Mara Brecht 1
Mara Anne Brecht
mbrecht@oberlin.edu
Basic Literacy: Mediating between Power Constructs
Introduction: Moving into the Project
“And when time is up, I walk out. I usually drive straight to the library, to engage in my own
work. When I arrive, I feel like I’ve stopped into a different dimension. I feel confused when I
hear myself talk, or when I pick up a book I have readings assigned in. I feel almost (and its so
hard for me to admit this) ashamed. Ashamed at myself, I suppose. Maybe I feel this self-shame
because I feel dishonest, pretentious, unrealistic. Maybe my shame is because I realize the
HUGE imbalance in our world. I feel shamed because, maybe deep down, all I am is an elitist.”
The above is a small excerpt from a journal entry that I wrote earlier this semester. It
exemplifies the way I often feel when I tutor students who are very different from me
educationally. Because of these experiences, I am driven to think about a tutoring session as a
space where two very different people with very different ideas and backgrounds encounter each
other. Working through the implications of power constructs, differences, and tutoring is an
emotional and complicated task. In my project, I wanted to address some of my own feelings of
dishonesty, shame, pretentiousness, and elitism.
My paper deals with power constructs and literacy tutoring and involves three main
objectives: to evaluate a “Literacy Letter” program, to combine composition theory with my
personal experience of working in Adult Basic Literacy Education, and to explore possibilities
for the future “Literacy in Action” program.
I am a junior History and Religion major at Oberlin College in Oberlin, Ohio. For the
past two and a half years, I have been working thorough a program established between Oberlin
and its county’s vocational school. At Lorain County Joint Vocational School, I work with the
lowest level class. The group is usually between three and seven regular students. Most all
middle aged, some are ESL students, and I have never tutored anyone who has completed
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beyond tenth grade. Through my experiences working as a tutor at ABLE classes, as an Oberlin
College writing tutor, and as a student of rhetoric and composition, I have gained a unique
perspective on the interplay between writing, tutoring, and power.
Literacy Letters and Brodkey
The first portion of this project is framed around my own project using “Literacy Letters”
and Linda Brodkey’s essay “On the Subject of Class and Gender in ‘The Literacy Letters.’” I
began a letter exchange between a junior at Oberlin College and a middle-aged student at ABLE
classes. The letter authors share their gender, female, and their homes, Ohio; beyond those
commonalities, the authors are very different. In this essay, I have transcribed a portion of the
exchanges almost exactly as they were written. Spelling, capitalization, word choice, and format
remain as they did in the letters; the only difference is that the ABLE student handwrote her
letters. After each letter, I use Brodkey’s general method to examine the writing. My project of
exchanging "Literacy Letters" was result of a few influences.
The following is a discussion of the influences and an explanation of why I chose this
project. Since I have been working at ABLE classes at LC-JVS, I have realized that tutoring
basic literacy has incredible challenges. In order to read effectively, the reader must be able to
pronounce and understand individual words while trying to understand the meaning of the words
and their relationship to one another. When one function fails to occur, reading is not happening
effectively. For example, I may be able to help a student sound out and understand the words of
the sentence:
The students practiced their pronunciation
Let's sound the word out together.
The stoo-dents prak-tis-d their pro-nun-"c"-"a"-shun.
Do you know the last word, pronunciation?
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When you pronounce a word, you sound it out or practice saying it. So a
pronunciation is the way a word is said. Like, how do you pronounce
pronunciation?
Or, I can focus on helping with understanding what the sentence means or what is important
about it. Again:
The students practiced their pronunciation.
Why do you think students were working on practicing the sounds a word makes,
pronunciation? When do we ever practice pronunciation?
