Why are we using all these computers in our classrooms in the first place? Do
they help us teach writing better? Or do they promote (as some argue) sloppy thinking and
writing? We all agree that writing with computers is certainly different than
writing on paper. But is different good or bad? Research suggests that it is
harder to read text on a computer screen, and since reading is the handmaiden of writing,
this is a potential setback for writers. On the other hand, there is no question that
computers eliminate drudgework, making things like reorganizing text, spell-checking, etc.
much easier.
Most of us feel they make writing more fun, especially when communications are added to
basic word processing, and when writing is fun, students are more invested. Another
argument is that we must use computers because the times dictate it -- writing
has always involved technology of some sort (Bolter), and it is naive of us to pretend
that computers don't exist and don't impact every facet of our lives, including writing.
The more utopian of us also believe that we may be able to stamp our "can do"
world view on the emerging electronic world, and that's reason enough.
The futurist answer is that all writing instruction should make use of computers --
they are the tool of the present and the future, and to pretend otherwise is naive and
doesn't serve our students well. We may be required to change the content of our courses
to reflect this shift in world view, possibly emphasizing shorter pieces of writing
(e-mail) over essays.
The more moderate, "real-world" view argues that we should abstain from teaching
writing exclusively in the electronic environment, opting instead for versatility and
adaptability to different writing situations, not just those on a computer workstation.
The conservative position -- that no writing should be taught in a computer setting --
doesn't appear to exist on Megabyte University, although it is always present in our
institutions and in our society. This position finds its rationale in romanticism, in
nostalgia, in anti- technology sentiment, and in arguments like "writing should be
hard work," "computers are mere toys," and (probably the most persuasive)
"writing instruction shouldn't have to cost so much."
Just because we're using computers in our classes (whether full- or part-time) doesn't mean a universal theory automatically drops into our labs. If you find a topic argued in the print journals, professional conferences, or graduate seminars, you're guaranteed to see it argued in Megabyte University, as well. Sometimes technology is at the center of these arguments, often times it's irrelevant. Very broadly speaking, these discussions involve the following issues (as well as ALL the other questions in the FAQ):
Although we frequently wax philosophic here on MBU about utopian possibilities for computer-mediated learning, many argue that traditional gender relations are reconstructed and reinforced in such a setting, and that we shouldn't be kidding ourselves about any "utopia." Such topics may vary from a) gender relations in the classroom to b) valuing/devaluing narration as a "feminine" mode of writing to c) the Men's Movement to d) the role of emotion or logic in the classroom.
It's not just gender differences that get discussed here; the problems and solutions concerning all kinds of difference are hashed out, as well. On the one hand, we all generally feel that computer-mediated learning liberates and empowers students to a certain degree. On the other hand, several of us have pointed out that this liberation comes at a price, namely that the social-collaborative model that seems to drive computer pedagogy may actually allow or encourage repression, causing (to name a couple of examples) minorities to be attacked or forcing gays and lesbians to retreat from the "public" sphere of the virtual classroom in order to protect themselves.
Are we actually improving writing and critical thinking skills, or is the increased
textual output just that: more words? If all we are doing is writing more words, then it
is hard to justify computer-mediated classrooms in terms of writing instruction. We can
still make a strong case for writing as it relates to computer literacy in the workplace
(present and future), however. Most of us feel that computers DO improve writing skills,
but there is not yet a definitive study that demonstrates it. Perhaps, many argue, these
classrooms (and the pedagogies that develop around them) create and improve different
writing skills, which would explain the difficulty in comparing these skills with those
taught in paper-based, face-to-face writing classrooms. Others argue that CMC writing
should be considered as invention only, and should not be expected to produce polished
writing. Perhaps we should drop the issue of evaluating CMC writing and acknowledge
instead that CMC clearly seems to provide a safe place for students to "play"
with language, which benefits their more official writing in the long run.
And what about the questions of assigning grades? Many people agree that CMC is valuable
because it teaches communication skills, audience awareness, a sense of Kairos -- in
short, all the good things we want to see in student writing, even if it seems to be a bit
unstructured at times. On the other hand, the need to assign grades for CMC is strong, and
some people argue that whatever a student write should be evaluated. Others feel that if
we are going to grade CMC, then it should probably be within a larger context like
portfolios, personal journals, and/or class participation.
