Today, as I attempted to prep students for one-on-one conferences, I had them answer a list of questions to bring to our meeting. My last questions was "Do you have any questions for me about writing?" I expected a bunch of requests for specific instruction, such as "how do I write the perfect conclusion?" or "what are some ways I can come up with topics?", but what I got instead were several questions about my own experiences with writing. They asked me about my feelings about writing, whether I deal with constraints, the kinds of vocabulary I use when I write, why I teach writing the way I do, who my favorite authors are, and what I consider "good" writing.
I guess what this suggests to me is that I need to be more transparent about my own struggles and successes with writing. Students want to know who their teacher is as a writer. They don't seem to want to me to establish credibility and claim myself as a writer. Instead, it seems like they are genuinely curious as to what happens in the upper ranks of academia. Or perhaps, they just want to relate. This is something I did not expect when I posed the question.
Typically, I resist talking about my own writing in class. Partially, this is an attempt to avoid sharing to0 much of my personal preferences with my students. I don't want students to feel isolated or constrained if they feel like we don't share views. I also don't want them to shape their writing around my interests thinking that they'll earn higher grades. I like to see what they can come up with when those types of constraints are removed.
Not sharing the personal is only part of it. The other part is that I don't talk much about my experiences with writing because I assumed students would find it boring. Sure, sometimes I'll throw in a "yeah, I have a hard time with focusing too when I have a lot of ideas about a topic" or other little quips, but I rarely offer narratives. What these questions suggest, however, is that maybe I need to do more of this.
I'd love to know how much students want to know about their instructors' writing. Do you want the examples and narratives? I'd also love to know how much instructors are already sharing with their classes. Do you offer quick one-liners? Do you take the time to share narratives about your writing experiences? Do you have question-and-answer sessions about writing, as one fabulous colleague of mine said she has done?
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Observing Others: Mentorships and Two-Way Learning in the Writing Center
Two days a week, I work in a writing center. I have been working there since July of 2009, with one break in between to do a year of a Doctoral Fellowship. The whole experience has been wonderful. I learned a great deal of what I know about teaching writing and performing Writing Studies scholarship in this center. Because I have been there for a while, I also have the pleasure of helping to train new tutors (we call them "writing consultants").
In this particular center, we typically have a summer training session, where we role play and read articles related to writing centers and writing studies. Then, we move into a mentorship phase. For the first week, a new consultant will observe the sessions of an experienced consultant mentor. After a session or during downtime, the new and experienced consultants talk about those observations and any lingering questions. The following week are "training wheels" sessions. The new consultants hold their own sessions while the more experienced consultants observe and possibly chime in, depending on the new consultant's needs. At the end of the session, consultants review what was written on the mentee observation sheet, which is usually a list of good things with a few strategies for improvement. New consultants usually take this time to ask questions about sessions that they found challenging or things they realized they might need to know for the future. All in all, the training is meant to be a positive experience. I think this is why the word mentorship is important. It establishes a positive relationship, rather than a purely critical one.
This year, I finally had a schedule that allowed me to work closely with a single incoming consultant. I don't have IRB approval for this post, so I won't go into too much depth, but I can give you a basic outline of what went on. New Consultant and I worked together 2 days a week. From the start, she seemed to have a good grasp on what was expected of her and the foundations of a good session. During two weeks, she asked good questions, and I saw her running effective sessions. Even though my mentee was new, when turned out on her own, she did great. And I don't think it has much to do with my training.
Why I'm really writing this post, however, has less to do with what that consultant did (as this is not a study of her technique) and more of the experience of a mentorship. I think it's important that mentorships exist, whether in writing centers, teaching programs, or student-faculty/student-more-experienced-student scenarios. Although one of the individuals in a mentorship typically holds more knowledge or wisdom, it is a two-way learning scenario. While New Consultant learned what she needed to know to move forward, I learned some things that would improve my own consulting.
As I was observed for 12 hours of sessions, I found that I was more self-reflective about my consulting practices. When my mentee had questions, I had to step back and think about what I had done and why I had done it. Plus, I wanted to be a good role model, so I made sure that I was setting a good example by attempting to maintain balanced dialogue, getting students to write in a session, and making sure to keep up with administrative tasks, even more so than I usually would.
When my mentee finally got to her hours of "training wheels" sessions, I was impressed by her strategies. She was very effective, perhaps even more so than I was. I actually was reminded of things I needed to work on in my own consulting as I watched her.
