My teaching philosophy, week 2

How do I take what I have read this week and synthesize into some concept that can lead to a tangible, applicable philosophy? I think that I must do what scholars have done for generations before me – I’ll take what I like and pretend like didn’t see the rest. I don’t think that I can, or that I should, take every piece of these articles and try to squeeze them into my own thoughts. I can take bits and pieces that I found from each of these articles and apply them to my own beliefs. So, that is what I am going to do. I will take the “sound bytes” that stuck out and try and connect the dots between them.

Fulkerson states that one problem with modern composition instruction is that instructors, “may expect students to produce arguments but fail to share that expectation with students.” I have to be aware of what my own expectations are, and also how clearly I have expressed these expectations to my students. If I am not clear with them, they cannot be clear with me. If I expect them to write well, then I must first be able to demonstrate to them what “well” means.
Schultz discusses the need for teachers to be aware of what methods and practices are going to be most useful for their students, and not stay entrenched in those they are most familiar with. I must be willing to look outside of the accepted trends in order to see what is really happening in the world. Shultz suggests that, “new varieties of life are constantly being created in the margins through unanticipated, uncontrolled, and unplanned cross-pollination and intermingling.” As a teacher, I have to be willing to learn.

The point that I want to take from Williams is not one of his main focuses. During his discussion of criticism, he makes the statement that, “there are innumerable other stories that one would have to tell to get anywhere near to telling a comprehensive history.” This is a point that I feel very strongly about, not in terms of the story of criticism, but in other areas of study. I am robbing my students if I do not share with them as diverse a view of the world as possible. If I continue to repeat a Western-centered focus on the world, I am leaving out an enormous section of history. I need to learn and share as many divergent views of the world as I can.

Bishop talks about her role as an instructor of composition. Although she spends a good portion of the article discussing the inequities in composition in the college setting, I think she makes a vital point that can apply to the high school as well. She describes them as, “a dedicated minority by choice: as agents instead of those acted upon.” I can either accept the role that I have chosen as an educator, or I can embrace it and revel in it. I can choose to focus on the things that I cannot change- administration, testing, schedules - or I can choose to use what I am given and provide everything that I do have control over for the use of my students.

Although I need to be willing to use what I am given, as opposed to letting what I lack hinder me, there does come a point when we as educators must be willing to stand in the face of those who are in control and say “this is wrong.” Popken’s article serves as an example of an educator who was not willing to let himself, as well as his students, suffer as a result of an ignorant system of control. Some decisions must be spoken out against, no matter the cost. I cannot serve my students by blindly going along with a system that I feel is causing them great harm. They are not getting what they need form the system, or from me, if there are structures in place that cause a continuous disheartening of me the teacher. I must be willing to take a stand and say, “I can put no heart into my work till something is done to relieve [it].”

My final lesson comes from Stewart and his discussion of the trends in modern composition instruction. He explores the way that teachers become mired in the traditional models of composition and fail to see the living language around them. As an instructor, I have to be aware of the world that my students will be entering. I am doing them a great disservice if I only provide them with an explanation of the way the world of composition used to be, and not what it is or will be. Rather than focus on how my students fail to meet the expectations of years of compositional theory, I must be willing to demonstrate, “intelligent listening to the language which goes on around us all the time.”

While this is by no means a comprehensive philosophy, I feel that it does serve as a framework and a starting point to begin to focus in on the things I believe about education and filter out those things that I don’t agree with.

Response to Stewart

Balance is the key to almost everything that we do in life. Whether we are eating a balanced diet, trying to balance our budget, or performing a balancing act with our many obligations in life, balance is the key. It comes as no great surprise then that we find ourselves discussing balance in the area of education. While we can look at balance in most areas of education, it becomes most prevalent in a discussion of composition instruction. While we have to balance an equation in math, and we use a balance to measure reagents in science, and even though we may discuss the balance of good and evil in literature, it is in composition that we must learn to balance our voice with the voices of composition instructors of years gone by.

Composition is a unique discipline of study because it, more than any other area, forces us to put ourselves out to be judged. People see our words on the page, or screen, and evaluate them, not just on their mechanical accuracy, but also on the ideas that they represent. Our words express our thoughts to the world. The balance that we must find is that which exists between our thoughts, ideas and beliefs and the compositional conventions that the world accepts to be good and true. There are times when our thoughts should be the primary focus, and we can abandon all concern for conventions or mechanics. No one would suggest that a mourning child revise a sentence in a parent’s eulogy because of a misplaced modifier. We can accept that the content outweighs the convention. There are also times when strict adherence to the guidelines established by the composition authorities is a necessity. It does not matter how wonderful your ideas for reform are, if you cannot present them clearly and accurately people are not going to listen to them. You will not be accepted in higher levels of academia based on some profound concept that you have, unless you can write about without spelling errors. There is a time focus on the rules and guidelines that have shaped the English language for generations, and then there are times when you just have to chuck the book out the window write.

