A product of creative thinking, inspiration is a sudden moment of clarity. Many
students lack clarity when asked to write in school–particularly those whose
color, gender and economic class place them on the outside looking into the
classroom. Language differences are primary concerns, and I don’t mean just
English as a Second Language. Those who grow up female, poor, or nonwhite
may find their ways with words at odds with expectations on how to write in
school. They need affirmations to inspire them to sweat over a draft, not to
mention face the fear of writing in school. Think about it. If you were a student
who struggled to write, regardless of the reason, all through school, what would
help you to write and want to do it? Positive feedback is my guess.University Writing Cente

Hawkins, Carol

English

Texas ScholarWorks

Praxis: A Writing Center Journal (2003-2011)SectionsFocusColumns and ReviewsConsultingTrainingNews & AnnouncementsArchivesBrowse past issues of PraxisAbout UsAbout UsSubmissionsSubmit an article to PraxisHome » Archives » Spring 2008 (Volume 5 Issue 2) - Authority andCooperationAffirmations: How to Inspire Students to ReviseSpring 2008 / Focusby Carol Hawkins, Mount Ida CollegeBuilding communities of mutual respect in the writing center and theclassroomGenius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.— Thomas EdisonEdison's wisdom reveals itself in the order of his thoughts. The 1% inspiration isthe spark to everything that follows. He knew that one is not willing or able toexert enough energy to perspire if not inspired.Carol HawkinsA product of creative thinking, inspiration is a sudden moment of clarity. Manystudents lack clarity when asked to write in school–particularly those whosecolor, gender and economic class place them on the outside looking into theclassroom. Language differences are primary concerns, and I don’t mean justEnglish as a Second Language. Those who grow up female, poor, or nonwhitemay find their ways with words at odds with expectations on how to write inschool. They need affirmations to inspire them to sweat over a draft, not tomention face the fear of writing in school. Think about it. If you were a studentwho struggled to write, regardless of the reason, all through school, what wouldhelp you to write and want to do it? Positive feedback is my guess.Not really just a guess, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my own struggleswith literacy even though I consider myself a good writer. The darn grammarused to get in my way, especially if I had a teacher who read for grammar first.I also had problems with organizing my thoughts. I needed the freedom toexplore my ideas on the page, and I was never short on ideas to write about.I’d always get into trouble if the teacher made me do an outline first. To makematters worse, I had to learn a new way with words because my way wasjudged as colloquial or quaint or slang.Readers in the writing center learn to offer guidance by initiatingdialogue with writers. Talk is an important part of the writingprocess; consequently, writing centers buzz with talk.When I took my work to a writing center, I didn't have to worry about grammar,organization, or spelling, at least not initially, because readers read withoutjudgment and then initiated dialogue by telling me what was working in thedraft. Because of these conversations, I gained confidence that I could meet areader's need without stifling my own voice. I was motivated to revise.bell hooks and other feminist writers emphasize a need to “come to voice” (seeTalking Back and Teaching to Transgress), but one struggles if not encouraged.Unlike the classroom and its conflicting objectives that need to be “covered andassessed,” the writing center's objective is to guide revision. Readers in thewriting center learn to offer guidance by initiating dialogue with writers. Talk isan important part of the writing process; consequently, writing centers buzzwith talk.Facing the PageKind EarWhen I look back on my first writing experience at a community college, I recallmy fear and insecurity. I was a nontraditional student–older, barely graduatedfrom high school, married young, and never questioning my choices, of course,until my first writing assignment in a freshmen composition class–to write apersonal narrative and reflect on what I’d learned from where I’d been. Takenfrom Georgia O’Keefe’s autobiography, this question led me back to Cleveland,during the 1960s, and high school where my husband and I met and fell inlove. Fast-forward to children, two girls (he wanted boys) and moving aroundfrom place to place, state to state, in search of a better life, like the Joads fromthe Grapes of Wrath, only to discover that we took our problems with us–mainly a steady supply of Budweiser beer and a childhood full of hurt. Weended our marriage many days and miles later, in Montana, when we couldn’tcarry the load anymore.I inherited my father’s dream of a college education, a dream he never fulfilled.My father’s regrets, my failed marriage, and the need to support my childrengave me the courage to try to earn a degree, even though I was