side of the brain is working appropriately most of the time, which opens up a whole new set of tools for potential academic writing. 

I fall on the side of "Yay!" to peer reviews, but I agree that they need to be done appropriately, which is a fine line for a teacher to walk.

Scott Lee & Graff: Well Met

I will start this post by saying that I was so impressed with the amount of research that Scott did for this presentation, and by saying that I am amazed by how much information Scott was able to retain in order to give the presentation. Having said that, pompous patriarch or no, I was equally impressed by Graff's ideas and am excited to get into They Say, I Say, and, perhaps, to delve a little deeper, as Scott did, into the other works by Graff. Again, there was a lot of information to digest, which is why I think Graff merits more research on my part.

As with Bizzell and Bartholomae, there's the idea here of writing within a cultural context, but Graff takes it one step further with the idea of "curriculum as conversation" because this means that academic writing has the potential to be dialogues between academic and cultural communities. I also think that this idea expands to many of Graff's other theories, such as writing as clear communication rather than pompous academic discourse. If communication across cultures and academia is the desire, then "lucidity" is the only way to effectively exchange ideas, given the difference in opinion and background that might arise in the conversations ("all texts are argument"). This idea of "lucidity" also could make complex academic ideas more readily available to beginning students, as well as the public, which is an exciting concept.

Furthermore, Graff encourages this cross-cultural debate when he advocates argument across all lines of communication, and he seems to believe that this argument will allow students to gain a deeper understanding of ideas and text. I agreed with the idea discussed in class that teachers tend to water the classroom down to avoid conflict and debate. This, as opposed to the widely-embraced idea that students are in college to learn to think for themselves, keeps students (as citizens) in the socially correct box where they never feel comfortable expressing what they mean in order to avoid argument. Indeed, argument makes people uncomfortable and it has the tendency to be explosive, but it also has the potential to open minds and new avenues of thinking (which Bizzell would advocate). It is also a very good way to understand your own perspective as well as the perspective of your "enemy" ("You can't believe your argument until you are familiar with your enemy's argument").

I do disagree with "I". I have learned to write papers that do not say "I" or "one's" and still express my side with gusto. I think that "I" is fine in personal blogs, fiction, memoir and journals, but I do not feel that it has a place in essays where a specific argument is being presented. I feel that when a writer says "I" the argument cannot be sold the way that it needs to be. The "I" may be a good way to start a first draft, but--rather than going through the first draft and replacing the "I" with "one's"--it might be more effective to teach students to cite specific sources and present facts blended with opinions in a way that the reader will not know the difference. Rhetoric, in  my opinion, as is all good writing, is supposed to be sneaky. The "I" makes it blatant that the essay is someone's opinion backed by some fact (and, possibly, even lopsided and skewed fact), and audiences are not fooled, and they will be, in my opinion, less likely to buy into what the writer is saying. 

Overall, I was impressed with Graff, and I think that, of all the theorists we have studied so far, he presents the pedagogy closest to the one that I would like to embrace.

Bizzell:Oh I See...

It was very interesting that Scott got bumped and Graff was presented in the same week as Bizzell and Bartholomae, because the three seem to be on different parts of the same ground. I agree that Bizzell seemed to take a lot of ideas from others and bunch them all together, but I did not think this made her an academic copy-cat, so to speak (though who in the academic community could not be accused of borrowing ideas?). She merely took those ideas and created a more well-rounded view of teaching. I think that the problem with a lot of the theories and theorists we have encountered is that there is just too much information to understand everything completely, but I will do my best to break down Shaynee's presentation.

While Shaynee was explaining the inner and outer-directive theories, I could see points of both that were worth identifying with, though they did, indeed, have very different ways of approaching language learning. To me, however, balance is always best achieved when two separate ideas have the potential to come together. Inner-directed dicourse theory seemed more basic than the outer. It asserts that we have "innate capacities to learn language," while outer-directed discourse theory asserts that "innate capacities have no expression outside discourse communities," meaning that language cannot be learned in isolation. We, as humans, may have the capacity for language, but without a social construct, language cannot be learned. Usually, the social construct is a given, such as family of sorts, but that, according to outer-directed discourse theory, should not be taken for granted. 