How much power should the teacher have in a computer classroom? What about the administrator? Are we justified in reading students' private mail? What is the status of a revealing student utterance? Unlike face-to-face classrooms, where utterances die in the breeze, every utterance in a computer classroom is usually saved, for archival and research purposes. Is this a good idea? And even if we are good, ethical people, how do we know that this information will be used only for research? Suppose a kid writes something stupid, but is running for public office in 20 years--now those sophomoric utterances take on new meaning.
While we praise computer-mediated learning in theory, the hard day-to-day facts of
putting it into practice challenge these theories. While we do see greater textual output
from students, and often report that collaboration thrives in a computer classroom, we
also experience flaming, resistance, apathy, and the same old excuses from our students.
In this vein, we argue about (re)designing effective assignments, courses, and even entire
curricula. Tried and true teaching tricks or methods often do not translate well into the
computer classroom, especially in the light of communication made possible through LANs
and the Internet. An implicit goal of the Megabyte University community is to try to share
and pool our teaching experiences in such settings.
How much preparation do we want our TA's to have before teaching a composition class?
Most new English graduate students know nothing of theories of writing; their default mode
is to stand at the front of the class and tell freshmen how to write better. Some
of us believe in the "sink or swim" approach, but it has been pointed out it is
quite unfair to subject our students to this sort of trial and error. Most of us agree
that some amount of training should be required, but the amount suggested varies widely,
from one semester of apprenticeship to two or more semesters of theory, meetings, and
observation. Grad students are quick to point out that they do not get paid during this
training period!
We also disagree about the proportions of theory and practice during this training. Some
argue that one learns by doing, while others argue that we must understand theory first
and foremost. And a small group believes that teaching is an art that cannot
itself be taught. What we all agree on is that new teachers need to know many, many things
in order to survive and thrive: some history of our field, anecdotes of previous pitfalls,
facilitating collaboration, lesson planning, building relationships with students, sharing
experiences with other writing teachers. "We would be awfully remiss," says Irv
Peckham, "knowing what we think we know, not to help new teachers through their first
teaching experiences."
What should the administrative relationship between these fields be? In some universities, Composition is entirely autonomous. In many places, all three fall within the English Department. Oftentimes this discussion focuses on whether splitting these functions up is a good idea.
Computers cost money. TA's drain departmental budgets. Hard-core Literature departments don't see the relevance of your interest. You have computers, but you can't get physical plant to come over and lay cables through the floor. -- This thread on MBU sometimes involves crying on each other's virtual shoulders, but often involves gathering information and formulating strategies to justify a purchase, to increase funding, etc.
While we all enjoy teaching, the cold hard facts are that we are laborers, and often require wake-up calls to remind us of that. As an enterprise, Composition uses all sorts of workers to teach writing classes: graduate students, adjunct professors, lecturers, full-time professors. In some places, there are unions of grad students or lecturers or adjuncts. Health benefits are often not available to part- timers. Teaching Composition is labor-intensive, and requires much more individualized contact with students than other disciplines (and the computer variant takes just that much more time). With these issues as a backdrop, we argue about how to a) pay ourselves what we're worth, b) establish this worth with administrators, and through it all c) teach our students how to write better.
Hard working grad students develop HyperCard stacks, computer programs, and other computer-based artifacts, and rarely get official credit for these projects, even though many of them are done for a graduate seminar. In some schools the case has been successfully made that a computer language may be substituted for a traditional foreign language for a graduate student's foreign language requirement. Generally, however, this is not the case, although there are encouraging signs as of late.
Similarly, hard working professors develop computer programs and establish computer
classrooms, and rarely get any "points" for their work. It has been argued that
a published computer program counts as a journal publication, but this is still not
generally accepted.
Furthermore, many universities claim that these computer programs belong to the
university, citing Intellectual Property Rights rules. This, happily, seems to be on the
wane, and was probably a result of the clash between the rapid pace of development and the
snail's pace of rules to adapt to them.
The Modern Language Association has issued a policy statement on computers that calls the devices, "essential for the representation, storage, and transmission of knowledge."
The policy, which the association hopes will be used to guide campus officials responsible for computing declares that shared computers are inadequate and that researchers require connections to systems such as the Internet, access to printers, maintenance, and routine replacement of outdated equipment.
