On the recommendation of a member of a listserv I subscribe
to, I recently read Ellen C. Carillo’s Securing
a Place for Reading in Composition.
Having spent my early teaching career at the high school level, and then
taking a twenty-three year hiatus in the private sector, I missed all the
development of composition pedagogy she describes, so it was an interesting
backgrounder.
Her descriptions of various kinds of “reading” teachers have
their students engage in were interesting, in part confirmation of my own
practice of using reading to supply models for student writing. Her prescription for “mindful” reading was on
point, but somewhat vague, much like that term is when used by New Age
quasi-Buddhists. I prefer the more
prosaic “attentive,” but I think we refer to the same type of engagement.
Interesting as all that was, Carillo assumes that all we
have to do to meet the challenge of students’ difficulties with reading is to figure
out the right process and all will be
well. She quotes Ann Bertoff to the
effect that the heart of reading is interpretation. This is puzzling to me. Bertoff might have a point if her readers are
literate and experienced. But my
students struggle with reading because their “prior knowledge” is not
sufficient to help them. They can’t
follow the syntax, don’t know the vocabulary or literary or historical
references, concepts from politics or sociology or psychology or physical
science. Hence, they are mystified by
similes (“I admire the natural, and I hate the miscalled improvements that
spread like impetigo into the hills.” Stegner), the significance of dates
(1946, the date of Orwell’s “Some Thoughts on a Common Toad”), and allusions (“But
within the company, he and others who felt that way were the Chicken Littles.”
McLean & Nocera).
Presumably, we give students names and examples
of rhetorical practices (á la Aristotle or Richard Lanham) before we ask them
to read “rhetorically,” but if we are asking them to respond to an essay’s
arguments without the knowledge the writer expects them to have, students can
only fall back on prejudice and vague concepts.
That ESOL students would have problems with
these things is not surprising, but the students who grew up here are no better
off. Our pedagogy deplores memorization,
but how do we help students make the connections we have already made if they
don’t remember the stories and concepts and, yes, names, places, and dates that
they encounter in the classroom? How
could they understand movies like Trumbo
and The Bridge of Spies, for example,
and the lessons we need to learn from them?
We spend a lot of time talking about context
in English classes, but our students often do not have sufficient knowledge to supply
it themselves. It is a curious
predicament to have put our students in through our emphasis on active
learning.
One of our difficulties as composition instructors is that
rhetoric, as Aristotle pointed out a long time ago, does not aim at itself,
though it certainly has conceptual and factual content. It is much like mathematics in that it is a
tool for doing things, informing and persuading and delighting others, to take
Cicero’s formula. We leave it to other
domains to supply the prior knowledge students bring to their rhetorical tasks.
Absent that prior knowledge, we resort to assigning students
self-referential personal essays. The
research paper is a way to have students build a knowledge base from which to
write, but in a Comp I class that would blur course distinctions for those of
us who also teach a research paper focused composition class as well (Comp II),
which has unpleasant practical and political consequences.
An approach I have adopted is to have students write a
quasi-research paper, for which I assemble readings about selected contemporary
topics, from Edward Snowden (soon to be Apple Computer) to racial profiling to drones
to community college retention. It’s a
platform for argument analysis and rebuttal, MLA documentation, and critical
reading all in one. Students are still
tempted to supply their own ill-informed arguments instead of adapting
arguments they encounter in their research.
They have apparently been trained to disdain reliance on “authorities,”
with the consequent lack of facts or conceptual coherence. But it at least gives them an opportunity to
develop some expertise on a particular issue and apply that to their analysis
and argument. That, of course, depends
on their having the requisite knowledge to understand the readings I assign.
I have alternatively had the class examine a single topic
together, typically citizenship.
Westheimer and Kahne have developed a model for describing three
approaches to citizenship that we use as a point of departure. We then read accounts that typify the
models. It’s a fun assignment in an
election year, and has wakened some students to greater civic engagement.
The knowledge issue is difficult for any college instructor
to crack. We do what we can. What we should never do, however, is discount
its importance in what we do, whether we are talking of writing or
reading. Students are better readers
and writers when they bring greater, not lesser, knowledge to bear on those
activities. Process is not a substitute.
References
Carillo, Ellen C.
Securing a Place for Reading in
Composition. Boulder: Colorado UP, 2015.
Lanham, Richard
A. Analyzing
Prose. 2nd Edition. New
York: Continuum, 2003.
McLean, Bethany,
Joe Nocera. All the Devils are Here: The
Hidden History of the Financial Crisis. New York: Penguin, 2010.
Orwell,
George. “Some Thoughts on the Common
Toad.” The Orwell Prize. http://theorwellprize.co.uk/george-orwell/by-orwell/essays-and-other-works/some-thoughts-on-the-common-toad/.
Web.
Stegner,
Wallace. All the Little Live Things.
New York: Viking, 1967.
Westheimer Joel, Joseph
Kahne. “Citizenship: Three Models.” American Educational Research Journal, Vol. 41, No. 2 (Summer,
2004), American Educational Research. JSTOR.
24 Feb 2011. Web.
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