much olderthan most students in my classes. Fortunately one of my first courses becamemy favorite: freshmen composition.The way I see it, the language of school was not that differentfrom the language [my advisor] used at home, but for many of us,it's a different story.I remember my first writing conference. The composition teacher met with meto discuss the personal narrative assignment. She held my paper in her handand looked me in the eyes. She handed my paper back to me while saying,“You’ve had quite the life. You’re very courageous."I felt confused. What was so courageous about me? My life seemed quiteordinary. Doesn't everyone struggle? I know my students do. I find that manyof my students, like me, are more than willing to share very personal things intheir writing. My friend, Dorothy, who teaches first-year writing at anothercollege, says, “It is as if that faceless audience won’t ever actually know it isus–even though our peers and instructors really aren’t faceless.” I suppose Ifelt safe enough to write my narrative without censorship. I suppose I wasn'teven thinking about my readers but my own need to express myself.Fortunately, my teacher listened and validated my writing. She showed merespect.The Shut DownCritical AdvisorMy writing atrophied some years later when I was trying to finish mydissertation. My advisor and I had a strained relationship. He was a well-published, award-winning, respected scholar in the field of composition. Iwanted a chance to work with him. I recall his first response to my writing. Iwas taking a course where we had to read a book on writing relationships. Istrongly objected to the voice and tone of the writer when describing hisinteractions with a young female student who cried during a writing conference.I felt defensive when I read the author's thoughts about the student, whichsounded to me as if he were making fun of her feelings. In response, I wrotethat his lack of empathy made him a poor source for guidance on how to formwriting relationships. Little did I know at the time that the author was a formerstudent of my advisor and they worked together on the book. Talk aboutputting my foot in my mouth.My advisor also found my narratives too emotional. I wrote gut-wrenchingstories, mostly about inner-city high school students who struggled in schooland who I worked with as a research assistant on a portfolio project. Theportfolio asked them to answer the question, "who am I" with artifacts andreflections that they placed inside their portfolios. I found their storiesmeaningful because they were direct and honest. They pulled me into theirworlds by writing down thoughts, emotions, and experiences as real as thenarrative I wrote for my first-year composition teacher. However, my advisortold me that I “romanticized” America’s underclass. I would respond byreferring him to a book I read by Michele Fine entitled Framing Dropouts thathelped me to better understand students' resistance and my own towardschool. I knew that the longer one has to travel between home and school, thegreater the struggle. This distance is not measured in miles but according toone's place. Again, my advisor disagreed and thought Dr. Fine romanticized thenation’s underclass as well.[T]eachers and writing center tutors must be vigilant as readers,to keep our own prejudices, biases, and assumptions in check.My advisor also challenged my resistance to “academic discourse,” a language Ifound foreign when I entered graduate school. He questioned whether“academic discourse” even existed. I'd respond that I felt some kind of barrier,thinking to myself how I would keep hitting the wall whenever I wrote for him,but my advisor never affirmed these thoughts and feelings. If I wantedaffirmations, I would have to look elsewhere. I realized that if I wanted to getmy advisor's approval, I needed to conform. I had to pull back the passion andquiet my own voice. I did so reluctantly, but I was not going to let him stop mefrom getting that “damn piece of paper,” a term my father used in frustrationwhen referring to a college degree. My advisor became my gatekeeper.To be fair, my writing was often messy. I burst ideas onto the page. I wastaught by Donald Murray to write big and revise later, inventing my topics as Iwent (see Murray “Writing Before Writing”). I quickly realized, however, that Ibest not take any messy drafts into my advisor’s office. He had neither the timenor the patience to deal with that sort of word entanglement.I remember one day when I asked my advisor about his writing process. I wasfeeling embarrassed about a paragraph or two that sounded lovely to me butwere “overdone” and “unnecessary” to him.