CCR 760: Dias, Freedman, Medway, and Pare (1999) *Worlds Apart*

Dias, Patrick, Aviva Freedman, Peter Medway, and Anthony Pare. Worlds Apart: Acting and Writing in Academic and Workplace Contexts. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1999.

Chapter 1: “Introduction: Researching Writing at School and at Work

Reading Notes (scroll to end for my questions)

· Research question driving this book: “What are the relationships between writing as it is elicited in the university and writing as it is generated in the workplace? A particular stress we give to that question is: how and to what extent can we speak of writing in school settings as preparation for writing at work?” (3).

· A fantastic take on writing! They “acknowledge that writing is not a single clearly deniable skill acquired once and for all; that writing is shaped fundamentally by its sociocultural context; that writing is often more than transcription or communication, and that, certainly in school, writing functions as a way of learning and knowing (and not just a way of demonstrating learning and knowing); that the functions of writing carry widely—from making discoveries to impacting knowledge, from persuading to asserting status, from establishing credibility to negotiating power; that there is considerable variation in strategy—by individual and by task or context; that, in some settings, composing is an intensely collaborative activity, involving intricate layers of responding and revising, each with its own complex political and social dimensions. Writing, in other words, is a very complex act; to understand what is being accomplished in writing in any social setting requires lengthy in-depth observation and analysis” (4).

· Writing based on the social theory of writing: “[Writing] is not discrete clearly definable skill learned once and for all; moreover, both in school and at work, writing is seldom the product of isolated individuals but rather and seldom obviously, the outcome of continuing collaboration, of interactions that involve other people and other texts. Writing practices are closely linked to their sociocultural contexts, and writing strategies vary with individual and situation” (9-10).

· History of composition as related to their text:

o >1960s: writing was teaching rhetorical structures; modeling and imitation privileged; student experiences central to content; no research/investigation

o 1970s: student population changes so teaching changes too

§ focus on writing as a process: invention, writing, and revision are key

§ WAC helps make all disciplines responsible for students learning to write

§ New Criticism (writing as stagnant) switches to New Critical (writing as context-specific)

o 1980s: genre theory helps folks to see writing as social, context-specific, not autonomous, and discipline-specific

· The study

o Investigated 8 settings (4 academic, 4 workplace), comparing among location and among discipline, asking “what functions did the writing perform” and “how do sociocultural settings shape writing practices” (11). Used “a multiple-case study approach” focused on participant perspectives (12). Gathered the following data: inventory of genres, document histories, document criteria, ethnographic observations, interviews, and participant validation (12-13). Data analysis consisted of textual analyses, analyses of oral discourse, and sociolinguistic analyses (13-14). They aspire to help “develop appropriate programs to help facilitate the transition between the two environments [academic and workplace settings]” (14-15).

Quotes ‘n’ Questions o’ Concern:

The authors point out in their introduction that—historically, in the field of rhetoric and composition—genre theories and social theories of writing led folks across the disciplines to consider writing as a social, collaborative activity dependent upon cultural discourse conventions specific to particular communities and readership. They further imply the extreme (dis)advantage facing writers who can(not) conform to such conventions: they acknowledge that “texts must often stay within strict guidelines (stylistic, legal, procedural) and the consequences of ignoring those rules can be severe” (9). Just a paragraph later, the authors summarize their views of writing by explaining that “[Writing] is not a discrete clearly definable skill learned once and for all; moreover, both in school and at work, writing is seldom the product of isolated individuals but rather and seldom obviously, the outcome of continuing collaboration, of interactions that involve other people and other texts. Writing practices are closely linked to their sociocultural contexts, and writing strategies vary with individual and situation” (9-10).

What strikes me about these two passages is how, taken together, they present an unfortunate position for novice writers: we composition folks understand that writing experiences and processes will be unique for each writer, especially considering the combination of historical, cultural, political, and social forces impacting the rhetorical situation; at the same time, however, we also understand that writers must conform to very specific writing conventions and genres if they are to gain entrance within certain academic communities (and, furthermore, we composition teachers are often gatekeepers to such communities). I wonder, then, to what extent has the field worked to challenge such fixed and communal formats in accordance with the recognition that writing is a fluid and individual phenomenon?

