Essay
1528 Words
2119 Words Total
Richard D. Hartwell
22455 Kinross Lane
Moreno Valley, CA 92557
(951) 242-7105
rdhartwell@adelphia.net
Let Them Jazz It Up
Some Initial Notes on Authentic Student Voice
I am troubled by the educational cult of perfectionism, particularly with regard to the
demands on student writing. I do believe in my heart of hearts that we are all writers; however,
we are not all perfect writers nor writers of perfection. If we were, then my school
administrators would not be questioning me as to why there are only two rubric scores of four -on a four-point scale a sign and symbol of success, of perfection -- out of more than 400
students who took the State of California Seventh Grade Writing Assessment. Should there have
been more? To me that seems unreasonable. In fact, I’m not even certain but what five
“perfect” writers out of every 1000 is much too high already!
Whether one gauges writing acumen by Shakespeare or Wollstonecraft, or by Steinbeck
or Wharton, the fact remains that there are very few writers at this level of success, judged
commercially or objectively. Why then, should we expect, without the benefit of editors and
proofreaders, to find multiple writers of perfection in any specific grouping?
My charge to myself as a writing teacher: instill and then retain the authentic voice of
students in “real writing,” as opposed to concentrating merely on the form and the mechanics of
grammar. Lest this sound too simplistic, let me explain my position. As teachers, we often lose
our student writers with our extreme emphasis on form as opposed to function. Writing serves
the purpose of textual communication. That is its function and we must not lose sight of it.
If writing is the textual embodiment of communication, and only occasionally is raised to
the level of emotional or spiritual or philosophical perfection, then even the most cryptic e-mail
message constitutes writing, and generally writing with a purpose. I venture that a large number
of us have received, and even composed and sent, e-mail messages rife with spelling,
punctuation and grammatical errors. True, I occasionally receive a message in return pointing
out my writing flaws. I do not respond to such assessments, not even to thank the sender. I
assume the other party, the reader of my original e-mail, was able to “read through” such
obstructions and still comprehend the message of my text.
I am not advocating that we allow our students the latitude of lazy e-mail composition for
their essays, criticisms, stories, or autobiographies; however, I do insist that we pay more
attention to what they are writing, to their ideas and to their voices of originality, than to their
proper form and to their vices, grammatical or otherwise! Let us stop teaching and assessing a
cadre of mediocre, automatic and sterile writers. Let us start teaching and encouraging soloists
of inventive, thoughtful and fertile communication, writers who have something to say, rather
than a chortling chorus!
As part of my environmental invitation to the classroom each August, I create a bulletin
board labeled “When Writing Gets Real.” I post magazine articles I have written and letters to
public figures I have sent, the most recent a two-pager to California Governor Arnold
Schwarzenegger, requesting his reconsideration and restoration of funds cut from a specific
education program. I point out this bulletin board to my incoming students and to their parents
and guardians a week later during “Back To School Night.” Yes, I take the chance that some of
them may think it egotistical of me, but that is a minor deflection of focus if I can persuade them
to pursue the larger concept that writing has purpose and that it is not created just in an academic
vacuum. I believe in being what a colleague of mine labels “a teacher as a model of purpose.”
Then I present short excerpts from student papers and letters written the previous year.
These are carefully selected to include the flair and flavor prior students have brought to their
writing. Many, perhaps even most, of these readings are the result of assignments I have created,
but a few are even drawn from district or site “writings on demand.”
What I intend to provide to my newest students are examples of the use of extended
metaphor, fresh figurative language, apt alliterative reinforcement, effective inverted syntax, and
regional or cultural colloquialisms. I want the voices of those student writers to be the opening
strains of the writing melody in my class, and I note to the new students before me that their own
writing voices will form the refrains I expect to hear throughout the ensuing school year.
The depth of the importance of this may be lost on most of my audience; however, what I
have established is a level of high expectations for student involvement in writing and the value I
place on their words, said their way, rather than reaffirming their expectations that this is to be
“just another English class,” filled with a teacher’s cacophony of corrections.
Students do need to be explicitly taught basic grammatical rules, spelling conventions,
and common usage, if for no other reason than to provide them with a solid foundation from
which they may understand how and when to “break the rules.” At the same time they need to
be taught the “hidden agenda,” the expectations of such unreal writing as Proficiency
Examinations, High School Exit Examinations, Scholastic Aptitude Tests, and College Entrance
Autobiographical Essays. These would constitute learning specific goal-skills of writing as
opposed to general life-skills of writing. Both can be useful, but the latter is of lasting value. I
realize the necessity of instructing my students with this two-pronged approach to writing:
writing as rote and writing as reward. I want my students to value writing and the amalgam of
art and craft it is. I want to believe that for every 1000 students to whom I have taught writing
and with whom I have written, that five have developed into professional writers. However, I
would rather be comfortable in the knowledge that the other 995 have developed into those who
can profess to be able to write effectively in order to communicate!
I do not want my students so focused on the drudgery of proscriptions - don’t dangle
modifiers; don’t split infinitives; don’t begin a sentence with a conjunction - or of prescriptions
- topic sentences should appear at the beginning of each paragraph; every point made must be
supported by two or more examples; and, the icon of academic writing, the essay must consist of
five paragraphs. What a staid and somber dirge to which we make our students march! I would
rather expose them to the studied spontaneity of jazz; to allow them to extemporize; to reflect
their feelings through their unique voices; to let them dance to different tunes, however measured
and far away.
