Monday, March 28, 2016

Rhetoric and Composition: Tying the Greeks to the present.

Maybe this is worthy of #dorkalert, but I am so excited to read Chapter 3 of Janie Lauer Invention in Rhetoric and Composition because I see it's bringing us back to the Greeks (and following that, the Romans, the medieval period, the Renaissance and, finally, my beloved eighteenth and nineteenth centuries-- which I might have to explore at a later date).

I was immediately struck by the dilemma given in the opening paragraph, that "in earlier periods rhetoricians held narrow views of who could hold the subject position of rhetor, i.e., who could engage in rhetoric and hence in invention" (11). This brought me back to a conversation from a few weeks ago in which we discussed the world of research academia, where a few key scholars seem to set the rules, and the rest are left to wonder about their place in the field. It is interesting to me that this was a question going all the way back to the Sophists.  Evidently, as is the case today, people argued the answer to this dilemma, as Aristotle, Ramus, Bacon, Blair, and Hope exemplify).

Lauer breaks into the three dominant Greek conceptions of invention, regarding composition. First up was the Sophists, who focused on the initiation of discourse as being of top importance. They called this initiation, "Kairos" (or, as Debrah so kindly expanded on via Hypothesis, the "opportune moment"). In conjunction with dissoi logoi, defined as a two fold argument in which one must equally consider both sides, I find this to be a compelling conception-- utilizing kairos, the opportune moment, as the catalyst for knowledge. However, it seems to be difficult to pin kairos down-- a key point offered by Lauer and backed up by other critics is the question of if "rhetor could control kairos or be overwhelmed by it" (15).

Lauer then considers sophistic epistemology, and she cites Kathleen Freeman's writing on Protagoras's theory of knowledge and explains that, "each individual's perceptions are immediately true for him at any given moment, and there is no means of deciding which of several options about the same thing is the true one; there is no such thing as 'truer' though there is such a thing as better" (qtd. in 15). Hmmm. I don't think I'm a fan of this approach. As Lauer goes on to explain, this totally disregards any kind of stable knowledge. Additionally, "objects do now exist except while someone is perceiving them" (qtd. in 15). Once again, hmm. Lauer cites Janet Atwell as defending this idea, "while his theory of knowledge is relativistic, it does not give way to skepticism or solipsism. Considering that solipsism is defined as "the view of theory that the self is all that can be known to exist" (and yes, I had to Google that), the fact that everything is based on each individual's perceptions, then I feel that this may imply that the self is the only thing that does truly exist. I think, to the contrary of Atwell, that this does certainly give way to skepticism and solipsism.

Moving on from the Sophists, Lauer next considers Plato's view of Invention. Plato seems to be more focused on the soul of the matter, in regard to discourse, and Lauer cites Martha Nussbaum as arguing that "to reach insight one needed personal love and passion, the ferment of the entire personality, even certain aspects of madness" (18).  Scholars differ in their approaches to Plato's view of the purpose of invention. Some argue that Plato "considered invention's goal to be locating support for judgments and truth found outside of rhetoric and then adapting these truths to various audiences" while others "have claimed that Plato viewed invention as a process of inquiry and reasoning" (18).  I'm not sure where I would side on this issue, and I think I would have to know more about Plato to make an educated decision on the matter. Regardless, it appears that, unlike the Sophists, Plato seems to dig more into the meaning of knowledge, not merely the point at which a new idea is instigated.

Finally, Lauer focuses on Aristotle's Rhetoric, in which he "delineated several acts of invention and constructed arts(strategies or principles)...for analyzing the discourse situation and categorizing its matter; arts for exploring using the 28 common topics...and the special topics...:and arts for framing its probably rhetorical epistemology facilitated by the enthymeme and the example" (19). Of the three groups examined thus far, Aristotle seems to have the most point-by-point breakdown of his analysis, however, there is still debate over the implications of what is has lain out.  I found John Gage's opinion to be intriguing, that "Aristotle's rhetoric was legitimate inquiry into probable knowledge...that for Aristotle knowledge was created through invention in the activity of discourse (21). However, Eugene Garver would argue that "Aristotle was not interested in creating specialized knowledge but in finding the available arguments" (21).

The questions of truth, purpose, and meaning were clearly hotly debated among the Greeks, and I think it is so interesting to be able to go back in time and see that the questions that are debated today were problematic back then too. I've said it before and I'll say it again, there is nothing new under the sun.

