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...

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...

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. 

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? 

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!)