“There is a real place for reading in a composition course, not as subject matter to write about but as a source of experience and as a repertory of discourse.” –James Moffett
In Moffett’s “I, You, It,” a foundational essay concerning written discourse as it relates to the classroom, I find myself coming back to his statement about reading in the composition class. I am intrigued here because Moffat is addressing a tension I’ve noticed as an English 101 instructor, both when speaking to other instructors and when dealing with students. (I find this especially interesting as the essay was written over forty years ago—I wonder if this conversation has been ongoing, or if we’re circling back to it.)
In a supposedly “contentless” course, what role do the texts students read play? It was no secret amongst the TAs in my graduate program that our favorite days to teach were the days we discussed the readings in the course, not the days we devoted to writing instruction. Perhaps it was because most of us were products of literature programs. Perhaps it was because writing is hard, and our students were more enthusiastic about talking about what they’ve read than writing about it. Ah, there! I just committed the very sin Moffat cautions against in the above passage, and the very thing I tell my students on the first day that we are not going to do. We are not going to write about what we’ve read. We are rather going to write using what we’ve read (amongst other kinds of experiences).
“So, what’s the difference?” I can already hear my students asking. I’m still struggling to articulate this to myself. Perhaps it might be useful here to turn back to Moffett and part of his argument leading up to the statement quoted above. I can find it in the distinction he makes between “a chronological to an analogical discourse…the student must forsake the given order of time and replace it with an order of ideas.” Moffett uses the story of the cafeteria, so I’m going to stick with that one. In a chronological discourse, I might tell someone a story of what happened in the cafeteria—I am writing about the cafeteria. In an analogical discourse, I might posit that certain seated postures are more inviting to strangers than others and might use observations made about where people chose to sit in the cafeteria as evidence for my idea—I am writing about body language using the cafeteria. In an excellent essay, students would use a variety of texts and experiences to develop a theory, “some combining and developing of generalizations…some general assertions previously arrived at by analogical thinking are now plugged into each other in various ways according to the rules of logic.” In other words, I am asking my students to utilize and synthesize information/experiences from a variety of “texts” to form a theory/idea of their own, not just to tell me about what they’ve read. And that’s the difference.
In Moffett’s “I, You, It,” a foundational essay concerning written discourse as it relates to the classroom, I find myself coming back to his statement about reading in the composition class. I am intrigued here because Moffat is addressing a tension I’ve noticed as an English 101 instructor, both when speaking to other instructors and when dealing with students. (I find this especially interesting as the essay was written over forty years ago—I wonder if this conversation has been ongoing, or if we’re circling back to it.)
In a supposedly “contentless” course, what role do the texts students read play? It was no secret amongst the TAs in my graduate program that our favorite days to teach were the days we discussed the readings in the course, not the days we devoted to writing instruction. Perhaps it was because most of us were products of literature programs. Perhaps it was because writing is hard, and our students were more enthusiastic about talking about what they’ve read than writing about it. Ah, there! I just committed the very sin Moffat cautions against in the above passage, and the very thing I tell my students on the first day that we are not going to do. We are not going to write about what we’ve read. We are rather going to write using what we’ve read (amongst other kinds of experiences).
“So, what’s the difference?” I can already hear my students asking. I’m still struggling to articulate this to myself. Perhaps it might be useful here to turn back to Moffett and part of his argument leading up to the statement quoted above. I can find it in the distinction he makes between “a chronological to an analogical discourse…the student must forsake the given order of time and replace it with an order of ideas.” Moffett uses the story of the cafeteria, so I’m going to stick with that one. In a chronological discourse, I might tell someone a story of what happened in the cafeteria—I am writing about the cafeteria. In an analogical discourse, I might posit that certain seated postures are more inviting to strangers than others and might use observations made about where people chose to sit in the cafeteria as evidence for my idea—I am writing about body language using the cafeteria. In an excellent essay, students would use a variety of texts and experiences to develop a theory, “some combining and developing of generalizations…some general assertions previously arrived at by analogical thinking are now plugged into each other in various ways according to the rules of logic.” In other words, I am asking my students to utilize and synthesize information/experiences from a variety of “texts” to form a theory/idea of their own, not just to tell me about what they’ve read. And that’s the difference.
oh so true...the act of lauching off from a reading, creating new content that loops back and intertwines, that is difficult arduous work. rewarding but exhausting.
ReplyDeleteAs a firm believer in the use of text to model writing for students, I also find it interesting (and a little frustrating) that so many teachers still fail to realize the significance of reading for writing, especially after Moffett pointed it out, oh so many years ago! --Sherry
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