idea flipping

I appreciate having my ideas turned upside down--it seems like it always strengthens whatever ideas come out of the process. Like we’ve been talking about all semester, we have a few guiding principles behind what we do, but the answer is always “it depends,” and the right/wrong binary we tend to lump things into just doesn’t work in the constantly changing environment of the center. 

This week, a couple ideas were definitely turned upside down. After reading Brooks’ “Minimalist Tutoring,” I already had my doubts about the lengths we can go with non-directive tutoring. Of course, these doubts had also come up in our discussions of working with ELL, basic, and learning disabled writers. It seems really unfair and disrespectful to continually ask, “Well, what do you think?” of a student who genuinely doesn’t know. Our group discussed in class how this is a tactic we’ve seen more traditionalist professors use, and (like Carino points out) it’s not even non-directive, because we’re asking a “fill-in-the-blank” leading question. 

Shamoon/Burn’s piece, then, was a great flip and counterargument. I really appreciate how the authors emphasized the dangers of turning any ideas into dogma. I’ve definitely experienced (and discussed with other consultants) that “guilt” of “sinning against” the Minimalist Tutoring Bible. I’ve even watched veterans struggled with that guilt--because, although they know the limitations of minimalist tutoring, it’s still pretty ingrained in what we do. I liked Shamoon and Burn’s suggestion of modeling and corrected in front of the student. The bad experienced I’ve had with directive feedback have always been something along the lines of “here’s your line-edited draft back. Sorry it sucks.” However, I’ve also experienced situations where professors have asked for volunteers to share drafts, and then--as a class--we have gone through and “edited.” It’s amazing to see how beneficial these experiences are. 

As far as authority and power dynamics, I’m pretty grateful for Carino’s great piece. First off, I’m one of those consultants who probably likes to put on my peer hat and act as an ally. My consultation style is definitely ally-ish the more I look at it. I felt like Carino wrote an expose aimed at me--reminding me that no matter how collaborative I feel, no matter how non-directive I am, no matter how much I let the writer talk over me, I’m still structured in a position of some power in the consultation. Again, it’s good to have some ideas flipped this week, because collaboration has been such a huge and exciting concept for me to think about this semester. 

Like the directive/non-directive spectrum, looking at the power structures critically has helped me temper my love for seeing myself as a collaborator and an ally. It helps me realize the importance of understanding power dynamics in the consultation, and to work within them effectively. Again, just like Shamoon and Burn’s piece, Carino throws in a “yes, but…” that makes us better consultants. 

Overall, I’m glad we’ve been able to go on the conceptual journeys in writing center theory that we have this semester. I like that there are no right answers. I’m glad I’ve gone on the bumpy road of thinking I had it right, realizing I was wrong, thinking I had it right again, only now to realize there is no right/wrong binary. There’s a continuum, and I’m confident that as we all continue to consult and gain experience, we’ll become more skilled at navigating that continuum. I know, though, that we’ll never be perfect consultants with everything checked off in the “do” column. And honestly, that’s exciting. 

Great Timing

This week had a serendipitous consultation for me: Right after reading (okay, let’s be honest, skimming) our readings on working with learning disabled students, my 4:00 appointment showed up in a wheelchair with his caregiver. 

Of course, at first sight, I had no idea what kind of disability my writer had--a wheelchair and a caregiver could mean any number of things. But if one thing stood out to me from my favorite reading this week (“Whispers of Coming and Going”), it’s that I needed to approach every writer with an open curiosity, not assuming or stereotyping. As we got started, I introduced myself to the writer and the caregiver. 

I got lucky in several ways in this session. First, the writer had written about his disability--so my curiosity was satisfied in substantial ways by reading his paper aloud. He had suffered traumatic brain injury, and had brilliantly motivated himself to finish his degree, despite his daily battles due to his TBI. Second, I went into it with the false confidence of, “Hey, I just read about this. It’s cool.” Although this writer didn't have a learning disability exactly, he did have a cognitive disability. 

