tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19305373168294610682024-03-05T19:27:05.126-08:00Escribimos AmigosDispatches from the Desert Vista Writing CenterScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-67095363360212700552010-04-01T14:37:00.000-07:002010-04-01T15:00:05.715-07:00The Wrong 20 MinutesYou'd be surprised how often students come into the Writing Lab twenty minutes before their paper is due. That specific number comes up all the time. Students who have class at 8:40 show up at 8:20 asking us to "check it" or "make sure it's good." There's honestly not a lot we can do in the last twenty minutes before their teacher expects a final draft because we have to figure out what the student needs to talk about or do in order to learn, plus they have to make changes and print before they are late for class.<br /><br />That's not to say that there's not a lot we can do in twenty minutes. Two students came in this morning, on at about 9:30, another about ten minutes later. I had to leave for a meeting at 10:00, so I didn't have a lot of time, but each of them got some good work done in about twenty minutes.<br /><br />The first student had a draft of a paper. It was a summary and response to an excerpt from a book about how being a nerd instead of a cool kid is advantageous in the long run. She had about a page and a half of initial thoughts, and I helped her see the skeleton of ideas she had and how she could add meat onto those bones. We talked about structure and focus, wrote some ideas on the whiteboard, and she was ready to tackle a much more detailed, intentional draft about how she went from being inbetween nerds and cool kids when she was young to choosing the nerd camp as an adult because she saw the advantages of education.<br /><br />The second student kept talking about how she was writing about the same thing. The first thing I cleared up with her was that she wasn't. They were responding to the same essay, but she had different things to say. She didn't have a draft yet, just a very general thesis statement about dedication being key to success. I asked her how she saw dedication leading to success in the essay (nerds!), whether she was a nerd or a cool kid growing up (cool kid), and how she experienced determination as an important factor to success (cheerleader turned teen mother goes from cool kid to not-so-cool kid and figures out that life is tough but you have to keep on keeping on).<br /><br />Both of them spent the right twenty minutes in here. If this would have been the twenty minutes before their papers were due, they would have been in trouble because they didn't have much to hand in and they didn't have much time to work. But they came in early enough to get their ideas straight, start thinking through the details of how they learned what they learned, and crank out solid drafts of their papers.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-9302422249360832602010-03-30T10:12:00.000-07:002010-03-30T10:42:55.412-07:00A Measure of SuccessA student who has come in regular intervals over the past few semesters shows up. We each say hey, and he take off his hat and looks at the crown. See, I tease him about wearing Yankee hats. We have a no-Yankee hat policy in the Learning Center*, but he was sporting the Sox (White, not Red) logo, so he was safe. I pointed out that he didn't even know what hat he was wearing today, and we laughed about that.<br /><br />The hat policy wasn't all he was learning about. Later, after he filled me in on his assignment, a summary of the movie <span style="font-style: italic;">In the Bedroom</span>, he was running through the basic ideas of the story. The class is writing about revenge, and he got to the part in the story when one of the characters wants to take revenge because he got "angry and stuff like that."<br /><br />The student stopped and said, "No, 'not stuff like that.' He was angry." Then he continued. I felt awesome right then**. I didn't say anything about his use of such a vague phrase. It was like he took a giant pen and scratched a line through what he just said***.<br /><br />That was cool. That made my morning.<br /><br />*I find stuff like this helpful to disarm a place like this. It would be easy for a Writing Lab to feel like a nerdcave, academically isolated and only focused on papers papers papers. When we create faux policies like not allowing Yankee hats or requiring people who do math in the writing area to bring us donuts, we poke fun at the institutional nature of the place, show an awareness of the outside world (those Yankee hats never have to do with papers) and show a little humanity (donuts = hungry). Everything is strategic around here, even disdain for that NY logo that shows up on the heads of so many students who can't name their Yankees.<br /><br />**It only had a little bit to do with the fact that I find myself doing this automatically when I hear words. I don't tell people when I do it. That's rude. I always tell people who ask if I'm going to correct their grammar that I have a policy of not correcting people's grammar out in the real world because people who do that don't have any friends.<br /><br />**"...angry <strike>and stuff like that</strike>..."Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-69404342010235277112010-03-03T10:00:00.000-08:002010-03-03T10:18:50.879-08:00Tell the TruthYesterday, a student working on a process paragraph showed me her work. It was about how she planned to study for her first math test. I asked her about one of the steps, the one where she comes into the Learning Center to work with a tutor. Specifically, I asked her what she did with the tutor.<br /><br />She told me she didn't actually come in, that she planned to do that, but didn't make it because of her schedule. I advised her as I always advise people in this situation: Tell the truth.<br /><br />I asked about details when she had none. I told her that telling the truth bases your paper on facts that can be used for evidence when necessary, when someone like, say, a Writing tutor asks for more detail. I informed her that her teacher might ask her about it and she might end up not being able to answer her teacher, which is not a good thing.<br /><br />For some reason, sometimes people come to me for advice, but elect not to take it*.<br /><br />She left the imaginary meeting with a tutor in her paragraph and emailed it to her teacher. Her teacher's reply said that she did not have enough detail in the section where she discusses visiting the tutor. The teacher would like more details from a meeting that never happened.<br /><br />Tell the truth!<br /><br />*Like the guy who is just now taking my advice to move on to drafting his second paragraph--he already told me what it's going to be about--instead of spending the rest of the morning tinkering with his first paragraph. He's already spent a good hour on it, and I told him more than once to move on and get the rest of the paper drafted.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-27329438976326031572010-02-19T10:55:00.000-08:002010-02-19T13:56:13.470-08:00FAQ: Can I ______?Writers sit at their computers, drafts on their screens, and look up at me to ask, "Can I ______?" all the time. They usually want to know if they can write a certain word or insert a certain punctuation mark.