If I were working with a student on only this sentence, it would probably be reasonable to
understand both aspects, the form and the content. However, when I work with a student on an
entire story or newspaper article it always seems that we have to give one or the other up. Do I
choose to focus on the meaning? Or do I choose to deal with each word, each sentence? This
divide often seems to be the greatest barrier for basic readers. The type of inhibitor is evident for
basic writers (and perhaps even experienced writers). I can either work with a student on the
way pieces are written or what pieces are written about. Working on both is often, simply,
exhausting.
For the most part, really effective writing and reading materials are hard to come by. I
find myself struggling to create interesting and helpful writing assignments. I have tried various
strategies, from writing a paragraph about a newspaper article we read together, to writing
paragraphs using new vocabulary words, to writing journal entries. The response I hear most to
these ideas is, "I don't have anything to say." I want to say, "OF COURSE you have something
to say, you always have something to say!" But, that is a statement that is very far from being
fair, and one that would probably make my students more self-conscious than they already are.
They do have something to say, plenty to say. It’s a matter of having something to write, or the
ability to write. Journal writing proved equally unfruitful, because it is not interactive, it is not
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engaging. Another layer to this "I have nothing to say" predicament is one that I did not realize
until I read Brodkey's essay on "Literacy Letters." Brodkey states, "Educational discourse
grants teachers authority over the organization of language in the classroom, which includes
allocating turns, setting topics, and asking questions" (644). Though the class setting that I tutor
in is not structurally similar to a conventional classroom (that of, say, a fourth grade classroom),
I realize that my "authority" is a factor for the students. The assignments I choose or suggest are
inscribed by with own biases and agendas. Thus, exchanging letters with a non-tutor person
seemed to be a really good idea; I would have no real place in the process. Writing like this was
something that I have thought about before, but until I read Brodkey's piece I did not have the
courage to follow through.
My very close friend and roommate, Kari, agreed excitedly to correspond with Edith, a
student in my class. I began the project by asking Edith to write a letter to an unknown friend.
She and I talked together about some ideas that she might like to include in the letter. My part in
the process was only in generating ideas. Edith composed the letter alone. For this first letter, I
intentionally chose to avoid helping with spelling, grammar, or style, unless Edith specifically
asked. I wanted the letter to be a sort of pure form of communication, not one where I, as the
teacher intervened. Edith worked for about an hour writing handwriting this first letter:
Dear Kari,
Oct 31, 02
Well, I be around horses all my life. I have a qater horse. she is a Brown
horse. she still about 15 hand, high. My Brother has high Bloodpressure,
since we got our horse Ace, his Bloodpessure has come down.
Thankyou
your friend
Edith
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Edith, not to Kari's knowledge, is responding directly to my prompt. She and I began
talking about horses, and I said to her "Why don't you tell Kari about that?" Her sentences are
typical length for students in my class. Although her writing makes leaps, it was obvious to me
(as we talked) that her thought process was very clear. She was able to connect the relationship
between her horse and her brother's blood pressure easily when she explained orally. However,
when she wrote, she lost that connection. Kari responded to her letter, in typed format:
November 5, 2002
Dear Edith,
My name is Kari, and I'm a friend of Mara's. I go to school at
Oberlin and I study Chemistry. Do you like science? Mara sure doesn't.
I thought your letter was very interesting. I especially like hearing
about your horse. What is its name? My cousin shows horses with her 4-H
group, and I always want to talk about it with her. And that's great about your
brother lowering his blood pressure! Do you think it's because of him spending
time with your horse? I think it's really amazing how animals affect our health.
So, where is your son now? Is he stationed somewhere with the
Navy? A friend of mine from high school is in California with the Marine
Corps. I think she likes it all right. It must be very hard for you not to see
him, though. Does he come home for the holidays?
Speaking of holidays, what do you do for Thanksgiving? I always
spend Thanksgiving with my parents, my aunts, my grandma, and lots of
cousins. There are usually about fifteen of us all altogether. Thanksgiving
may just be my favorite holiday!
Well, Edith, I hope to hear back from you soon. I hope you have fun
with Mara in the meantime.