Though this writer struggled to communicate verbally (it was often hard to understand him and his speech was pretty slow), his written communication was excellent--the mechanics were all in place in his piece. This really emphasized to me that idea that disabilities are such a spectrum--this writer clearly faces daily struggles, but has a high understanding of language and of writing. Because of this, I was in the happy position of being able to talk over higher order concerns freely--the prioritization of the session was incredibly easy. 

He was writing a personal essay that asked him to reflect on his past, present, and future. He had done a great job of recounting his past, present, and future, and so I began to help him brainstorm ways of including the vital reflection into his piece. Remembering the outline of the session in Sourcebook, I asked the writer if I could take notes while he talked. He was really enthusiastic about the note-taking, and would talk even more as he saw me writing down his quotes (which were really excellent ideas for the rest of his paper). 

His caregiver began to be involved at this point, which at first was disconcerting for me. I was worried she would overpower the writer, especially because she would often tell him he was “getting off topic” or steer him in another direction. However, as we continued throughout the hour to navigate our relationship, I started to realize that the caregiver was sensitive to my guiding. In other words, as I helped the writer mutually set agendas for each separate topic we discussed, she was able to further help the writer communicate and brainstorm in ways I wouldn’t have been able to. For instance, it was clear that she saw the writer sometimes misunderstood the questions I asked--she realized this far sooner than I could, and would rephrase the questions in ways she knew he would immediately pick up on. The more I worked with both of them, the more I realized her presence was helpful, especially as she helped the writer navigate the collaborative back-and-forth of the session. 

Ultimately, I left that session incredibly encouraged. Both the caregiver and the writer said they’d love to come in again, and left with extensive notes and a great revision plan. The writer even asked me out for coffee (which I told him I’d pour for him anytime he stopped by the center)! I definitely learned that it’s important to include the caregiver in the equation (when there is one with a student). I also saw the importance of note-taking, which I think I’ll try to implement into my other sessions as well--although I can see how it may have been even more important for this particular writer. 

Topic Free Write

I want to explore the topic of digital composition in my final project for 303. Specifically, I want to learn more about how students are being asked to compose digitally, how students feel about digital composition (do they feel ready? Confident? Underprepared? Concerned?), how and why teachers are requiring more digital composition than ever before, and finally, synthesize all of that into a discussion of what we as consultants need to know about digital composition to help students. Phew. 

Something I’ve noticed in my own classroom experience is the prevalence of “digital composition” (which I know has a sticky definition). Even in the 6 years (sheesh) that I’ve been in college, the changes in technology have been drastic. I have very few classes today that don’t have an element of digital composition (be it a blog, a collaborative website, a web page, etc.) And yet, only a few classes I’ve been in have had any kind of instruction on the affordances and constraints of digital composition. For instance, in one of my first BSU classes, the teacher explained that we were to do a PowerPoint presentation for one of our projects. Why? Because the professor wanted to incorporate more “digital composition” into the classroom. Leaving aside the point that a PowerPoint presentation hardly fits the bill for including “digital composition” in the classroom, there was no instruction on the rhetorical effects of using a PPT presentation. We received no rubric and read no instructions on the genre. What ended up happening were many hard-to-read presentations with 25 slides FULL of texts, which were then read out loud by students. 

All of this leads me to my ultimate point: I want to write about what we need to know as consultants about the rhetoric of digital composition, so that when students bring digital composition in to the writing center--which will, no doubt, be more often over the next few years--we’ll know how to help them. Although I don’t think I’ll go into detail about the rhetoric of digital composition (I don’t want this to turn into a “how-to” article), I do want to point out the dangers of assuming that the same rules apply to traditional composition and digital composition. Ultimately I want to give writing center folks tools to think about digital composition, and ideas for responding to students’ digital writing. 