In the end, there is no doubt in my mind that mentorships are great learning models. New Consultant and I both worked on our practices together through observations and dialogue. During this time, we also formed a relationship. This means that if one of us needs help during a session, we feel comfortable enough to ask the other. This also means that we can talk about writing and other things freely, and that the atmosphere of the writing center becomes a friendly one rather than simply a bunch of people who work together in a square space in the library. I see how this model would benefit students and teachers alike, but I think that needs its own post to be considered.
So what are your thoughts? Have you had mentoring experiences? Did you enjoy them or hate them? Did you learn, or were they dead ends?
In this particular center, we typically have a summer training session, where we role play and read articles related to writing centers and writing studies. Then, we move into a mentorship phase. For the first week, a new consultant will observe the sessions of an experienced consultant mentor. After a session or during downtime, the new and experienced consultants talk about those observations and any lingering questions. The following week are "training wheels" sessions. The new consultants hold their own sessions while the more experienced consultants observe and possibly chime in, depending on the new consultant's needs. At the end of the session, consultants review what was written on the mentee observation sheet, which is usually a list of good things with a few strategies for improvement. New consultants usually take this time to ask questions about sessions that they found challenging or things they realized they might need to know for the future. All in all, the training is meant to be a positive experience. I think this is why the word mentorship is important. It establishes a positive relationship, rather than a purely critical one.
This year, I finally had a schedule that allowed me to work closely with a single incoming consultant. I don't have IRB approval for this post, so I won't go into too much depth, but I can give you a basic outline of what went on. New Consultant and I worked together 2 days a week. From the start, she seemed to have a good grasp on what was expected of her and the foundations of a good session. During two weeks, she asked good questions, and I saw her running effective sessions. Even though my mentee was new, when turned out on her own, she did great. And I don't think it has much to do with my training.
Why I'm really writing this post, however, has less to do with what that consultant did (as this is not a study of her technique) and more of the experience of a mentorship. I think it's important that mentorships exist, whether in writing centers, teaching programs, or student-faculty/student-more-experienced-student scenarios. Although one of the individuals in a mentorship typically holds more knowledge or wisdom, it is a two-way learning scenario. While New Consultant learned what she needed to know to move forward, I learned some things that would improve my own consulting.
As I was observed for 12 hours of sessions, I found that I was more self-reflective about my consulting practices. When my mentee had questions, I had to step back and think about what I had done and why I had done it. Plus, I wanted to be a good role model, so I made sure that I was setting a good example by attempting to maintain balanced dialogue, getting students to write in a session, and making sure to keep up with administrative tasks, even more so than I usually would.
When my mentee finally got to her hours of "training wheels" sessions, I was impressed by her strategies. She was very effective, perhaps even more so than I was. I actually was reminded of things I needed to work on in my own consulting as I watched her.
In the end, there is no doubt in my mind that mentorships are great learning models. New Consultant and I both worked on our practices together through observations and dialogue. During this time, we also formed a relationship. This means that if one of us needs help during a session, we feel comfortable enough to ask the other. This also means that we can talk about writing and other things freely, and that the atmosphere of the writing center becomes a friendly one rather than simply a bunch of people who work together in a square space in the library. I see how this model would benefit students and teachers alike, but I think that needs its own post to be considered.
So what are your thoughts? Have you had mentoring experiences? Did you enjoy them or hate them? Did you learn, or were they dead ends?
Monday, January 21, 2013
Kate Kessler's "Composing for Delivery"
Today, I went back through my folders of research, trying to get back in the swing of the semester. I picked up the article "Composing for Delivery" by Kate Kessler. The article was initially published in the November 2005 edition of The English Journal. In this article, Kessler makes a fairly convincing argument for doing what she calls "composing for delivery" or creating "a call to write" for students in a Composition course. Building off the fifth canon of classical rhetoric, delivery, she implements a curriculum that forces students to write for purposes beyond the classroom (which, may I add, she never denotes as "real world"). She finds that as a result of this method students learn to compose with their own purposes in mind while also considering audience and effective rhetoric. In this particular article, Kessler observes how students develop rhetorical sensitivity through letter writing (actually mailed to the intended audience) and proposals. The end result of this teaching style is that "Students are encouraged to know that their compositions have civic as well as academic meaning" (93). They also seem more prepared to shift genres without simply relying on a formula.
