[Teaching_Composition] Critical vs Radical

[Doug Downs]

Kathy writes,
"Doug mentioned religious fundamentalists, and
bill mentioned radical right wingers, so I'll take those as examples.
Is
there some reason a student who is a religious fundamentalist or a
radical
right winger (already loaded and reductive terms in ways I find really
troubling) can't learn to become a better writer without his or her
views
and beliefs being (critically or radically) called directly into
question?"

I'll speak to this, but first, I don't think my post actually used the
term "religious fundamentalist" in any general or reductive way.  In
response to Charles's request for specific examples of how teaching
writing can involve ideology and politics, I pointed out an actual
conflict between rhetorical understandings of texts -- as  contingent,
motivated, situated, always requiring interpretation -- and some
political and ideological stances which would disagree with these
understandings.  My concrete example, was versions of some faiths, often
fundamentalist (that's where I brought up the term), which depend on
literal readings of sacred texts such as the Bible, and to national
political movements that are quite publically based on those faiths and
the assertion that the Bible is literally true.  There's no
overgeneralization there.

Still, because of the tone in which I made that argument, I think my
post created the impression for Kathy and some others that the main
point of my writing classes is to level critical theoretical attacks on
students value systems.  The post wasn't meant to, and did not, describe
my teaching methods or philosophy; it simply gave concrete examples of
how principles of writing can in fact involve ideology which can counter
students' existing ideologies.  

I mentioned religious fundamentalism only because I'm super-aware that
when I tell students "you need to read for the claims in the text
because facts are simply claims a particular community agrees are true,"
an alert student with that background *will* face a conflict that, as so
many of the rest of us have to, they will need to work on sorting out. 
Because my post was to colleagues to whom I assume this is not news (not
that we all agree; simply that I assume people who have done some
graduate studies in the humanities will have heard this line of
reasoning before), I said it *far* differently, more directly, more
bluntly, quickly, and assertively than I would *dream* of doing with
students.

With students, (I would assert), you always want to start with where
they are and with their concrete questions about how to write what
you're asking them to write.  (And in this discussion I've talked about
researched writing typical of a Comp II course.)  Why are we even
talking about whether texts are facts or claims to begin with?  Because
we all regularly face the challenge of multiple texts that appear
factual and appear contradictory.  Research shows that, faced with that
situation, freshman readers tend to believe whichever text accords with
what they already believe, while the other texts tend to be ignored.  If
we want to help student improve their researched writing, this is a
challenge we need to show them better ways of handling.  I advocate
showing students how we as more experienced researchers actually handle
the same challenges and writer's problems they face -- in this case,
understanding texts rhetorically.

We don't need to use the word "theory," ever, to accomplish this, and
in my comp courses I never do.  Literally, never.  I hate the term
"theory" because of exactly the reaction I think it has provoked here:
if I'm busy teaching "theory," when do I ever teach "writing," or isn't
it possible to teach "writing" without "theory"?  Theory isn't the
point.  Figuring out how to handle concrete, particular writers'
problems is the point.  Theories at this level are simply explanations
that help us tackle concrete problems, and the problem should always
precede the explanation.

Furthermore, for students, I don't offer these explanations as
assertions; I introduce them, explicitly and always, as *claims* that I
want students to test, to ask whether in their experience these claims
make sense or not.  In my statement of teaching philosophy, a central
theme is persuasion: that teaching should be an act of helping students
*believe* the things we want them to learn based on claims and reasons
and experiential testing on students' part.  I tell them, "Here are
concrete experiences that make me think texts are claims rather than
facts.  How does that idea relate to how you encounter texts?" 

I hope, then, that this explanation corrects the impression my other
post seem to have conveyed to some that my writing courses are mostly
about changing my students' core values.  In contrast, I was saying that
the things students need to learn about academic researched writing can
predictably conflict with those core values, and as teachers we need to
foresee such conflict.  

That said, we have Kathy's question on the table of whether students
can't become better writers without having their beliefs called into
question.

