I can honestly say that technology has been somewhat of a life-changing force in the past year, so it's quite appropriate that we would be reading about it at this point in our Composition class. When I say life-changing, I don't mean that I've subscribed to Facebook or any other popular social networks - lack of interest in sharing personal details of my life or hearing about other peoples' precludes me from taking that step. For those of you who are truly tech-savvy, the small hurdles I've overcome this year are probably laughable. But when the school year ended in June of 2010, I left for an academic sabbatical with two goals in mind: one to earn a writing certification; and two, to break free of my self-imposed fear of technology. The writing classes have been truly valuable, and I'm one class away from earning the certification. Mission almost accomplished. However, the journey into the unfamiliar realm of technology didn't actually start, or at least become consuming, until last week when I started a digital storytelling class. (Thanks, Katie!) While the prospect of learning how to write more effectively, and especially how to more effectively teach writing to my students, was exciting, I put off embarking on the techno-journey as long as possible. If Katie hadn't recommended the DS class (which is completely on-line by the way - a truly huge undertaking for me), I'd probably still be thinking of a way to get out of it! I just didn't have any interest - and it probably showed in my frustration when I'd take my fourth-graders to the computer lab each week. Truth be told, I wasn't a complete techno-idiot... Obviously I had to teach lessons using the Internet, keep a computerized grade book, and I even signed up for the portable SmartBoard when it was available. (The fact that there were no instructions or in-services on how to use it didn't help my interest level!) But it got to the point where I felt that even if I didn't care about technology for myself, I owed it to my students to become more proficient. So in the past eight days, on my first-ever laptop, I've worked with FotoBabble, GoAnimate!, Animoto, and I'm currently writing a digital story, all of which had to be shared with the entire class! Talk about immersion! I've always told my students that we learn by doing - but until now, I haven't been practicing what I preach when it comes to technology. Come August, with a lot more practice, I'll be ready to confidently face my class knowing that we share a connection that I hadn't been able to share with any previous class. (Plus, I can teach them to write!) Now that's a year well spent!
So you ask yourself, "If she doesn't like sharing personal information, then why is she babbling on about it?" My thought is that the above ties in nicely with this week's readings on several points. In discussing emerging technologies, Moran's essay states that teachers need to know about [these] technologies so that they may incorporate them, or not, as they deem appropriate, into their classroom practice, and so that they may advise and teach those of their students who have access to these technologies and who are using them in their writing. (Tate 203) I can't teach something that I don't know, which shortchanges students. Additionally, George's essay speaks of the increasing importance of visual literacy. (Miller 1435) The connections between visuals and writing become increasingly more technical every day - our students (and teachers) need to keep up (or in some cases, catch up) if we are to stay competitive in the field. Finally, Miller and Shepherd discuss blogs and the importance of kairos. (Miller 1451) We are obviously living in a "cultural moment" which is defined by social media. Who would ever think of a blog as its own genre?
I can't help thinking that I'm stuck between two mindsets: the old-schoolers who find technology detrimental to society, and those who were born and raised in this information age where technology seems to come as second nature. I definitely see the benefits of technology, and teaching technology to our students (including composition). But it's not second nature to me - it's had to grow on me, so to speak. So for now, I'll be content to play around with and practice my newly gained digital writing skills, and perhaps I'll even be inclined to expand it further at some point. There seems to be everything to gain, and nothing to lose...
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
As for the red pen, give it a rest...
Last summer, I spent the entire month of July participating in the Capital Area Writing Project. Obviously, we learned about writing: how to teach writing, how to improve our own writing, what makes a "good" writer or piece of writing. But before we could really concentrate on those important aspects of writing, we discussed at length the experiences that shaped us as writers, or in some cases, non-writers. Without exception, each member of the class shared at least one, sometimes more than one, experience where a former teacher had a lasting impact on his or her writing development. We heard a few stories about inspirational teachers whose passion for writing and teaching writing positively impacted their students and helped them to cultivate a love of writing themselves. Unfortunately, we heard more than a few stories of teachers whose flare with the red correction pen stifled not only student creativity, but their overall confidence and feelings of self-efficacy when it came to writing. Some even referred to papers that appeared to be 'streaked with blood' from strokes of red pen. Forgive them Father, for they know not what they've done...