Your friend,
Kari
Kari begins by introducing herself, and emphasizing the connection among herself, me,
and Edith. Kari's first letter focuses mainly on responding to things brought up in the letter or
things that she had preciously heard about Edith from me. At the end, Kari reveals the
importance her family by speaking about Thanksgiving.
Dear Kari,
Nov, 5, 02
How are you doing? Do you like going to Oberlin? Yes I like chemistry.
Mara is a good teacher. My horse named is Aces. She is a Quarter horse.
Will you please asked our cousin about how old you have to be to in 4-H.
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Yes, I think it is because He spending time around her. animals make people
feel good, is make your health Best. My son may not be going home for
thanksgiving, I'm do no know if he get to go home for Christmas. My twin
miss he a lot. the holidays make them sad, But that uncle JR take them that
be around faimily is good. Will I like hear from you. Thank you for writeing
to me. Mara's and your firends are nice people.
Thank you
have a good Day
Edith
I was excited about Edith's response. This was most I had ever seen her write, especially
at a single time. I was so excited by how much Edith was able to open herself through writing.
Edith's letter is patterned almost exactly around Kari's. She answered each of Kari's questions
directly, and asks one of her own. Like Kari, Edith reveals aspects of herself through details of
her family. Kari writes back:
November 12, 2002
Dear Edith,
It is so good to hear from you! I think Ace is a great name for
a horse. Do you like to ride? Did you take her out this weekend? I
didn't ask my cousin, but I think 4-H is a youth group, and it has different
brackets for ages up to about 20. There really are four H's: they stand for
Health, Heart, Hands, and Head.
I'm sorry to hear you may not see your son for the holidays. On
the bright side, that just means his return visit will be that much more
appreciated.
Do you have any big plans for this week? I'm going to see the
Oberlin opera tomorrow night, and Friday I'm driving to Miami University
near Dayton, Ohio. A good friend of mine goes to school there and he has
the lead in the opera there. It’s a good thing I like operas!
I forgot to mention in my last letter that I am from southeastern Ohio.
Mara told me you're from Elyria; I'm from a town called Cambridge, Ohio.
Have you heard of it? It isn't very big, but it's nice enough, and quiet.
Edith, I would love to hear more about your family. Have you always lived
in Elyria? Are you married? Tell me anything you like! I'm looking forward
to hearing from you again!
Your friend,
Kari
Mara Brecht 7
This letter seems to express the most emotion up until this point. Kari states that she
enjoys her letters from Edith, and responds to her questions. The closing of this letter shows
Kari's genuine interest in Edith and the stories she has to tell. Between the previous letter and
the next letter I transcribe here, there were a few very short exchanges. In these Edith mentioned
her job. Kari asks questions about Petland, affirming the connection she realizes between
Edith’s of horses and her job at Petland.
November 21, 2002
Dear Edith,
It seems like you really like animals--I think Petland is a great place
for you to work. What do you do there? Do you like your coworkers? I
hope you'll have a chance to ride Ace this weekend. I think the weather is
going to be a little bit better. And who are David and Cory? Are they relatives
or just friends?
Cambridge is a pretty nice city. There really isn't much to do, but I like
my house a lot. I live outside of the town, near a lot of farms. Ohio is lovely in
the fall. The colors of the leaves make nice landscapes. Sometimes I like to just
drive around and look at the leaves. It's very relaxing.
I'm glad that you like going to class with Mara. She talks about you and
your classmates a lot. She really enjoys it. I hope you have a good weekend, Edith.
Don't work too hard!
Your friend,
Kari
The established connections are mentioned in every letter. For example, their common
ground, Ohio and/or Mara (me), comes up in every letter. Kari and Edith's exchanges focus
around animals, family, and common connections.
Nov. 21
Dear Kari,
I work in the Back with the Dogs. Yes, I Like the coworkers, they are very
good people to work with. Maybe I will have a chane to Ride her. The
weather man said on the T.V. we may get snow this weekend. David and
Cory, they are my twin boys. I like being outside a lot. I like writing to you.