The outer-directed discourse theory was easier to identify with after studying so much of Bartholomae. It, however, addressed something that Bartholomae did not, which is that each student has been potentially exposed to different sorts of language and culture, and this exposure can put some students at an advantage over other students. Also, our native discourse community often determines which social discourse community we are exposed to or, indeed, how well we function in different discourse communities. Literature, however, seems to be the great equalizer. What students are exposed to can immerse them in different communities from that which they grew up with.

Another concept that Shaynee presented us with was additive vs. holistic teaching. Additive teaching seems to take advantage of the inner-directed discourse in that it assumes that all students are on the same writing level (or should be) and that writing of students can be quantified by "model essays," and that exposure to this sophisticated writing can make students better writers (like putting a person into a hyperbaric chamber with candy canes and teddy bears and hoping it will make them a better person). It is also not to say that different sorts of writing will not inspire and encourage students to be better writers, which is where the holistic teaching comes in.

I still do not, however, believe that teachers can be trusted not to abuse their position of power when it comes to "incorporating societal values, beliefs, and cultures." We are all human, after all, but it is a nice idea.

As with other ideas, I feel I will take an leave different parts of Bizzell's pedagogy, but it was a nice presentation, and I really dug the radioactive puzzle pieces.

RoboRecopy: the revision and the machine

Peter Kratzke's essay, "Recopying the Revise: Composition in an Old Key" had one main premise surrounded by a few different digressions (which made me wonder if he had fully recopied this essay). This main point was, of course, recopying pages when revising. Speaking as someone who has also had to recopy after computer failure, I know that this works for me. When I send out letters to people, I do the same thing. I recopy mostly because the first copy is so messy, but also because I want to make sure that what I say in the letter (which is less likely to be binned than an email) is what I mean to say.

Another point that Kratzke seemed to want to hit home was the idea that the loss of literacy amongst our youth is not lack of reading so much as lack of absorption and stimulation. The readings that young people do engage in, according to Kratzke, are ephemeral and do not spark any additional ideas in the reader (or feelings), indicating that this lack of "cognitive process" (11) in the readers eliminates at least part of the reason why we read.

Then he side steps into standardized testing, which is proof that schools are not effectively educating students, and he also delves into the negative effects that computers and word processing have had on students. To me, it sounds as though the guide here is at fault, not the guided. Yes, "fun" is the ultimate way to make learning stick to the seemingly impervious student mind, but learning can be enjoyable and effective, and so can reading. He seems to find that there is a problem with reading online. If texts are downloadable and placed in certain programs, a reader can still put notes in the margins (as I did when I read this article). Plus, teaching the kids to engage in behavior that they have always seen as wrong is usually effective, too. As Kratzke puts it, it is "like newly baptized converts" (19), and I could not have said it any better, for that is exactly how I felt when I was first encouraged to write in the margins in a text book.

Another argument Kratzke makes is that students do not care what they write because knowledge is ever-changing, and they feel that their words have no meaning. It is, in my opinion, the job of the educator to teach students to give value to what they have to say. If they do not feel they have worthwhile ideas, then they will not care how they say it, as long as they get their nice, cozy B or C. It is the job of the educator to help students to develop ideas and words that they can get behind.

The only solution that Kratzke seems to offer is the re-copying to make papers better, but I think that the problem of writing goes deeper. I agree that it is good to teach this re-copying method, and there are many ways that it could be done, if the students are encouraged, but--again--they will not care enough to write or re-write anything good unless educators take the first step.