A possible outline: 

1. Introduce the situation
1. Define digital composition
2. Discuss prevalence of digital composition (statistics of assignments) 
3. Introduce problem for writing center consultants
2. Discuss typical digital composition assignments that assume the “same rules apply” as with traditional composition
3. Discuss pitfalls of tutoring in digital composition without understanding the genre
4. Introduce solution(s) -- discuss resources and ideas

ELL week

This week’s readings came at a good time for me, since I had my first two consultations with ELL students. I noticed a few of the things we’d discussed in class and read about happening in these sessions, and I also made some mistakes I want to learn from. 

Powers’ article was really powerful (no pun intended) for me, and was the first ELL text I feel like I got a lot out of. I think this was because she acknowledged the difficulty and--honestly--impossibility of applying one-size-fits-all tactics to such a diverse group of people. I found it mind-blowing to realize that our open-ended questioning may not be helpful for an ELL student who doesn’t actually have the answer. I think she really challenged me to be more aware and sensitive to the situation ELL students are in, and to not assume linguistic or cultural knowledge that these students may not have, and to embrace the role of “cultural informant,” both for our ELL writers and our native-speakers. Our readings this week helped me further realize that thought WHAT we do is the same with every writer, HOW we do it can differ drastically. 

My first appointment with an ELL student was along the lines of what I expected to encounter. The writer had a short interview essay with lots of grammatical errors. It was due the next day, and he still needed to ask two more questions of his interviewee to meet the assignment requirements. I tried to focus on higher order concerns first, of course, but I noticed that the writer didn’t want to have a conversation about these, and would instead just nod and say he understood, and move on to grammar. So, we went line-by-line basically for the rest of the session. 

I feel fairly good about how I handled the grammar portion--looking for patterns and helping the student find other areas that needed improvement, always naming the error and talking about--as simply as possible--why we needed to fix it. There were really consistently the same errors throughout. I could tell the writer was frustrated with his grammar errors, though, sometimes expressing how he knew what he wanted to say and that he just couldn’t say it. I wish I knew ways to help ELL students feel less frustrated in those situations. 

An action I wish I could take back, though, was a “correction” I gave him to make. He had interviewed another ELL student in his 122 class, and he had quoted him as saying he had broken his “leg fingers” playing soccer. I asked him questions about this, and realized they had come up with this to describe toes--the missing English word they didn’t know. As I talked this over with him, I explained the word was toes, and he changed his essay. I almost stopped to explain that he didn’t need to change it, and that it wasn’t necessarily wrong, and that he could explain somewhere else in his paper that he and his fellow student had come up with this word to describe toes… but I was stopped by the fact that we had trouble communicating verbally, and I wondered if he would understand my caveat. If I told him both that the word was “wrong” and “right,” would I actually be helping him or just confusing him? It was an interesting conundrum. 

Overall, this was definitely ELL week for me, and I’m glad I’ve had a few experiences with ELL writers under my belt to start building my skills for these sessions.

Consulting: Week 1

(Alternate title: The Post I Totally Spaced on Friday--Whoops!) 

First week as a consultant! I feel like next week has got to have some scary consultations in store, because this week was mostly fun, easy, and encouraging. I’ve had three consultations, all with willing writers. Only one had even remotely significant grammar issues, and all were interesting for me to read and comment on. 

I’ve noticed already a few things about my consulting style. The first is that I feel most comfortable with a laid-back style, and I noticed myself always trying to put the writer at ease. I think this is mostly selfish: I’m most at ease when they seem comfortable and like they’re engaged in the session. I realize this might be a weak point for me when I encounter reluctant or hostile writers, since this will probably make me more uncomfortable than they already are. I’ll have to work on strategies I can use to help myself feel comfortable when I confront those kinds of consultations. 

Another thing I noticed is something I expected: I tend to talk too much. I found myself starting sentences as statements, and then realizing that they were statements, and then starting over to phrase my statement as an open-ended question. Besides making for a few awkward sentences, this also made me aware of how often I speak versus how often the writer speaks. This is something I’ll have to work on--especially being aware of using more questions when I do talk. 

