Although the majority of my education was based upon current-traditional writing strategies, my experiences as a student, tutee and observer in the Writing Center have convinced me that strategies based on expressivist writing theory are more effective. I learned writing theory this semester. I want to pass on a set of values to writers, guidelines that they can keep for future reference. Expressivist strategies mirror how people think, in part because expressivist theory values content over mechanics. I learned the craft of writing in workshops that emphasized critical thinking. Expressivist strategies are closely linked to critical thinking skills and focus on the importance of revision. I want my clients to leave with the memory of a positive encounter and a paper covered in written reminders of what they can do to refine their claims during the revision process. Expressivist critical processes are designed to enhance confidence and boost self-esteem. I want my clients to know that they do have something to write that is worth reading.
Expressivist strategies mirror how people think, in part because expressivist theory values content over mechanics. When John Q. Public is exposed to a new set of ideas, he tends to pay attention to the details of interest to him. Next, he forms an opinion based on his new knowledge. Then, as he writes about his opinion or shares it with his friends, his opinion develops into a set of claims. The more he talks about or writes about these claims, the more structured they become, as he adds new evidence to support his claims and defends them against the objections of his audience. Given enough rewrites and/or debates, his final claim may bear little resemblance to his early opinion. This natural progression is mirrored in expressivist strategies like brainstorming, freewriting, and mind maps. If John is forced to structure a paper around the original opinion, to use an outline, gather quotes from source material and compose a rough draft to support this opinion, he will be miserable. By the time he has finished reading the source material, his opinion would have changed. Current-traditional writing strategies force the writer to follow a specific course from start to finish, in order for the powers that be to ensure that the student knows how to form opinions based on research and cite sources correctly. Unfortunately, John may know how to use MLA format, but he is now resistant to the idea of writing research papers, though he may not understand why.
Most of what I learned in public school falls under the current-traditional writing theory. My first three years of school, I was given workbooks for each subject. The teacher would give a lesson, and then assign a workbook page or pages as practice. If a student finished early, he or she was encouraged to work ahead. I finished my first grade workbooks halfway through the school year and was passed to the second grade after winter break. My teachers focused on five part assignments: (1) Ask a question, (2) Answer the question, (3) Cite five sources (three supporting and two opposing the answer), (4) Write a rough draft, and (5) Edit the rough draft before turning in a technically perfect final draft. When asked why we must follow this procedure without deviation, we were told that this was what would be expected of us in college. I learned how to categorize parts of speech, memorized rules of spelling and grammar, and practiced identifying mechanical errors. Content was a separate grade, with little or no guidelines as to what the teacher expected.
Expressivist theory values content over mechanics. I want to pass on a set of values to writers, guidelines that they can keep for future reference. As a young fiction writer, I was quite frustrated. Once I learned how to form letters, I wrote at least four stories a week. I gave each one to my teacher, who would smile at me and tell me it was good. Four stories a week for two and a half years and not one single piece of constructive criticism. In third grade, I won a national writing contest under the category of best description in short fiction. From then until my first creative writing class, my fiction was mostly description, as I sharpened my skills in this one area. When I would tell a story aloud, I still focused on my characters and what changed them, but my writing suffered. I am still learning how to write dialogue and action sequences because the two bits of feedback I received were: my stories were good, and the descriptions were what made my stories better than others.
I had a knack for knowing what made a good story. I could hear someone else tell a story that flopped and figure out how to make it better. I could read someone else’s fiction and render first aid. People who took classes with me asked for my help and I gave it. I looked at the writing, told them what I liked (because that’s what I wanted people to tell me), and identified what seemed off, and told them what they could do to fix it. It never occurred to me to teach them how to identify future errors and correct them; I wasn’t completely sure how I was doing it. It is ironic that I made use of Peter Elbow’s theories before I ever read them, let alone understood their basis. I wish I had read Peter Elbow’s Writing Without Teachers in high school. The idea that “a goal for any writer is to control his or her own process and to develop flexibility for approaching any writing task” (Gillespie and Lerner, 13) did not come to me in a flash of insight. The students I worked with asked me how I wrote term papers and I showed them my system, which only worked for me. Most of what I did was intuitive. I was like a singer with perfect pitch, a love of music, and no formal training.
I picked up skill sets from reading every day, writing techniques from my favorite writers, and critical thinking skills from arguing with amateur historians who were too stubborn to let a debate die. I could write journalistic academic papers, write short fiction that read like a travelogue of imaginary places, tell stories like a back-country folklorist, and detect sour notes in other people’s work. I never merged those skills until I took my first writing workshop course. Finally, I learned how to take a piece of writing apart and understand how it was crafted.
Tutors who make use of expressivist theory can help the writer “to focus on the higher-order concerns and put aside editing/proofreading until the very end; and at that very end so that you can help the writer become a more detailed reader of his or her own work” (Gillespie and Lerner, 7). I didn’t learn writing theory until this semester. I was happy learning craftsmanship, something which produced tangible results and honed specific skills. Looking back, I now know that finding the theme in a work of fiction is synonymous to finding the thesis of a term paper and balancing character, plot, setting, and exposition is akin to balancing claims, reasons, evidence, and opinions in a term paper. Discovering variations in writing theory and strategies proved frustrating to me. Why must it be so difficult? Why not find a method or combination of methods and practice them? After all, the point is to teach people how to communicate their thoughts in writing; if current-traditional strategies were unsuccessful, why continue to use them? I needed a teacher’s perspective.
My mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and two cousins are in the teaching profession. The younger generation gave me essentially the same answer I learned in class. They were required to “teach the tests” if they wanted to keep their jobs. A school’s accreditation rests on those test results; the priority has shifted from teaching the skill to meeting the standard. They have so much they must teach by a certain point; they can’t afford to try anything that deviates from the curriculum guide. My mother-in-law taught current-traditional strategies to second graders for four years. Then, she taught special education grade school classes and used expressivist strategies. They worked. She still uses them with the children who come to her in her role as educational consultant. When I asked her for advice about writing consultation, she said that what worked for her clients was: freewriting the topic, followed by mind mapping based on the freewrite, then research, outline and rough draft. She showed me examples as she told me and this combination made a lot of sense. I learned the craft of writing in workshops that emphasized critical thinking. Expressivist strategies, like those demonstrated by my mother-in-law, are closely linked to critical thinking skills. I have learned to adjust my priorities when examining other people’s writing, starting with the central idea and working through the organization before looking at style and grammar.
Expressivist strategies are closely linked to critical thinking skills and focus on the importance of revision. I want my clients to leave with the memory of a positive encounter and a paper covered in written reminders of what they can do to refine their claims during the revision process. I was a writing center client before and during this semester. On my first visit, I was a very nervous recent transfer student trying to find out if the paper I wrote was the paper my professor assigned. Something about the way he worded his assignments confused me, and his verbal answers were not much clearer to me. I expressed my anxiety and showed the assignment and my rough draft to the consultant. He was patient and reassuring throughout my nervous speech. He looked through it and told me it looked good to him. My professor found my thesis unclear throughout my eleven page paper. I took the assignment and the paper to a friend, who told me point by point which parts of the paper were disorganized. Looking back, I can understand that the consultant saw a neatly typed, well-worded paper, based on the first two and last two pages. The underlying problem was that the consultant and I had not developed a rapport (Gillespie and Lerner, chapter seven, 91-97), so he missed what my friend (who had the rapport, if not the technical skill) did not.
This semester, my consultants read the papers I showed them. Each of the consultants I visited greeted me, made eye contact, and gave the impression that helping me was important to them. My first consultant, “C”, seemed a lot more relaxed and experienced, but there are many factors I did not know about. She was a teaching assistant for the professor who would grade the paper I brought in for revision. We were approaching the consultation from similar subject positions, as we shared many common goals and perspectives on the topics we reviewed. She and I moved through our time quickly, going from thesis to outline to style in minutes. She gave me a solid piece of advice to carry with me: don’t forget to loop back to the thesis at least every other paragraph.
My second consultant, “M”, was a bit more nervous; I could almost see her reviewing a mental checklist to see if she was leaving anything out. I admire her insight; her first question after names were exchanged was if I was sent by Ms. Strong. Still, we worked just as fast and as well together. Their style difference showed in how each of them pointed out errors in my rough draft. “M” was hands-on, marking the paper with a fine blue line as she spoke to me. She showed me alternatives and we brainstormed, looking closely at specific areas of the text. I felt good about both of my consultations and left each time feeling as though I had accomplished something with my time. My consultants knew how to put writing theory into practice.
Expressivist critical processes are designed to enhance confidence and boost self-esteem. I want my clients to know that they do have something to write that is worth reading. When it was time to practice writing consultation, I learned another lesson. Observation and rehearsal is necessary in order to learn how to put theory into practice and it does wonders for one’s confidence. Unfortunately, we are all on the same page, speaking the same language, and it means that the practice is not representative of what we will encounter in the Writing Center as consultants. Practicing peer tutoring with people who were working from the same notes was easy. As much as I enjoyed our exercises in class, I know that the client who walks into the Writing Center with a term paper due in three days may not have a clue why I am harping on the central theme. I worry that I will not be able to reassure them as well as I have reassured people who shared my subject position. It is just as important to establish rapport with clients as it is to make sure they leave with sure knowledge of their next steps. Otherwise, they may leave grounded in style and mechanics, with no other values or guidelines to help them in future writing endeavors.
Although the majority of my education was based upon current-traditional writing strategies, my experiences as a student, tutee and observer in the Writing Center have convinced me that strategies based on expressivist writing theory are more effective. I want my clients to know that they do have something to write that is worth reading. Expressivist critical processes are designed to enhance confidence and boost self-esteem. I want my clients to leave with the memory of a positive encounter and a paper covered in written reminders of what they can do to refine their claims during the revision process. Expressivist strategies focus on the importance of revision. If I remember my priorities and concentrate on the central theme and work my way out, then my consultations will be successes for me and my clients I learned the craft of writing in workshops that emphasized critical thinking Expressivist strategies are closely linked to critical thinking skills. In grade school, I learned mechanics. My techniques in fiction were largely self-taught. Expressivist strategies mirror how people think, in part because expressivist theory values content over mechanics I learned writing theory and the underlying values this semester. I want to pass on a set of values to writers, guidelines that they can keep for future reference Putting together what I have learned through formal and informal education, personal experience, and professional observation has changed my perspective regarding writing consultation. The overall experience has changed my perspective, but I still believe that working in the Writing Center will be a series of surprises. The more I learn, the more I realize I have yet to learn.
Work Cited
Gillespie, Paula and Lerner, Neal. The Allyn and Bacon Guide to Peer Tutoring, Second Edition. Pearson Education, Inc., New York, 2004.