Mara and her friends are very good teachers. I hope you have a good weekend
too. no I am not married. I am to fat for that.
Mara Brecht 8
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
from,
Edith
By this letter it became obvious to me that there was a very clear power dynamic in play.
Although Edith began the exchange and often introduced some new material, she basically
formed to Kari's structure. Even Edith's layout exactly follows Kari's. Kari did not intentionally
assume authority in this relationship, but there are many factors that suggest how she gained
authority. Kari's letters were all typed, fairly professional looking. Edith is especially
intimidated by computers, and often explains to me how she will never touch one by herself for
fear she might break it. Kari used correct spelling and proper grammar usage. Though Edith
herself does not always use correct spelling and proper grammar, she is well aware of what it is.
It is the very same language used in all the books we read or worksheets we do in our class. It is
the language of education, and consequently, the code of authority.
Even before the questions of language and codes of authority surface, I am unsure if my
choice of person (Kari) was appropriate. Is writing to Kari at all natural for Edith? Why would
Edith have something, anything at all, to write to a stranger, particularly Kari, who exists in a
very different world.
Brodkey examines how the authors of the letters represent themselves. Kari, certainly,
never identified herself as an authority figure. Yet, Kari is represented not only through her
language, but also through her word choice, her grammar, her method of writing. Edith, too,
represents herself directly and indirectly. The simple fact that she is writing with a tutor in an
ABLE class demonstrates her position: educationally, socially, and economically. For example
neither Edith nor Kari needed to see a picture of the other to imagine what kinds of clothes they
might each wear; they did not need to meet to understand what sort of language they might each
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use; they did not need to hear about each other through me to imagine what the other’s daily life
is like. Kari’s writing spoke to Edith and Edith’s writing spoke to Kari about their respective
positions in society.
Brodkey also examines the actual written language, she states “each institutionalized
discourse privileges some people and not others by generating uneven and unequal subject
positions as various stereotypes and agents” (641). Brodkey would say that Kari’s subjectivity is
“positively produced” and thus she accepts and even embraces the “discursive practice.” Kari did
not need me to work with her for an hour to produce a letter. She is able to function in the
writing practice. She is comfortable representing herself. Edith, on the other end of the
spectrum, is negatively represented, and she therefore resists the methods. Resists, has resisted,
will resist? Edith resists the institution every time she says to me “I have nothing to say.” She
was at first very uneasy about the idea of writing, and this comes through in her first letter. She
does not ever introduce herself. Instead she writes according to my prompt. Under Brodkey’s
model, Edith and Kari both write as a result of their personal subjective representation. Is this
why Kari is typing from her personal computer at an elite Oberlin College and Edith is printing
on a legal pad just a few miles down the road at the county’s JVS?
I would like to say that the letter exchanges are the least institutional and the most pure
method of communication, however, I find myself realizing that the power inscription are
unavoidable. Edith and Kari did not escape the inscribed power structures, though their
exchanges were so successful and comfortable. These letters, like Brodkey’s, “[ultimately
challenge] the ideology that class, and by extension race and gender differences, are present in
American societies and absent from American classrooms” (657). These differences permeate
all aspects of life including learning. The rhetorical practice of letter writing seems to be casual,
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and thus would not be politically and socially charged. Yet, Edith obviously was unable to assert
herself as an agent of the process. Rather, she used Kari’s letters and positive representation as a
template, one that she attempted to follow. The “template” designed room for response in a very
specific space, leaving little room for spontaneity. This method does not truly support new ideas
for someone who is uncomfortable in the medium. These letter exchanges are incredibly
complicated and deserve great attention and thought.
Attention to Theory and Practice
Through the use of various theories about composition and communication, I will
examine various aspects of tutoring in light of the literacy letters and my application of
Brodkey’s argument. Although most of the essays are intended for tutoring experienced writers,
I believe many of the same issues apply when working with basic writers.