Moving on to something a little more recent (I think that's safe to say!), this reading was paired with Chapter 16 of Farris and Anson, "Theory, Practice, and the Bridge Between: The Methods Course and Reflective Rhetoric" by Kathleen Blake Yancey. I think that this pairing is going to be an important one, because all of the previous reading was theory. Theory is fantastic, but sometimes it seems like a far leap from what is actually instituted in the classroom, and I think Yancey's questions are important ones: "How have I taught? How do I understand my own teaching? What have my students learned?" (234). Stepping back from theory, I think it is crucial to realize that human beings are the test subjects in the field of knowledge, and Yancey immediately highlights this as being the case.

Yancey explores the important question of delivery and perceived intention, which certainly hearkens back to the writings of the Greeks. As one could see all throughout Lauer's article, scholars differed in their interpretations of the texts. This is an issue across the board, whether one is reading the ancient Greeks, or attempting to convey a mathematical concept to a group of 4th graders.

I particularly loved Yancey's point that a good teacher is forever a student. I've seen this to be true in my own life, as the best teachers that I have had have been openly willing to learn from those they are teaching. Conversely, the worst have been the one's who waltz into the classroom, completely disconnected, and pretending to have all the answers. Yancey seems like a teacher whom I would love to have!

I appreciated this article because I felt a very real connection to Yancey through her writing. In so any ways, academic articles can seem to fly over the heads of the intended audience, for the purpose of being on another level. However, throughout her article, Yancey continually brings the topic back to her research, her students, and her purpose mentioned within the first few pages, to weave together a theory that would be applicable to her own students who seek to teach, as well as any other aspiring teachers that may be out there. Her ending point about the importance of reflection is threaded throughout the entire article, and it is an important one. As a future teacher, I want to be approachable, and I want my students to know that I care. I do not want to passion to be crushed out of me by cynicism, and an inability to connect with those who I intend to educate. If that were to happen, what good would come to me, or to my students?

Sunday, March 20, 2016

To research or not to research? Farris and Anson Chs. 1 & 2

Chapter 1:
"Theory, Research, Practice, Work"
Christopher Ferry

Anything that starts with a Rent reference is off to a pretty great start in my book (and you can safely assume that I spent the rest of this reading humming "Santa Fe," but that's a great deal better than "#Selfie" so, you know, small blessings). I liked how Christopher Ferry began his paper by highlighting the importance of praxis, which is the phenomenon which includes both reflection and action in order to improve the overall learning experience between teachers and students. This idea of a learning environment in which both categories involved can benefit is something that is crucial and, sadly, is lacking in many classrooms. The presence or absence of collaboration can make a huge difference in the school experience. Once Ferry introduces this concept as a jumping off point, he raises more questions most notably, "What is the nature of our 'work' within institutions of higher learning" (11)?

As he further explores this question, he first mentions that what compositionists do is "create a theory of composition" (12), but counters then that theory without demonstration is not enough. He finds that the current theory at work is unbalanced because there seems to be a surplus of theory, and a lack of action. I think this is a valid point. In some of the theory we have read thus far, I've found that people raise excellent points, but the question has remained, does it work in practice? We can think and theorize all we'd like, but the true test is application.

I thought that Ferry's walk through history was an interesting way of telling the story of the division between theory and practice, particularly the part in which he notes that "universities become tangential to the everyday world, even to the extent of providing refuge from it; departments become nations with fiercely defended frontiers, and disciplinary discourse, 'self-enclosed and often self-confirming' becomes a professor's native language" (14). Isn't that the sad truth (in some cases, not all).

This is an interesting section for me because I want to be a professor, but I do not want to be disconnected. I want my students to be able to live in this world, and apply what I teach them, and use it to enhance their lives, not use it to separate themselves from the word around them. 

Further into the paper, I liked Ferry's reflection upon praxis, that "The educator who wold engage in praxis must die to her assumptions about reality and be reborn in communication with her students: 'Conversion to the people requires a profound rebirth. Those who undergo it must take on a new existence'" (17). Further, "Rather than forcing students into some preconceived theoretical model such teachers must work with and for students to understand the reality they share, then to construct a theory together that will  change that reality" (17). These are both excellent points, as well as encouraging ways in which to start in the direction of coming down off of the academic pedestal and facing reality. 