We have to be able to teach students, and writers in general, how to clearly identify the situation and then make a judgment as to what is an appropriate balance to have. I am constantly trying to reinforce with my students when it is ok to just write and when they have to stop and think about what it is that they’re writing. The example that comes to mind most readily is the intrusion of text lingo into formal essays. I have students who will insert numbers in place of words or letters, or use a single letter to represent an entire word. They laugh at themselves when I identify the problem, but they are very likely to make the mistake again. They are not able to find a balance between their voice and the rules that apply to written communication. As teachers of composition, this is where we should be focusing. We are never going to be able to remove this shortcut language, and I don’t think we should. What we should focus on is helping students to identify how this new form of expressing themselves fits into the larger composition picture. Talk 2 U l8r. JK. LOL.

Response to Williams

I believe strongly in Williams’ ideas for the most effective way of organizing anthologies, even though it is not something that I have necessarily thought of before. While I am not planning on assembling an anthology on my own, I think that the concepts behind his argument are very applicable to the courses that I am currently teaching. His ideas for moving away from texts, and by extension courses, that are focused only on individuals or individual concepts within a given area of study fit well with my own beliefs on teaching. This belief is most clearly seen in my American literature class.

I have taken courses in American literature that have focused on the “classic” American authors, if we can even begin to use that term to describe such a young group of authors. These courses would move through the authors that the instructor deemed worthy of study. We would read several texts written by this person and discuss how he, as most of them were usually men, had contributed to the grand design of American literature, and then we would move on to a completely new individual. That’s how the semester would progress, individuals plucked out of their context and examined based on their literary merit. Rather than providing a complete understanding of American literature, this approach only served to highlight a few contributors to the overall image. These professors believed that by showing us a few examples, we would get all of the information that we needed to understand the complexities of such a diverse picture. It was like trying to understand the grandeur of Mount Rushmore, but you only got to see the noses.

When I began teaching an American literature course of my own, I decided that I wanted to approach it in a different way. Much like Williams, I wanted to show more of the connections between different aspects of the topic, rather than a series of isolated names or categories. When I work with my seniors, I try to give them a more comprehensive look at how what they read and write today was influenced by individuals who came before them. We start with the earliest forms of literature that we have available – Native American texts – and progress through the modern literature that they are most familiar with– usually a magazine of some sort. As we look at this progression, I emphasize not just the different movements, but also how these movements are related to one another. We follow the repetitive pattern of one group rejecting the previous movement and trying to break away from what came before them. By looking at authors and literary movements in context to one another, students are better able to understand each group. They can better understand the Romantics by relating them to the Puritans. I also explore what was going on in history during these important changes. I don’t think it is possible to understand a movement in literature, or a school of criticism, without understanding how the world around it was influencing it.

Response to Popken

Teachers have it so easy. We are finished with work by three o’clock. We have weekends off. We have holidays off. We have summers off. We have a pretty good situation. So why are so many teachers so unhappy? Why do we have people like Hopkins who, even one hundred years ago, are fighting to make things better? What is it that we as teachers feel would make our lives better? I can’t speak for all teachers, but I do have a few thoughts.

I think that teachers need to feel like their needs are at least being considered by those who are making the decisions. I don’t know if it is an attempt to move education into a more business-minded setting, or if this has always been the case, but it seems as if the entire system continues to become more top down every year. The people at the top the ladder, superintendents, administrators, principals, are making sweeping changes to the way that schools are run with no consideration or consultation of the people “beneath” them. We take people who work for years to become experts in their field, and we completely disregard their input. Hopkins presented the heads of his university with a dire situation, and a feasible recommendation, but he was rejected out of hand. We have created a system of kings and lords sitting high up in their offices who then dictate down to their serfs what they must do. Even though they spend little-to-no time in the fields working, they are the ones who decide what is best. We have completely removed any buy-in that teachers might have in the system by relegating them to simple servants. Where else do you find such highly educated individuals who are viewed as nothing more than a tool to be used? We wouldn’t ask a shovel how to dig a hole so why should we ask a teacher how we should teach?