I buy into Kessler's theory. I admit that I assign some similar tasks in my classroom and that my motives are the same. I want students to see themselves as engaged in the larger social sphere, as citizens with the necessary tools to make changes. While some might argue that Kessler should be teaching her students to succeed in academia by teaching them how to write academic essays instead, I fully support her methods. I see a greater need for teaching rhetorical sensitivity than academic forms. Students who are rhetorically sensitive will be able to see how to work their ideas into new genres without simply filling in a premade structure. They will see how they want to present their argument and what word choices are appropriate for the audience that they wish to address rather than "Do I have 5 sentences in this paragraph? Is my thesis at the end of the introduction?" And these lessons will translate from the classroom into other areas of their lives, which is what most of them want to recieve a higher education for in the first place.
Finally, what I really love about Kessler's piece is that it reminds us all that educators should adopt pedagogies they can live by. If students see us-- professors, GTAs, writing consultants-- engaged with writing in the way we want to tell them to be engaged with writing, it shows them that writing isn't just a tool for teachers to give grades. And I think it simply makes it easier to go to work, knowing that you believe in and live by the philosophy you present day in and out.
I buy into Kessler's theory. I admit that I assign some similar tasks in my classroom and that my motives are the same. I want students to see themselves as engaged in the larger social sphere, as citizens with the necessary tools to make changes. While some might argue that Kessler should be teaching her students to succeed in academia by teaching them how to write academic essays instead, I fully support her methods. I see a greater need for teaching rhetorical sensitivity than academic forms. Students who are rhetorically sensitive will be able to see how to work their ideas into new genres without simply filling in a premade structure. They will see how they want to present their argument and what word choices are appropriate for the audience that they wish to address rather than "Do I have 5 sentences in this paragraph? Is my thesis at the end of the introduction?" And these lessons will translate from the classroom into other areas of their lives, which is what most of them want to recieve a higher education for in the first place.
Finally, what I really love about Kessler's piece is that it reminds us all that educators should adopt pedagogies they can live by. If students see us-- professors, GTAs, writing consultants-- engaged with writing in the way we want to tell them to be engaged with writing, it shows them that writing isn't just a tool for teachers to give grades. And I think it simply makes it easier to go to work, knowing that you believe in and live by the philosophy you present day in and out.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Grade Inflation or Lots of Invested Clients?
The semester is now officially wrapped up, and I've sent in all my grades. Grades, as many of you probably know by now, are the bane of my existence. I hate giving them. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I know how to do it. Evaluating writing is so subjective, even when you try to be consistent and objective. So this post is kind of a -- in the words of one of my fabulous students -- "am I doing this right?" sort of thing.
I've traded out the standard system of grading each paper for a 50/50 contract/portfolio grading method. The contract grade is based on participation, completion of blogs and small writing assignments, and turning in drafts of major assignments. Everything must be done on-time and according to assignment criteria in order to be given full credit. Anything turned in after the cut-off date gets no credit. The portfolio is grading according to the department standards for A, B, C, D, or F. The thing is when you give students a chance to revise their drafts 2-3 times, then learn more about writing, then revise those pieces for a portfolio, if they're doing their work, odds are pretty good that they will produce some effective writing. If they aren't doing their work, then they probably are going to be turning in their best writing in their portfolios, so they will wind up with mediocre grades (these are usually my C/D/F students). However, I find that most students buy into this philosophy. They put in the time and effort, they read and think about the comments, and they participate in class. This means that I end up with a lot of "good" grades.
I've noted that for most of my courses, the majority of final grades fall between A and B-. I give a few Cs, rarely give Ds, and only a handful of Fs, typically to those students who fail to turn in major assignments or the portfolio or have terrible attendance (as all of the universities where I have taught had strict school-dictated attendance policies). I happen to think my students earn their grades, but when I hear others talk about their grading, I start to wonder if I'm committing "grade inflation." Or do I manage to create a clientele who are genuinely invested? I use these terms in particular because I believe big business is directly related to the reason that we grade in the first place.
I have obviously felt challenged by other grading methods. At one university where I work, the grading system is very strict. The department attempts to calibrate instructors, and they also advise them that Cs are average. Many students wind up with Cs, Ds, and Fs on their papers, which are each graded, and then two are submitted for a final portfolio, which is graded separately. The department also encourages more of a bell curve. One shouldn't give too many As, or even Bs. If the average of the class is too high or too low in comparison to others, the department makes sure that instructor is aware.
