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Carrie Sippy

Dr. Tony Scott

ENGL 6195

23 March 2011

Midterm Exam

Part I

The connection between theory and practice may not be immediately

evident to teachers or students. Before I began pursuing a degree in

education, I had no idea that I already had a pre-existing theory of

knowledge, language, writing, and reading. I simply thought that everyone

viewed language and writing in the same ways—“good” and “bad”.

However, as Zebroski says, “The question then is not whether we have a

theory of composition [. . .] but whether we are going to become conscious

of our theory” (15). Whatever a teacher does in her classroom is motivated

by some type of theory, and it is her reflection on her practice that draws her

attention to her theory, which in turn influences future classroom practice.

As I continue to question the practices that I had held to be true for years, it

is clear that my theory and practice are in constant dialogue with one

another, shaping and reshaping one another. Theory and practice push on

each other, creating friction, strengthening each other, and aiding each other

in their development. Teachers have a choice to question their decisions

and actions within the classroom. In actuality, my “lack” of theory revealed

my thoughts about language, writing, and education as a formalistic view of

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writing.

A formalistic view of writing begins with the idea that language exists

outside of context and social situation. Min-Zhan Lu sums it up well when

she says that this view of language believes “the essence of meaning

precedes and is independent of language” (32). In this view, words mean

what they are supposed to mean, regardless of who is speaking them, to

whom they are being spoken or any other number of social factors. A

metaphor that encapsulates this view of language is that of the windowpane.

If two individuals stand on either side of a windowpane, they are able to see

each other clearly. Their attention is not drawn to the windowpane; they

look through it to see each other. If language and meaning are the same

regardless of context, language serves as a medium of communication

between two individuals without being noticed in and of itself. In this view of

language, it is a “neutral vehicle of thought” that is untainted by any trace of

culture, bias or personal intent (“Mapping” 2). If language is simply that

objective, then there is clearly one correct way to write, read, and interpret a

text. Part of that correctness is found in the emphasis of traditional

grammatical rules. These were the ideas that I held to for years, and that

still continue to pervade many writing classrooms.

The composition and English Education fields at the present time are

flooded with the ideas of writing as a social act. Zebroski states,

“Composing can be seen as the intersection of context, text, self, and

society. But then too composing is simultaneously the active (if partial)
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(re)constructuring of these discursive universes of context, text, self, and

society” (5). Composition is a continual process shaped by its historical and

social contexts. The writer is being influenced by his or her personal history

with writing, the way he or she was taught writing, what society values about

writing, and how the text is revealing itself to the writer as it is composed.

Lu and Horner define this experience as “a process of conflict and change

each time a writer thinks, speaks, reads, or writes” (xiii). Zebroski’s ideas of

“context, text, self, and society” all rub against each other, creating new

ideas and molding old ones to fit the current cultural and historical context

for composition. In the classroom, the social identity of writing dictates the

discussion of the class. Though many modes are considered imperative for

first year writers to learn, a social view of writing asks writers not simply to

practice academic modes because they are accepted ways of conceiving and

portraying the world. Instead writers are asked to question these modes,

looking at them from all sides. It becomes important for writers to

understand that genres can be characterized, according to Deborah Dean as

“social, rhetorical, dynamic, historical, cultural, situated, and ideological”

(11). Understanding these different contexts for genres of writing, students

can realize more clearly the idea of writing into a conversation that is

ongoing. Not only are they participants in the discussion, but they are also

recreating, resituating and reconstructing the genre through their

participation and reflection on the topic.

The idea of writing as a social act means that writing must not only be
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situated within a historical and social context but also within a community

context. Joseph Harris discusses the place of community within the

academic context. The idea of community is an often talked about entity

within education, but it is hard to pin down its exact meaning. Community

shares with genre the designation of being an entity that cannot be fixed

(Dean 10). Communities evolve and recompose themselves over time based

on the needs of the community, the theories of community members, and

the effects of outside ideology rubbing against the community. Students

within first year composition classes have a variety of communities into

which they will be writing in their future studies and careers. Harris states,

“The task of the student is thus imagined as one of crossing the border from

one community of discourse to another, of taking on a new sort of language”

(16). As a student, it is imperative that students learn to position themselves

simultaneously as insider and outsider within a community. This positioning

allows students to examine the community from its practices within but also

to reflect on the contextual ideas that have shaped these practices and

defined the community itself.