This week's readings, took me back, so to speak, to those weeks in July when so much time was spent completely immersed in writing. Most relevant would be Haswell's discussion regarding the marking/correcting of student papers, and whether the shortcuts we as educators develop both lighten the workload and help students to improve their writing. I've often wondered whether the time I invest in helping students to correct and revise their drafts, through my review and ultimately individual conferences, actually makes a difference. I've come to the conclusion, after seeing final drafts submitted post-conference, that some students actually take to heart the suggestions and discussions we have regarding their writing. They care about what I have to say, because they know that I care about them. I've also concluded that some students, no matter how much time, effort, and positive reinforcement I share with them, just plain do not want to write. Have they, at the tender age of nine, already been positively or negatively impacted by a teacher or life experience with regard to writing? (My personal trauma occurred when I was five years old and attending a Catholic kindergarten, thus the earlier comment...)
I also found Haswell's discussion on the communication, or lack thereof, between teachers and students of particular interest, as well as the inconsistent expectations among teachers. The five activity nodes of Du Gay's 'Circuit of Culture' also helped put this communication, as well as the difficulties of instructional response overall, into perspective for me. Although elementary classrooms are self-contained for the most part, we do on occassion share students in particular subjects. We often have "team meetings" to ensure that our expectations in these subjects are consistent across the grade level, but what about vertical expectations from one grade to another throughout the District? It seems that it still boils down to building a strong foundation at the elementary level, so that students are later able to build upon that foundation in higher grades.
I feel like my mind is going a million miles an hour (too much coffee?), so I'm not sure how well I'm articulating my thoughts. But I'll close by saying that having had this school year off, I've had time for a lot of personal and professional reflection, and this week's readings have given me additional insight as to what kind of teacher I want to be when I return to the classroom in August. I've given an abundance of thought to the challenges of teaching, the importance of our jobs, and how the attitudes and enthusiasm that we "deliver" in our classrooms impact our students. I hope that come August, I will enter my classroom refreshed, enlightened, and ready to face the ever-changing challenges that education presents.
This week's readings, took me back, so to speak, to those weeks in July when so much time was spent completely immersed in writing. Most relevant would be Haswell's discussion regarding the marking/correcting of student papers, and whether the shortcuts we as educators develop both lighten the workload and help students to improve their writing. I've often wondered whether the time I invest in helping students to correct and revise their drafts, through my review and ultimately individual conferences, actually makes a difference. I've come to the conclusion, after seeing final drafts submitted post-conference, that some students actually take to heart the suggestions and discussions we have regarding their writing. They care about what I have to say, because they know that I care about them. I've also concluded that some students, no matter how much time, effort, and positive reinforcement I share with them, just plain do not want to write. Have they, at the tender age of nine, already been positively or negatively impacted by a teacher or life experience with regard to writing? (My personal trauma occurred when I was five years old and attending a Catholic kindergarten, thus the earlier comment...)
I also found Haswell's discussion on the communication, or lack thereof, between teachers and students of particular interest, as well as the inconsistent expectations among teachers. The five activity nodes of Du Gay's 'Circuit of Culture' also helped put this communication, as well as the difficulties of instructional response overall, into perspective for me. Although elementary classrooms are self-contained for the most part, we do on occassion share students in particular subjects. We often have "team meetings" to ensure that our expectations in these subjects are consistent across the grade level, but what about vertical expectations from one grade to another throughout the District? It seems that it still boils down to building a strong foundation at the elementary level, so that students are later able to build upon that foundation in higher grades.