Week Four: Ms. Lunsford

Again, I enjoyed the opportunity to approach Nancy's presentation ideas in a way that both emphasized her point of collaboration and got us, the audience, involved. This idea of collaboration that Lunsford favored was an interesting one. I found myself wondering about teaching students collaboration and contestation. As far as the "real world," those ideas are very sound, and often necessary in order to get things done. There are few offices in the business world where collaboration is not mandatory (rather than just encouraged), and many situations in life where contesting the status quo is desirable.

Where these ideas do not seem like they would be widely embraced is in the academic world. According to Nancy, both she and Lunsford have witnessed places in academia where students (and Lunsford herself) were punished for collaborating, and nothing (I have experienced myself) will lower your grade faster than arguing with a professor about the way that things are done in the classroom, or defying a professor's faulty logic. This particular difference between the academic and non-academic settings reiterate arguments that indicate a student's impediment when transferring from the university to employment.

I did enjoy the idea of memory, especially as it is used as a collaborative tool. It is almost like we are collaborating with a self from a previous time, which is an awesome concept.

Week Four: Christmas Comes Early

Tony's presentation and Murray's demeanor seemed well-linked as far as congeniality and intentions go. In fact, most of the ideas presented seemed well thought out by both parties, but there is one point, in general with which I disagree. Murray's biggest contribution seems to be with the writing process, the whole beginning, middle and end thing, and I agree with the latter two, just not the first. Yes, every project has a beginning, every piece of writing had an origin, but usually the muses do not come down and bless us when it comes to our term papers. The topic idea, then, must be arrived at somehow, either through assignment or through searching (and this idea of the "brain surge" is all that kept Murray's ideas from being completely logical).

I can see a sort of pattern with these composition gurus. They seem to come up with ideas based on their past experiences, which is not unusual or unexpected. The problem is that they seem to think that their way is the best way (also not unusual or unexpected, especially amongst the academic elite). Murray spent a lot of time trying to get others to see the way that he did. Despite the fact that he may have had a process for writing well and finding a voice, writing--as he discovered with his own revisions--is blood, sweat and tears, especially with "pre-university" and early university students.

Another way that Murray was like his peers was in his diagrams of ideas to help the writing process. Because the presentation was the expedited version, I am not certain what the 8 signals was all about, but it seemed to fit in with the other writers we have studied.

I like that Murray worked really closely with the teachers who would have to deliver his ideas to a classroom full of hesitant writers, and I like that he worked so hard throughout his career to make a difference in the academic world.

Tony's delivery of his findings about Murray was the most enjoyable part of the presentation. It was nice that he asked us to get involved in order to prove his point that the writing process cannot be forced or rigid, it must have some boundaries, of course, but not an electric fence with military people in all corners.

Week Four: Orality v. the Printed Word and other stuff

While Ong's concepts were complex, I felt that I could really appreciate where he was coming from. The idea of oral traditions vs the language of the current interfaces was very interesting. Language is able to create ideas and new worlds, and with the invention of written/recorded conversation, those ideas can reach a greater group of people, and create new ideas for people who may not have ever had access to such possibilities. And, as language and the movement of language changes, so do we.

There does, however, seem to be something lost from the older oral traditions. Now everything that might have been passed by word of mouth is trapped, verbatim, in memoirs, biographies and even fiction. It does not have the option of mutation, at least as much as oral tradition (some notable exceptions being movie or song remakes, especially the Evil Dead movies, since they were remade by the same people). Now, with intellectual and media ownership, that mutation is made more difficult. Back in the day, no one really claimed to own a story.

The benefit, as Ong saw it, to modern storytelling tradition is that it has an opportunity to reach a greater number of people, and the clip that Eric showed was a very nice visual explanation of how the past came to be the future.

I also thought that the idea of Interface Metaphor was interesting, and I did a little bit of further research into the concept, and the idea is mainly contextual. We often associate current experience with past experience, and that seems to be the purpose of interface metaphor. The fact that Ong participated so readily in modern technology is very telling of his forward-thinking abilities. He saw the possibility of the new linear thinking becoming even more intertwined, knowing that individual interfaces might be connected to each other through the contextual application through these metaphoric devices, which is also impressive. This computer language is just the next step in the cycle, as Eric explained it (orality --> written word -->printed word --> electronic word).

