No matter how far we go back in the history of rhetoric, we always seem to find thinkers whose ideas were influenced by others. I always tell my students that no author writes in a vacuum; she is shaped by the history and culture and context in which she lives. Likewise, no philosopher thinks in a vacuum and no rhetorician speaks in a vacuum. Vico, who is almost as far back as you can go in the history of rhetoric was, according to our readings, strongly influenced by Plato and Grotius. In our readings, I also detected influence of Socrates in Vico's ideas. Vico writes, "Through application and study we can seek to discover the potential of our soul and attempt to exploit it in order to examine our own consciousness." This echoes Socrates' belief that knowledge is innate and that the job of the educator is to draw that knowledge forth through the use of questions (that infamous "Socratic Method").
Conversely, we see thinkers whose ideas were strongly influential in realms beyond the academic. Locke's beliefs that "all men are created equal" and that people have a right to "life, liberty, and property" were instrumental in our own country's ideals and founding documents. In class, we discussed what Locke meant by "all men" and how greatly it differs from our idea about the same concept. While almost all people today believe that this phrase refers to both men and women of all races, creeds, and ethnicities, Locke was probably referring only to privileged white men. Initially, this seems infuriating, but as we discussed this issue in class (especially thanks to Dr. Souder's comments), I softened a bit towards Locke. It is important to remember that he was a man of his time, and while this doesn't excuse wrong treatment of other human beings, it does shed light on what we see as a glaring contradiction. Locke was working with a different definition of "human" and was not immersed in a culture that taught respect for all peoples. If we were to accept his idea of the tabula rasa, or blank slate, his environment gave him no tools for seeing both women and men as they ought to be seen--fully human, fully equal, fully worthy of respect. Instead the prejudices of his ancestors were wholly transmitted to him. Interestingly, we also see the same aggravating dichotomy present in Jefferson, who penned the immortal words, "All men are created equal and endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights" and yet owned slaves.
Hume was a true Renaissance man who influenced the worlds of politics, trade, philosophy, and religion. According to Marilyn's presentation, echoes of Hume's ideas are present in James Madison's Federalist Papers, again a major influence on the early stages of our nation's development. Contributing to the Enlightenment ideals of skepticism and testing through evidence, Hume was in turn influenced by the historian Tacitus, among others.
So what does this all have to do with the modern composition classroom? Well, as we have been pondering our pedagogy statements, I have been struck by the vital importance of understanding what theories are shaping our practice. I often dwell on the practical out of necessity, but it is essential for me to take a step back and think about what ideas are driving my practice and what consequences my philosophies are having on my students. This class has been incredibly helpful for me in both contemplating and shaping my personal philosophies of writing. Ideas have influences. The best way to deepen one's understanding of any influential figure is to closely examine his or her influences and the consequence of his or her ideas in politics, society, and the academy. And it is of critical importance that we as educators make choices about the ideas we allow to influence us.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Blog 4: Enos, Kinneavy, and the Critical Importance of Audience
According to Richard Enos, there is a serious problem in the discipline of modern composition: there is not enough new research in rhetoric. We're getting our information, not from primary sources, but from critics. Sometimes we're getting it third- or fourth-hand. And like the popular children's game of telephone, by the time the information works its way into our writing, it's often hopelessly distorted. What's holding us back from getting our hands dirty with the primary stuff? False belief "that research in rhetoric is retrospective or at best, static," says Enos. He claims that research in rhetoric is far from static. Instead, the new evidence and data we gather can enable us to develop "new methods to refine our theories and analyses." We are not burying ourselves in an irrelevant past; we are adding our voices to a great conversation.
According to James Kinneavy, there is another problem in the discipline of modern composition: the concept of kairos has been largely neglected in the contemporary comp classroom. Kairos, he says, "might be defined as the right or opportune time to do something, or right measure in doing something." We must devote renewed attention, Kinneavy argues, to "the appropriateness of the discourse to the particular circumstances of the time, place, speaker, and audience involved." Kinneavy places heavy emphasis on what he calls "situational context." That is, he wants to move away from a myopic focus on adding commas and combining sentences to writing for clear purposes and real people across the curriculum.
So what's the connection?
While there are several possible areas of overlap between these authors, I think that one critical point of connection is contextualization--tailoring the message to the audience. Kairos is all about audience. It's about students writing about ethical matters, issues that concern them, topics that interest them, and then keeping their audience in mind when they write. And the application of Enos's article is that by conducting primary scholarship, we have the ability to pull ancient rhetorical theories into modern times, framing them in light of current issues. We must spurn the temptation to only regurgitate what we've heard from other people and instead bring new perspectives.
For Enos, it's about contextualizing research through fresh takes on primary sources. For Kinneavy, it's about contextualizing writing through renewed awareness of kairos. Both are concerned with how classical concepts influence modern writers.
According to James Kinneavy, there is another problem in the discipline of modern composition: the concept of kairos has been largely neglected in the contemporary comp classroom. Kairos, he says, "might be defined as the right or opportune time to do something, or right measure in doing something." We must devote renewed attention, Kinneavy argues, to "the appropriateness of the discourse to the particular circumstances of the time, place, speaker, and audience involved." Kinneavy places heavy emphasis on what he calls "situational context." That is, he wants to move away from a myopic focus on adding commas and combining sentences to writing for clear purposes and real people across the curriculum.
So what's the connection?
