Today, a scene:
Student: How do you spell "sincerely"?
Me: How do you think you spell "sincerely"?
Student: I have no idea.
Me: Does it start with a B?
Student: Well, no. It starts with an S.
Me: So you do have some idea.
Student: Yeah, I guess so.
Me: Give it a shot. I won't tell you if you're right or wrong until after you give it a shot.
Student resembles a spelling bee contestant for a minute or two, toying with letters, debating between i and e after that initial s, sounding it out in his head, scratching down letters and erasing them. When he's got a full attempt, I take a look: "sencerely." So close.
Me: Good.
I write "Sincerely" on the whiteboard behind him.
Me: Most people who tell me that they "have no idea how to spell a word" are usually one, maybe two letters off when they actually try and spell the word. You were close.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
A Whole Lotta I Dunno
This is the first week of Spring classes here at Pima, and most of the questions I've answered have related to schedules, class locations, online classes and other nuts+bolts kind of things that come up at the beginning of the semester.
One of the interesting facets of the beginning of a semester is that I see what school does to people. Not classes, not subject matter, not teachers, not a component of the educational system, but the system itself: it freaks a lot of people out.
One guy was working on his first assignment for his Technical Writing class. He had to answer a few questions in the form of a memo. The first page in the chapter he was directed to showed an example of a memo and broke down its characteristics.
He asked me to help him clarify and then just kept talking about the class. Eventually, I asked him what he was hoping I could clarify. He pointed to the example of the memo and asked if he should write his like that. I said, "That or...?" He said, "I don't know." I pointed out that his teacher asked him to write a memo and gave him an example memo, so it makes sense that he should take what he's been given instead of assuming there are other possibilities he has no idea about.
For some reason, he assumed there were other unspoken options than the obvious one. Interesting.
Another guy was registering for MathXL, an online tool for math classes that I often see math students using on the Learning Center computers but know little about because I'm not the math guy around here. Larry the Math Guy was busy with another student, but he gave the student a registration sheet to follow and off he went, registering away.
At one point, he raised his hand and said, "Should I click the first one?" As I walked over to see what the first one was, I asked him if the first one was true. He read it out loud. It went like something like this: "I am using MathXL for a class and need to sign on to my teacher's class in MathXL."
Again, I asked if this was true. I looked over his shoulder and saw the second option was something about "studying on your own." He took a second and then said yes, the first one was true and clicked it.
For some reason, he needed confirmation to go ahead and choose something he already knew was true. Interesting.
I find this fascinating because of something I heard in a TED Talk recently: "Education doesn't actually work by teaching you things. It actually works by giving you the impression that you've had a very good education, which gives you an insane sense of unwarranted self-confidence, which then makes you very, very successful in later life."
That's a quote from Rory Sutherland, an ad man, speaking about intangible value, not education, and I think he's right. It's a bold thing to say, and a potentially difficult sentiment for a teacher to hear, but I do think the value I received from my education was not the small items of material, the facts and figures, concepts and ideas that were passed along. It was the fact that I don't shy away from problems or assignments because I know I can figure them out if I give them a shot.
The problem for both of these students wasn't a lack of resources or support. They were each sitting at a public computer in a free tutoring center, holding all their class materials. The problem was a lack of confidence.
The answer in both cases was right there. Write a memo and use the example memo. Choose the option that is true, not the one that is false. The intangible value of education is problem solving, the ability to think, choose, adapt, revise, and to do so boldly. Hopefully, this semester gives those two the self-confidence to know that they can choose what they already see as the right answers.
One of the interesting facets of the beginning of a semester is that I see what school does to people. Not classes, not subject matter, not teachers, not a component of the educational system, but the system itself: it freaks a lot of people out.
One guy was working on his first assignment for his Technical Writing class. He had to answer a few questions in the form of a memo. The first page in the chapter he was directed to showed an example of a memo and broke down its characteristics.
He asked me to help him clarify and then just kept talking about the class. Eventually, I asked him what he was hoping I could clarify. He pointed to the example of the memo and asked if he should write his like that. I said, "That or...?" He said, "I don't know." I pointed out that his teacher asked him to write a memo and gave him an example memo, so it makes sense that he should take what he's been given instead of assuming there are other possibilities he has no idea about.
For some reason, he assumed there were other unspoken options than the obvious one. Interesting.