Week Three: The Rebirth of Elbow

Having Bartholomae as my topic for presentation, I see, is going to be more difficult than I imagined. It would have been better if Elbow was not a sweet, soft-spoken, intelligent man. Plus, his ideas are very sound and more complex than a simple: this is this and that is that.

I think that many people would have been discouraged by the experience that Elbow had in his graduate studies. They would not have turned their negative experience into not only a teaching pedagogy, but a renowned debate and composition theory that is being used by many teachers of composition today (not to mention creative writing teachers in both high school and college settings). 

I, also, liked Tim's presentation of Elbow's pedagogy, especially how it was outlined on the sheet that we were given. It was informative and also visually and aurally sound (no pun intended). What Elbow's primary idea seems to be is sort of microscopic: start big and then work your way into more narrow and focused efforts, such as starting with freewriting, moving through the "Creating and critical" processes, and then working into a final copy. Elbow also believes (and rightly so) that too much self-doubt can eliminate some good ideas ("Believing Game and Doubting Game").

The problem that I see with Elbow's pedagogy is the same as what Bartholomae sees (shocker), that Elbow's methods are more suitable for creative writing than for compositional writing. The expressive genre, in my view, is too subjective. It is, indeed, excellent for helping students find their voices, but it is not appropriate beyond freewriting and brainstorming, though I am contradicted by all of the first-person essays we have read in this class. I suppose that it has been drilled into my head for many years that "I" does not belong in essays or compositional writing. Blog, yes, creative writing, certainly, but not in something that will be published in academic journals or turned into a composition professor for credit. To me, that promotes sloppy, opinionated work. It encourages writers to focus more on themselves and their personal experiences than the text being analyzed.

I can see, again, given Elbow's experiences, why he would promote this kind of writing, but I just feel that it is not the proper way to go. Guess that makes me a snob.

Week Three: The Browser's Kinneavy

This week's lectures set me up for how difficult it will be to get a great deal of information into a 40-minute lecture (or 30, as it may be). Having said that, I think that Klayton's presentation was able to emphasize Kinneavy's contributions to academia in the field of composition and rhetoric. The very presence of Kinneavy in the field allowed generations of students to see composition not as a threat, but as a tool for success in both college and in the future in the students' chosen occupation. 

Bringing Aristotle to the mix and challenging students to see where different aspects of the Rhetorical Triangle might apply to their own arguments was a very important step into what the future might bring for academic argument. According to Klayton, Kinneavy "Institutionalized" comp/rhet, which means that Kinneavy's theories and pedagogy assisted in bringing the field out of the proverbial Dark Ages.

The article by Miller emphasized the importance of A Theory of Discourse in Kinneavy's career. Klayton pointed out the discursive nature of the book, but it seems to me that a theory is meant to be disproved and looked over from every angle. Typically, this analysis is done by another person in the field, but it seems that Kinneavy's background (in the Catholic order, which--no doubt--did a lot of theorizing and re-theorizing itself) might have encouraged him to breakdown and deconstruct his own argument. To me, this speaks to a mind that is not so concerned with being "right," but being analytical.

In Miller's tribute, he quotes Jack Selzer as saying, "that 'this was going to be a great profession to be in if people like Kinneavy were the leaders'" (314). This says, to me, that Kinneavy was both beloved and revered as a teacher and revolutionary of composition, but this aspect of Kinneavy seemed to be missing from the, albeit short, presentation that was offered to us. I am aware of the tendency to canonize people, especially important people, after they die, but Kinneavy seemed to be loved by many people (313), so why was this not spoken about? Perhaps this was part of the talking points that Klayton didn't get to, but it seems to me that this might have been an important part of the history for Kinneavy.