The other thing I’ve noticed is I’ve appreciated the ability to refer people to resources for lower order concerns. For instance, all three of my writers this week wanted to talk about citations, and listed it as a concern in their appointments. However, because I knew I could show them a resource online (I keep going back to Bedford St. Martin’s MLA… it’s so good), I felt comfortable setting the agenda early on in the session to address higher order concerns first, and had great extensive conversations with two of the writers before we ever got to citations. In the final 10 minutes or so, with two of these writers, I pointed them to the web page and walked through their in-text citations and reference pages, using the website to model how to check your own citations. I felt really confident that those two writers walked away with tools to work on their own citations in the future, as well as a really solid revision plan for their paper’s organization and focus. 

My last consultation of the week was the roughest, but it was still a pretty good experience. It was rough for a couple reasons: 1) the writer had a peer-review worksheet from class that I had to fill out (in other words--agenda set, no time for higher order concerns, and I knew I’d spend a good amount of time working on filling out the page and a half sheet rather than talking with the writer), and 2) I had a great little coughing fit in the middle of it and had to grab water before I could keep going (yayyyy). Also, this was the paper that had some grammar issues that were in the way of clarity, so between the grammar issues, the citation issues, and the extension peer-review sheet, I felt like we spent this entire half-hour session on lower order concerns (which, really, we did). Since the review sheet basically set the agenda, it made it difficult to do what I knew would be best for the writer. For instance, with basically 3 minutes left in the consultation, I was rushing to fill out the form while keeping the writer involved by letting him know how I was filling it out. The second to last question was a higher order concern question: something like, “What do you feel was missing in this paper?” This question came so late in the game, but I felt the need to answer it honestly to help the writer with revision. I also felt horrible giving the writer a thought on a higher order concern that late in the game. So I told him how I felt there may have been a missing connection (a “how” question) in his paper, but downplayed it, feeling like I didn’t have time and didn’t want to frustrate the writer. That was frustrating for me, because if I had been able to set the agenda from the beginning, I think this question would have taken up much of our time, rather than word counts, grammar, and citations. I think if I come up against one of these peer review sheets in the future, I’ll try to flip it, answering all of the questions but focusing on them in the order I think would be most helpful to the writer. 

303er to consultant

Well, this is it. We’re all officially on the schedule for next week, ready to take consultations. I’m nervous and excited. I can’t wait to get the first one under my belt--I feel like, no matter how that one goes, at least after the first one, I’ll have confirmation that I can do it, even if I don’t do it well at first. 

A couple things are making me feel better going into this week. Last week in class, we talked about dealing with unfamiliar subjects, and I had a bit of an epiphany. It’s a pretty obvious concept, and it’s been said before in 303, but like most moments of clarity for me, it didn’t hit me until later. Every consultation is based on some of the same guiding principles. The way you talk to an engineering student is based on the same ideas as how you talk to an English major. Some of the same thoughts apply to a consultation with an ELL student as apply a native speaker. A similar mindset is needed for a reluctant student as is needed for a talkative student. All of them come back to our go-to strategies: asking probing, engaging, open-ended questions, being an active listener, and trying to leave a student empowered as a writer. 

Of course, this is tempered by the fact that every consultation is different. So, the degree to which certain strategies will work is going to differ in every circumstance, and the ways we employ our strategies will look wildly different. But ultimately, we’re still just going back to those guiding ideas of conversation. That helps me feel more prepared for consultations next week--I might not be equipped to “tutor” an ELL student in language acquisition, and I might not be ready to talk about quantum physics, but I am prepared to listen actively, ask engaging questions, and talk about writing. 

The other thing that has me feeling more confident has been watching other consultants. They’re always willing to ask questions, especially during email consultations when it’s not keeping someone waiting. I think watching--and often participating--in this group support has driven home to me that we don’t consult in a vacuum necessarily. When a consultant has a rough experience, they have a supportive and edifying audience that will help them build new strategies for other situations. Even if we’re not asking questions during a consultation, we’re having debrief sessions and keeping the conversation going about our “craft.” This attitude relieves the pressure of having to be “an expert” because everyone else is, or of having to muddle through consultations in a silo. 