Teachers have also begun to lose their sense of fulfillment. Hopkins continued to teach because he felt it was God’s will for his life. That is a pretty strong motivator. I am not sure how many teachers feel the same today, but there are other reasons that have kept teachers going. One of the strongest arguments for teachers to continue has been the idea that they are making a difference. We hear it all the time. This belief that what we do in the classroom matters, has pushed countless teachers going past the point of exhaustion. I am afraid that we are on the verge of losing this motivator. As we continue to push the teacher further away from the student, we weaken the connection that the two have. By forcing curriculum changes and schedule changes and standardized testing and strategic plans into the classroom, we leave little room for what really matters – the teacher and the student. If teachers lose their belief that they are responsible for their students, they have very little to keep them where they are. As Popken says, “Teaching is a very costly labor.” For many teachers the benefits are no longer outweighing the costs.

Response to Schultz

I find it amazing, having read this article, that anyone ever left common or secondary school with any ambition for writing at all. If you were to sit down with a group of English teachers and try to create a book that would stifle students and turn them off to writing entirely, you would only need to provide a revised edition of Walker’s book. And yet, there were people who went on to become writers. There people who went on to become very gifted writers. It is easy for me to sit here today and criticize what I see as being an obviously-flawed method, but it had to work to some extent. We did not become a society of illiterates because children hated to write. We did not lose all literary ability, even though we stressed memorization and repetition over creativity and innovation. Something had to have worked effectively in this system.

I cannot bring myself to say that Walker had the right idea. My own thoughts on student creativity and exploration forbid me from uttering such a hypocritical idea. I do think that students can, and should, learn to write by writing. We don’t teach a student the theory of driving and then expect him to be prepared to drive. The best way for students to learn is to “get their hands dirty.” I present my students with opportunities to write long before I tell them how they should be writing. One of the first activities my students do is to write an essay introducing themselves to me. I don’t tell them what I mean by essay, and I don’t give them a set of rules that they must follow. I want them to write first and see that they do indeed have the ability to do it. Too often, I see students who are so concerned with doing something right, that they never even take a chance. If they can see that they already have the ability, they are much more likely to practice the skills that accompany it. Students need to have a sense of ownership over their work. They have few things in the world that truly belong to them. They may have a lot of “stuff” but most of that can be taken away by some authority figure. A student’s words and thoughts are his own, and they should remain that way. My job should not be to force my thoughts into a student, but rather, to provide a means for her to express her thoughts more clearly and in a form that is acceptable for a larger audience.

How can I justify using a method so opposed to Walker’s if I am willing to admit that it must have worked for students in his generation? I will blame it on the students. Walker was teaching a generation that had a much different work ethic than the one that I teach. His students would dutifully copy the work of other writers and eventually be able to connect it their own. My students would laugh in my face and sit, arms folded, and stare at a blank page. Students have become more than just little yes-men. They think and argue and question and refuse to be seen as anything other than a thinking individual. Walker’s text worked because students were willing to do what was requested. That is not the case today. Thank you Mr. Frost!

Response to Bishop

The best response I can offer is a poem of my own.
My teaching poem is excited be finished with undergrad and ready to change lives and reach young people.
My teaching poem is a long-term sub in a class that is not my own, with students who are not my own, in a building that is not my own.
My teaching poem is a new job in a place that is familiar to me, but different because of the new perspective I have on it.
My teaching poem is being hired with two weeks to plan, ask questions, find books, set up a classroom, try to understand what I am supposed to be doing worry that this was all a big mistake, try to find a way out of it.
My teaching poem is a rocky year, but a productive one; hours spent planning, and minutes spent scrambling to find a new plan when the first one failed.
My teaching poem is taking on more responsibility – “Of course I will be the drama sponsor, I have lots of time.”
My teaching poem is being “let go” not because I was a poor teacher, but because we have too many teachers and not enough students – classrooms hold 40 right?
My teaching poem is the same job in July - “We found some room.”
My teaching poem is a brand new year, with brand new classes, brand new students, brand new principal, brand new district name, brand new curriculum guidelines, brand new expectations and the same problems from the year before.
My teaching poem is taking on more responsibility – “Of course I will be the speech and debate sponsor, I have lots of time.”
My teaching poem is a fight between district and union - Who is ready to strike? Who is here for the students? Who knows when we get paid?
My teaching poem is, “Just close your door and teach.”
My teaching poem is another year down, but at least I get to come back.
My teaching poem is a brand new year, with brand new classes, brand new students, brand school schedule, brand new district titles, brand new curriculum maps, brand new expectations and the same problems from the year before.
My teaching poem is tensions between teachers and administrators.
My teaching poem is filling 90 minutes with material I have never taught before.
My teaching poem connections with students I have known for a few years.
My teaching poem is finally understanding what I am supposed to be doing – most of the time.
My teaching poem is plays and speech meets and set building and rehearsals and auditions and afterschool practices and seeing students come alive.
My teaching poem is taking on more responsibility – “Of course I will be the start a graduate program, I have lots of time.”
My teaching poem is grading homework, planning homework, doing homework, hating homework.My teaching poem is “fatigue, boredom, repetition, beat, blasé, spent, played out, sleepy, uninterested, on one’s last legs.”

