From Aristotle to Persephone: A 2400 year odyssey

"All that is necessary for ignorance to prevail in our discipline is for historians of rhetoric to forget their primary job of doing history." ~Richard Enos

In "Recovering the Lost Art of Researching the History of Rhetoric" Richard Enos paraphrases Edmund Burke's famous quote to relate his argument about the importance of conducting primary research to the ways scholars actually conduct research. Enos bemoans the fact that so much of research is more commentary than digging and that most of the information uncovered is truly secondary information. He recommends that scholars should "get their hands dirty" and not obtain their information from transcribed documents that have been "corrupted by generations of well-intentioned scribes and the unsympathetic ravages of time" (13). He also recommends that we seek interviews with living rhetoricians when possible. In our rhetorical family-tree project, we were able to do just that when Erin, Jennifer, and I interviewed Dr. Eskew. Interviewing Dr. Eskew was a highlight for me. I have not yet taken any of his courses, and I am looking forward to his teaching. Dr. Eskew told us about his influences and dissertation co-directors, Wayne Rebhorn and Frank Whigham, whom he refers to as "a yin and yang of Renaissance studies," in his dissertation acknowledgement (vi). The odyssey that began after our interview seemed to run into a wall in Czechoslovakia, but with further digging, we were able to trace paths to the Prague Linguistic Circle to Kant, to Marx, and discover amazing connections along the way. One of the more interesting connections of the project was finding (according to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy) that some of the great linguists and philosophers of all time were contemporaries and friends, such as Humboldt, Schlegel, and Goethe, and these gentlemen together discussed Kantian philosophy.

One of the more personally meaningful aspects of the family tree project was speaking with and listening to Dr. Hugh Burns - Dr. Souder's link in the rhetorical family tree. He has had a profound impact on me and on my pedagogy. His history with computers is phenomenal, and what he has done with multi-modal composition is inspiring. And in his "Four dimensions of significance: Tradition, method, theory, originality," Dr. Burns provides us with a framework for research that I am using in conjunction with my final paper. He writes, "I ask where is the originality? How does research demonstrate creativity and even courage? Tradition, method, theory, and originality: I claim that our community can weigh the potential significance of scholarship on these four scales" (2). Utilizing the questions Burns asks in his article effectively guides research. Meeting Dr. Burns was an honor, and speaking with him after class reminds me about Richard Enos's admonishment about conducting live interviews. When we met with Dr. Burns, we met with, as Dr. Souder said several months ago, "a real, live, rhetorician."

And where is Persephone's branch in the tree? Persephone, a student of mine who happens to be named for the Greek goddess of the underworld, is one of the younger members of this long and growing, living rhetorical family tree. Aristotle began our rhetorical tradition, numerous others perpetuated it, our professors continue with and sometimes debate it, and with the help of Dr. Burns, Persephone learned rhetorical methods of persuasion and created a 21st century multi-modal composition, 2400 years after Aristotle planted the seed.

A Radical Proposal

Reading Lynn Bloom's "The Essay Canon" in Norton is to take a walk down the memory lane of undergraduate English studies. Most English majors have likely read most of the essays Bloom discusses in her article, and many are memorable for shaping life or the way we read or write or for creating pedagogies. It is understandable why the "canon czars" (947) select the essays they do. Although Jonathan Swift wrote "A Modest Proposal" in 1729, his writing holds value today, evidenced by its inclusion in Readers as "the most widely reprinted essay" and is the "subject of thirty-eight critical or pedagogical works in the past twenty-five years" (947). Bloom delineates Readers as "anthologies intended for freshman composition" (945). "Modest Proposal" adheres to a canon czars' criteria of teachability (956), and the aesthetic qualities of form - "Is the essay a good rhetorical model" - and of "technique" (957). As far as to what is included in a canon, Bloom relates that "Teachers have more influence over the canon than they may realize" (947), but does that mean that teachers and canon czars are correct in their selections of essays?

While the powers who are responsible for selecting essays for inclusion in various works have good intentions to satisfy literary, political, rhetorical, multicultural, and gender-related representation, teachers are responsible for what students read. The results they hope to obtain, however, are not always achieved. Consider Barbara Schneider's "Uncommon Ground: Narcissistic Reading and Material Racism." Despite Schneider's best intentions to use essay models from bell hooks and Mike Rose as "entry points for a discussion" (about racism) (921), what the discussions resulted in was not what she had hoped. Her students divided themselves along color lines, and the essays created "affective barriers to learning" (924) instead of the bridge she had hoped to build.

What if students were to play a role in choosing what is read in a freshman composition course?