My strategy going into my first consultation (which, let’s be honest, may just be out the window if I’m nervous and not thinking about it) is going to be pretty simple. I want to make sure not to blow past the pre-textual stage, because I think my consultation style will be based a lot on casual relating--AND because I think starting with the “how are yous” will take the edge off my nervousness and get me started. I want to make sure and ask those open-ended questions at the beginning that will help me figure out where to try and focus the consultation, and make sure I’m setting an agenda with the student. Then I want to move into the meat of the discussion. At this point, it’ll be important for me to watch how much I’m talking in relation to how much the student is talking--I know I have a tendency to talk too much, or to only be formulating my response while someone else is talking instead of actively listening. Finally, I want to make sure I wrap up the consultation smoothly, by keeping an eye on the clock somewhat and writing helpful notes on the orange sheet to send with them. Throughout, I really want to focus on encouraging the writer, and taking an active interest in what they’re working on. 

Here goes!

A different kind of "reluctance"

Looking further into the consultation this week, I got lucky and observed a consultation that challenged some of the things we’ve read in the past. Specifically, the consultant needed to look at LOCs exclusively for an entire hour-long session with an international student. 

The consultant, Shaun, began the pretextual stage of the consultation with some specific choices: he asked the writer about her topic, about the class she was writing for, and about what she wanted to work on. The writer said all she wanted help with was the grammar. Shaun noted that they had an hour-long session, and that they could work on grammar at some point, but asked if he should read through the paper first. The writer pushed back on this pretty strongly, saying that she wanted Shaun to go through line-by-line and “fix” her grammar. Shaun reminded the student that an hour was actually not necessarily enough time to comb through an 8-page paper minutely, but that he would start reading aloud with her. 

Shaun started reading the piece out loud (on the computer), and I realized I recognized the entire beginning section from previous consultations I’d observed with her. I could tell already that she had received quite a bit of help with this paper. Because the beginning had already been worked on extensively, Shaun didn’t stop reading for quite a few pages, and glossed over the few minor grammar issues that presented themselves, instead stopping only to comment on the topic (“Wow, that’s interesting”) or organization (“So you’ll be talking about cultural differences in this piece?”) 

Right around page 3, the writer started pushing Shaun. She interrupted his reading and said something along the lines of, “When you see problems can you edit them?” Shaun asked her to clarify her question, and she repeated with an emphasis on Shaun editing her paper as he saw grammar issues. Shaun, carefully, with lowered voice and kind body language, said, “You know I won’t do that for you. We can read through it together and I can help you edit, but I won’t edit your paper for you.” The writer got exasperated with Shaun for saying this, and denied that’s what she was asking for. 

Shaun helped her rearrange sentences for the entirety of the rest of the hour. I watched him try to suggest grammar corrects as questions, like, “Does that sound right to you?” or “Is that the same sentence structure we used earlier?” but the writer wouldn’t respond to this, and would instead say, “What do I say?” I think the only tactic Shaun was able to use to help her language acquisition at this point was name each grammar concept as he helped her edit it into her paper, i.e. “When you say ‘United States,’ that’s a proper noun, which means it’s a name, so it needs to be capitalized and have an article, ‘the’ in front of it.” 

It was eye-opening for me to see that some consultations will go this way. Even though Shaun would demonstrate and model the grammatical patterns of error that the writer was making over and over again, the writer never took the initiative or changed something on her own, instead asking every time, “Like this?” or “What do I say?” I think in this instance, it was helpful for me to watch Shaun model good grammar for her, to work on her language acquisition, but I realized the other part of that puzzle was missing--the writer wasn’t taking any initiative to make this process helpful to her, hence the multiple visits with this piece of writing. 