Choosing material for a student like Edith is difficult, as I stated before. Why is it
difficult? In the essay, “Ten Lessons in Clarity and Grace,” the author asserts, “an action is
ethical when as its agent, we would in principle be willing to trade places with the person who is
its object, or vice versa. Writing in particular is ethical when as a matter of principle, we would
be willing to trade places with our intended reader” (222). I, as the tutor, have a functional
obligation to choose writing and reading exercises that will not totally alienate the student. Edith
feels intimidated by the materials we work with. My intent in the Literacy Letter project was to
choose a medium that would be non-threatening. I do not believe that Edith felt completely
intimidated by Kari’s letters; in fact, she was always excited to receive one and enthusiastically
responded. The letters seemed to be a positive medium for writing, because letters are
extemporaneous by nature, yet they were still inscribed with messages about power. Just as it is
unethical to write to intimidate our own readers, is it unethical to choose an assignment which
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highlights disparities between the author and the reader? Is it a tutor’s position to decide what
material is “appropriate”? Kari clearly became the agent of authority in the letters. I, too, was
an agent of authority as I asked Edith to write to a friend of mine, as I suggested topics to begin.
Like the authoritative writer, we dictated and facilitated the situation.
I anticipated some of these problems as an agent-controller, and so wanted to remove
myself from the process as much as possible. However, I did work with Edith occasionally on
her letters. Nancy Sommers, in her essay “Responding to Student Writing,” believes that “we
need to develop an appropriate level of response for commenting on first draft, and to
differentiate that from the level suitable to a second or third draft” (345). When working with
very basic writers, it is important to view their writing as a part of the process, just as I believe
my own writing to be process-oriented. Though Edith did not compose a series of drafts for each
letter, the array of letters themselves are a series of drafts. When I did work with her, I addressed
concerns that could be applied to a later draft. For example, I suggested always using a capital
letter to begin a sentence and a period to complete a sentence rather than focusing on particular
sentences or word choice. I wanted my suggestions to be helpful for the later process. Sommers
also believes in the responsibility of the teacher/tutor “to show them through our comments why
new choices would positively change their texts, and thus show them potential for development
implicit in their own writing” (346). I chose to give Edith comments about capital letters and
periods, because I thought it would be helpful. But I am left asking if this is positive change for
Edith or for me? Do my suggestions help Edith write more easily and confidently about what
she thinks, or do my suggestions simply alter her text so it is more compatible with dominant
writing styles, such as my own?
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When I suggest to Edith that she work on capitalization and punctuation I dominate the
writing process. I choose what effort should be made where. Most often, I do this because when
I ask Edith, “What do you think we should work on?” she shrugs, and shies away. Edith does
not have the vocabulary to talk about “proofreading” or “sentence level errors.” When I ask her
to discover on her own what could be improved, I only widen the gap between her understanding
and “acceptable” writing practices. This would be emphasizing that because she makes mistakes
repeatedly, she is unaware of how to correct them. My intent is to make her comfortable writing,
and eventually to improve her skills, not to demean her process. Nancy Grimm works with ideas
such as these in the article “Toward a Fair Writing Center Practice.” As Grimm states, “members
of the dominant group have difficulty conceptualizing oppression because it lies outside their
lived experience. They tend to minimize its effects because they confuse it with the injustice of
domination” (103). I realize that I dominate in the tutoring situation, mostly because of the
nature of my position: I am the tutor, Edith is the student. However, I am unsure if I am able to
recognize my own agency in the oppression. I was unable to foresee the relationship that
became apparent between Edith and Kari’s letters. Grimm also writes,
“Students from underrepresented groups experience oppression
in classrooms and writing centers every day. They experience it
bodily and intellectually and because the dominant group doesn’t
intend it, because underrepresented students do not feel prepared
to take on the social arguments against it, they remain silent.” (107)
Edith is not an underrepresented group in the classroom, since the class is designed for the most
basic level of students. She is, however, underrepresented in the educational system as a whole.