“I bet you get the words down right the first time, don’t you?”He responded, “The sentences come out the way I want them to most ofthe time.”The way I see it, the language of school was not that different from thelanguage he used at home, but for many of us, it's a different story. I left mygraduate program believing that he was the real writer and I was an imposter.Later I would read about a condition called “The Imposter Syndrome,” coined byPauline Rose Clance and Suzanne Imes, where many females seemed unable tointernalize their accomplishments, particularly those who were first generationcollege students like me (see The Imposter Phenomenon Among High AchievingWomen). I needed those affirmations, but that didn’t make me needy. Allstudents need affirmations, particularly those who struggle with writing.Facing the PageKind EarI recall one of my lunch meetings with Donald Murray, in a small restaurant inDurham. I could not believe my good fortune, to come to the University of NewHampshire where he taught and wrote many of his books on writing. Hewelcomed me as a graduate student, and I enjoyed many a chef’s salad withhim while talking about writing.I devoured all Murray’s books and articles before I began teaching and wasanxious to share his words on writing in my sections of composition, especiallyCrafting a Life, one of my favorites. My students and I read his insights andactually got to discuss them with the author. He often agreed to come to myclasses and speak, even though he was retired from teaching. The joy ofmeeting him, talking to him, and asking him questions about writing boostedour confidence. We needed live authors to inspire us to write. “A writer teacheswriting,” Murray always said.Our classrooms and writing centers must become communitiesbased on mutual respect, if we hope to inspire thoughtfulinteraction and engagement in the writing process.Donald Murray was a humble yet confident writer. He would admit to many falsestarts and rewrites, yet he had just enough confidence to face the page. Hewrote about teaching writing as he told stories about his life as a troubled boywho grew up in a working-class neighborhood in Boston. He too felt insecure.He advised my students and me to write fearlessly and to “always follow thesurprise.”My own writing hadn’t produced any surprises in quite some time. In the past Iwould call Don and ask him if he would be willing to talk to me about mywriting. He agreed but I was foolish to think that I was special. Donald Murrayaccepted an invitation for lunch to talk about writing with every graduatestudent. I will never forget what he said about my dissertation one day at lunchwhen I was stalled and feeling insecure with my advisor. While I was crunchingdown a toasted crouton from my chef’s salad, he said, “Carol, you have to writewith authority. You are the expert on your topic.”Authority? Expert? How could I write with authority, as an expert, when I feltdefeated and insecure after disappointing sessions with my advisor, who had allthe authority in our writing conferences?The Role of ReadersRespectful ResponseDonald Murray once wrote, “All writing is autobiographical” (66-74). I wouldadd that all response is autobiographical. How a reader responds to a student’swriting is pivotal and reflects the values and judgments of the reader.Therefore, teachers and writing center tutors must be vigilant as readers, tokeep our own prejudices, biases, and assumptions in check. We must offer rigorwith a dose of care. We must suspend judgment and listen. Whether teacher ortutor, readers must begin with affirmations, letting writers know what's workingin their drafts, before they move to questions and collaborations on revision.All writers need readers, but how that reader responds to a student's draft canmake or break a writer. Mutual respect is vital. The writer's need to expressauthentic voice and the reader’s need for clarity are of equal importance. Thisreciprocity was lacking in my writing relationship with my advisor. Ourclassrooms and writing centers must become communities based on mutualrespect, if we hope to inspire thoughtful interaction and engagement in thewriting process.Works CitedClance, Pauline Rose and Imes, Suzanne. “The Impostor Phenomenon AmongHighAchieving Women,” Psychotherapy Theory, Research, and Practice 15.3 (Fall1978): 1-8.Fine, Michelle. Framing Dropouts: Notes on the Politics of an Urban HighSchool. New York: SUNY Press, 1991.hooks, bell. Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black. Boston: South EndPress, (1989).---. Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York:Routledge Press, 1994.Murray, Donald. “Writing Before Writing.” CCC 29 (Dec 1978): 375-82.---. Crafting a Life in Essay, Story, Poem. New York: Boynton Cook Publishers,1996.---. “All Writing is Autobiographical. CCC 42.1 (Feb. 1991): 66-74.____________________‹ About Us up Authority and Cooperation:Five Views from WritingCenter Directors ›Dr. Carol Hawkins is an Assistant Professor of English and humanities at MountIda College, in Newton, Massachusetts, where she also serves as theCoordinator of Writing Across the Curriculum and Co-Coordinator for theCenter for Excellence in Learning and Teaching.    Praxis is a project of the Undergraduate Writing Center at the University of Texas at Austin     Editor login

Affirmations: How to Inspire Students to Revise

https://repositories.lib.utexas.edu/bitstream/2152/62438/2/Hawkins_5.2AuthorityandCooperation-3.pdf

Affirmations: How to Inspire Students to Revise

Abstract

Similar works

Full text

Available Versions

Texas ScholarWorks