Within the academic world, each discipline and subdiscipline of study

can be considered different genres that the student is trying to situate

himself within. As genres are “ways of thinking about and valuing the world”

students must understand how to shift between a variety of these ways of

knowing in their academic careers (Dean 18). If students are from a

different cultural background, this crossing of borders within academic

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disciplines further complicates the idea of community. Students must

position themselves as insiders and outsiders within two different cultures,

examining how these two cultures influence and structure one another. The

academic world is a community that contains many other communities

within its parameters. First year composition is not able to introduce

students to every single discipline they will encounter within their academic

life or the world outside of schooling. However, by reflecting on the idea of

communities and genres, first year writing can help students navigate the

contexts of their lives by reflecting critically on the motives for these

discourses.

Due to my understanding of the social view and community context of

writing, it is imperative that I reflect on my actions and perceptions of the

classroom. Zebroski emphasizes that in a Vygotskian view of language and

self, “motive is always at the heart of discourse” (13). It is my goal within

the first year writing courses that I teach to be as transparent as possible

with my students. For me, this means contextualizing my choices as a

teacher for my students and allowing them to see the reasons why I have

made certain decisions regarding the content of our course as well as the

students’ day-to-day practices within the classroom. This allows me to be

both critical and reflective of both my theory and practice. As students and

teachers we may be unaware of how our practice in the classroom reveals

our theory of language and writing. By discovering and discussing my

motive as a teacher for specific assignments or even particular ways of

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thinking about writing, I am bringing motive to the forefront of the classroom

and asking students to do the same in their discussions of readings as well

as their own writings.

As the teacher, I will focus the lens of the class on specific ideas in

writing or specific ways of viewing language. Dean states that, “since genres

provide ways of viewing the world, the genres we select favor and develop

certain perspectives more than others” (39). In choosing the subject matter

and topics that will be addressed within my classroom, and I am choosing to

favor certain viewpoints, exclude others, and frame myself within a specific

context, all the while continually developing and reframing myself as a

thinker. As I try to make clear my objectives and goals within the practical

work of the classroom, I am forced to actively reflect on my theoretical

grounding for the work I am requiring within the classroom. The more I

reflect on my theory, the clearer my practices are streamlined into

supporting that theory and the more I develop my theoretical understanding

in light of my practice. Dean’s characterizations of genre not only allow

students to understand the idea of writing into a context, but they also help

me as a teacher evaluate how my choices in the classroom allow students to

access and situate themselves within more academic (and non-academic)

conversations and to evaluate the transferability of these writing ideologies.

Theory and practice really can never avoid one another. All classroom

practices evidence a teacher’s theory regarding the subject matter and

teaching itself while theory will inevitably lead to practices that support the
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theory held by the teacher. A social view of writing asks that I, as a teacher,

be transparent in my goals for students and my theory of teaching to

contextualize the work we are doing as co-learners who are (re)composing

the world.

Part II

Throughout this semester, I have been reflecting on what community

will look like within the world of my classroom. In order to be as transparent

as possible, I have learned that it is necessary to negotiate the culture of the

classroom with the students. Since the students and myself are co-learners

within the classroom, I believe it is important to explain my theory and

practices to the students as well as have them examine their theories of

writing and how these could be implemented within the classroom.

Transparency has been a running theme for me as I develop myself as a

teacher and situate my practices in a way that makes the significant and

powerful for students. There are different genres of life, and I have a specific

way of knowing and doing within the world (Dean 18). By making these

ideologies as clear as possible to students—for can transparency ever truly

be achieve when I am unaware of all the philosophical tenets that I hold

about language and writing—I ensure that my students and I are able to

discuss ourselves and our ideas within the larger scheme of composition and

writing.