<br /><br />My answer: yes.<br /><br />Always: yes.<br /><br />They need to see that they have ownership of their papers. That does not come from me telling them that they can or cannot do something. They take ownership when they think about "should," not "can."<br /><br />When it's words: I always tell them that they can write whatever they want, but they need to think about if they should write it. They need to consider what they want to say and make the decision themselves: Does it support my point? Does it need to be there? Is it veering off topic? Does it make my essay better? Does it make me sound intelligent?<br /><br />When it's punctuation: I ask them what job they think that period or comma or whatever is doing, and if that's what needs to be done in that spot.<br /><br />I really like telling students they can write what they want. They are too accustomed to just doing what they are told without thinking about why. They need someone to say, "Sure, you can do that, but what happens when you do?"Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-9637917403035216952010-01-27T09:50:00.000-08:002010-01-27T10:09:27.266-08:00Spell It OutToday, a scene:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Student: </span>How do you spell "sincerely"?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> How do you think you spell "sincerely"?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Student: </span>I have no idea.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Does it start with a B?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Student:</span> Well, no. It starts with an S.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> So you do have some idea.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Student:</span> Yeah, I guess so.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Give it a shot. I won't tell you if you're right or wrong until after you give it a shot.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />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.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Good.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />I write "Sincerely" on the whiteboard behind him.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> 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.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-90548052988095405962010-01-20T14:54:00.000-08:002010-01-20T15:39:10.371-08:00A Whole Lotta I DunnoThis 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.<br /><br />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:<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"> it freaks a lot of people out</span>.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />For some reason, he assumed there were other unspoken options than the obvious one. Interesting.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />For some reason, he needed confirmation to go ahead and choose something he already knew was true. Interesting.<br /><br />I find this fascinating because of something <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/rory_sutherland_life_lessons_from_an_ad_man.html">I heard in a TED Talk recently</a>: "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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-72587939264575943072010-01-14T09:16:00.000-08:002010-01-19T15:45:55.084-08:00Let's Get It StartedLast 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?<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"></span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Shower: get thinking done</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Ditch: privacy to paint</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(unexpected place to be used by someone for anything, let alone a creative endeavor--intriguing from the get-go)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />School Auditorium: break in and run off energy</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(use of place focusing on one characteristic--big open space--instead of main characteristic--stage--that readers wouldn't assume)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Bathroom: unwind and get away/get out of things</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Track: face a challenge, release stress</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(discussed at how two people use same space differently: one to overcome and accomplish, one to escape and only compete with self)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Tennis Court: be in control</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Kitchen: quiet place to draw</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Basketball Court: show effort, just play and not be judged</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Golf Course: release anger</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(opposite of expectations--golf as difficult game that frustrates people--that would be intriguing and need the explanation an essay would allow)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Open Field of Grass in a Park: see nature and remember place in the world</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><br />Black Box Theater: become another character</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">(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)</span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />*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.<br /><br />**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.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-49267082729468721142010-01-11T09:04:00.000-08:002010-01-11T10:10:25.684-08:00Paragraph DesignOver 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <span style="font-weight: bold;">design</span> and paragraph than <span style="font-weight: bold;">construct</span> one.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9iWbAw-L1lg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9iWbAw-L1lg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />In a Writing 100 class once, I played the intro from <span style="font-style: italic;">Stranger Than Fiction</span> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I don't know where this is going to go, but that's often where I have the most fun with ideas.<br /><br />*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.<br /><br />**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 <a href="http://www.objectifiedfilm.com/">movies</a> 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.<br /><br />***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.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-5940791381944774762009-12-11T12:21:00.000-08:002009-12-11T12:55:37.285-08:00It's Not Me, It's YouOne of the teachers here at Desert Vista assigns a persuasive letter as her third essay in Writing 100 every semester. This semester's crop of essay topics has been the best I've seen. Instead of students trying to get the State of Arizona to completely overhaul their education system or convincing the government to change laws, these students picked accomplishable goals: Dad, stop smoking; downstairs neighbors, stop filing all those complaints; suitor, look elsewhere for romantic involvement; teacher, amend your assignments; etc.