In conclusion, theory+research+practice+work= theoryresearchpracticework. All of these things must go in, and they all must work together in the result. To have classes that belong to all is so much better and more inclusive, and an all-around positive experience.

Chapter 2:
"Composing Composition Studies: Scholarly Publication and the Practice of Discipline"
Peter Vendenberg

"Rhetoric and composition around the end of the nineteenth century has been described as 'as academic desideratum...to be escaped as soon as practicable" (19). Hah!

This chapter seems to be an interesting juxtaposition from chapter one, as Vandenberg debunks the argument that "Quality teaching, as the argument goes, is dependent on research, and research presupposes its teaching: 'to achieve a balance in which the two activities actually complement each other is one of the most important contributions we can make'" (19). Vandenberg's case, on the contrary, is that this argument fails to take account of the "profoundly powerful institutional and disciplinary structures that lend teaching a research practical definitions as neatly hierarchized workplace activities" (20). This is quite a different stance from Ferry, and I'm interested to see what the opposing arguments are. 

Once again, I like how these writers have included historical framework to shape their respective arguments. This inclusion adds dimension because it's interesting to see how the past can be interpreted to explain the present. Further, it is interesting to see the transformation of what became valued in the classroom-- not necessarily the act of teaching or being a good teacher, but the concept that "Each faculty member should 'resolve that he will become a recognized scholar in his field and begin at once some piece of productive work'" (21). This raises an interesting question-- what is this "productive work?" And what are the implications of saying that being a teacher alone is not productive? Granted, this is a quote from Charles R. Van Hise in 1916, but this is a point from which our current system rose. It also rose from a Frankenstein-esque (thanks, Colin!) concept of students existing as "raw material" (22) to be shaped by the teachers, who have been given specifications by superiors. I'm not sure I like this analogy. 

And yet, the question remains, where does composition fall into this field? How does research work its way into this picture? Can they possibly be married together? If the administrators are the ones who research and publish, and they don't want the teachers below them rising, is this where the discussion ends? Additionally, I made this note in my reading-- is this true? I can't understand why teachers doing research wouldn't serve to better everyone. Why is this perceived as a threat?

It seems to me, that I would have to agree that the praxis concept that Christopher Ferry writes about is an excellent approach, that marries together research and teaching in order to get the best of both worlds. However, Vandenberg's article is enough to make one nervous. Is this really what it's like out there in the teaching world? Is the praxis concept merely an unreachable ideal? It would appear that the world of academia and administration is rough when it comes to rhetoric and composition, and Vandenberg certainly paints a bleak picture of the system that is currently in place.

 

Bonus:
Santa Fe from Rent 


Monday, March 14, 2016

Analysis of Neff, Pritchard, & Honeycutt-- Welcome to Grounded Theory!

Chapter 9 of Farris and Anson's Under Construction“Grounded Theory: A Critical Research Analogy” by Joyce Magnotto Neff
“The Process Approach to Writing instruction: Examining its Effectiveness” by Ruie J. Pritchard and Ronald L. Honeycutt

In her article, “Grounded Theory: A Critical Research Analogy,” Joyce Magnotto Neff introduces the reader to the methodology of grounded theory, and makes a case for it as being a crucial practice that should be adopted by those contributing to the field of composition research. Neff outlines her goals for the article as first of all, to focus on the need within the research community to publish “not only our research conclusions but also our justifications for the methodologies we select to reach those conclusions (124). Second of all, she seeks to start a “conversation about how we work as well as about what we find [which] can help us engage others in a dialogue about composition research” (124).

Grounded theory was developed by Barney Glaser and Anselm Strauss for “qualitative research and for the ‘discovery of theory from data’” (qtd. in Neff 125). This theory is referred to as “grounded” because it is crucial that the results of the research are “always traceable to the data that gave rise to them” (125). Grounded theory involves the use of coding procedures, which are defined as “numerous intellectual maneuvers for grouping data and for naming the relationships among the groups or categories thus derived” (128). There are three defined coding procedures: open coding, axial coding, and selective coding.