An understanding of genres is an essential part of an effective first

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year writing course. Because of my understanding of writing as an

“intersection of context, text, self, and society,” I recognize that writing is a

set of skills that cannot be generally applied to different fields of study.

Instead, writing in a discipline is tailored to specific genres and communities

in order to effectively communicate understanding and knowledge (Zebroski

5). I imagine that I had some idea of this as I entered into this classroom,

but writers like Dean and Zebroski have pushed me to reconsider what I hold

to be true about genres and the way we participate in them as learners.

“Genres are not fixed” and by asking students to push at the apparent

“boundaries” of genres, it is my goal to help students understand that

genres are ever evolving (Dean 10). This questioning of genres is also

important for students who have been repeatedly exposed to the same

“school” modes over time. By examining genres that are familiar, students

can come to understand that all writing has a history and a context—even

something as seemingly immovable as school writing. Genres provide effect

lenses to make sense of the world and students should learn to understand,

question, and discuss these ways of thinking and knowing.

Dean’s idea of genre very much aligns itself with Joseph Harris’ idea of

community. With the realm of academia, students are, “at once a part of

several communities and yet never wholly a member of one" (Harris 11).

Students must learn to operate not only in different communities—school,

home, work, etc—but they must also learn how to function with genres of

these communities. In school this is manifested across disciplines. Each

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discipline houses its own genre (or genres) and students need to be aware of

how to act within those genres and to move between them. It’s important

for me to be transparent with my students that this is my goal—there is no

magical way of writing that will fit all scenarios. However, by asking

students to consider community and genre, I am asking them to consider

their purposes in writing and constructing their identity as writers with

informed choices to make within their work.

It is clear to me from my experience as a student that no two

classrooms are ever exactly alike. Within the classroom, certain things are

valued, ideas are developed, and actions happen based on the ideologies of

both teacher and students alike. One aspect of a classroom that I would like

to develop to further the understanding of community and genre is a

classroom community contract. This idea sprung from Nancy Welch’s idea

that the classroom is a place to imagine “oneself and others as participants

in social policy making” (15). Within the world of my English 1101

classroom, a classroom contract will be discussed and voted upon by

students. My ideas about what aspects of the class this contract will include

are not fully formed at present, but I imagine they will cover items such as

how community members interact with others and what ideas the group

values in the field of writing. This allows students to have a way to

understand genres and gives me as a teacher a sense of the writing theory

students already possess as they enter the classroom. My English 1101

classroom will have a different set of expectations and parameters than

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other English 1101 classes. By helping to decide the policy for a specific

classroom and how the members of that community will treat each other,

students will be able to examine the underlying assumptions of other

communities to which they belong and to understand how these values

dictate the ways in which they participate in the community. Students may

feel more motivated to participate when they have a specific investment in

the class itself as a policy maker.

One idea that I want students to understand is that each of their pieces

of writing is a piece of personal literature—not just narratives or personal

experience essays. These essays are personal because they are

contextualized by the student’s understanding of the world and how the

student see herself as a part of a larger conversation. More than ever, I

realize that it is important to examine and integrate students’ cultural

backgrounds into the classroom learning. As our society becomes

increasingly globalized, it is evident that classrooms are becoming less

homogenized. Matsuda addresses first year writing’s historical job of

“’containing’ language differences and sealing them off from the rest of U.S.

higher education” (638). Matsuda traces the history of students whose first

language is not English and how they have been taught to assimilate to the

dominant academic conventions of composition. However, I believe it is

beneficial, not just for the students who are not native English speakers, but

for the whole class to be exposed to a variety of texts that ask them to

question their assumptions of the world and how writing functions within it.
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Other cultures have different ways of knowing or presenting arguments. A

genre-centered classroom will enable students to assess the community they

are writing for and evaluate the most effective techniques to successfully

implement their cultural and social contexts and ideologies. Cangarajah

argues that one effective way to aid first year composition students is to

encouraging “code meshing”—a combination of two separate ways of using

language in a way that is rhetorically significant and purposeful (599). This

strategy asks students to make specific rhetorical choices and to understand

the consequences of these choices as their work is situated within a larger

contextual framework.