As for the presentation, it certainly set the bar for what others of us will probably have to reach, but I like a challenge, and it gave me some good ideas for my own presentation.

 

Week Two: MS Word for Composition Writers

"The greatest trick [MSGC] ever played was convincing the world it didn't exist."

Outside of jesting, however, Weiser makes a good point (544). The easiest way to make something "ubiquitous" and indispensable is to be useful, but to stay in the background, like a secretary who anticipates all needs before her boss asks for anything. But what if, one day, the boss needs something that the secretary can't anticipate, or she mixes up his requests in her head and gives him regular milk in his coffee rather than soy. That could be potentially "dangerous" (though I laughed when McGee/Ericksson made the comment that the "problems of the MGSC are numerous and often dangerous" (459)). It's not the same as a snake bite or sticking your finger into a piranha's tank to play a little coochie-coo. It is, I suppose, dangerous to a student's grade if she doesn't use her own reasoning and if the teacher does not allow first drafts for correction purposes.

I think that the one major assumption of this article is that teachers are going to be completely outside of the writing process, and that all that matters to these teachers is grammar. First off, if teachers only care about grammar, they are probably more likely to allow first drafts so that they can mark up the pages and hand them back for correction (it's almost addictive to use that little red pen for nit-picking). Secondly, teachers are not going anywhere. Until we all become cyborgs, like Sidler suggests could happen only to those able to afford it, teachers will not become obsolete. They need us. So, if we are conscious and we teach our students to be conscious and to think and edit for themselves, then everything should be just peachy.

This article spends a great deal of time going over all of the problems with MS Word, and I am not even certain that they are problems so much, anymore. It has been ages since I have had a squiggly green line that was not helpful, but I use Office 2007 or there 'bouts. I have not really tried to do anything out of the ordinary in Word in a while, but I have a feeling that the problems with Word that were expressed in this article might be outdated. So, the lesson here, as far as I can tell, is: Don't let your students swim alone, even if they're wearing those little orange floaties, not until they are confident swimmers.

Week Two: Label Me This, Batman

For the most part, I agree with Matsuda's idea of the "discursive" (65) nature of any sort of theory, especially if the proponents of the theory claim for it to be the be-all and end-all of theories: "Big Theory" (74). It took until the end of the essay to bring Kent and Mary Lawrence into the discussion, but they both seemed to have very good ideas about this whole process/post-process idea. 

I agree with Kent that all "writing constitutes a process of some sort," and whether this process is prescribed through teacher and peer input, or whether it is solely the process of the author, it is still a process. To say that writing of the latter sort is without a process is incorrect. I agree that students can benefit from finding their own voices and also from peer and professor-responses to the work, but, as I have said ad nauseam, it does not mean that we should discount all that has come before and has, until recently, informed our composition process.

I think that Lawrence's ideas (through Bruner, apparently) are excellent: "independence and accountability" should be at the top of every student's to-do list when they enter a college setting. Their culture will, inevitably, influence them, as will the cultures and ideas of their peers. As educators, we should also keep in mind that, with this individuality, comes a certain amount of open-minded evaluation of student work. We can't teach our students to think for themselves unless we encourage them to be their own people. Of course there are rules, but we have all bloomed into individuals within the rules of society, or in spite of.

Lastly, I understand that we must have labels and we must be able to take certain things for granted in order to function in academic situations, but it is hubris to think that there is no other way than the way that has been set before us as educators, especially when, as Matsuda says, the process theory (not to mention the post-process that was derived from it) "hardly reached the status of a paradigm" (78). 

Week Two: Sidler's Genetic Assumption

Other than scaring me, this article made me think about how important it will be for composition teachers to teach composition to non-English majors. I wouldn't say that all, or even most, composition teachers fall into the folly of thinking that all of their students will go on to become brilliant English majors, but it is a danger. My composition 122 professor was just such an educator. She fed us literary texts to be analyzed and discussed via compositional rhetoric and made us feel that we were on the wrong track if we verged away from her narrow view of academics. On the other hand, my composition 121 professor delved into science, mathematics, history and philosophy in order to teach us the importance of a well-rounded education.