<br /><br />These are manageable requests, and working with these students has generally centered on two ideas:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">1. Me, Me, Me</span><br />The students know what they want. Knowing what they want is the first hurdle they overcome. And the first obstacle they face. It's what the student wants, so their rhetoric focuses on how this change will meet their needs. They pretty much stop right there. They don't realize that while the request they make originates in a need they have, the action will take place on the other side of the fence, so they need to go over there and see it from that person's perspective.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">2. You, You, You</span><br />What they need to do is think about who they are persuading and what their idea involves for that person.<br /><br />Instead of presenting tons of medical information to get your father to stop smoking, think about why your father smokes in the first place. What if he doesn't care so much about his health, but cares more about appearing manly because he started smoking on a ranch as a preteen because his father let him? Data about lung cancer may not hit the bullseye.<br /><br />Instead of asking your neighbors one floor down to "put yourselves in my shoes," you need to slip into theirs. They complain about the noise your two-year-old makes at ten o'clock at night because they want to go to bed. If you want them to stop filing complaints, explain your situation (why is that kid up at 10:00pm?), explain what you'll do to try and be quieter, and maybe go so far as to invite them up for a meal so they will think about how wonderful you and your family are instead of curse you and call the apartment office the next time they hear stomp stomp stomp when they are trying to fall sleep.<br /><br />Instead of pointing out how much of an idiot he is, lay out the differences between what you want and what the guy who keeps asking you out wants in a relationship. Be objective. Sure, he wants to be a drug dealer and you think basing your life on illegal crime is a bad idea, but he's not going to change if you tell him he's stupid. Take the emotion away for a bit and present your case rationally. You want security. Comfort. Not men with guns. Maybe he'll see that getting a real job isn't so bad, especially if he wants to date a girl.<br /><br />Instead of asking your teacher to rework her entire semester's worth of assignments to exclude personal details, think about why she set it up that way (hint: you already know yourself and don't have to do research in a non-research class) and how much work would be involved in crafting an entirely new class. Then think beyond your desire to not talk about your bad memories and examine why focusing on other things might help more people learn to write. Oh, and give her some ideas about what you would be willing to write about. You don't want to appear "like [you] don't want to participate." Help her out and think about what she's trying to accomplish: getting you to write essays without sinking you into deep research.<br /><br /><br />These are interesting conversations. The students don't realize they are focusing solely on their own needs. Or they don't realize they are using broad arguments that don't necessarily apply to their audience. Bringing it up changes their papers from a general repetition of their basic premise to specific thoughts aimed at actually getting something done.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-78276506062935397092009-12-02T08:52:00.000-08:002009-12-02T08:56:03.599-08:00Keep Calm and Carry On<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qE5Q7QFH17xDXi9dV-njQwSvKq0Wb6xw24dh7PsYU5nEbKah8wepewe2eVJipB3JxSRN2M6DritS10m5GGyzjggXjUrV7M5sZF62QRUEQ1moHs6YKkpVckqn1kBwLALLAlXQ21Bk3obK/s400/Keep+Calm+and+Carry+On-Blue.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qE5Q7QFH17xDXi9dV-njQwSvKq0Wb6xw24dh7PsYU5nEbKah8wepewe2eVJipB3JxSRN2M6DritS10m5GGyzjggXjUrV7M5sZF62QRUEQ1moHs6YKkpVckqn1kBwLALLAlXQ21Bk3obK/s400/Keep+Calm+and+Carry+On-Blue.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It's the time of year when people start freaking out because big projects and final papers are due. I shared this image with a particularly stressed student today. She's a non-traditional student of the sort who combines go-getter-ness with I'm-gonna-make-something-of-my-life-ocity, so everything must must must be perfect.<br /><br />In reality, perfect doesn't happen all the time. Deadlines come, things are handed in, the semester marches on, and so should she.<br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/SDAPPL%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" />Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-3184139528086836172009-12-01T08:18:00.000-08:002009-12-01T08:43:51.931-08:00Evolution as It Pertains to IntroductionsI've noticed myself repeatedly saying something new about introductions lately. It's the natural evolution of my usual advice.<br /><br />My usual advice on intros: <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Wait.Work on the body paragraphs. Know what you have to say first. It's okay to work on the middle before the beginning.</span><br /><br />See, people jump in and write their intro first because it's the first part of their paper. They jump in without knowing what they have to say. They just know that they need to get this paper done, so logically start at the beginning and try to work from there.<br /><br />The problem, as I said, is that they don't know what they have to say. Thus, the evolution.<br /><br />The evolution in my advice on intros: <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Your intro should introduce your paper, not the general topic you're working with.</span><br /><br />Student writers sit down with a blank Word document and they start generally writing about whatever it is that they are supposed to be writing about. They make broad statements that include all people everywhere or every time anyone has done a certain thing or been a particular place. They are doing the wrong work. They are trying to go from general to specific before they know the specifics. They are not introducing their paper. They are trying to introduce a subject, an assignment, a big idea, but they are not introducing what they will cover in their essay.<br /><br />So I've started to talk about that specifically with people whose intros are painted with broad strokes. It seems to be helping because it removes the stress of getting the paper off to an interesting/humorous/engaging/thoughtful/never-before-seen/amazing start and subtly plants the seed that they do in fact have something specific to say with this paper.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-302696404066870342009-11-17T13:04:00.000-08:002009-11-17T13:15:43.657-08:00Why We Do What We Do<span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">Part I.</span><br />Yesterday in the Writing Lab, a conversation about my 22-month- and five-week-old daughters turned toward the H1N1 Flu shot:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Ania: Did you give your daughter the swine flu shot?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Me: Yes, we did.