This strikes me as the same category of question as "can people become
better humans without going to church?"  Well, yes, undoubtedly; the
question is so unspecific as to confound any other answer.  As there are
all kinds of ways people can become better humans, there are all kinds
of ways students can become better writers.  They can become better
writers by nothing more than living another year while doing more
writing, but that's not the point of writing courses.

Let's take the common student belief that there is such a thing as a
"good writer" independent of what they're writing.  We talk a lot about
that assumption in my writing courses, trying to add some specificity
about what a "good" or "bad" writer is, and trying to account for the
reality that sometimes a writer will produce good writing and sometimes
bad writing.  (Which also necessitates discussion about what makes
writing "good" or "bad," which usually raises all kinds of conflicting
beliefs.)  I show them how the writing course they're in should help
them produce better researched writing for college courses, but that it
won't so directly help them produce better resumes; but that, most of
all, it aims to give them a better understanding of the activity of
writing.

Can they become better writers without that discussion and changing
that belief?  Of course.  (They could become better writers simply by
spending more time on their writing.)  But research by Palmquist and
Young and Charney suggests that notions of giftedness in writing -- that
good writers have to be gifted, that good writing can't be taught, that
if you're not a gifted writer you're screwed -- can really hold students
back as writers, and that research I think accords with what so many of
us hear from students, that one thing they really want to develop in
writing courses is *confidence* in their writing and writing abilities. 
One way I can help students gain that confidence is by helping them
learn, if they don't already know, the difference between good writers
and good writing.  If they believe otherwise, then whether or not there
are other ways to improve their writing (I would not say, necessarily,
making them better writers), it seems worthwhile to change their
belief.

That is to say, I think the question comes from the wrong direction. 
Rather than asking if we have to change beliefs to improve writing,
here's a different question: do people who think rhetorically read and
write better?  Numerous studies say yes, as I think most of our
experience as writers would also attest.  So: is it important for
students who need to learn how to do researched writing at the college
level to believe rhetorical principles of reading and writing?  Numerous
studies say yes -- that is, they say rhetorical thinkers do better on
college writing tasks, particularly those related to researched writing.
 (Jennie Nelson, Margaret Kantz, Chris Haas and Linda Flower, Wendy
Bishop are some easy names to start with, if anyone's wondering.)  So:
what are we to do when rhetorical thinking demonstrably and blatantly
conflicts with students' existing values and beliefs?  

This is why I think worrying about whether or not we should challenge
beliefs goes in the wrong direction; we should think about what students
need to learn, and if that *will* be a challenge (and, foreseeably, it
will), what is the best way to handle that challenge?  If what we
profess is true, students will be able to find concrete evidence for it
in their own experiences -- that's a pretty good starting point.

Cheers -
Doug




Dr. Doug Downs
Asst. Professor, Composition & Rhetoric
Writing Program Coordinator
Dept. of English and Literature
Utah Valley State College
800 W University Pkwy, Orem UT 84058
LA 114w
801-863-8572

>>> "Kathy Fitch" <kfitch@kafkaz.net> 10/3/2006 9:24 AM >>>
So, what's the difference?  I'll pipe down after this and go work on
cleaning up the flooded basement some more (and think about what's to
be
done with the battered tire our flooded creek deposited in the back
yard),
but I'm really curious.  Bill's vision of critical pedagogy sounds
entirely
benign-what we all shoot for-but if it's not really about promoting
the
development of critical skill but about subverting the dominant
paradigm
(how ever the teacher of the moment might define that), when does it
cross
the line into a radical pedagogy?  How do we distinguish between
teaching
toward questioning and examining, and teaching toward unraveling? 
Learning
to write well will often result in a shifting of world views, often in
major
ways, as will higher education as a whole.  But when and where, if ever
or
anyplace, is shifting world views toward a specific direction a
legitimate
teaching goal?  I really wonder how folks here would distinguish a
critical
pedagogy from a radical one.  Doug mentioned religious fundamentalists,
and
bill mentioned radical right wingers, so I'll take those as examples.
Is
there some reason a student who is a religious fundamentalist or a
radical
right winger (already loaded and reductive terms in ways I find really
troubling) can't learn to become a better writer without his or her
views
and beliefs being (critically or radically) called directly into
question?

 


Kathy