Teachers have traditionally been responsible for what is read in their composition courses. If the goal is to have enriching discourse that enhances or alters the ways students think about their world and critically reflect new ways of thinking in their writing, could they possibly have a say in at least a portion of their own reading? While there are variances in what students bring with them to a freshman composition course, most students have studied great literary works. The canon is not only for college anthologies and Readers. Students hear Martin Luther King's "I have a Dream" speech in elementary school, and they read it and "Letter from Birmingham Jail" in middle or high school. They also read Emily Dickenson, Langston Hughes, e.e. cummings, Alice Walker, Maya Angelou, Frederick Douglass, Robert Frost, Thoreau, N. Scott Momaday, Hemingway, Faulkner, and Shakespeare to name a few. Secondary students now read many of the essays that are included in collegiate texts. Students are so well-versed in internet research by the time they get to college, they could very well be able to find texts that will foster the kinds of discourse composition teachers desire.

Peter Elbow, in "Being a Writer vs. Being an Academic: A Conflict in Goals," relates that he sometimes feels "a conflict about what we should read in the first year writing course" (489). Elbow's goal, of course, is to help students become writers and academics. Perhaps if students have a measure of authority in selecting some of their readings in a first-year composition course, teachers and students might attain their goals of useful discourse that will enhance student writing and eventually create academic writers.

Interconnectness

Dawn's humorous quote from The Elegance of the Hedgehog spurs me to think about my changing pedagogy. A few years ago, I taught my middle school students (in isolation) about subordinate clauses, participial and prepositional phrases, adverbial clauses, and other grammatical functions that only grammar divas like me appreciate. A few students asked me why they needed to know that information, and I probably responded "It's on the test." I hope I did not cause any permanent damage to those students.

I no longer teach grammar in isolation. Although I constantly refine my pedagogy, it has never changed as rapidly as it has in the past few months. Reading about the history and theories of writing has seriously altered my thinking about teaching writing. For this knowledge, I am eternally grateful. I am especially grateful to people such as Mina Shaughnessy who taught us so much about basic writing. I am also grateful for Dr. Hugh Burns. My students are creating multimodal compositions - something that might not have happened had we not had Dr. Burns visit CSU Pueblo. Thank you to Dr. Souder, and thank you, too, for your insights, your mentorship, and your teaching.

The presentations by our classmates have been a wonderful way to get to know the big names in our rhetorical tradition. But I'm not simply grateful for the knowledge imparted; we've enjoyed great presentations. I am a true-blue teacher. I will borrow and steal from others, and I've learned from my classmates how to make my own presentations better.

Reading the articles and essays in our comp books has been informative and entertaining. I've been entertained because the rhetoric of differing schools of thought is often so quarrelsome. Discovering connections among our authors has also been informative, but not especially surprising. It seems only natural that Aristotle should be our antecedent.

Researching Dr. Eskew's history has been fascinating. A striking number of professors, who through other professors eventually influenced Dr. Eskew, taught at Yale, and many have concentrations in Renaissance literature and rhetoric. A large number have backgrounds (or created) comparative literature. I'm curious to know if others of us have found those kinds of similarities. I have been delighted to find that some of the connections go back to Shakespeare, because any time Shakespeare is involved, I'm happy. Researching has allowed me to get reacquainted with Marxist and Cartesian philosophies.

We truly are all connected in an ancient and contemporary global rhetorical family. The ancients and those more modern influence me, my teaching, and my students.

Action, Reaction, and Contemplation: What is Action?

Several of the authors we read this past week discussed the ways we read, perceive, act upon, and write about our world and ideas through cognitive, expressionistic, and social-epistemic rhetorics. Kenneth Burke, a social-epistemic rhetorician, might ask us to contemplate Wikipedia entries for their social implications.

Andrew began his presentation by asking "What is Wikipedia?" Although the writers of Wikipedia may try (or not) to present unbiased entries, Wikipedia articles are written by people with a biased perspective. Wikipedia entries are slices of history written by people with unique perspectives at a certain time and place in history. Written by someone else with an agenda, a different belief system, or of a different gender or political affiliation, an article might have a completely different slant. The writing of history is similar. Centuries ago, David Hume understood that history was not static, and he knew history could be rewritten. To revisit the "The Cambridge Companion to Hume," Hume learned that recorded history was also incorrect when he studied ancient civilizations and found that ancient scribes could not have portrayed an accurate representation of society (288). Does Wikipedia portray an accurate representation of society? Does Wikipedia present accurate facts? These questions and the answers to them may depend on how a "symbol-wise" person interprets them.

Jessica Enoch, in "Becoming Symbol-Wise: Kenneth Burke's Pedagogy of Critical Reflection," shares with us Kenneth Burke's beliefs: "Man literally is a symbol-using animal. He really does approach the world symbol-wise and symbol-foolish" (272). Burke believes, "Beginning absolutely, we might define man as the typically language-using, or symbol-using, animal" (279). For Burke, the way for people to make sense of their world is to understand the relationship of language (symbols) in the world. An exercise Burke's students used was to revise the news. Enoch discusses the strategy: "This exercise exposes students to the idea that seemingly 'factual' news stories always produce a pronounced attitude for or against certain positions" (284). Burke's intention is that students examine the language used in news stories, consider different ways stories can be presented, and imagine what might be missing from a story. By examining the terms (symbols) writers use, Burke's exercise introduces students to the idea of "terministic screens." News stories and perhaps all "factual" writing, are what Burke considers a "reflection of reality," and a "selection" and "deflection" of reality. As is evidenced in Wikipedia, in all news stories, and in the writing of history, elements are missing, and authors are biased. Burke's call to us, too, is to critically reflect linguistic symbols and attain an "attitude that necessitates waiting, listening, reflecting, and analyzing before any arguments are made or action is taken" (292).