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Joe: You did?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Me: Yes</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Joe: I wouldn't do that.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Me: Why?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Joe: I know lots of people who aren't doing that.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Me: I know lots of people who don't save money, but that's not a reason to not save money.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Joe: Well, yeah, but it sure is controversial.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Me: Yes, but that's not a reason not to give her the shot, either.</span><br /><br />After that, Ania and I had a lengthy conversation about support, arguments, opposition, and credible sources. Too bad Joe left.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">Part II.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Today, Brooks, a writing tutor, came back from a trip to Alabama with a <a href="http://claytravis.net/mailbag/uploaded_images/bear-bryant-721903.JPG">Bear Bryant</a> hat.</span> A student came in, pointed to the hat and to me...<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Joe B: That hat on him would look just like</span> <a href="http://www.impawards.com/1986/posters/crocodile_dundee.jpg">Crocodile Dundee</a>.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Me: Crocodile Dundee's hat was leather.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Joe B: Details, details. As long as it's a hat.</span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-80644032596729014222009-11-13T13:02:00.001-08:002009-11-13T13:12:18.815-08:00The Best Worksheet I've Seen In Awhile, Perhaps EverToday, a student came in with a worksheet. I'm not a huge fan of worksheets because they usually focus on technical aspects of grammar that are not inherently bad things to know (people would do well to know them) but are generally less than useful in terms of their applied function for writing students.<br /><br />This worksheet, however, is possibly one of the most useful I've ever seen. It was simple. It took some sentences the student composed for a prior worksheet and had them replace general terms with specific nouns. Students need to know how to do that. They need that practice.<br /><br />The example was corny (it replaced "elderly man" with "Old Jimmy Two-Teeth"), but the worksheet gave this student a chance to work on a writing skill that I see people struggle with everyday: being specific. I'm all for this and will probably add a similar activity to any classroom work I do in the future.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-82575682805011015482009-11-02T09:23:00.000-08:002009-11-02T10:06:05.920-08:00They Follow Rules That Do Not ExistI just had someone ask me about whether or not they needed a particular comma in a particular sentence. I asked why they thought it shouldn't be there.<br /><br />"Because that's too many commas."<br /><br />How many is too many?<br /><br />"Um..."<br /><br />I hear versions of that all the time. They either have to do with commas, as in this example, or with the length of sentences. Students tell me that their sentence is wrong because it is too long or too short.<br /><br />Sometimes when they say it's too long, I bust out a sentence written by Virginia Woolf in an essay called "On Being Ill" that appears in <span style="font-style: italic;">Reading Like a Writer </span>by Francine Prose. It's 181 words long and takes up most of the printed page in the book. They are shocked to learn that such things are possible.<br /><br />I'm not sure where people pick up such rules. I suppose a teacher in some class told them a sentence was too long, but didn't define the measurements for a proper sentence. Thus, they were left with a vague notion that sentences could be too long, but that the border between proper and too long was a thing undetectable except by experts.<br /><br />When they say a sentence is too short, there is usually an undertone of Short Sentence = Unintelligent Writer. They don't want to present a two-, three-, or four-word sentence to their teacher, and they usually seem a bit embarrassed to even let a tutor know that they were only able to come up with those few words.<br /><br />The saddest thing about those moments is that the short sentences usually serve the purpose of a short sentence. Students just don't know there is such a purpose. They don't know the value of rhythm, of mixing up long, medium, and short sentences for legibility and effect. They don't know that choosing, at times, to write a short, pointed sentence shows intelligence. They just know that it's shorter than their other sentences and they think there is something sad about that.<br /><br />Too long. Too short. Too many commas*. I don't know where these arbitrary rules come from. It's strange because they aren't definable and aren't teachable like their real counterparts--subjects + verbs = clauses of different sorts, connecting clauses and phrases, listing, separating, connecting again.<br /><br />*Oh, and also: Place a comma wherever you take a breath. This notion of a rule might work for speakers of proper English, but it proves disastrous for those who do not already know the rhythms of the language. Commas pop up it the strangest places because the reader paused ever so slightly to breathe.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-73202856249323771232009-10-26T10:54:00.000-07:002009-10-26T11:00:24.481-07:00Quote of the CenturyAfter Brooks and I talked with a student for less than five minutes, he said this:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Writing is so much easier than people make it out to be."<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">We told him not to spend all his energy thinking about how hard his class is. We told him to focus on his point. We told him to ask questions to start thinking and to answer those questions in his writing. That's pretty much it.<br /><br />When I told him that the students who sat at the computer thinking about how much they hate writing should just spend that energy writing, he said I should put that on the wall. When he said that writing is easier than people make it out, I told him I would put that on the wall. I got his name. It's going up later.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-15931645744063616062009-10-08T13:14:00.000-07:002009-10-08T13:55:16.816-07:00My Job is AwesomeThe past two hours have been the best two hours of my week at work. Maybe of my month. Scratch that. Of the semester.<br /><br />1. I got to bust out the claims sheet that I made to help people write papers analyzing songs. They have trouble with that (they can talk about the song or tell the story in the song, but they don't actually analyze it). The writer who needed it wasn't writing about a song, but was analyzing an ad. She understood the ad and the assignment. She just needed to see how to do the work.