Since the purpose of this course is to educate us as possible future educators, I feel that, for me, it is important to view these articles as tools for my future classroom, and Sidler's genetic analysis made me feel that it might be important to allow students to choose their own reading material (such as articles/short stories relating to their interests--with limitations, of course--or relating to their choices for professional majors) and then educate them on how to properly argue for or against what they have read. I believe that the argument is the key, not the subject matter. There are ethical, logical and even emotional arguments in any field that a student can enter into. The key is to teach them which argument will assist them the most in what they wish to accomplish and to give them the tools to make that argument.

Delving into the other part of the article was a little more difficult. Much of what Sidler was saying seemed irrelevant to anything but proving that genetic research is like composition, but this could be said for so many fields, especially of research, and much of his assertions (so he admitted) seemed to be choices on the part of the author and his contemporaries to view scientific research (both in genetics and computers) as parallels to the American English language(135).

Sidler admits: "This discussion may sound futuristic, irrelevant and maybe a little bit wacky, especially in the context of teaching composition" (138), and I agree. One of the biggest problems that I had with the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs is that the lessons and themes in the movie could have easily been translated into a non-alien context, because the movie was more about those lessons (and the coincidences that led to some of them), than about the impact of the aliens in the world. This article could have easily taught its compositional lessons in another context.

I am very interested in science, especially genes, and yet I still had a difficult time swallowing this article within the context of composition. 

The 6-Essay Smack Down

I'm with Scott, I am so glad that I have completed the assignment for this week. I cannot believe how difficult some of the essays were to read, and how glad I am that the reading is done for the week. I will admit that I was able to learn some new and useful ideas from the essays, and that 

I daydreamed several times about instruction that I would be able to give, once I get my own composition class to teach. 

Some of the ideas that I have I included in my other blog posts, but I really would like to employ as many valued techniques as possible without going overboard, like I felt Williams did. I think that the best way to teach writing is to have the students write. That, to me, is a no-brainer. In my senior writing class, my professor had all of us write on a single topic at the start of every class. The subject would be so vague, like "doughnut" or "werewolf," and we would freewrite for ten-fifteen minutes. She allowed us to continue writing if we got rolling on a particular idea. The topics could easily relate to something cultural, or something from the previous class's readings, and then the students could use those freewrites to help them write their papers. 

I heard the coolest idea once of how writing should be conducted...You bring the naughty child (right brain) into the room and let him wreak as much havoc as possible, paint on the walls, toy trucks glued to the ceiling, the works, and then when he has done all the damage he can do, you lock him in a closet and let your well-behaved child come out (left brain), not to clean up the mess, per se, but to make sense of it. The freewrite at the beginning of the class would allow the naughty kid an opportunity to get some of his energy out (like telling kids to wave to their parents before the choir concert starts so that they are not frantically waving the whole time), and then mechanics can be introduced.

I am a firm believer with starting simple and working into complicated. Subject matter does not mean anything if students do not have the tools to correctly and adequately express their ideas on any particular topic. First come the mechanics and voice and then come important topics and theory. There are two comp classes for every student, and one semester for each (though I believe it should be a year, and I have a feeling not many other comp profs would disagree with me), and that is enough time to equip students with the basics. I do believe in starting with the five-paragraph essay to get their feet wet, focusing solely on one text (and I like anthologies because they tend to provide students with well-written and over-analyzed essays of which there is plenty of information), no research. Then, same text (give them the option of choosing which one they would like to focus on through weekly readings), introduce research, then comp theories, and have them roll it all into a portfolio that they will retain at the end of the semester.

Perhaps I am over-reaching and idealizing, but I do not see any flaws in this particular plan. Of course, that is what the readers of this blog are for. Tear, tear away.