I feel like my mind is going a million miles an hour (too much coffee?), so I'm not sure how well I'm articulating my thoughts. But I'll close by saying that having had this school year off, I've had time for a lot of personal and professional reflection, and this week's readings have given me additional insight as to what kind of teacher I want to be when I return to the classroom in August. I've given an abundance of thought to the challenges of teaching, the importance of our jobs, and how the attitudes and enthusiasm that we "deliver" in our classrooms impact our students. I hope that come August, I will enter my classroom refreshed, enlightened, and ready to face the ever-changing challenges that education presents.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Breaking Down Barriers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0vh2x_JAiQ
Teachers work hard to build a sense of community in their classrooms; a place where mutual respect plays an integral role in whether the classroom environment blossoms into a community of learners or one that x's off how many more days must be endured before the torture ends. Working in a culturally diverse district makes this job even more important, and more difficult. It almost seems as though a wall exists between the teacher and certain students - not for any reason that one can specifically define - it's just there. Let's face it, establishing meaningful relationships is easier with some students than others, and there always seems to be a few that you just can get through to. Freedman expresses the importance establishing this social relationship when examining "specifically how writers, from early cihldhood through adulthood, form social relationships with teachers and peers in ways that shape their learning and become part of their individual thinking, their cognition." (1050) Although Freedman speaks specifically of writers, I would argue that the same holds true for all students. It is when students feel important and respected and connected that they flourishl, both academically and socially. They are comfortable in their environment, and are more willing to take risks.
For this reason, I found Freedman's comparison between British and U.S. teachers very interesting. I'm not sure if Britain's educational system works any better than our U.S. system, but the fact that those surveyed focus their attention on their students' development, nurturing their creativity, focusing on meaning-making, and helping them to write in a variety of ways. (1051) It's not that U.S. teachers don't do these things, as I'm sure many do. However, I find it interesting that the U.S. teachers surveyed focused more on creating meaningful activities for the curriculum. (1051) I wonder if their students are "left behind" like ours are labeled?
While on the subject of feeling connected (or perhaps disconnected), I found the research in Brodkeys "Literacy Letters" very disheartening. In reading the letters written between teachers and basic writers, I couldn't believe the insensitivity and disconnectedness directed from the teachers to the basic writers. I would hope that the "teachers" would be better prepared to respond to the obvious pain and need expressed by the basic writers. The teachers seemed to be from another planet altogether. If they were so unable or unwilling to reach out to those in need, whether the distinction between the parties is cultural, economic, or social, then how could they possibly have effective relationships with their students?
Finally, I really enjoyed the activity Lynn used as an example in his "Imitation" section. (184) I can see this type of exercise being of great value at a teachers' inservice, then scaled down a bit for students. I'm definitely adding this to my "list of things to try" in the fall.
Teachers work hard to build a sense of community in their classrooms; a place where mutual respect plays an integral role in whether the classroom environment blossoms into a community of learners or one that x's off how many more days must be endured before the torture ends. Working in a culturally diverse district makes this job even more important, and more difficult. It almost seems as though a wall exists between the teacher and certain students - not for any reason that one can specifically define - it's just there. Let's face it, establishing meaningful relationships is easier with some students than others, and there always seems to be a few that you just can get through to. Freedman expresses the importance establishing this social relationship when examining "specifically how writers, from early cihldhood through adulthood, form social relationships with teachers and peers in ways that shape their learning and become part of their individual thinking, their cognition." (1050) Although Freedman speaks specifically of writers, I would argue that the same holds true for all students. It is when students feel important and respected and connected that they flourishl, both academically and socially. They are comfortable in their environment, and are more willing to take risks.
For this reason, I found Freedman's comparison between British and U.S. teachers very interesting. I'm not sure if Britain's educational system works any better than our U.S. system, but the fact that those surveyed focus their attention on their students' development, nurturing their creativity, focusing on meaning-making, and helping them to write in a variety of ways. (1051) It's not that U.S. teachers don't do these things, as I'm sure many do. However, I find it interesting that the U.S. teachers surveyed focused more on creating meaningful activities for the curriculum. (1051) I wonder if their students are "left behind" like ours are labeled?