At first, I was not sure how I felt about the grounded theory methodology. It seemed highly demanding, and the acknowledged limitations were daunting. It isn’t very inspiring to know that “one project can require months and even years to complete…and intellectually manipulating [the data] is difficult even with software programs for assistance” (125). Neither is it inspiring to know that “those applying the methodology must learn to live without closure” (126). However, as I continued to read I found that Neff made a compelling case for it as a practice, especially in application to the student who claimed not to be good at writing (This case study will be further discussed in my presentation, but the case is found on pages 129-130 of Neff’s article). Once I saw a smaller scale application of theory, I was able to appreciate the possibility of larger scale effects.

I found that I agreed with the details of Neff’s two claims at the end of the article, which answer the question, “Why grounded theory?” It is indeed an inclusive, interpretive, dialogic and proactive process, and I can see how it would allow for collaboration across disciplines, which is a concern that has been raised in past class discussions regarding the opportunity (or lack thereof) for collaboration between academics, teachers, and students. If grounded theory does prove to “help compositionists work the borderlands between scholarship and teaching” (132), I think it is worth looking in to.

The most interesting thing that Neff expresses, in my opinion, is the use of grounded theory in treating composition research more like scientific method than anything close to the literary field. We have discussed this issue in class before and there are no two ways about it, the writers we have been reading are pulling the fields of writing and literature apart, and for good reason. This article alone was enough to show me that there can be a scientific, logical process to writing, and this process may be the way of the future.

The second article I chose was “The Process Approach to Writing instruction: Examining its Effectiveness” by Ruie J. Pritchard and Ronald L. Honeycutt. The purpose of this article is, as the title suggests, to examine the process approach to writing instruction, and it does so by tracing the process of teaching writing through the years. I found that this article was very complementary to the first article, because the research presented justified, in my opinion, a need and explicit purpose for grounded theory analysis. A reason for utilizing grounded theory and other methodologies is because sometimes writing instruction approaches will fail, and researchers and teachers alike seek to know why. Going back to Neff’s article and the case study I mentioned earlier, which exemplified the practical application of grounded theory, the student expresses, “’I can’t write’, ‘I’m not good at writing’ and ‘I hate writing’” (Neff 129). It’s likely that this student had been exposed to the writing process, and something, somewhere went wrong. Studying how she was introduced to the writing process can serve as data for the coding procedures of grounded theory.

In reviewing the research that they gathered, Pritchard and Honeycutt note that researchers have “surprisingly different views of what the process approach entails…Some see it as a loosely monitored series of steps, a ‘natural process’ in the context of authentic tasks, without explicit instruction in planning, revising, and other strategies…Others regard direct strategy instruction and guided practice integrated into the writing practice as crucial to the definition of the process approach” (279). Citing several different studies, Pritchard and Honeycutt found that “all of these studies show to varying degrees positive results on writing products by using the writing process” (280). However, they also mention a key criticism of some of the most important studies—the need for more reliable data. This is where grounded theory makes a powerful case for itself, and Honeycutt utilized it in his own work.

I found that this article offered an interesting comparison to what we have discussed in class regarding the necessity of process in writing instruction. Based on the research cited in this article, it appears that students do better when exposed to a set process, although I believe that the variable in this situation is how the students respond to the approach their teacher takes. In Honeycutt’s research, he examined both writing process strategies as well as strategies toward dealing with negative emotions that may arise during the writing process (such as “I hate writing”), and found that “overall quality of students’ texts improved when students (1) internalized specific strategies for prewriting, writing, and revising; (2) employed self-regulation strategies to monitor the development of a text; and (3) activated strategies for dealing with negative emotions that arise during the writing process” (281).

The most important points I gathered from this article are that the writing process is crucial, instruction is key, and how a teacher instructs is paramount. Further, results are fantastic, but reliability (feeling able to trust the data) is key. The old step-by-step approaches are out, in favor of a more recursive model, which is more understanding of both the process and the students. I believe the work that the National Writing Project is doing will serve both teachers and students well, and perhaps it will aid in getting to the core of complaints such as “I hate writing,” by “not only improving writing products but also developing positive dispositions, social behaviors, problem solving, and other skills that have value in and of themselves” (285).

























Discussion Questions

1. What do we think of this scientific/mathematical process toward writing? (e.g. treating writing as one might approach the scientific method)

2. What is the likelihood of practical application of grounded theory? Do the limitations outweigh the benefits? Does it succeed at being inclusive?



3. Having discussed the writing process, as well as the research put toward improving it, have the “art and soul of writing” been lost? Or is attention to the process freeing?