I search out respected writers. I identify their grammatical violations. I discuss these
with my students and why these constructions work in the cited examples and why such
violations of the rules cannot be overused. I draw the parallel with profanity for them: it can be
used for effect, but once used its effectiveness is used up. (Oops, I guess I ended that sentence
with a preposition, didn’t I?!) What a wonderful opportunity these discussions provide for
learning the rules of grammar, in context, and without the pain and suffering of separate
grammar instruction.
One can make the case that grammar exercises are like practicing scales; however, those
who diligently practice scales are likely to love their instruments and not all students come to me
with a love of writing built in. In fact, many of them have had any embryonic love of writing
beaten out of them. Those who still write, the adolescent poets and diarists, have gone
underground. I only awaken, or reawaken, a love of writing in my students if I show them the
great performances of text, if I can present to them the beauty and harmony of textual
communication. Poetry can do it for some, plays for others, stories and novels for many more.
But almost all of my students treat these texts as beyond their abilities, or at least only rarely
attained. (Darn, I began that last sentence with a conjunction!) I want my students to realize that
textual communication also encompasses speeches, flyers, letters, thank-yous, notes, editorials,
requests, applications, and - yes - even e-mail. Each of these examples contains the voice of its
author.
As to the instruction of writing, from adolescent students’ points of view, they need first
the answer to Why learn it? before it is possible to engage them in How to learn it! They already
know the Who is to learn? and they readily assume the academic schedule or course and
sequence is telling them When to learn! It is, therefore, imperative that we as educators, From
whom to learn, respond immediately to the students’ overarching need to know Why learn it?
before we can begin to engage them in any meaningful learning activities. As a captive
audience, not only do we owe this to our students, for without it classroom management of
writing becomes virtually impossible.
Sources
Burkhardt, Ross M. (2003). Writing for real: strategies for engaging adolescent writers.
Portland, Maine: Stenhouse Publishers.
California Writing Project. (2004). Because writing matters. Berkeley, California: University
of California
Graves, Donald H. (1999). Bring life into learning: create a lasting literacy. Portsmith, New
Hampshire: Heinemann.
Simons, Elizabeth Radin. (1990). Student worlds student words: teaching writing through
folklore. Portsmouth, New Hampshire: Heinemann.
Squires, Kathleen, et al. (2004). “Reading between the lines,” in Real simple, pp. 45-50,
September.
Sidebar - Examples
“I cannot recall any form of man who is not superfluous sometimes. But
is not this pitiful? Life is not worth the taking, to do tricks in.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Experience.” [Oops, never begin a
sentence with a conjunction; never end a sentence with a
preposition.]
“Science is the attempt to discover, by means of observation, and
reasoning based upon it, first, particular facts about the world, and
then laws connecting facts with one another and (in fortunate
cases) making it possible to predict future occurrences.” Bertrand
Russell, Religion and science. [Oops, do not overuse commas
for clarity; rewrite instead.]
“But just as happens with even the most intensive pursuit of knowledge,
the most ingenious and most thrilling course of instruction through
men or books, so, too, it happened, as the years passed, with this
encounter with the world of dream and the unconscious: life went
on, always making new demands and posing new questions: the
highly unnerving and sensational nature of that initial encounter
lost its novelty and its demand for commitment, the totality of the
analytical experience could not go on being cultivated as an end in
itself, it was put in its place, to some extent it was forgotten or else
superseded by life’s new demands, but without ever entirely losing
its quiet efficacy and power; just as perhaps in the life of a young
man, the first books he reads by Hölderlin, Goethe, Nietzsche, his
first experience with the opposite sex, his first awakening to social
or political consciousness must be coordinated with his past body
of experience.” Hermann Hesse, “Nocturnal games.” [Oops, all
paragraphs should consist of between seven and twelve
sentences. Does anyone still read Charles Dickens? Didn’t
Ernest Hemingway manage to get published?]
“Suddenly, in summer as it happened, the war, Marcel called up then
rejected on grounds of health, the scarcity of piece-goods, business
at a standstill, the streets empty and hot.” Albert Camus, “The
adulterous woman.” [Oops, the verb should always be clearly
identified in the sentence. John Steinbeck comes to mind.]
“It nearly killed me. I know he was right; it would have been ridiculous if
he hadn’t said exactly what he thought. If he’d just kind-uncled
me. But it hurt. It hurt like a series of slaps across the face. I’d
made up my mind that he would like some of my work. What
made it worse was his coldness. He seemed so absolutely serious
and clinical. Not the faintest line of humor or tenderness, even of
sarcasm, on his face. Suddenly much, much older than me.” John
Fowles, The collector. [Oh my heavens, where to begin?:
always vary sentence length within a paragraph; all sentences
must have a verb; do not overuse contractions; do not rely on
made-up words; exaggerated statements or hyperbole must be
followed by an exclamation point; do not begin sentences with
a conjunction; do not rely on clichés for emotional
descriptions; and, dependent clauses should be connected by
the use of semicolons. Yes, the list could go on and on; careful
rewrite is definitely indicated!]