This seems like a kind of “reluctant writer” like we read about this week to me. But it’s a different kind of reluctant writer, now one that I’ve observed twice--the writer reluctant or unable to do their own work on this particular project. I’m not sure how to engage and empower these writers yet, but it’s been helpful for me to see two very different tutoring styles applied to this difficult situation. 

Email Consultations and Word Choice

This week I observed my first email consultation. I feel that the emphasis on increased awareness of terminology and word choice was even more  apparent in email consultations than face-to-face consultations. Tone, word choice, and terminology were things that Sierra paid a lot of attention to in her email consultation.

First, I noticed that she wrote the entire response as a conversation. She said things she would have said in a face-to-face consultation, but she said them in very specific ways. She referee to herself as "the reader" throughout, saying things like, "As a reader  I wanted to see more detail in this paper." This terminology reinforced the equal power structure between the consultant and the writer, in a way that could have been reinforced in more subtle ways and through body language in a face-to-face consultation. She also talked about things in terms of "this confused me" or "I wondered about this..." Rather than saying, "You were unclear."

One of the most interesting terms Sierra was very specific about was talking about the paper when she was making negative comments, and talking about the writer when she was making positive comments. In other words, she would say something like, "This paper needs smoother transitions," and, "You did a great job introducing your topic." I think this fits the values of the Writing Center in empowering writers to be better writers in the future--focusing on their strengths, and realizing a draft does not define them as a writer. She went a step further with this, as well, but stating suggestions in positive rather than negative statements: rather than saying, "Don't include so much detail in your introduction," she said, "Trying putting the important details in your body paragraphs."

Sierra also formed most of her statements as questions, realizing that she couldn't necessarily have a dialogue with the student in an email consultation. This was her way of helping the writer think through what she wanted to say in her essay, something that is important in any consultation.

Finally, I was struck by how careful Sierra was with her word choice. She mentioned how great it is to be able to think through every word you say to writers because of the asynchronous communication, and how it's important to be as unambiguous as possible since body language isn't there to back up your message.

I got a lot out of Fulwiler's piece this week, too. It reinforced the fact that consulting really will help me become better writer. I read that entire piece with my own current draft in mind, and got excited about the fact that I'll be able to relate to writers when they're struggling through the revision process. It helped me think through what we read the first week in North's piece: that rewriting is at the heart of the writing center's work and philosophy. Rewriting is crucial in my own writing process, so seeing a more theoretical approach with some practical suggestions was helpful.

Observations

This was my first week getting a peek into the consultation process. I’m amazed already at the variety of students and assignments and circumstances that come through the WC door. 

The first consultation I observed was with an international student who came in specifically to talk to Sierra. Sierra mentioned to me beforehand that this particular student tended to monopolize her time, and that she would encourage the student to meet with other consultants as well as her. As the consultation started, it was clear that the student didn’t have an agenda for the consultation--she opened a binder full of assignments, and I could tell she would take as much time as Sierra gave her. By asking questions about what the student was working on, Sierra was able to coax out a more specific plan and narrow down to working on one assignment. 

Early on the consultation, I could tell that the student wanted Sierra to give her sentences and ways to write her assignment. For instance, the student said, “What should I say?” several times, and Sierra responded with, “How would you say it? Talk to me about it.” There were a few instances where Sierra had difficulty in walking this line, though. In our debrief, Sierra talked about how difficult it can be to help the student brainstorm and build ideas without putting words into their assignments. 

It was helpful for me to see how Sierra handled the grammar mistakes in this student’s paper, as well. She addressed pattern issues, saying, “Let’s review to make sure you stay in the same tense throughout.” 

The second consultation I observed presented completely different challenges. The student expressed from the beginning that she didn’t feel confident in writing an essay for her class, so she wanted a “structure” to build her essay on. Jenny started by asking about the assignment and reviewing the requirements with the student. The assignment asked the student to reflect on a chapter from a book, and discussing the implications of some of the attitudes outlined in the article. Jenny started asking questions about the article, clearly trying to help the student brainstorm about where she was going with her reflection, and what she wanted to say. This approach, surprisingly, wasn’t going very well from the get-go. The student would respond with shrugged shoulders, or a one-word response--not very brainstorm-y. After a few minutes, I noticed the student’s attitude and body language starting to change--in a negative way. Her facial expressions gave off annoyance, and she folded her arms. 