<br /><br />2. I helped a girl with a draft of a narrative essay. The first two paragraphs were boring stuff about working at Jack-in-the-Box. Then it got good. See, the story she was telling was about a lady who removed the meat from her burger and claimed that it had no meat. She wanted a new burger. She wanted her money back. She screamed vulgarities. The writer told me that this happens every now and then. I love learning this stuff. Who knew that there was a whole culture of people who order burgers, remove the meat (leaving little black spots that the burger makers recognize as meat evidence), claim there was no meat, and request new meat. They go to a lot of effort for another patty. If that girl does the work, that essay will be awesome.<br /><br />3. I helped a lady write about owning a dog. Not that exciting in itself, but I got to use one of my favorite strategies: the bowling alley. Often, people have good things to say. Too many, in fact. Their paragraphs bulge or wander (or both) because they have so so so many things to say. They need boundaries. I asked this writer a bunch of questions about her dog and figured out that everything she had to say came down to dog + work. Those were her boundaries. I drew two parallel vertical lines and said, "It's like a bowling alley. These are your boundaries. You can't go outside them." All she cares about it what is between dog and work. If it relates to dog but not work, it's out. She asked about the brand of dog food. Should she include that? On the surface, it relates only to dog. She only gets to include it if it takes a lot of work to get that particular brand of dog food, but only if that's the case.<br /><br />4. I got to help a guy who was writing about his first day of school in America after immigrating from Saudi Arabia: September 11, 2001. Talk about a unique perspective. He didn't even know English yet. Just Arabic. The funny thing about working with him was that it was right before class. I asked him what he planned to do because he had to turn in the essay. After he assured me that the essay he was handing it wasn't a final, he did want to work on it, and he would take my comments into account, we had a great conversation about his paper, that day, and the kind of details he could include to really help us understand what it was like. I'm excited to see his next draft. I told him that I wanted to see it not as a part of my job, but as a person who likes writing.<br /><br />I can't believe all that happened over the time I was supposed to be at lunch on a Thursday. That made my week. Sometimes this job is hard. Sometimes it's unbelievably rewarding. I felt like I was inside an episode of This American Life with the burger and 9/11 stories, and two of my favorite strategies paid off for the other two students.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-46719529696001840412009-10-08T11:18:00.000-07:002009-10-08T12:18:40.897-07:00FAQ: You knowI like to talk with the writers that come in. I like to see if how well they know what they wrote about before we look at the works they put on the page. That gives me a idea of the handle they have on their ideas, or if they have one at all.<br /><br />Inevitably, I get students to tell me about their subject. They start talking and they do this thing that many people do when they talk: they insert "you know" into their discourse.<br /><br />Sometimes I let one, two, three slide by, and then I stop them. Other times, I just jump right in when they sneak the first "you know" in. I point out the tic, which they rarely notice, and make sure they pause for a second to realize that they just said "you know."<br /><br />After that, I tell them that I do not in fact know. I don't know anything about their family Christmas gatherings or the time they got a scar while trying to stop a liquor store robbery. I don't know anything about the layout of their room or their choice of study space. I don't know their mothers, friends, teachers, or the other significant people who pop up as the subjects of their essays.<br /><br />I wasn't there. I haven't spent time with those people. I do not know.<br /><br />I realize that these students are not consciously referring to my knowledge, but they are subconsciously hoping that I will nod my head, say "uh-huh, I do know," and let them stay on the surface of their subject. I want them to be consciously aware that I have no idea what they are telling me--but I am interested in the details that are buried in their head if they would do a little digging.<br /><br />After we break down what they know and I do not, they usually have a better understanding of what they need to provide so I can learn. I like to tell them that what is obvious to them is not obvious to others, so they should write what seems obvious. That way we can learn. And know.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-62533230420565266212009-10-06T13:37:00.000-07:002009-10-06T15:04:35.515-07:00You Can't Force This StuffESPN debuts a new documentary series tonight. <span style="font-style: italic;">30 for 30</span> is thirty filmmakers making thirty films about sports stories that happened in the thirty years since ESPN started broadcasting--not figures, not people, not big names, but stories that are great stories.<br /><br />I read an <a href="http://30for30.espn.com/bill-simmons-essay.html">introduction to the series</a> by Bill Simmons today and found it relevant to the way I teach writing. I guess that means this is sort of a dispatch from the Writing Center, but more a dispatch more me as a Writing teacher.<br /><br />Simmons was the one who came up with the <span style="font-style: italic;">30 for 30 </span>concept. After the suits at ESPN gave his idea the go-ahead, he and Connor Schnell (who was involved in producing content for ESPN in some way or another) started brainstorming ideas for stories. Then they created a list of filmmakers to tackle those stories. The idea was to play matchmaker, hooking up a filmmaker with the story, finding "the 30 best matches. Period."<br /><br />That was the plan. What happened* was a little different. The filmmakers already had the stories. They already loved sports in the way that people who tell stories love sports. They weren't so interested in the overwhelming sports obsession with predicting the future. Instead, they recognized what was worth looking back on with a keen eye. The filmmakers already had their matches. They made them themselves.<br /><br />They just needed the forum, and Simmons and ESPN provided that. Now the stories will be told on Tuesday nights and I could not be more excited.<br /><br />Here are the parallels between <span style="font-style: italic;">30 for 30</span> and Writing instruction:<br /><br />1. Bill Simmons and Connor Schell = Writing Teachers<br />They love their subject. They spend time thinking about their subject. They plan things out. They discuss what would be worthwhile for the time they are allotted. The <span style="font-style: italic;">30 for 30 </span>series is their class time and they want to fill it with the best possible subject matter, so they dive in and try to do the best to fill it well.<br /><br />But they are not the ones doing the work.<br /><br />2. The Filmmakers = Writing Students<br />They are the ones doing the work.<br /><br />Simmons and Schell couldn't get too attached to their list of desired stories because they couldn't force professional filmmakers to do work they didn't want to do. All they could do was present the framework and let the filmmakers run where they would.