According to Grimm, although neither Kari nor I were trying to assert our authority and high
position in the educational system (and society), we did. We participate actively and passively in
this “unjust structural oppression” (107). As I tutor for Edith and others I must realize “how
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systems function, how language influences the construction of Self and Other, how literacy as
cultural and social practice, how political action produces social change” (110). The tutor’s
willingness to transform and reevaluate her ideas indicates her openness to the fact that she
participates in power structures.
The tutor should also be willing to recognize that no situation is monolithic, and
boundaries change for each situation. In “What Line? I Didn’t See Any Line” Molly Wingate
hands over her piece of knowledge, “My rule of thumb is this: If you think you have stepped
over the line, you probably have” (12). When working with Edith, I often find it hard to
recognize where any lines are. If I assume that all Edith’s work is her own and she should
dictate what needs improvement, then I cause the problem addressed earlier about stating the
obvious: Edith does not understand her mistakes. If I assume that all Edith’s work needs help
and correction, then we would probably spend hours working on her first letter alone. Wingate
also states, “It is not exactly reassuring to realize that the line always moves and that tutors find
it by crossing it” (14). True, but where does that leave me when I tutor Edith? I am unsure of
Edith’s goals and because of this I am unsure of my own goals. Does Edith want to write a
perfect letter to Kari? Is she interested in truly communicating with Kari? Is she just writing to
Kari because I asked her to? It is difficult to know where to begin asking these questions.
With Edith, I began with the question, “What would you like to write about?” I wanted
to try and feel out some of the boundaries. I wanted to know if Edith had a particular idea for her
letter or if she wanted me to give her a topic. Again, the “I don’t have anything to say”
conundrum surfaced. David Blakesley, in his “Reconceptualizing Grammar as an Aspect of
Rhetorical Invention,” presents the argument that “knowing and saying, conception and delivery,
thought and language—each opposition describes in reality what is a united, living
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process…writers need to learn how to know by knowing how to say, then to say what they know
by saying it so that others know it” (195). Is this to say that because Edith writes “animals make
people feel good, is make your health Best” she does not fully understand the belief she
communicates about animals affecting health? Her language, really, does not convey her
intention. Blakesley also believes that tutoring pedagogies whose “purpose [is to manipulate]
surface structure is reader-based and whatever consequences these skills have for the writer’s
competence (potential for generating deep structure) remain unarticulated” (198). According to
this model, as I attempted to help Edith deal with simple structural issues (like capitalization and
punctuation), which I thought could be helpful for future work, I was actually avoiding dealing
with larger issues. Perhaps I should be helping Edith to learn how to know rather than to make
her writing compliant with the standards of grammar.
On the other hand, is it really my position to teach Edith “how to know?” Assuming that I
could, in fact, teach Edith “how to know,” does Edith really “not know” or want to learn “how to
know” from me? Edith and I meet in a situation where I am supposed to teach her what or how
to know. Our meeting is not neutral. Mary Louise Pratt writes in “Arts of the Contact Zone”
about the encounter between the person(s) of authority and the person(s) of subordination. She
states, “The idea of the contact if intended in part to contrast with ideas of community that
underlie much of the thinking about language, communication, and culture that gets done in the
academy” (179). Pratt highlights the idea that there is no place of neutrality or safety, even in the
educational sphere. I would be ignoring the contact zone of education to assume that Edith, in
Pratt’s words, “was engaged in the same game and that the game is the same for all players”
(181). As a rule, “When speakers are from different classes or cultures, one party is exercising
authority and another is submitting to it or questioning it” (181). The authority/subordination
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relationship that was obviously present in the letter exchanges between Kari and Edith, is termed
“transculturation.” Pratt defines this as “[the process] whereby members of subordinated or
marginal groups select and invent from materials transmitted by a dominant…culture” (178).