It became pretty clear that the student had not read the chapter she was supposed to reflect on, and because of this the draft she brought in was hopelessly off-topic and didn’t address the requirements of the assignment. As Jenny continued to ask the student questions, I think she became annoyed and frustrated, since Jenny was bringing to light the fact that she had completely missed the mark in the writing she had done--since she hadn’t done the assigned reading. She, like Sierra’s writer, asked questions like, “How would you say that?” Jenny responded, “I like how you just told it to me--write that.”

In my debrief with Jenny, we talked about what could have been done differently. Jenny mentioned that she felt she had given the student too many ideas about what to write about, since the student kept not responding to questions. Jenny also mentioned that, if she had realized sooner that the student didn’t have a good understanding of the topic, she might have suggested ways for the student to “revisit” (actually, read for the first time) her chapter and take notes, keeping the assignment requirements in mind. 

Overall, this session helped me realize that there will be some circumstances where students are looking for a formula to “get an A,” when they haven’t necessarily put in the work they need to yet. I think Jenny’s approach was good, and I think what we talked about in the debrief would have made the session better. 

The How and Why

This week’s readings and time in the Center have given me some further perspective on our work. I know that this model of writing center works--I've experienced it as a student. This week has helped me realize more about how and why it works. As a bonus, my time in the Center has me excited; between coffee cups, smart conversations, and some laughs, I always leave thinking, “This is a place I’d like to hang out more.” 

Of our readings, I think the ones that hit me the most were McCall’s piece, Bruffee’s piece, and our Kolln chapters. McCall’s piece added some context for me, and actually helped me build more on the ideas that last week’s readings generated for me. Using the terminology of consultant rather than tutor removes so much of the connotations and loaded language, just like calling our space a center rather than a lab removes connotations. I liked how McCall pointed out that tutors are for people perceived as failures, while consultants are for people seeking further success. 

In our class discussions, I’ve also noticed that Melissa, Clyde, and the WC veterans often refer to students not as “clients,” (the other end of the consultant language), but as “writers.” (I’m not sure yet whether this is on purpose or just a habit). I love that. It seems so empowering, especially since the term “writer” is something I’ve sometimes not even had the confidence to give myself. Telling people that they are writers is telling them they’ve already arrived, and we’re just there to help them work through their own unique ideas. 

Bruffee’s piece helped me contextualize my own writing a little bit. I’ve always loved E.M. Forster's quote, “How can I tell what I think until I see what I say?” I’ve found this true in my own life, especially since I tend to be an external processor. Turns out, from Bruffee’s piece, that I’m not alone in external and social processing of thoughts. This line hit me particularly as true: “If thought is internalized public and social talk, then writing is internalized talk made public and social again. If thought is internalized conversation, then writing is internalized conversation re-externalized” (210). I’ve experienced and therefore know that talking about writing works, and is immeasurably helpful in the writing process. Now, after reading Bruffee’s piece, I have some theoretical evidence to back that thought up, and some more concrete ideas of why and how it works. 

Kolln’s book has been excellent so far. In my Linguistics 305 class, I learned and appreciated that fact that linguists looked at grammar as descriptive rather than prescriptive. However, I had never seen that sentiment brought into the world of English or standardized grammar until reading Kolln’s introduction. The entire introduction to the book reinforces that idea that grammar works because it is shared, and therefore usage creates meaning. This is interestingly parallel to a lot of our readings--meaning is constructed socially, and our language with which we convey meaning is also constructed socially. I makes me geek out a little… I mean, that’s awesomely exciting. 

