Here At The End of All Things

As we come to the close of this course, I find myself less certain about what my philosophy of composition is. When we stared eighteen weeks ago, I was pretty certain that I knew what composition was, and how I should go about teaching it. Since then, I have become less sure of both what I know and what the best way to pass that knowledge, or lack of knowledge, on to my students is. I believe that I am much better off now than I was then.

I entered this course with a lot of ideas about composition that were not my own. I was perfectly content to ride along on the path that had been set for me by English and education programs. I used what I had been told there, and my own experience to create what I thought was a very reasonable program of composition study for my students. This would not have been a problem if I had know even a little bit about the composition discourse that has been occurring in this country for the last 100 years. I was clueless. I assumed that the limited exposure that I had to composition was the entire picture. I had no idea that what I held to be truth was only one small section of the discussion. It is only after having spent so much time over these weeks that I have even truly begun to get an inkling as to the bigger picture. I had never heard of Richard Lanham, but his work has already begun to influence my classroom. I had heard the names of Bartholomae and Elbow in passing, but I had no idea about the impact that their debates had had on the field. I considered myself to be a technologically aware teacher because I am so familiar with the new trends that students are exposed to, but I had not considered the impact that this technology was having on my students. I was in the dark about so many things.

As I sit here this evening, I have very few answers. I don’t know what my philosophy is. I don’t know what the best practices are for my students today. What I do know is that I am more prepared to ask the questions that may lead me to the best practices for my students tomorrow. The most truthful way that I can provide my current philosophy of composition is through these questions. So, my philosophy as of today is:
What is composition?
Is it more than a paper and a pencil?
How long are the paper and pencil going to remain relevant?
Is my insistence of making students “write” their work benefitting me or them?
Should I focus my grading on the process or the product?
Do I have to choose?
What is the “real world” going to evaluate them on?
Where does their voice fit into their writing?
Do I really let them have a voice, or do I expect them to sound like me?
What the heck do I do with grammar?
When do I cross the line between prescription and description?
Is it more important for students to have an argument or a mistake free sentence?
How can I use computers to make their writing better, and not just as a typing tool?
What do I do with students who don’t have access to a computer?
Is it better for my students to write about what they feel or what they know?
Is there a balance between the two?
If fewer students write for fun or to understand, then is this a losing battle?
What is my role in the classroom?
Am I a wilderness guide or an administrator?
What do I do with students who can’t write?
What do I do with students who won’t write?
What do I do with students who do write, but can do better?
What do I do with students who write well?
What do I do?