Response to Fulkerson

Rough drafts are important.
Be ready for your peer reviews on Monday.
Where is your thesis?
What is the point of this paragraph?
Rough drafts are important.
Your peer review should be done before the final draft.
What is this word supposed to be?
Yes you need to have a main point.
Rough drafts are important.
These are the thoughts that were running through my mind as I read this article. This has been my experience with the instruction of composition. I would have to say that most of the composition instruction that takes place at the high school level would fall into the rhetorical category. We have the responsibility of preparing student to be capable of making the leap to a less formal, albeit more interesting, use of the language. Students cannot successfully use language to gain the power that has been denied them, if they are not first taught the rules and procedures that accompany their words. A student may find great release in expressing himself through composition, but he will have a hard time finding a job if he can’t spell his name. We lay the foundation so that future instructors can expand the horizons.

Fulkerson uses the analogy that teachers are like a “coach helping students master a variety of activities.” While I agree with the comparison in some ways, we do train and practice and reinforce skills with our students, I would suggest a different analogy. A coach has the chance to continue working with students. A coach may see the same player for several years. Teachers don’t have that same opportunity. Teachers are more like workers on an assembly line making chairs. This is not to say that we spend our days mindlessly creating little student clones, but rather, we have a limited time to work on our piece of the whole and then we send it along. We get students whose composition skills are rough or nonexistent and we spend a year trying to whittle away the bad habits and polish their strengths. When or time is through, we send them along to someone else on the line. In most cases, we don’t see our pieces again. We may hear about how they are progressing along the line, but we don’t see a finished product. We can only hope that the work that we did with them was enough to prepare them for the next step. It isn’t until they have graduated and left us completely that we will know if they are able to stand. Our spot on the line may not be as complex, or as thought provoking as the critical/cultural studies comp class, but it’s pretty hard to change the world with a wobbly chair.

Why Comp Theory?

Composition is one of the last major concepts that we begin to learn as children. We start off simply with movement and motor skills. Once we are able to move on our own and maneuver in a world full of obstacles, we are ready for more challenging instruction. We learn to speak from the people around us. We can hear words and sounds from our first moments, and eventually we are able to replicate them. We move on. We are taught to count using our fingers and toes. Eventually we move on to more abstract concepts of math, such as dividing a pie or sorting out blocks. Even reading instruction begins at a young age. Doting adults read to us, hopefully, when it is time to sleep, or relax, or just take a breath. Soon we are able to pick up a book on our own and make sense of it. As we gain confidence, the books become larger, and more complicated. We move on. Composition is different. We don't really begin to study composition until much later in life.

For some, the first lessons in writing don't come until we are already well into our elementary school years. We may have been introduced to letters and the sounds they make, but the ideas surrounding how we put these together in order to make sense are still foreign to us. Composition instruction is postponed, I believe, because it is far more abstract than many of the other concepts that we learn. We can see that when we start with three blocks and take one away, we have two blocks remaining. Through practice, we can make an association between the sign "A" and the sound that it makes. Composition requires a higher level of understanding. We have to be able to assimilate an understanding of letters in order to create words, and an understanding of words to create complete sentences. Starting early, we begin to get a basic understanding with the help of our favorite canine - Spot. We compose simple sentences, but may not truly understand them. In my high school classroom, I have to explain the idea of the subject and the verb, arguable the basis of a sentence, on a semi-daily basis. Expanding on our rudimentary understanding of composition and trying to navigate through the pitfalls of rules, and multitude of exceptions to the rules, in the English language requires continued exposure and practice.

At some point we begin to establish an understanding of how we communicate through words, and stand confidently on our ability to master these words and bend them to our will. This belief is usually shattered by a well-meaning, knowledgeable professor who explains to us that words don't really exist, and we are all being deluded into thinking otherwise. This sends us reeling back to an earlier stage and we once again find ourselves crawling and mumbling incoherently. And we move on.