There are other methods of which I am aware, as well. For instance, while I use a rubric or, at the very least, a set of expectations, and grade my students in accordance with those standards, there are instructors who grade students against each other. The "excellent" work gets As and the worst of the work gets Fs. This, again, results in more of a curve.
My philosophy is that if a student does her or his work, and it meets the criteria, the work should be awarded the grade deserved. Instructors shouldn't feel pressured to meet some department average (what if you have awesome students in your course or ones that were simply unprepared for college and have more work to do?). I also believe that students find this bell curve system of grading discouraging and make getting the grade the sole reason for doing work and revising. They aren't invested in the work, but they are invested in getting the grade. This also seems to lead some students to feel that they have invested in an education in a way that entitles them to high marks without any real learning or effort (I paid $50,000 to go here, so you should be giving me an A so I can get a good job). On the other hand, As and Bs might very well help students land good jobs; however, if everyone graded like me, ruin the prestige of As and Bs.
So I have to wonder, is my system faulty? Are grades meant to represent rank? Should I be thinking of grades as a levels of achievement (excellence to unprepared?) rather than a point system? Or should I continue working on creating an "invested clientele"?
I've traded out the standard system of grading each paper for a 50/50 contract/portfolio grading method. The contract grade is based on participation, completion of blogs and small writing assignments, and turning in drafts of major assignments. Everything must be done on-time and according to assignment criteria in order to be given full credit. Anything turned in after the cut-off date gets no credit. The portfolio is grading according to the department standards for A, B, C, D, or F. The thing is when you give students a chance to revise their drafts 2-3 times, then learn more about writing, then revise those pieces for a portfolio, if they're doing their work, odds are pretty good that they will produce some effective writing. If they aren't doing their work, then they probably are going to be turning in their best writing in their portfolios, so they will wind up with mediocre grades (these are usually my C/D/F students). However, I find that most students buy into this philosophy. They put in the time and effort, they read and think about the comments, and they participate in class. This means that I end up with a lot of "good" grades.
I've noted that for most of my courses, the majority of final grades fall between A and B-. I give a few Cs, rarely give Ds, and only a handful of Fs, typically to those students who fail to turn in major assignments or the portfolio or have terrible attendance (as all of the universities where I have taught had strict school-dictated attendance policies). I happen to think my students earn their grades, but when I hear others talk about their grading, I start to wonder if I'm committing "grade inflation." Or do I manage to create a clientele who are genuinely invested? I use these terms in particular because I believe big business is directly related to the reason that we grade in the first place.
I have obviously felt challenged by other grading methods. At one university where I work, the grading system is very strict. The department attempts to calibrate instructors, and they also advise them that Cs are average. Many students wind up with Cs, Ds, and Fs on their papers, which are each graded, and then two are submitted for a final portfolio, which is graded separately. The department also encourages more of a bell curve. One shouldn't give too many As, or even Bs. If the average of the class is too high or too low in comparison to others, the department makes sure that instructor is aware.
There are other methods of which I am aware, as well. For instance, while I use a rubric or, at the very least, a set of expectations, and grade my students in accordance with those standards, there are instructors who grade students against each other. The "excellent" work gets As and the worst of the work gets Fs. This, again, results in more of a curve.
My philosophy is that if a student does her or his work, and it meets the criteria, the work should be awarded the grade deserved. Instructors shouldn't feel pressured to meet some department average (what if you have awesome students in your course or ones that were simply unprepared for college and have more work to do?). I also believe that students find this bell curve system of grading discouraging and make getting the grade the sole reason for doing work and revising. They aren't invested in the work, but they are invested in getting the grade. This also seems to lead some students to feel that they have invested in an education in a way that entitles them to high marks without any real learning or effort (I paid $50,000 to go here, so you should be giving me an A so I can get a good job). On the other hand, As and Bs might very well help students land good jobs; however, if everyone graded like me, ruin the prestige of As and Bs.
So I have to wonder, is my system faulty? Are grades meant to represent rank? Should I be thinking of grades as a levels of achievement (excellence to unprepared?) rather than a point system? Or should I continue working on creating an "invested clientele"?
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