Another guy was registering for MathXL, an online tool for math classes that I often see math students using on the Learning Center computers but know little about because I'm not the math guy around here. Larry the Math Guy was busy with another student, but he gave the student a registration sheet to follow and off he went, registering away.
At one point, he raised his hand and said, "Should I click the first one?" As I walked over to see what the first one was, I asked him if the first one was true. He read it out loud. It went like something like this: "I am using MathXL for a class and need to sign on to my teacher's class in MathXL."
Again, I asked if this was true. I looked over his shoulder and saw the second option was something about "studying on your own." He took a second and then said yes, the first one was true and clicked it.
For some reason, he needed confirmation to go ahead and choose something he already knew was true. Interesting.
I find this fascinating because of something I heard in a TED Talk recently: "Education doesn't actually work by teaching you things. It actually works by giving you the impression that you've had a very good education, which gives you an insane sense of unwarranted self-confidence, which then makes you very, very successful in later life."
That's a quote from Rory Sutherland, an ad man, speaking about intangible value, not education, and I think he's right. It's a bold thing to say, and a potentially difficult sentiment for a teacher to hear, but I do think the value I received from my education was not the small items of material, the facts and figures, concepts and ideas that were passed along. It was the fact that I don't shy away from problems or assignments because I know I can figure them out if I give them a shot.
The problem for both of these students wasn't a lack of resources or support. They were each sitting at a public computer in a free tutoring center, holding all their class materials. The problem was a lack of confidence.
The answer in both cases was right there. Write a memo and use the example memo. Choose the option that is true, not the one that is false. The intangible value of education is problem solving, the ability to think, choose, adapt, revise, and to do so boldly. Hopefully, this semester gives those two the self-confidence to know that they can choose what they already see as the right answers.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Let's Get It Started
Last Saturday, I taught the first 2010 session of my Upward Bound* enrichment class. Because it was the start of the year, I addressed a common question that I hear in the Writing Lab: How do I start this?
Many student writers get an assignment and they just sit down and start banging keys. Or they just sit down and start staring at the computer hoping the paper will magically appear. However, before they write the first sentence, they need to know where they are going.
I gave the UB students a common assignment here on the DV campus, that significant place paper. I talked about how many students begin those papers with sentences like "Many places are significant to many people." True. That's actually so true that it's the seed of the assignment. The trick is to get past that and into the particular place and it's particular significant to you.
We talked about how they need to start with a basic claim**. Not a fully formed thesis yet, just an idea of Your Topic + What You Are Saying About Your Topic. I gave them some scratch paper and had them come up with a few ideas. Here are the places they came up with and the significance those places hold to these students, and a snippet of what we discussed about each.
Shower: get thinking done
(not the functional use of the place, but an unexpected function of the private place that turned out to be shared by a good portion of the students--student discovered commonality that he didn't assume would be common)
Ditch: privacy to paint
(unexpected place to be used by someone for anything, let alone a creative endeavor--intriguing from the get-go)
School Auditorium: break in and run off energy
(use of place focusing on one characteristic--big open space--instead of main characteristic--stage--that readers wouldn't assume)
Bathroom: unwind and get away/get out of things
(student focused on not only the privacy but the Do Not Disturb nature of the bathroom as a way to escape responsibility of rest of house)
Track: face a challenge, release stress
(discussed at how two people use same space differently: one to overcome and accomplish, one to escape and only compete with self)
Tennis Court: be in control
(student said it was where she could "be herself," elaboration lead to idea of exerting control; we discussed how even her close friends and family could learn something about her by reading an essay that explores this idea)
Kitchen: quiet place to draw
(asked students what they expected the significance to be, answers included cooking, food, and gathering; student instead pointed out particular characteristics of his kitchen--quiet, solitude--and how his unique talents play into how he sees that place)
Basketball Court: show effort, just play and not be judged
(again two students with two views on one place, one focused on competition and one focused on freedome; discussed how specific details--in a gym vs in a park--alter the expectations of a reader)
Golf Course: release anger
(opposite of expectations--golf as difficult game that frustrates people--that would be intriguing and need the explanation an essay would allow)
Open Field of Grass in a Park: see nature and remember place in the world
(student originally said "open field" and further questioning revealed the park; discussed how providing that detail was vital because "open field" could mean many things to many readers, so it would be important to direct readers to proper mental images)
Black Box Theater: become another character
(unique place unfamiliar to many people would ask the writer to provide good description in order to understand the difference between becoming another character in a traditional theater versus becoming another character in a black box theater)
These were intelligent answers that were brainstormed in only about ten minutes, so the students saw how little time it took to form a basic claim. I told them that they would now just need to explore the truth of that place's significance in their essay. They wouldn't have to make anything up or hope to be divinely inspired to write three pages about a place that is significant to them. They already know why it's important, so they need to explain it to those of us who don't see that place like they do.
