The Music of Form

I really like Elbow’s analogy of writing and music, the two seem to have a lot more in common than one would assume.  Scholarship about comics often makes a similar comparison between the structure and layout of comics as being musical in nature, with a rhythm and melody that helps to unify seemingly dissociated elements.  It seems, however, that melody and rhythm would be rather difficult skills to teach composition students.  A piece of writing that is very easy and enjoyable to read has had a lot of effort and work put into it – and sometimes it seems that this kind of writing comes naturally for some and not so much for others.  How can we teach this to our students?  Perhaps using poetry in the composition classroom, or even using song lyrics and pieces of music as examples could help to illustrate the concept.

hooks

 Peter Elbow’s “The Music of Form: Rethinking Organization”

For me, Peter Elbow’s “The Music of Form: Rethinking Organization” enacted the type of dynamic “itch and scratch” that he proposes as the differences between a visual understanding of form and a temporal understanding. This long article kept me reading until the end because of Elbow’s voice and the narrative he tells. In many ways, I think Elbow makes a great point in noting that readers are stuck experiencing texts in time, which means some visual metaphors (such as “sign-posting” in essays or thesis statements providing a “map” for readers) DO seem to fall short, particularly in the type of article-length papers we write in graduate school.  Particularly challenging is his re-imagining of “cohesion” and  “coherence,” which we often think of as logical and linear (“do all my points make sense in the order in which they appear?”), but Elbow wants us to think of us part of a pull that draws your reader through your own thinking process (or a cleaned up version of it). He writes,

“Current notions of cohesion points to local links between individual sentences or sections. Links are good; they grease the skids, but they don’t pull. I’m interested in what we might call dynamic cohesion – where we’re pulled from element to element. Current notions point to global semantic webbing that make readers feel that all the parts of a text are about the same topic. That’s valuable (and not easy). But I’m interested in dynamic coherence where the parts of the essay don’t just sit together because they are semantically linked; rather, we feel them pulled together with a kind of magnetic or centripetal force. Dynamic cohesion and dynamic coherence create the music of form” (633).

His illustrations of music and the type of dissonance and consonance that pulls the listener into the experience of rhythm and melody in time are useful. They remind us of the oral nature of speech and what is lost when we attempt to visually ramify a text through bullet points, outlines, and the dreaded five-paragraph essay. The oral nature of language is highlighted when Elbow states that the most common way that “writers bind words and pull readers through a text” is through Narrative (634). Particularly helpful for me in my own writing is his point that narrative can be personal stories, yes, but it can also be a mode of narrating our own thinking that is similar (though in some cases less personal) than the exploratory essays we just completed.

 Bell hooks

Bell hooks’ argument for a critical pedagogy that creates a democratic classroom among an increasingly multicultural or diverse student body is, as she notes repeatedly, clearly influenced by Paulo Freire. Freire has cropped up in many of the theorists we have studied, which demonstrates how persuasive his negative description of the “banking system of education” and the class barriers that divided the bourgeoisie academy of those who have power from students who do not have power or a voice. From Freire, hooks develops what she calls a “transformative pedagogy rooted in a respect for multiculturalism” (40).  The term “multiculturalism,” which was thrown around anywhere and everywhere especially during the 1990s when hooks wrote this collection of essays, is not a label we tend to use in today’s discourse. For hooks, rather than being essentializing or divisive, the term “multiculturalism” appears to denote a certain kind of democratization that was rapidly happening within the university at the end of the twentieth century. In addition, hooks assumes that democratization of the classroom is a key goal for universities as a whole and a common good we should be working toward. She perhaps defends this goal in other portions of Teaching to Transgress since the chapters we have somewhat jump into the nuts and bolts of transformative pedagogy. Hooks writes, “Making the classroom a democratic setting where everyone feels a responsibility to contribute is a central goal of transformative pedagogy” (39).

Importantly for hooks, this responsibility to contribute does not imply that the classroom has to be established as the ultimate “safe zone.” Contribution can be contentious and messy.  Wanting to create a classroom of “openness and intellectual rigor,” hooks writes, “Rather than focusing on issues of safety, I think that a feeling of community creates a sense that there is shared commitment and a common good that binds us. What we all ideally share is the desire to learn – to receive actively knowledge that enhances our intellectual development and our capacity to live more fully in the world” (40). I believe her use of the word “ideally” here is very important, since we all might be able to imagine particularly difficult classmates or students who make us really question why that student is even at the university to begin with. We also get better sense of how hooks envisions this democratization practice which may be full of confrontation and disagreement in her chapter on “Confronting Class.” Hooks argues against the notion that a teacher’s primary concern should be to “maintain order” within the classroom, as this reinforces the bourgeois values that have been established in the university. From the perspective of the students, hooks argues that these same social pressures often silence “marginal” voices. 

The classroom is a very complex place.  There are many relationships, juxtapositions, and power structures at play, both between the teacher and students and between the students themselves.  This being said, and while I agree with many of the sentiments hooks expresses, her view of a community based classroom in which every member plays a productive role seems to lean towards the idealistic.  I understand the urge to use the classroom as a means of empowering the marginal and those who seemingly do not have a voice.  For many students, the college composition classroom will be one of the first places in which they find themselves able to express new and previously unspoken ideas, and of course we want to create an atmosphere in which this exchange can be made possible.  What must be kept in mind, however, are the practicalities of classroom time and dynamics. 

Are teacher’s to force students to speak who would rather remain silent?  I don’t believe I spoke much at all during my first two years as an undergraduate, yet I still managed to make much of my undergraduate career.  I have taught in a variety of classrooms – including classes with only international students, classes in a small Arkansas town, and courses here at a large university.  Each classroom has its own dynamics and adjustments must be made based upon diversity and student background.