While on the subject of feeling connected (or perhaps disconnected), I found the research in Brodkeys "Literacy Letters" very disheartening. In reading the letters written between teachers and basic writers, I couldn't believe the insensitivity and disconnectedness directed from the teachers to the basic writers. I would hope that the "teachers" would be better prepared to respond to the obvious pain and need expressed by the basic writers. The teachers seemed to be from another planet altogether. If they were so unable or unwilling to reach out to those in need, whether the distinction between the parties is cultural, economic, or social, then how could they possibly have effective relationships with their students?
Finally, I really enjoyed the activity Lynn used as an example in his "Imitation" section. (184) I can see this type of exercise being of great value at a teachers' inservice, then scaled down a bit for students. I'm definitely adding this to my "list of things to try" in the fall.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Square Wheels
"From now on, ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I will not put."
Winston Churchill
Quick, who can state the rule that governs the nonsense stated above? Ding, Ding! You are correct in stating that you never end a sentence with a preposition. But what if applying the grammar rule makes the sentence nonsense? On more than one occassion, I've struggled over whether something I've written is grammatically correct. If I can't figure it out, I rewrite a different sentence altogether to avoid being judged by the "grammarians" among us. I doubt I'm the only one who has ever been in this situation, so if adults occassionally struggle, imaging how kids feel!
Writing is perhaps the most challenging of all subjects I’m asked to teach at the elementary level, and I believe that many, if not most, elementary teachers would agree. Math, science, social studies, even reading, I can find usually find some approach to meet the needs (and often inspire) even the reluctant learners in my classroom. (Remind me again why I opted for an elementary classroom where I have to teach all subjects, instead of secondary where I could focus on one or two?) But getting a student to put pencil to paper and document their thoughts – that’s a tough one. Meeting the increasing demand over the past several years to fine-tune writing across the curriculum (mostly geared toward improving standardized test scores) - that’s even tougher. So when someone poses the question about whether teaching grammar improves students’ writing, it seems like a no-brainer. Except, that it’s not...
Writing is perhaps the most challenging of all subjects I’m asked to teach at the elementary level, and I believe that many, if not most, elementary teachers would agree. Math, science, social studies, even reading, I can find usually find some approach to meet the needs (and often inspire) even the reluctant learners in my classroom. (Remind me again why I opted for an elementary classroom where I have to teach all subjects, instead of secondary where I could focus on one or two?) But getting a student to put pencil to paper and document their thoughts – that’s a tough one. Meeting the increasing demand over the past several years to fine-tune writing across the curriculum (mostly geared toward improving standardized test scores) - that’s even tougher. So when someone poses the question about whether teaching grammar improves students’ writing, it seems like a no-brainer. Except, that it’s not...
The question was first posed to me in a rhetoric class last semester. Having taught grammar as part of our district’s curriculum for the past ten years, my gut reaction was, of course, to answer, “Yes!” (I may have even been thinking, “Duh, what a stupid question!” but fortunately I kept this thought to myself!) After some discussion and reflection as to how and why grammar instruction does or does not improve students’ writing, my initial, somewhat emotional, gut reaction waivered somewhat, but I didn’t have enough information to definitively change my mind. After reading Connor’s historical account of how grammar came to play a part in rhetoric, and Hartwell’s argument in support that grammar does not improve students’ writing, I am waivering even more.