I told them to file these essays ideas away in case they are ever asked to write about a significant place. Maybe I'll run across one of them in a future DV class.
*UB is a bunch of high schoolers who are looking to get into college. The program exists to help them do that. I am there to help them get a leg up on what they'll need to know about writing for college. They are generally good kids whom I enjoy spending some Saturday mornings with.
**I used a road trip analogy: you want to know where you're going before you pull out of the the driveway. This was interesting because a couple of the students had actually taken a road trip that had no known destination. I had to revise my metaphor: it may be adventurous to set off on the open road with no destination, but that strategy is won't work out when writing a paper.
Many student writers get an assignment and they just sit down and start banging keys. Or they just sit down and start staring at the computer hoping the paper will magically appear. However, before they write the first sentence, they need to know where they are going.
I gave the UB students a common assignment here on the DV campus, that significant place paper. I talked about how many students begin those papers with sentences like "Many places are significant to many people." True. That's actually so true that it's the seed of the assignment. The trick is to get past that and into the particular place and it's particular significant to you.
We talked about how they need to start with a basic claim**. Not a fully formed thesis yet, just an idea of Your Topic + What You Are Saying About Your Topic. I gave them some scratch paper and had them come up with a few ideas. Here are the places they came up with and the significance those places hold to these students, and a snippet of what we discussed about each.
Shower: get thinking done
(not the functional use of the place, but an unexpected function of the private place that turned out to be shared by a good portion of the students--student discovered commonality that he didn't assume would be common)
Ditch: privacy to paint
(unexpected place to be used by someone for anything, let alone a creative endeavor--intriguing from the get-go)
School Auditorium: break in and run off energy
(use of place focusing on one characteristic--big open space--instead of main characteristic--stage--that readers wouldn't assume)
Bathroom: unwind and get away/get out of things
(student focused on not only the privacy but the Do Not Disturb nature of the bathroom as a way to escape responsibility of rest of house)
Track: face a challenge, release stress
(discussed at how two people use same space differently: one to overcome and accomplish, one to escape and only compete with self)
Tennis Court: be in control
(student said it was where she could "be herself," elaboration lead to idea of exerting control; we discussed how even her close friends and family could learn something about her by reading an essay that explores this idea)
Kitchen: quiet place to draw
(asked students what they expected the significance to be, answers included cooking, food, and gathering; student instead pointed out particular characteristics of his kitchen--quiet, solitude--and how his unique talents play into how he sees that place)
Basketball Court: show effort, just play and not be judged
(again two students with two views on one place, one focused on competition and one focused on freedome; discussed how specific details--in a gym vs in a park--alter the expectations of a reader)
Golf Course: release anger
(opposite of expectations--golf as difficult game that frustrates people--that would be intriguing and need the explanation an essay would allow)
Open Field of Grass in a Park: see nature and remember place in the world
(student originally said "open field" and further questioning revealed the park; discussed how providing that detail was vital because "open field" could mean many things to many readers, so it would be important to direct readers to proper mental images)
Black Box Theater: become another character
(unique place unfamiliar to many people would ask the writer to provide good description in order to understand the difference between becoming another character in a traditional theater versus becoming another character in a black box theater)
These were intelligent answers that were brainstormed in only about ten minutes, so the students saw how little time it took to form a basic claim. I told them that they would now just need to explore the truth of that place's significance in their essay. They wouldn't have to make anything up or hope to be divinely inspired to write three pages about a place that is significant to them. They already know why it's important, so they need to explain it to those of us who don't see that place like they do.
I told them to file these essays ideas away in case they are ever asked to write about a significant place. Maybe I'll run across one of them in a future DV class.
*UB is a bunch of high schoolers who are looking to get into college. The program exists to help them do that. I am there to help them get a leg up on what they'll need to know about writing for college. They are generally good kids whom I enjoy spending some Saturday mornings with.