Sure, we tell our students that the five-paragraph essay limits creative possibilities, that they should explore alternative organizational schemes and take some chances, yet most of us don’t hesitate to conform to the writing conventions of the journal we’re submitting to, all the while taking few rhetorical risks since we strive for every advantage for eventual publication. I know I’m being general, and I’m sure many of us take risks when writing for academia (otherwise things would look the same as they did fifty years ago…and, they don’t). I also recognize that to some extent public documents might serve readership if there are similar formats and processes adhered to. I also know this topic happens to a personal area of frustration for me, so I’m sure I’m coming on strong. Still, I’d love to hear what folks have to say about this topic. Here are questions I’ve often wondered, questions that this text re-invited into my imagination: How much space does textual formatting leave for change in knowledge-production? How might genres limit creativity? How might novices and/or outsiders be at a disadvantage when (and if) format trumps content? How are we putting students at a disadvantage if we don’t explicitly teach them genre conventions of their discipline? How are we putting students at a disadvantage if we do?

Last note: These questions of concern are obviously related to our recent discussions of how to situate technical communication as a rhetorical activity and how to design our tech writing classes to promote student creativity as well as foster individuals’ attention to ethics and critical reflection, all while remembering that focusing on such transformative skills may contradict the demands and professional constraints in students’ future employment (i.e., when their job privileges their formatted accuracy over their rhetorical attention to creative solutions and social justice). It remains unanswerable for me, then, just how we go about negotiating this dilemma. It appears, though, that the authors hope to provide at least some insight into solving the tensions between academic approaches and practices and workplace approaches and practices.

CCR 691: North (1987) "The Making of Knowledge in Composition"

North, Stephen. (1987). The Making of Knowledge in Composition: Portrait of an Emerging Field. New Jersey: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

· Preface: North uses anecdotes from his first experiences entering the emerging field of Composition to illustrate his early realization that all through the 60s-80s “the field didn’t have a core or a center: there seemed to be no way to frame its central problems, nor any method by which to set about trying to resolve them.” Thus, with his book, he seeks to answer the following questions: “What exactly is this field called Composition? Where does it come from? How does it work? Where is it going?”

· Introduction (1-6): North outlines a narrowed focus to his goals in exploring the ways knowledge is constructed in composition studies: he hopes to reveal how we’ve gathered constructed knowledge in composition studies. Methodologically speaking, North shows his concern that in the years up to the publication of his text, the field of composition has produced vast knowledge that, due to its ‘newness’ and lack of center or core defining and reflecting on methodological practices—is lacking in coherence and methodological integrity (p. 3). To address this dilemma, North presents his analysis of the field by identifying different communities in composition studies where researchers follow various modes of inquiry (which he sees as being practitioners, historians, philosophers, critics, experimentalists, clinicians, formalists, and ethnographers, p. 4).

· Historical Context, “composition becomes Composition” (9-17): True to his method outlined in the preface and introduction, North proceeds to discuss not only that composition studies emerged to be a professional field, but also how it emerged. North draws on historical contexts and national influences to composition’s initial recognition as a valuable field of investigation (mostly since national concerns in the mid 1960s aimed towards increasing citizens’ ability to read, write, and think critically, thus, giving credibility—and funding—to research in composition). Composition began to be distinguished as a field away from its former position of being the “lowliest members of the English academic community,”—those that did the service work of teaching freshmen composition, while the superior English teachers taught and studied literature (14). North admits, though, that such an emergence was challenging since the teaching of writing had thus far been based on practice—“in English teaching we have relied too long on our best guesses” (J.N. Hook, qtd. in North, 16)—and not based on solid research or theory. North suggests the reason why composition research was not credibly grounded and why ‘compositionists’ were timid about asserting their authority is that the field did not yet have the means to do so: “it had no such control over knowledge, no mode of inquiry by which such order might have been imposed, nor whose findings would have been acknowledged by the wider profession” (15). Then, after Braddock, Lloyd-Jones, and Schoer’s Research in Written Composition was published—a report which basically concluded that most research so far in composition studies were grounded in faulty and irresponsible research methods—North suggests the field began to advance its research, calling out for the practice of teaching composition to stem from ethical, appropriately designed, and regulated methods for theory and research.