Our reading for this week suggests that children’s cultural language is engrained within them by the age of five, without any study of grammatical rules. When I teach my fourth graders about writing, I tell them that when they read aloud what they’ve written, they will know whether or not it sounds right. Obviously, when Churchill moved the preposition from the end of his above quote in accordance with the rule to never end a sentence with a preposition, it just didn't sound right. This seems reasonable based on what we’ve read. However, I am shocked to read that the debate about whether or not writing improves students’ writing has been going on for so long. I am equally shocked that scholars still can’t agree on a position. It seems that we should be able to look at what’s been tried in the past and learn from these experiences. Perhaps Hartwell stated it best in when he said that we are constrained to reinvent the wheel, [but] too often the wheel we reinvent is square (581). Research seems to support that teaching grammar does not improve students' writing. Research also supports that writing a word numerous times does not help a student become a better speller. Yet we continue to follow this old and beaten path as we assign our students the "three times each" for their spelling lists. Now granted, change takes time, and it would be a hard sell to convince school districts (and many teachers) to stop teaching grammar. I'm not 100% sold myself, but I'm at least willing to entertain the thought. But how can we ask students to learn from past mistakes when we as adults struggle ourselves? While we continue such battles as whether teaching grammar improves students' writing, how important is it to spell correctly (especially given today's technological capabilities), etc., the students continue to fall farther behind. Isn't it time we pay attention to what works and what doesn't and come up with some concrete answers? Our children's futures are at stake...
Monday, February 21, 2011
All aboard!
When we first read about expressivism a few weeks back and talked about how it can liberate writers, I truly thought the answer to students' writing problems was clear. I was ready to jump on board and ride that train straight back to my classroom and put it to work. But after a few more weeks of reading, blogging, and class discussions, I realized, especially after this week's reading, that expressivism alone is not the entire train, but more of the engine that will steer itself and other boxcars back to the writing platform. (Remember, I teach elementary school - it's all about the picture!)
This week's readings made so much sense - Bland's criticisms of a strictly cognitive approach made me rack my brain about how and what type of writing could take place without emotion. Short of a strictly technical piece, I struggled to envision such writing. Bland's concern with the approach promoting a mechanistic view of the human mind (Miller 710) and her discussion about the relationship between personality and discursive style (Miller 711) really reinforced what I've been thinking about how teachers relate to student writing, and whether or not our expectations (based on Pennsylvania writing rubrics) are realistic, or even realistic.
Britton's ideas about 'shaping at the point of utterance' made me think about the possibility of having struggling writers, or any student for that matter, speak into a tape recorder then listen to what they've said. It might provide some scaffolding to help them understand the relationship between the spoken and written word without being inhibited, either mentally or by the physical movement of their pencils. Scaffolding, of course, is temporary, and could be removed as students' confidence increased. Just a thought...
Finally, I found Flower's and Hayes' ideas about the cognition of discovery insightful, as well. I will definitely refer to their Rhetorical Problem model (Miller 471) and the breakdown of how good and poor writers approach problems (Miller 471) as I filter through my ideas of how I can construct an effective writing program in my classroom. Add another boxcar to the train...
So as we move through this journey of pedagogical exploration and analyze which components of each we will espouse and/or dismiss, I'm happy to have so many options to choose from. Our class has discussed on numerous occasions the importance of variety when approaching our students' (and our own) writing needs. We need to make sure to share with them that if the first boxcar doesn't fit their needs, their are many other cars to choose from.
This week's readings made so much sense - Bland's criticisms of a strictly cognitive approach made me rack my brain about how and what type of writing could take place without emotion. Short of a strictly technical piece, I struggled to envision such writing. Bland's concern with the approach promoting a mechanistic view of the human mind (Miller 710) and her discussion about the relationship between personality and discursive style (Miller 711) really reinforced what I've been thinking about how teachers relate to student writing, and whether or not our expectations (based on Pennsylvania writing rubrics) are realistic, or even realistic.
Britton's ideas about 'shaping at the point of utterance' made me think about the possibility of having struggling writers, or any student for that matter, speak into a tape recorder then listen to what they've said. It might provide some scaffolding to help them understand the relationship between the spoken and written word without being inhibited, either mentally or by the physical movement of their pencils. Scaffolding, of course, is temporary, and could be removed as students' confidence increased. Just a thought...
Finally, I found Flower's and Hayes' ideas about the cognition of discovery insightful, as well. I will definitely refer to their Rhetorical Problem model (Miller 471) and the breakdown of how good and poor writers approach problems (Miller 471) as I filter through my ideas of how I can construct an effective writing program in my classroom. Add another boxcar to the train...