**I used a road trip analogy: you want to know where you're going before you pull out of the the driveway. This was interesting because a couple of the students had actually taken a road trip that had no known destination. I had to revise my metaphor: it may be adventurous to set off on the open road with no destination, but that strategy is won't work out when writing a paper.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Paragraph Design
Over the past year or so, I've been involved in a redesign of my church's website. About three months ago, we added a professional web designer to the design team. I know, this sounds like an obvious move that was made too late in the process.
My church has an ethos of activating the talents of those in the community, so we were working with the graphic designers, writers, and programmers that we had. All of us are good at what we do, even getting paid to do that work in other contexts, but we'd never done work quite like this site redesign before.
When the professional web designer moved to Tucson and joined our church, he acted as a catalyst. His expertise plus some deadlines on the part of our resident programmer (who is in grad school at the UofA) zoomed us along. The site is now foundationally complete, and we're taking it live this week.
One point in the design process made me think specifically about the role of the professional designer who has an eye for each element in the design and how that connects to what I do in teaching writing. It all had to do with capital letters.
The design used headers on each page in all-caps. When we received the code for the design and began implementing each piece, I suggested changing those to title casing (That Means Like This) instead. In my world, the world of words on paper, THIS LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE YELLING AT SOMEONE, and I didn't want that, so we switched THIS to This. I didn't think anything of it once we did so and went on to other updates.
When the pro jumped back into the conversation, he explained why THIS should remain as THIS and not switch to This. Basically, his argument boiled down to viewing the header as a design element: not a word in itself, but a "readable shape" that tells people where they are in the hierarchy of information without them even needing to read the word. That means, before they read THEOLOGY, they see a readable rectangle at the top of the page that orients them to be able to easily understand the info.
I know, it may not seem like a big deal, all-caps or not, but I saw the function in action. After the pro explained the purpose of uppercasing the headers, I went back to look at the site. He was right. The title casing headers blended right into the other text on the page (now that we had more text on the pages, it was easier to see). There was no direction from the design, no nail to hang the picture on, I suppose.
I told him that I understood what he meant and we switched the headers back to all-caps. I didn't elaborate on my understanding all that much because we had other work to do, but I saw his perspective, his world of elements of design. Each piece played a part in directing users to receive info in some way or another. The choices he made were not shots in the dark. He knew why they were there.
I related this perspective back to my world of words on paper, and came up with this: paragraph design. Students need to know more about this. I've had a theory for awhile that teaching students how to construct paragraphs is a tipping point* in their writing education, and now I think they may need to think more about how to design and paragraph than construct one.
The switch from construct to design is more about how they view the elements**. Instead of constructing with concrete building blocks that are difficult or nearly impossible to change after they are in place, they are working with more fluid design elements that can always be assessed terms of playing their part in communication.
In a Writing 100 class once, I played the intro from Stranger Than Fiction to show the students how the graphic interface represents how this particular man views his world. Then I showed them an academic essay with Points highlighted in pinks, Illustration highlighted in yellow, and Explanation highlighted in green to show them how their teachers view their essays. I wanted them to see that their instructors had a particular way of viewing their writing. As Harold Crick's calculations showed up in his head as he moved about his world, certain pieces of their essays stood out in certain ways when their teachers saw their essays.
This was the first foray into exploring the design of a paper, but I didn't know it was exploring the design. This is something I'm going to keep exploring. I think it's important to not only look at what we are teaching, as in certain concepts that always come up in our courses, but to look at how we are enabling students to work with those concepts. I want a student to not only know that their paragraph needs to begin with a claim***, but how to choose the words to make that first sentence an effective claim. To design that sentence to play its part in what the paragraph is communicating. When students start to do that, they will think about what needs to be in that sentence so others can understand the paragraph instead of just trying to write a good sentence that makes sense to them.
I don't know where this is going to go, but that's often where I have the most fun with ideas.
*I take this term from Malcolm Gladwell's excellent book about trends and use it in a sense that when they understand how to construct a paragraph properly and it's place within the context of an entire academic essay, they will go from being unable to write an academic essay to being able to write an academic essay. It's not quite his usage, but I mean that they tip from No to Yes.
**I also think there may be some cultural capital, some element of uplifting the student from "student writer who thinks they are terrible at writing" to a fresh role as a designer. Designers are cool. Designers get movies made about them. Writers are communicators, and the kind of writing we ask students writers to produce requires that they take on the role of the expert. Many of them don't feel like experts, so their writing reflects the shyness or weakness they are operating out of. Anything we can do as educators to change that is worth their time.