CCR 691: Lloyd-Jones (1999) "Composition Research Agendas"

Lloyd-Jones. (1999). “Composition Research Agendas in the 1960s and 1970s.” In Rosner et al (Eds.) History, Reflection, and Narrative: The Professionalization of Composition, 1963-1983 (pp. 73-82). Stamford: Alex Publishing Corporation.

In this chapter, author Lloyd-Jones reflects on his experiences during the 60s and 70s when he participated in two influential events in the field through analyzing and synthesizing rhet/comp research as well as evaluating and implementing new English assessment practices. First, in providing a comprehensive analysis of important contributions of rhet/comp research, Lloyd-Jones (and other major rhet/comp characters of the time) collaborated on a project, raising dozens of questions for research topics and practices to be conducted in the future. Although Lloyd-Jones remembers that he and his team recognized that the areas of research they investigated were narrowed, they ultimately concluded that there was not sufficient controlled research currently available to establish the field professionally. Second, working with another team of scholars to critically assess old and implement new practices in English and writing assessment (for organizations such as NCTE and ETS), Lloyd-Jones and his group worked to adjust old practices of the tests (which he saw as socioeconomically biased exercises having no rhetorical purpose, accompanying dated and subjective assessment criteria based broadly on the professor’s/reader’s individual idea of what good writing looks like), and he, then, helped with the design, testing, and implementation of new practices of examination: exercises with rhetorical purposes following descriptive evaluation guides and assessed based on the writer’s unique competence in addressing the rhetorical needs or his or her purpose.

Although this chapter focuses on Lloyd-Jones’ participation in these events and subsequent changes to the discipline, the author also makes frequent comments about practices and research in rhet/comp that are central to current theoretical and pedagogical traditions as well as those from the 60s and 70s. Here are some of his key quotes that seemed to me to be the most insightful:

· He describes research as being fundamentally political in nature: “Maybe, because new formulations of knowledge have social consequences, all research is political. Maybe no research is ever ‘pure,’ but research in composition is inevitably tainted by social purpose, for rhetoric in the classical sense is a practical art. When we talk of composition rather than of rhetoric, we are especially emphasizing teaching, dissemination, and mastery of craft, and that even more implies political effects” (73).

· Based on his and his team’s work with assessment, he concluded that the writings of students do not represent these students’ actual ability or potential: “we noted to ourselves that these young people were capable of far more sophistication than we were ever able to evoke” (78).

· In response to realizing the bias held by readers assessing student writing, he commented, “all testing is a sampling, and samples can easily be skewed. Indeed, they are always skewed; the best we can hope for is to recognize the bias and report it” (79). This comment speaks to researchers in comp/rhet in the ways that it acknowledges how research is far from fact; it is only a sample and that sample is skewed. Also, acknowledgements such as these are no doubt rhetorically useful for reaching wider audiences in research writing.

· Lloyd-Jones also acknowledges the need for “hard numbers” in our research, thus commenting on the audiences in which some of us may wish to reach in various research and professional sites: “Politically, people who want to beat on the schools and teachers don’t hear any qualifiers. They want a really hard number. Also, most researchers in pursuit of correlations of writing skills with parental education, economic status, race, or occupation want hard numbers. Even deans evaluating faculty production want hard numbers. And all of the above want the hard numbers to be derived cheaply, so they are willing to take shortcuts. The little knowledge we obtain in refining the methods for rating writing is a dangerous thing, but the economics of mass education provides us with little choice but to try to discover more persuasive methods” (80).

· His calls for researchers in rhet/comp to consider the broader audience they speak to continues to his last line: “We do rather well among composition/rhetoric people, but we are obliged to talk to a wider public as well, so we must find a series of statements persuasive to regular users of our language. We must discover a series of statements persuasive to our fellow citizens” (82).