Faculty members, the policy says, should play a bigger role in the selection of hardware and software, receive basic training in the use of the devices, and help integrate the systems into the classroom. Professors, it adds, must also receive recognition for developing computer-based educational applications.
[Chronicle of Higher Ed, 6/16/93, column "On Line"]
Marcia Halio published an article several years ago claiming that writers wrote better
on IBM's than on Macintoshes. More generally, the issue was framed in terms of graphic
interfaces versus non-graphic interfaces. The issue of writing quality and interface has
been debated hotly, and the general feeling seems to be that it may be more difficult to
make these kinds of claims than earlier thought. Other variables must be taken into
account: the brand of software, writer's cognitive style, how the writer learned to write,
the writing task being evaluated. And it's possible that the CLI / GUI controversy may be a moot point, since
the widespread use of Windows has made DOS machines look and feel more like Macintoshes.
However, the question of an interface's effects on a computer user is still very much
alive. A very simple example: If a word processor makes moving sentences around easier
than rearranging words, then it is encouraging sentence-level revision and possibly
discouraging lower level revision. We must evaluate writing software in terms of what we
have learned about invention, composition, and revision strategies in the past. Software
design should follow from user cognition and action--not the other way around.
Is grammar necessary to become a good communicator? Does correctness become more or less important in the electronic age of spell-checkers and grammar-checkers? In focusing on mechanics and superficial correctness, we run the risk of giving students the impression that these elements alone constitute good writing. On the other hand, we all know that the "real" world takes correct writing much more seriously, even if the writing doesn't have much to say, and we feel a responsibility to inform and teach students about this reality. These issues focus attention on what we're teaching in our classes, and asks us to justify (or consider, at least) how we balance rhetoric and grammar. Where these skills should be taught is also debated. Some suggest that high school is where grammar is taught, and that college courses don't need to bother with it. Others argue for teaching BOTH communication techniques AND the grammatical skills that enable and enhance them throughout all levels of schooling.
Word processors, communication tools, presentation software -- the list expands every semester. Schools purchase site licenses for all of them, too, and expect their students to use these licensed tools. Freshman Composition is often college students' first class in college, so the burden of teaching specific computer programs falls heavily on Composition instructors. Some argue that we must use whatever software our school has bought, since our students will be using this software throughout their careers. Others maintain that specific software commands are too cumbersome and have nothing to do with writing skills. If (for instance) the campus is using Word Perfect 6.0, we in Composition might be better served by a) requiring our students to be proficient in Word Perfect before taking our courses, or b) using instead the simplest word processor we can find so that we can focus on writing skills rather than software skills.
Everyone knows that the timed, in-class writing assignment is still a key component of many composition classes. But is it an archaic throwback to extemporaneous speech-making in debate club? And if it is, what are the concrete skills to be learned in this crossover between spoken and written language? As for the point of timed writing, some argue that it prepares students for real-world writing tasks like memos, proposals, and deadlines in general. Others point out that real-world writing has a completely different (and generally integral to the job) purpose from the largely artificial assignments of the classroom. In terms writing pedagogy, many argue that timed-writing is antithetical to the whole concept of a portfolio-based curriculum, where students are allowed and encouraged to revise and present their best work at the end of the term. Others counter that timed writing helps students to learn to think on their feet, further encouraging the critical thinking skills that most of us feel are crucial to good writing.
The term "Megabuns" aside, there are always the questions about what it is that we do exactly, and by extension what we call ourselves. "Computational Rhetoric" is straightforward (if a little boring), emphasizing our use of computers in rhetoric. "Techno-rhetoric" is a little more general, and covers all sorts of technological innovation. If you do rhetoric over networks, you could do "Netoric." Some suggest terms that do not emphasize technology, but the era, as in "Postmodern Pedagogy." There's always "Hyper- or Virtual-" or "Cyber-" anything, giving us the possibility of "Virtual University," "Hyper-Teaching," or "Cyber-Comp." These may be issues that vanish as technology becomes part of everything, but we still have room for creation at this point.
| Contents | Definitions | Resources | FAQ | Topics |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| |
||||
Please send any amendments, requests, questions, and gripes to:
my University of Texas account: (
locke@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu ) or
my Daedalus Group account: (
locke@mail.daedalus.com )
This FAQ is also available at http://www.daedalus.com