<br /><br />In the case of <span style="font-style: italic;">30 for 30</span>, the power resides in the filmmakers. This project doesn't gain steam without them. Instead, it's just a couple of guys who love sports dreaming up a show that focuses on stories. They need storytellers to make it happen, so when those storytellers change the plans, the masterminds have to go along.<br /><br />In the classes, the power resides with the teachers. They give the grades, so the students have to do what the teachers want.<br /><br />Despite the different loci of power, the two cases are similar in that nothing will get made without those doing the work.<br /><br />Simmons and Schell loved their idea, but they held it loosely. They developed more than they needed, going so far as to choose stories that they anticipated the filmmakers would tackle. What they really needed was just the framework: the thirty years of ESPN's existence, sports, and stories that "resonated at the time but were eventually forgotten for whatever reason." That is specific enough to provide the necessary boundaries to allow those doing the work to flourish within their limits.<br /><br />The big difference between the series and the classes is the experience of those doing the work. The filmmakers are professionals who were sought after because of their work. The students and their abilities are unknown.<br /><br />Sort of. They are able to learn. They are able to think. They have stories buried in their heads.<br /><br />Students are perfectly capable of taking a loose framework and running with it. They need the forum to tell their story and some direction to learn how that storytelling can be done. They can be guided in the work, but they can most certainly do most of the work.<br /><br />*As is usually the case with Plans and What Happeneds, they were not the same.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-32075541489158739182009-10-01T09:41:00.000-07:002009-10-01T09:58:37.050-07:00Make It Your OwnI read across a wide spectrum of subjects. One of them happens to be sports uniforms. Uni Watch is a blog that not simply covers sports uniforms ("athletic aesthetics" they would say), but delves deep into the subject.<br /><br />Here's an <a href="http://www.uniwatchblog.com/2009/09/18/hey-at-least-his-name-isnt-ochocinco/">essay</a> submitted by a Uni Watch reader named Matt King. He details his decision to own authentic jerseys with his own name on the back. The normal practice (and some would say the only acceptable practice among true uniphiles) is to purchase an authentic jersey with the name of an authentic player on the back.<br /><br />I think he makes a good case for the practice losing its taboo status. I like that he took it upon himself to defend his Own Name On Back decision. He stops short of championing the movement, but he goes into the context of his own decision (which originated before authentic apparel was widely available) as well as giving us general reasons for putting your own last name on the jersey of your favorite team despite never playing a down/inning/minute for the club (now that authentic apparel is readily available).<br /><a href="http://www.uniwatchblog.com"></a>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-55950325601290295902009-09-28T11:30:00.000-07:002009-09-28T15:57:33.373-07:00Coming or GoingHere's something that happens frequently around here:<br /><br />1. Teacher gives an assignment that can be described as "general." Said assignment usually includes language very similar to "make an argument about a significant experience/place/person."<br /><br />2. Student chooses experience/place/person. Said experience/place/person is significant for some reason or another, but that significance is elusive and ethereal, tucked away in a messy drawer in the student's brain along with countless other experiences/places/people of varying significance, and thus any attempt to set it down on paper results in vague notions of importance that could be (and are) generated by just about anyone about just about anything.<br /><br />Example: Student writes about significant place: home. Where is home? A place on the reservation. What place? A house. Student is able to verbalize little more than that. Reading the paper + inquiring verbally reveal that this paper is nearly fully focused on the student's experience with the Catholic Church across the street, specifically during Lent when she would venture across the street, despite not being Catholic, to experience the ceremonies at the church during the Easter season because they were Catholic, yes, but also wove in the ceremonies of her tribe.<br /><br />This student was having a difficult time zooming in to the specific place. She was stuck on "home" and didn't know that she could write about going from her backyard, where she grew up hearing the church bells and smelling the mesquite wood that the church burned for heat, over to the church itself every Friday and Saturday evening during Lent.<br /><br />She didn't know that she could choose a topic so small. I see this all the time. General assignments like the significant experience/place/person often lead to big fields of thought, not small ones. To help her see how she could choose, I decided to tell her something about how stories work and go from there.<br /><br />I drew two circles on the whiteboard. On one of them, I drew an arrow starting outside and ending inside. On the other, I drew an arrow originating in the middle of the circle and extending outward.<br /><br />I told her that every story is one of these two. It is either someone/something new coming into an established environment or someone/something leaving an established environment to go on some sort of adventure or journey.<br /><br />She recognized which hers was: Option #2, adventure. She recognized that the established environment (the circle) was her backyard and that the adventure (the arrow) was going to the church. I emphasized that she could pay attention to her time boundaries, all year vs. during Lent. We talked how she could smell the mesquite wood from the church. I asked her if this fell under all year in her backyard or during Lent at the church. Backyard. The Deer Dancer that was a part of the ceremonies? Church.<br /><br />We talked about the intro could (and should) include details from all year in order to show us that she lives right near the church. The thesis is where the adventure starts. She journeys outside her backyard to the church itself.<br /><br />I think drawing those diagrams helped her understand how the beginning of the paper related to the rest of the paper. At various points in the conversation, I added on to the drawings. I'd drawn them before, but never added on. I labeled the circle "backyard all year" and the arrow " church on Fr + Sat during Lent." I wrote the word "choose" above the arrow and "forced" below, then wrote "why?" I'd never thought about breaking the paradigm down like that, but it seemed helpful. I doubt that will be the last time that shows up on the whiteboard.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-68648564440065937202009-09-21T10:37:00.000-07:002009-09-21T10:45:26.425-07:00Fun with Informal CommunicationHere a couple of pieces of communication I've encountered in the past week. Ah, words.