Finally, Melissa said to reflect a little on the class structure this week in our journals. At first, I had hoped we’d walk into class and get some step-by-step instructions of what a consultation looked like, a do and don’t list, or a detailed handbook. I was nervous about my first week in the Writing Center because of the fact that it didn’t look like that was coming up on the syllabus. When I realized that we were spending our first weeks observing and acclimating, though, I felt more confident. I still didn’t realize how helpful the readings would be for shaping that knowledge of what successful writing center work looks like. This week has driven that home for me--these readings are going to be a great ground work to lay the foundation of the practical, day-to-day knowledge that I’ll gain from observing and eventually consulting. I’m glad that we didn’t get bogged down with the minutia of running the Writing Center and paperwork and policies before delving into the philosophies, theories, and ideas behind writing center work. 

Learning Some Burkean Parlor Manners

This week’s readings have served as a philosophical starting point for me. Stephen North’s impassioned “Idea of a Writing Center” excited me, Andrea Lunsford’s “Collaboration, Control, and the Idea of a Writing Center” gave me some practical insight, and North’s “Revisiting” article pulled me back into the realm of reality. However, I think Lunsford’s piece is the one that has stuck with me throughout the week the most.

These first smatterings of week 1 readings have all somehow synthesized in my mind. I’ve decided that this semester can’t help but be one of self-discovery--who I am as a writer, who I am as a student, and who I am as an academic. Our 303 readings are helping me begin to build a framework around that last piece--who am I as a writing center consultant? Who will I be as (hopefully) a university professor in the future? Who will I be as a researcher, a writer, an idea-generating, journal-paper-producing “academic?”

Reflecting on Lunsford’s piece, I found myself resonating with ideas that she voiced--things I had felt but never consciously thought. The “epistemological shift” she discusses helped me identify the difference between teaching and tutoring styles (71). Every semester I experience the frustration that is a Current Traditionalist classroom--feeling disenfranchised, and feeling like I’m trying to learn in a vacuum with no interaction. Yeats (I believe) said, “Education is not the filling of a bucket, but the lighting of a fire.” Mentors and teachers in my life have lit a fire in me to learn and experience, so when a professor starts backing up a dump truck full of “knowledge” toward poor little student-receptacle me, I’m angry. Why can’t I question? Why can’t I conjecture? Why can’t I work this out with my fellow students? Who says you’re right? Why does my hand hurt from taking notes? Who says the reading is right? Why?

If I don’t want to be a glorified knowledge receptacle, I’m guessing writing center clients feel the same way (or perhaps would if they experience a genuine learning community). Lunsford’s metaphor of writing centers as Burkean Parlors has me beginning to see how collaboration is the answer to the question, “If not current traditionalism or expressivism, then what?” I’ve always gravitated to the idea of the Burkean Parlor--the unending conversation that we’re always trying to join in meaningful ways. Every student who will walk through the writing center’s door is in a conversation already--in fact, they’re entrenched in several rhetorical contexts. They have the rhetorical context of their classroom and assignment requirements, which serve as the constraints they’re working within. They are almost certainly writing on a topic that involves a field of research or study, and are thus seeking to join a larger conversation outside the classroom walls. Finally, they’re involved in that internal conversation of the writing process--the brainstorms, the mind-maps, the outlines, the free writes, the thinking they have done about their paper. 

All of that being said, the challenge of the consultant is to join this conversation in a constructive and meaningful way. How will I collaborate with a student, and how will I join in on this multi-faceted conversation? I think this week’s reading helped me understand that the key difference between dump-truck “teaching” and fire-lighting is listening. Listening breaks down those barriers of power that separate learner from teacher, and invites a dialogue that constructs knowledge socially. Far from being the Storehouse model with empowered holders of knowledge presiding over powerless student buckets, the Burkean Parlor creates a space of discovery for all involved. My lofty far-away dream is that some student somewhere would leave a meeting with me with a fire lit in them, empowered in their writing and with new knowledge that we discovered together. I know for a fact that a session like that in the writing center would leave me inspired--and, to revisit good ol’ Professor Keating, ready to carpe diem.