***I used Point, Illustration, and Explanation earlier, but those are often referred to as Claim, Evidence, and Explanation on my campus. Either way works for me.
My church has an ethos of activating the talents of those in the community, so we were working with the graphic designers, writers, and programmers that we had. All of us are good at what we do, even getting paid to do that work in other contexts, but we'd never done work quite like this site redesign before.
When the professional web designer moved to Tucson and joined our church, he acted as a catalyst. His expertise plus some deadlines on the part of our resident programmer (who is in grad school at the UofA) zoomed us along. The site is now foundationally complete, and we're taking it live this week.
One point in the design process made me think specifically about the role of the professional designer who has an eye for each element in the design and how that connects to what I do in teaching writing. It all had to do with capital letters.
The design used headers on each page in all-caps. When we received the code for the design and began implementing each piece, I suggested changing those to title casing (That Means Like This) instead. In my world, the world of words on paper, THIS LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE YELLING AT SOMEONE, and I didn't want that, so we switched THIS to This. I didn't think anything of it once we did so and went on to other updates.
When the pro jumped back into the conversation, he explained why THIS should remain as THIS and not switch to This. Basically, his argument boiled down to viewing the header as a design element: not a word in itself, but a "readable shape" that tells people where they are in the hierarchy of information without them even needing to read the word. That means, before they read THEOLOGY, they see a readable rectangle at the top of the page that orients them to be able to easily understand the info.
I know, it may not seem like a big deal, all-caps or not, but I saw the function in action. After the pro explained the purpose of uppercasing the headers, I went back to look at the site. He was right. The title casing headers blended right into the other text on the page (now that we had more text on the pages, it was easier to see). There was no direction from the design, no nail to hang the picture on, I suppose.
I told him that I understood what he meant and we switched the headers back to all-caps. I didn't elaborate on my understanding all that much because we had other work to do, but I saw his perspective, his world of elements of design. Each piece played a part in directing users to receive info in some way or another. The choices he made were not shots in the dark. He knew why they were there.
I related this perspective back to my world of words on paper, and came up with this: paragraph design. Students need to know more about this. I've had a theory for awhile that teaching students how to construct paragraphs is a tipping point* in their writing education, and now I think they may need to think more about how to design and paragraph than construct one.
The switch from construct to design is more about how they view the elements**. Instead of constructing with concrete building blocks that are difficult or nearly impossible to change after they are in place, they are working with more fluid design elements that can always be assessed terms of playing their part in communication.
In a Writing 100 class once, I played the intro from Stranger Than Fiction to show the students how the graphic interface represents how this particular man views his world. Then I showed them an academic essay with Points highlighted in pinks, Illustration highlighted in yellow, and Explanation highlighted in green to show them how their teachers view their essays. I wanted them to see that their instructors had a particular way of viewing their writing. As Harold Crick's calculations showed up in his head as he moved about his world, certain pieces of their essays stood out in certain ways when their teachers saw their essays.
This was the first foray into exploring the design of a paper, but I didn't know it was exploring the design. This is something I'm going to keep exploring. I think it's important to not only look at what we are teaching, as in certain concepts that always come up in our courses, but to look at how we are enabling students to work with those concepts. I want a student to not only know that their paragraph needs to begin with a claim***, but how to choose the words to make that first sentence an effective claim. To design that sentence to play its part in what the paragraph is communicating. When students start to do that, they will think about what needs to be in that sentence so others can understand the paragraph instead of just trying to write a good sentence that makes sense to them.
I don't know where this is going to go, but that's often where I have the most fun with ideas.
*I take this term from Malcolm Gladwell's excellent book about trends and use it in a sense that when they understand how to construct a paragraph properly and it's place within the context of an entire academic essay, they will go from being unable to write an academic essay to being able to write an academic essay. It's not quite his usage, but I mean that they tip from No to Yes.
**I also think there may be some cultural capital, some element of uplifting the student from "student writer who thinks they are terrible at writing" to a fresh role as a designer. Designers are cool. Designers get movies made about them. Writers are communicators, and the kind of writing we ask students writers to produce requires that they take on the role of the expert. Many of them don't feel like experts, so their writing reflects the shyness or weakness they are operating out of. Anything we can do as educators to change that is worth their time.
***I used Point, Illustration, and Explanation earlier, but those are often referred to as Claim, Evidence, and Explanation on my campus. Either way works for me.
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