Of the five, William F. Irmscher’s 1979 address, “Writing as a Way of Learning and Developing,” struck me as the most fully-formed, the most moving, the most convincing, and the most well-written. (I’ll admit to not yet having read the 1981 address.) Of the others, the first two felt, to me at least, a little directionless and metaphor-heavy. I’m tempted to be less generous and borrow from Vivian Davis’s extended metaphor—comparing the research of English teaching’s effectiveness (I think?) to chicken decapitation—by deeming these first two selections a “feathery hell” (58), though I guess that by virtue of suggestion I just did. And maybe that’s unfair. Maybe it just took twenty pages for me to get my brain back into rhet/comp comprehension mode.
Still, I found Irmscher’s essay useful and inspiring. He articulated an argument that, for a long time, I’ve tried to make to friends, parents, and people I meet on the street, with far less success: That the ability to write is “one of the most essential and valuable resources of anyone’s education” (63); that language is not just to be read, it is to be written, and that we can’t fully understand or appreciate language’s complexities and subtleties without attempting our own compositions (64); that, regardless of our motives for writing, writing is “an action and a way of knowing” (65); that writing is “a way of learning about anything and everything” (65); that verbalization provokes “fuller understanding” (65); that writing promotes “higher intellectual development” (66); that writing promotes “awareness, abstraction, and control” (66); and, finally, that one’s ability to write “translates into self-confidence and self-sufficiency” (68). I can’t think of a better defense of rhetoric and composition studies.
Yet, as inspiring as all of this is, I also find it humbling. It leaves us, as teachers, with an enormous responsibility. Our failure to reach students translates to more than failing grades. If you buy into Irmscher’s philosophy, as I believe I do, you’re responsible not only for teaching your students how to write. You’re responsible for teaching them how to think and reason, and how to verbalize that thinking and reasoning. And, while I disagree with Frank D’Angelo’s 1980 claim that “if a students’ writing lacks composure, it is because we have failed to teach them how to compose themselves” (77) (this, of course, can’t always be true, as learning is, essentially, a team effort, requiring both the teacher’s discipline and the student’s willingness, and I’m not prepared to accept responsibility for all of my students’ failings), I am left with the sobering reminder that our jobs aren’t ones to take so lightly. There is a moral component here, a responsibility to our students. It makes me think that I can do better.
-Jamie
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Jamie,
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you brought up the 1979 address, as it too was my favorite, in terms of perceived usefulness. The idea that writing is more than just "a skill" is a mantra that I need to keep reminding myself of...because I am always, each quarter, confronted with the student in my office with the look on his/her face that says "why should I care about writing?"
"Writing as more than a skill" is a way of talking about composition. And, yet, even though I love that idea, I am still troubled by it--because does it imply that if writing were only a skill that it would be barely worthwhile?
Why are we always defending this profession?
Or, does every profession need/require constant defense? Is that just the way that professions stay relevant within society?
Jamie,
ReplyDeleteWell, to quote my students, "I both agree and disagree." Looking back through my notes, I found I highlighted those same points in Irmscher's address. His defense of the discipline as a basis for all understanding/knowledge-making is not only gratifting, but seems in line with our department goals. guess, maybe, I was troubled by his adoption of Vygotsky's three indicators of cultural development: awareness, abstraction, and control. I couldn't really get a handle on how these ideas were distinct, or what definitions for these terms he was using (of course, it would help if I read Vygotsky). When he talks about "abstracting from the ground up" and how "many teachers of writing seem not to understand the difference" between that and "teaching abstractions and trying to apply them," I felt like one of those many teachers. I don't get the difference be cause I don't know what he means by abstracting from the ground up. Help!
Heather, that idea of "skill" stuck out to me too. The fact is that skilled work is important. And writing is a skill. I reconciled by thinking that maybe I want to use the idea of becoming a "skilled artisan" as the goal. Or maybe I care to much about definitions?
ReplyDeleteI composed a comment to your entry, Jamie, but it never appeared and can't find it in my drafts. Drats! Will try to recreate.
ReplyDeleteMolly,
ReplyDeleteSkilled work--esp. skilled writing-- is definitely important.
And yet...is it just me, or does it seem like the climate today (because of the democratizing-force of the Internet) that it doesn't matter if one is skilled or not at writing?