<br /><br />1. On a black sweatshirt in the Writing Lab when I came to work one morning, I found a Post-It note with these words handwritten in pencil: <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">"Some Random Sweater."</span><br /><br />2. On a peer-reviewed draft (handwritten and submitted for review instead of the typed draft due to a flash drive left behind at the UofA computer lab) of a student essay: <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">"this is g. but you gosta give me more detail chica! and finishing it would help a little."</span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-88332446439872070782009-09-17T11:21:00.000-07:002009-09-17T15:56:52.855-07:00You Teach Me Pia Gow, I Will Help You WriteYesterday did not start well. We had a busy morning, normal for the Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays of the nascent Fall 2009 semester, and I asked one of the early morning students when his paper was due.<br /><br />It's a simple question. When is your paper due? The answer: a date + a time. First, he told me that it's just a first draft. I asked when he had to hand it in, and he said something else that did not include a date + a time. That's two. I asked again. He said something else and I suggested that he look at his syllabus. He took out his syllabus and said, "I think it's ___," and I then I prodded him to make sure by checking his syllabus very carefully. He did, and he gave me a date + a time.<br /><br />If this job had a fine print, it would definitely include some mention of the repetition of such questions to reach specific answers. It's the closest this job gets to water torture. Those drops are harmless on there own, but they just keep dropping dropping dropping.<br /><br />Thus, yesterday did not start off well. Thankfully, it improved. Through Pia Gow.<br /><br />Each semester brings us new regulars. One of our new regulars has been working on a paragraph about her favorite form of relaxation, going to the casino to play Pia Gow, for the past week or so. She's got the general idea of the assignment, but she keeps using the word "fun" to explain why it's relaxing, so I've been trying to draw some specifics out of her*. That can be a slow process sometimes because people don't realize what kind of details others need in order to understand the everyday, obvious things of life they are covering in their writing.<br /><br />Yesterday, she didn't just bring her draft. She brought cards. She was going to teach me Pia Gow.<br /><br />She spread the cards out on the table in seven stacks of seven. She was the dealer, I was the player. She told me that the dealer is always seven and then had me pick a number. Two (my number in whatever sports teams I find myself on). She arranged the cards according to my choice and began to explain how we play.<br /><br />She told me about high and low hands, what I'm looking for in arranging each, and then had me give it a go. She explained this clearly, without hitch or hesitation, and when she showed her cards and flipped mine, she would flip one card with another. When they wouldn't cooperate, I saw that it was because of the too-smooth table, and the look on her face, a quick flash of frustration, told me that she has done this before on the right kind of table.<br /><br />I was right. She told me she's a dealer. She deals all kinds of card games at one casino, and then goes out to play her favorite, Pia Gow, at another with friends--friend I found out later are also dealers.<br /><br />I didn't find out she was a dealer until I told that the game seemed complicated and wondered why she found it so relaxing. She said it was part of the casino world where she felt comfortable. I asked why and she then let it spill that she works there, that she knows the other dealers at other casinos. That's when I got it. She found this complex game so relaxing because she knows it, she explains it, and she teaches it five times a week. She was able to run through various hand scenarios for me faster than I could actually pick up that she was presenting a new option for how I could play. She knew the ins and outs because she's seen them play out in front of her.<br /><br />She also found Pia Gow relaxing because it's a slow game. I didn't know she was a dealer, but she did let me know that detail early on. I just didn't understand it until we played. Remember those high and low hands? Each hand played in Pia Gow gives the dealer and the player two chances to win, which leads to a lot of pushes. She told me that this game is a push game. There's not a lot of big wins, but more importantly, your fifty dollar buy-in lasts a long time because your money doesn't bleed away every hand.<br /><br />Pia Gow's nature as a push game allows for socializing, imbibing (for free in Vegas, she said, but not at her casino), and watching other players. Earlier, I told her that she needed to explain why the game is relaxing because not everyone finds gambling relaxing. As we played and pushed often, I told her I understood what she meant about the slow pace allowing players to enjoy hours at the table.<br /><br />She helped me understand Pia Gow, and then I helped her understand how to go about writing about it. She found it so relaxing because it was familiar, it let her play for a long time, and she got to enjoy it as a player, not a dealer. She needed to tell readers how she grew familiar with the game as a dealer, and then explain why she so enjoyed sitting at the table as a player.<br /><br />I told her to go pack her paragraph with details and come back so I could help her see how to decide what details to keep and what to cut**.<br /><br />After she left, I couldn't help but think about how writing classes often separate writers from their subjects. We gather in rooms with tables and computers, we discuss, we put black marks on pages, and we rarely send people out to interact with what they are supposed to be putting down on paper.<br /><br />Is this a breakdown in immediacy, in the connection between the word generating person and the subject those words are attempting to convey? Journalists go knock on doors, talk to people, look at places, and experience the environments they are writing about. Novelists go to the places they write about or spend time with people who inspire their characters (or look up journalists' accounts as research).<br /><br />I remember reading that David Foster Wallace immersed himself in tax laws while preparing to write <span style="font-style: italic;">The Pale King</span>, and that "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" was written after he actually went on the cruise it discusses.<br /><br />I wonder how we could shorten the gap between classroom and subject, bring some immediacy to writing assignments, place those recording the sensory details in the same place as the stimuli, and make writing the result of an experience, not just the recalling of one.<br /><br />I say all this because it was genuinely fun to learn this game from this student instead of just talk about this game with this student. She was an expert, and we were doing something real. We weren't stuck in the realm of the abstract, detached from what she was writing about. We were doing what she was writing about, and then we moved to writing about it while the cards were still on the table.