Box Logic

     I really enjoyed reading Sirc’s piece.  The idea that the process of composition can be approached from something of a piecemeal assemblage of seemingly disjointed elements is rather appealing.  It suggests to students the interconnectedness of ideas and concepts, and perhaps reassures them that their writing does not necessarily have to follow the somewhat stagnant mode of construction that centers around a single overarching idea that forces all subsequent material to conform to it.  I believe it is the discovery of connections and links that truly sparks learning, and it seems that Sirc’s approach lends itself to such learning.

     Sirc’s ideas have cause me to rethink how I assign research to my students.  I have an idea that perhaps students could work in small groups on a smaller essay that they co-author.  Students would do their research individually so that they still gain the skills to utilize the library and internet resources, but once they have collected enough material they would meet to discuss their results.  Hopefully, when they bring these elements back to the group there will be discussion about how the arguments and styles of each source found by the students are interrelated.  Together they will compose a piece of writing that brings together all of the material they found individually.

Writing as a Mode of Learning

The notion that “writing is a process” seems to have become the motto of many composition instructors.  The question that this motto suggests is – a process for what?  A process for producing a research paper?  For writing online blog responses?  For composing a business resume?  Do we grade our students based on what they produce, or do we grade them based on their participation in the process?  Do the ends justify the means, or do the means justify the ends?  Emig’s article seems to suggest that we take a step back and view writing as a practice that we use not only to develop our composition and rhetoric skills, but as an undertaking which can help us to learn – period.

            I often tell my students that if I could make them read all through class and simply assign different readings as homework, they would ultimately learn infinitely more than what I teach them in class.  I honestly believe this to be true.  The act of reading seems to act somewhat subconsciously upon us, and we learn and develop almost without noticing.  What I believe Emig is suggesting in this piece is that writing functions in a similar manner.  Writing provides students with a mode or method of thinking that is alternative to internal thought or even peer to peer discussion.  I have found that brief writing exercises at the beginning of my classes allows students to get their thoughts up and running, and makes the ensuing discussion much more productive.

The Phenomenology of Error

As much as I try to avoid it, and as much as I hate myself for it, I am often “that guy” who automatically – and usually unintentionally – corrects someone’s grammar when they are speaking.  Usually it is stuff that just hits the ear wrong, like using “good” when “well” is the correct option.  This is rather ironic, because I do try to stress to my students that there is a difference between spoken and written language, and that many of the idiosyncrasies that we attempt to avoid when writing are acceptable when speaking.  I also attempt to explain that grammar is a constantly shifting entity and that good grammar alone does not make for good writing.

I really enjoyed how Williams framed his article as a meta-text in which a variety of grammar “errors” were purposefully inserted.  It seems to be the perfect exercise for demonstrating that good writing is not necessarily linked to perfect, or even consistent, grammar usage.  Williams is able to clearly and concisely make his argument while including a variety of grammar errors, which while it may distract those who are given to nitpicking, ultimately proves that good writing does not have to necessarily rely on perfect grammar.

I plan on using (parts) of this article in my composition classes next semester.  I believe that by introducing students to these concepts early on in the semester, much of the pressure and concern they have for grammar correctness will either be dissolved or perhaps, and better yet, put in a more productive context.

Kairos

I tend to encourage my students to write on topics and questions that relate to their intended fields of study, without considering that there may be more immediate problems or issues they might wish to address.  Crowley and Hawhee’s essay has made me reconsider this approach.  I need to keep in mind that students are not only taking my class, and that they have a wide knowledge base to pull from at any given point.  If a question or problem in one of their general education courses strikes them as particularly interesting, perhaps it is the place of the composition classroom to allow for investigation and critical thinking.  I like the idea of a “weblike relationship” that can evolve from various courses, assignments, historical moments, and personal insights.

In my own experience, classes that are taken simultaneously do converse with one another and allow for the moments of kairos that Crowley and Hawkee mention.  It may be the result of coincidence or happenstance, but it seems that if we could encourage students to recognize and take advantage of these moments, they would not only find composition courses more immediate and meaningful, but they will be able to relate these issues to their personal lives.  Perhaps a student is struggling with an issue that is completely unknown to the instructor, but in a moment of kairos is able to use the atmosphere of the composition classroom to express and potentially resolve the problem.

Community-based Assessment Pedagogy

I have always had a strong dislike for grading systems, both for their inflated nature and the stress and preoccupation they cause in students.  I really enjoyed reading about Inoue’s approach because it seemed to solve a number of the issues I was having in my composition classes, not only in regards to grades, but also concerning student interest and participation in the classroom.  It seems that theoretically Inoue’s approach would allow for a much more relaxed classroom atmosphere in which students are stripped of the urge to ask questions about how much a certain assignment is worth or stress over producing the kind of work they believe the teacher desires.  

Furthermore, given that students have such a hands-on approach to constructing and even deconstructing each writing assignment, students would perhaps be able to better understand why a particular task or project has been assigned to them.  In my own classes, I attempt to talk with my students about why I have assigned each writing, and what I hope they get out of them.  I stress the importance of process over product, at least for our purposes.

While I like that it seems that this approach would take some of the pressure off of the instructor, both in regards to grading load and assignment creation, it makes me question the exact nature of the role the teacher would come to play in the classroom.  Inoue quotes Condon and Butler as remarking “If you leave this course dependent on the teacher to tell you what your writing needs, then this course has failed in its mission.”  I feel that this is a very lofty goal to meet; everyone has questions and concerns about their writing, from freshman to tenured professors.  I think I might be interpreting this a little too literally, however.  Perhaps the comment means that the community-based methods allows students to develop independence and the ability to work with others, aside from their instructor, in improving their writing.