While there are several possible areas of overlap between these authors, I think that one critical point of connection is contextualization--tailoring the message to the audience. Kairos is all about audience. It's about students writing about ethical matters, issues that concern them, topics that interest them, and then keeping their audience in mind when they write. And the application of Enos's article is that by conducting primary scholarship, we have the ability to pull ancient rhetorical theories into modern times, framing them in light of current issues. We must spurn the temptation to only regurgitate what we've heard from other people and instead bring new perspectives.
For Enos, it's about contextualizing research through fresh takes on primary sources. For Kinneavy, it's about contextualizing writing through renewed awareness of kairos. Both are concerned with how classical concepts influence modern writers.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Blog 3-Comp Pedagogy in Light of Comp Research
"Today's research in composition, taken as a whole, may be compared to chemical research as it emerged from the period of alchemy: some terms are being defined usefully, a number of procedures are being refined, but the field as a whole is laced with dreams, prejudices, and makeshift operations" (196).
Richard Braddock, Richard Lloyd-Jones, and Lowell Schoer set out to conduct scholarly research in composition, rectify some mistakes of their predecessors, and make a "genuine contribution to knowledge." They seemed to achieve success on all counts, taking neither the painfully scientific approach of Francis Christensen (a.k.a. "paragraph dude") nor the rather artsy-fartsy approach of Ken Macrorie. Although my concern is with pedagogy rather than research, many of this article's sound research principles carry over into sound teaching practices, especially in assessment.
The authors begin their discussion of research by talking about "the writer variable" and the need to distinguish between "writing ability" and "writing performance," a principle that has tremendous implications for assessment. Six years in the trenches has taught me just how wide the gap between ability and performance can be. When I evaluate a student's work, there are no guarantees that I am looking at a true indicator of her ability. The "Research" authors wrote about the multitude of variables that can affect students' work: everything from noisy lawn mowers to illness to personal issues. It is true that environmental and psychological factors can heavily influence how well a student writes. However, teachers can narrow the ability/performance gap and provide the best possible conditions under which students can succeed. Although I cannot control all variables, I can maintain a connection with students so that I know what personal issues might influence their grades (one reason why it's so important to me to teach at a smaller school). As the authors discuss under the "examination situation" variable, I can monitor the classroom environment and be aware of potential distractors, from lighting to the temperature of the room to how I organize my seating chart.
The scariest part of this selection was the rater variable--"the tendency of a rater to vary in his own standards of evaluation" (200). Specifically, the author referred to two factors that most strongly impact outcomes: "personal feelings" and "rater fatigue" (200). Grading English papers is maddeningly subjective, despite the most detailed rubrics. My personal feelings must be put aside as I simultaneously try to grade content, organization, voice, word choice, sentence fluency, and grammar. It doesn’t matter how I feel when I'm grading a multiple choice test. I could be about ready to take a baseball bat to my china cabinet and smash up 12 place settings of Noritake; it wouldn’t affect the student’s grade. But if I start to feel cranky grading papers, there’s no hunkering down and powering through until I reach the end of the stack. I have to step away for a while, at least until sanity’s circulation is restored to my cramped brain.
The bottom line is awareness. Part of good teaching is being aware of the variables that affect both teachers and students and adapting in response to those variables. In comp teaching, as in comp research, we need to leave behind the alchemic dreams, prejudices, and makeshift operations and conduct the work of our respective disciplines with "strength and depth" (197).
Richard Braddock, Richard Lloyd-Jones, and Lowell Schoer set out to conduct scholarly research in composition, rectify some mistakes of their predecessors, and make a "genuine contribution to knowledge." They seemed to achieve success on all counts, taking neither the painfully scientific approach of Francis Christensen (a.k.a. "paragraph dude") nor the rather artsy-fartsy approach of Ken Macrorie. Although my concern is with pedagogy rather than research, many of this article's sound research principles carry over into sound teaching practices, especially in assessment.
The authors begin their discussion of research by talking about "the writer variable" and the need to distinguish between "writing ability" and "writing performance," a principle that has tremendous implications for assessment. Six years in the trenches has taught me just how wide the gap between ability and performance can be. When I evaluate a student's work, there are no guarantees that I am looking at a true indicator of her ability. The "Research" authors wrote about the multitude of variables that can affect students' work: everything from noisy lawn mowers to illness to personal issues. It is true that environmental and psychological factors can heavily influence how well a student writes. However, teachers can narrow the ability/performance gap and provide the best possible conditions under which students can succeed. Although I cannot control all variables, I can maintain a connection with students so that I know what personal issues might influence their grades (one reason why it's so important to me to teach at a smaller school). As the authors discuss under the "examination situation" variable, I can monitor the classroom environment and be aware of potential distractors, from lighting to the temperature of the room to how I organize my seating chart.
The scariest part of this selection was the rater variable--"the tendency of a rater to vary in his own standards of evaluation" (200). Specifically, the author referred to two factors that most strongly impact outcomes: "personal feelings" and "rater fatigue" (200). Grading English papers is maddeningly subjective, despite the most detailed rubrics. My personal feelings must be put aside as I simultaneously try to grade content, organization, voice, word choice, sentence fluency, and grammar. It doesn’t matter how I feel when I'm grading a multiple choice test. I could be about ready to take a baseball bat to my china cabinet and smash up 12 place settings of Noritake; it wouldn’t affect the student’s grade. But if I start to feel cranky grading papers, there’s no hunkering down and powering through until I reach the end of the stack. I have to step away for a while, at least until sanity’s circulation is restored to my cramped brain.
The bottom line is awareness. Part of good teaching is being aware of the variables that affect both teachers and students and adapting in response to those variables. In comp teaching, as in comp research, we need to leave behind the alchemic dreams, prejudices, and makeshift operations and conduct the work of our respective disciplines with "strength and depth" (197).
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