<br /><br />*All the time. I actually made a sign that says <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: arial;">BE SPECIFIC</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> and placed it between two of the computers. Yesterday, I was telling a student that she needed to bring specific promises and changes into a paper hinging on President Obama's failure to deliver on said promises, which were alluded to but never named. I didn't just tell her this once. It came up multiple times. Her friend, who was waiting not working, walked over to the sign, picked it up, and waved it in front of the writer's face.<br /><br />**I often tell students what I was told by good teachers. Phil Heldrich, my poetry professor at Emporia State, told us that it's always easier to cut that it is to add. It's true.<br /></span></span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-79699773364053292562009-09-10T09:16:00.000-07:002009-09-10T09:30:16.391-07:00Drawing the LinesTwo students just left. They each had an essay about something they liked. One: soccer. The other: singing. The assignment: argue that something they liked is worth liking.<br /><br />The drafts were about as general as could be. He liked soccer because of health, and she liked singing because it relieved stress. That was about all that was there, so I started asking questions.<br /><br />He doesn't just like soccer. He is on a soccer team in a league here in Tucson. He plays every week. She doesn't just sing. She goes over to a friend's house every weekend to sing karaoke.<br /><br />They just needed to set up their boundaries. A soccer game needs the white lines at the edge of the field to determine when the ball is in play and when it's not. Once those boundaries are set, the teams can generally do whatever they what to score as long as they follow soccer's basic rules*.<br /><br />An essay needs similar attention paid to where the limits are in order. I told these students that they are free to zoom in from soccer and singing to playing on a soccer team and singing karaoke at a friend's house. That tells them what kind of details are in play. He can discuss who is on the team, how often they play, how often they win, where they play, who they play, and why he enjoys being a part of all of this. She can examine why she loves going to this friend's house at the end of the week to sing someone else's songs into a microphone in front of her friends.<br /><br />This is doable. They are both perfectly capable of writing about these experiences. They just need to know that they can.<br /><br />*Don't touch the ball with your hands, stay onside, don't foul anybody. Other than that, it's wide open for creativity in tactics, team setup, and ball movement. I would argue that this is how essay should be taught, as well: give writers a goal, set up the basics, and let them set up their paper so as to accomplish that goal in their own fashion. You can always talk through their tactics, team setup, and ball movement after they have given it a go.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-7239650221964280832009-09-09T15:15:00.000-07:002009-09-09T15:39:43.122-07:00FAQ: Can you make sure this is good?That is not a generalization. We are asked that exact question--Can you make sure this is good?--frequently. Those are the words.*<br /><br />The simplest of answers: No.<br /><br />The process is always longer than that. People come to us for help, they just don't know what help we have to give. Instead of a bunch of marks on a page that will turn into corrections that students may or may not understand, we have questions.<br /><br />I usually ask student writers who ask this question if they think their paper is not good. They are not accustomed to this question. It shocks some people visibly. They get a strange, confused expression on their face. If they were moving, they stop. Not everybody reacts this way, but a good number of people may have never been asked to think about the quality of their own work before.<br /><br />My question leads to why they think their paper is not good. This is the important point in the conversation. They usually have a good idea. Suddenly they are able to verbalize that they know their paper has no thesis, that they need to work on organization, that the are struggling with the conclusion, or some other specific issue that was lurking behind their general request for goodness.<br /><br />Some of them fall back from making sure it's good to wanting to make sure "it makes sense" or "it flows." I keep on going. I ask them why they think it doesn't. Eventually, they are able to evaluate their own work, and most of the time, <span style="font-weight: bold;">they are right</span>.<br /><br />These students have somehow grown accustomed to other people making sure it's good. When asked to be specific in what they think is malfunctioning in their paper, when they start to think about it, when they do that work, they are able to start to make sure it's good, and we are able to help them do so.<br /><br />It all comes down to ownership. I find that most people are perfectly capable of crafting a thoughtful paper if they are willing to think about it, answer questions, and dig into what they are trying to say. That's why I make them dig into what they think is wrong in the first place.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1930537316829461068.post-67668056537154367192009-08-31T10:43:00.001-07:002009-08-31T10:50:57.939-07:00FAQ: Print in the LibraryIt's the beginning of the fall semester, so we, along with every other office on campus, are peppered with questions. People want to know where classes are, how to get ahold of people, where to find services, and we usually know where to send them.<br /><br />Those are the general, new-student, beginning-of-the-semester questions. We also get certain questions that pertain to our specific expertise not only around the time when classes start, but throughout the semester.<br /><br />One of those is about printing. People see computers here in the Writing Lab, so they think printing happens here. It doesn't.<br /><br />A few people asked today. We have one sign that says <span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;">Print in the Library</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">, but it's not enough. I printed a twin* sign for our door. I told Larry** about our new sign, and Brooks made a joke about having a Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) list for the Writing Lab.<br /><br />I thought, "Hey, that's a good idea." I told Brooks I would put it on the blog. So here I am, starting a new feature on the blog. Whenever a frequently asked question comes up, I'll post how it's asked, who asks it, and how we usually answer it.<br /><br />*A fraternal twin. I changed the wording just a bit to make sure people know not only to go to the library, but that the library is upstairs in the other building.<br /><br />**The math guy, who also fields this question all the time.<br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516323873217634755noreply@blogger.com0