So as we move through this journey of pedagogical exploration and analyze which components of each we will espouse and/or dismiss, I'm happy to have so many options to choose from. Our class has discussed on numerous occasions the importance of variety when approaching our students' (and our own) writing needs. We need to make sure to share with them that if the first boxcar doesn't fit their needs, their are many other cars to choose from.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Let Them Eat Cake...
I suppose if I just start out saying that some of the people referred to in this week's readings came off as sounding like pompous bastards, I'd feel better and I could get to the heart of the matter. I just didn't care for the implied (sometimes outright) references to students not belonging to the 'academic community' because their writing was not up to par, and comments like the UCLA dean referring to the students in remedial English as "the truly illiterate among us." (Miller 596) Who does he think he is? (Can you tell I'm irritated?) Well, accepting that their will always be idiots in the world, I'll move on... It's just a shame that people with such shallow views end up in such prestigious positions making mega money, while those of us who actually care and are willing to do something about it work in the trenches. Oh well, who ever said that life is fair?
As for the rest of The Language of Exclusion, I read with great interest as Rose's discussed the history of the word remediation, illiteracy, etc. (Maybe the UCLA dean should read up on the definition of illiteracy before he misuses it again?) I found his discussion on transience myth particularly interesting: The source of the problem is elsewhere; thus it can be ignored or temporarily dealt with until the tutors or academies or grammar schools or high schools or families make the changes they must make. (Miller 600). In elementary school, and I would dare say through the remaining years of secondary education, we spend much more time with what is wrong with students' writing (i.e. quantifying errors) than what is right. I find it disheartening that this seems to continue in college, based on this week's readings. If colleges and universities want students to meet certain writing criteria to ensure post-academic success, then they either have to accept the fact that "remedial" classes will need to be offered (more on that in a minute...), or the way students are taught to write in their thirteen years of training prior to post-secondary classes needs to change across the board (nation). I'm not saying that national standards are the answer, perhaps they are, perhaps not. More research would be needed on my part in order to form an educated argument. But without giving it a lot of thought, it seems a likely start to level the playing field a bit. But the playing field will never be completely level, due to many of the variables discussed in Bartholomae's piece, such as socio-economic status, culture, etc. I think that discussing the various pedagogies during these weekly readings are definitely giving us a good place to start with leveling the field when it comes to teaching writing. But let's face it, colleges wonder what the high schools are doing wrong, high schools are questioning the middle schools, which in turn are questioning the elementary schools. Comments like, "My God, what did they do in third grade last year? These kids don't know anything!" are unfortunately more common than we'd like to hear.
Being somewhat of an idealist, my thought is, "Okay, let's fix it." However, with the complexities discussed in the various pedagogies, addressing the concerns and inconsistencies in teaching writing is far from a quick or easy fix. What we can do, must do, is start small. Teach the students we have with everything we've got, and hope that we can find strength in numbers to make the changes necessary to ensure academic success for our students.
P.S. The use of the word remediation reminds me of learning support, both of which carry with them a stigma. I'm not sure what the politically correct term is at this point, but can't we come up with a better term?