Transculturation is often present in my own relationship with Edith. I am left with questions of
how do I deal with the issues of tutoring and the contact zone?
Grimm’s viewpoint helps to sort through some of these questions. Adopting Grimm’s “P
is for Postmodernity and for Possibilities” framework, I want to present a different view of
tutoring. Grimm states, “a postmodern framework also encourages me to think of students not as
isolated individuals but as members of communities and families” (20). It is important for me to
think of Edith outside of my experience with her in the classroom. Edith and other students are
not the sum of the writing they produce or the other work they do. If I saw Edith for what she
wrote, I would not be able to communicate with her. I would not be able to untangle the
“mistakes” of Edith’s statement, “the holidays make them sad, But that uncle JR take them that
be around faimily is good.” I would not be able to understand the feeling she is expressing about
family and being apart. It is not easy to know where to begin with a student like Edith. As
Grimm asserts, “Postmodern thinking provides no easy answers to these questions, but it does
hold in check our assumptions about the neutrality of the critical stance expected in academic
discourse” (23). Thinking as a postmodernist tutor, able to “simultaneously maintain multiple
viewpoints, to make quick shifts in discourse orientation…to negotiate cultural and social
differences, to handle the inevitable blurring of authorial boundaries, and to regularly renegotiate
issues of knowledge, power, and ownership” (2), I can better understand my relationship to the
students. I can understand the role I play in emphasizing my power.
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Adult Literacy in Action Program
Oberlin’s tutors must be ready to realize many of the issues which Brodkey, Pratt, and
Grimm discuss, as we forge into territory beyond “peer tutoring.” The students at ABLE classes
are rarely my peers in age, and certainly not my “educational” peers. Many of the students I
work with have learning disabilities and/or are far removed from the world of systematic
education. It is important for me to critically evaluate myself, and to think about my relationship
to the tutees.
The composition and tutoring theories I chose to work with in this paper center around
boundaries, power, and constructs. Through examining these theories and my own experience of
tutoring, I realize more and more that there is no neutral zone. I play a part, Edith plays a part,
Kari plays a part. We all come to the table with our own backgrounds, our own beliefs, and our
own agency. Though Edith and I may have used the same pencil and may have written on the
very same pad of paper to compose and refine letters to Kari, we wrote in very different ways.
Our language is charged with our background.
I strongly believe that in order to establish a successful tutoring session, the Oberlin
College tutor must be willing to recognize some of the factors in play when working with basic
literacy students. I do not personally believe that I totally understand the impact of my language,
my tutoring style, and my authority. Furthermore, I do not understand Edith’s reaction to my
language, tutoring style, or authority. Tutoring in this capacity could be seen as climbing a
slippery slope. To recognize the risks involved is to take a step in the right direction. It must be a
constant process of locating comfort zones, tweaking and adjusting those comfort zones.
Tutoring must not establish a singular set of rules, or an understanding of all students as “Edith.”
Just as there is no neutrality, there is no one way to tutor.
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My integration of theory and practice, certainly, are not the only ways to integrate the
two. The integration has been a good starting point for me. I hope that it can be usable for other
tutors, especially as Oberlin’s tutoring program expands beyond college tutoring. I complete
some of my thoughts in my journal:
“In these bizarre feelings, I’ve learned to watch myself, really step outside myself, and observe
the Mara that the adult basic literacy friends have come to know and the Mara passioned by the
academic, elite, and collegiate that I am at Oberlin. And why is tutoring bringing up all these
questions? Because it is I guess, because for whatever reason, I have a developed a careful
sense of figuring out ME through my tutoring.”
Mara Brecht 18
Works Cited
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William., Joseph M. “Lesson Ten: The Ethics of Prose.”
Wingate, Molly. “What Line? I Didn’t See Any Line.”