The awareness of communities and genres lends itself to Nancy

Welch’s discussion of how to teach public writing in a world where assets and

ideas are individualized and compartmentalized. Welch’s genres of protest

may be unfamiliar to today’s students, but many of her methods have

rhetorical significance in the 21st century. One of Welch’s favorite tactics

that she returns to throughout her work is the soapbox speech, and it is a

strategy that I find applicable, helpful, and relevant. I can see many ways in

which this activity could be implemented in my first year writing class. Welch

recognizes the limitations of her teaching style, but she also invites readers

to consider the possibilities it provides—“Though we can’t call a strike or

launch a social movement from a classroom, we can teach and learn the

attitudes, relationships, and practices that are preconditions for imagining

oneself and others as participants in social policy making and agents of

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social change” (15). Though Welch’s discussion is highly politically

motivated, her methods can be applied to student actions in the classroom,

asking students to speak up for a certain issue and express and support their

opinion on that issue. For instance, students could spend their turn on the

soapbox defending why they should be able to use text speak in their

essays. Dean notes Freedman and Medway’s understanding that the use of

this genre in the classroom may not wholly simulate the genre of political

protest: “School writing may imitate and adapt features of working genres

but cannot be those genres; it is doomed, whatever its transparent features,

to remain school writing” (27). Students may still look for how to give the

teacher what he or she wants in order to get a grade, but Welch’s tactics ask

them to get behind a viewpoint and support it thoroughly—similar to Peter

Elbow’s believing game (as referenced in Lu). By asking students to speak

up and speak out on a specific viewpoint, students and teacher can then

participate in a conversation about the consequences of rhetoric and writing

within specific contexts.

As writing is an act that has a social context that reshapes the way the

writer thinks about text and genre, it is important that students reflect on

their actions and rhetorical choices as writers. Zebroski calls this reflection

“metawriting” defining it as “writing that reflects on writing, that examines

writing experiences of student and professional writers” (19). Reflection

enables students to marry their theory with practice. By reflecting on their

places within a larger discourse or discourse community, writers gain a

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better understanding of their (re)developing identities over time. Students

are writing into a context and by reflecting on their choices in light of the

genre in which they are working, students are able to develop an

understanding of their conceptions of the ever-involving conversations of

which they are a part. Students’ reflection on their rhetorical choices within

writing also makes them aware that they are, in fact, making choices as

writers. This imbues the students with agency and independence to act, not

just as people plugging in information to an essay formula, but as writers

who are invested in a particular conversation or community and who have

something at stake within that conversation. Zebroski says, “Reflection is a

key, though not the only, theoretical practice that takes what we do, which

tends to be fragmented or seemingly chaotic and translates or rewrites,

these practices into a more sensible version of what we have done” (127).

Asking students to reflect on their work is asking them to examine how their

actions in the classroom illustrates their views of writing and the world.

Simultaneously students may turn a critical eye on the theoretical lenses

they have been using to frame the world and their views of learning and

practice. Reflective practice helps individuals develop their understandings

of writing and language in a more contextualized way.

Though I certainly do not have all the answers, one of the main aspects

of teaching I am discovering through my reading over the course of the

semester is the importance of negotiation and transparency within the

classroom. I’ve always been a questioner; I love to play devil’s advocate. As

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I teach, I plan to continually question myself and reflect on my practice and

theory over the course of time as a way of tracking my development as both

a teacher and a learner. This reflection will help me make the “moves” that I

am making in the classroom more transparent for my students as well as

myself. In life, it is always important to stop and reevaluate along the way.

In this way, I hope to keep my practice accountable to the theory I proclaim

that I am prescribing to within my classroom.