As for the rest of The Language of Exclusion, I read with great interest as Rose's discussed the history of the word remediation, illiteracy, etc. (Maybe the UCLA dean should read up on the definition of illiteracy before he misuses it again?) I found his discussion on transience myth particularly interesting: The source of the problem is elsewhere; thus it can be ignored or temporarily dealt with until the tutors or academies or grammar schools or high schools or families make the changes they must make. (Miller 600). In elementary school, and I would dare say through the remaining years of secondary education, we spend much more time with what is wrong with students' writing (i.e. quantifying errors) than what is right. I find it disheartening that this seems to continue in college, based on this week's readings. If colleges and universities want students to meet certain writing criteria to ensure post-academic success, then they either have to accept the fact that "remedial" classes will need to be offered (more on that in a minute...), or the way students are taught to write in their thirteen years of training prior to post-secondary classes needs to change across the board (nation). I'm not saying that national standards are the answer, perhaps they are, perhaps not. More research would be needed on my part in order to form an educated argument. But without giving it a lot of thought, it seems a likely start to level the playing field a bit. But the playing field will never be completely level, due to many of the variables discussed in Bartholomae's piece, such as socio-economic status, culture, etc. I think that discussing the various pedagogies during these weekly readings are definitely giving us a good place to start with leveling the field when it comes to teaching writing. But let's face it, colleges wonder what the high schools are doing wrong, high schools are questioning the middle schools, which in turn are questioning the elementary schools. Comments like, "My God, what did they do in third grade last year? These kids don't know anything!" are unfortunately more common than we'd like to hear.
Being somewhat of an idealist, my thought is, "Okay, let's fix it." However, with the complexities discussed in the various pedagogies, addressing the concerns and inconsistencies in teaching writing is far from a quick or easy fix. What we can do, must do, is start small. Teach the students we have with everything we've got, and hope that we can find strength in numbers to make the changes necessary to ensure academic success for our students.
P.S. The use of the word remediation reminds me of learning support, both of which carry with them a stigma. I'm not sure what the politically correct term is at this point, but can't we come up with a better term?
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
A place for everything...
Or not. At least not in my house. I can’t help thinking about the half a weekend my husband and I spent cleaning the junk, I mean, treasures, out of my kids’ bedrooms. (Yes, it took an entire day… So, what’s your point?) My point is they both have too many treasures, and left to their own devices, neither one would ever part with any of them. The word “hoarders” comes to mind. So what do my messy kids have to do with writing pedagogy? To me this all ties in with our previous readings and upcoming discussions on how writers get their "stuff," specifically Elbow’s activity of repeated free writing. In other words, get everything down on paper (or stuffed into every nook and cranny in your bedroom), and edit and or revise later (have your parents get rid of the clutter). But it also provides an effective segue to this week’s reading on arrangement. Once you have figured out which pieces to keep, how do you arrange it so that it works for your intended audience? (Whether the audience is you, your parents, someone else altogether…) For my kids, I suggest shelves. As for writing, I look to Lynn…
In his chapter on Arrangement, Lynn discusses the relationship between form and function, and presents the question of whether form necessarily follows function, as Louis Sullivan believes, or should they “be one, joined in a spiritual union,” as Frank Lloyd Wright believes? Using a very “visual” approach he ultimately concludes that form and function work together in a way determined by the writer’s purpose, content, and audience. I found particularly relevant the section on structure, in which Lynn makes many points that teachers identify with on a daily basis: painful reading of cookie cutter five-paragraph essays, marking the same grammatical errors repeatedly on paper after paper, and students’ dislike of writing (he refers specifically to Freshman Composition, but the same holds true in elementary school). The effects of teachers “marking up with rigor” as Lynn puts it (some teachers have stopped using red ink to make corrections in an attempt to spare students’ feelings) could be a separate blog altogether. (Perhaps it will be?)
The bottom line is that students need to learn a various approaches to writing based on what they are trying to say, to whom, and why (content, audience, purpose). As for the various modes (although after reading D’Angelo’s piece, I may be referring to those incorrectly), Lynn refers to a “pedagogical stasis” which I can’t envision changing any time in the near future. Should they? I guess it depends who you ask. Hopefully I’ll have the information necessary to develop a well-articulated opinion by sometime in April. For now, we teach what we know.
So there you have it - form and function working together, in writing and in everyday life with kids. I sort the treasures, my husband builds the shelves based on need, and the kids come up with “arrangements” of their stuff that everyone can live with. Again, it boils down to purpose, audience and what works for the kid (or writer). While I’m leaving the door open to new ideas on writing pedagogies and rhetorical canons, when it comes to the kids’ bedrooms, maybe next time I’ll just shut the door… (I wish we would have done that on Sunday!)
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