Burke's rhetoric, as James Berlin expresses, resides within the Social-Epistemic Rhetoric as we read in "Rhetoric and Ideology in the Writing Class" in the Norton anthology. But as Berlin notes, "There are as many conflicts among the members of the group as there are harmonies" (678). Berlin discusses one approach to the "explicit critiques of economic, political, and social arrangements" found in Ira Shor's methods. Shor posits that in order for students to attain power in their lives, they must understand what society has denied them. Shor's students learn how they are "denied opportunities" because of social order in which "they become convinced that change is impossible" (680). The change in social construct begins in the classroom. In Shor's classrooms, students and teachers vary from the traditional approach where teachers are the authoritarians and students are the receptacles of teacher-directed knowledge. Students are equal partners in their education, and together students and teachers select materials and form content of this "liberatory classroom." Students then learn how to use their "awareness of these [social] forces," counter those forces and become agents of social change. Where Burke would have students reflect and question, Shor would see students change "from re-active objects into society-making subjects" (681).

Regardless of the ideological camp in which our rhetorical pedagogy resides, whether it be cognitive, expressionistic, or social-epistemic, we are called to act. If that action or reaction is to be contemplative reflection or if it is to be a physical action in body, voice, or writing, is another matter. What action should not be is to sit idly by and passively accept that anything we read on the internet, or read or hear in the news is the truth. We must question, and if need be, act.

How writers write and learners learn

"Over time and cultures, the most robust and most effective form of communication is the creation of a powerful narrative." ~ Howard Gardner in Changing Minds: The Art and Science of Changing Our Own and Other People's Minds.
Before class began Tuesday evening, three references were made to a well-documented but debated phenomenon: a natural inclination toward linguistics but not math. As a mathematically-challenged person, I can attest to the fact that I have greater linguistic abilities than I do in logical-mathematical reasoning. It is a debatable issue because educators can limit their teaching if they teach only to math or linguistic intelligences (because they are the most common) without addressing other intelligences. According to Howard Gardner's multiple intelligences (MI) theory, all students can learn content if they learn through MI applications. Emily's presentation brought back memories about Gardner's theory and my undergraduate teacher education program. In education courses, students learn how to apply the intelligences within their pedagogies. Incorporating all of the intelligences is not easily done in the real world of teaching, but after thinking about MI again, I see new ways to use the intelligences as a means of invention in composition. The intelligences are about how we learn, and they easily lend themselves to process writing. The possibilities for reaching reticent writers through MI is an exciting prospect as well.

When exploring the ways writers write, Samuel Coleridge's compositions may be examined for how they vary from the standard English style of writing. Most of us who are native English speakers, think, speak, and write linearly. We scaffold our discourse, building fact upon fact. Many people from other countries do not think, speak, and write linearly. Some cultures compose their discourse with a more spiral construction; many ideas are explored, and they diverge far off topic before arriving at the main point. Coleridge wrote in such a way. Rex Veeder, in "Coleridge's Philosophy of Composition: An Overview of a Romantic Rhetorician," writes about Coleridge's philosophy: "There must be willingness, then, on the composer's part to accept obscurity as a vital ingredient of the composing process. Working through obscure thoughts in acts of composition assists us in creating an innovative personality" (22). While it is true that Coleridge was creative, his innovativeness made him difficult to read. Veeder shares with us Linda Flower's thoughts about Coleridge: "Coleridge's 'inspirational' model for composition is a threat to the teaching of composition," and Ross Winterowd's assertion that Coleridge's "theory of composition or rhetoric lacks purpose" (20). The problems of Coleridge's composition lie in the fact that his "method for composition is defined by a circular rather than linear approach to the structure of an essay" (26). For teachers of English composition, such writing presents problems with the way we view organization.

Coleridge wrote in a way that Ann E. Berthoff describes in "Learning the Uses of Chaos" in our Norton anthology: "Meanings do not come out of the air; we make them out of a chaos of images, half-truths, remembrances, syntactic fragments, from the mysterious and unformed" (648). Berthoff asserts that we must look beyond linear composing when she writes, "Learning to write means learning to tolerate ambiguity, to learn that the making of meaning is a dialectical process determined by perspective and context" (649). This is a lesson for those who teach composition. Our students' diversity in thinking and writing means that they do not all write linearly, and we educators must make "dialogue out of chaos" in order to reach others and form communities with our students.

Amy began her enjoyable and informative presentation with a quote from Mary Astell: "The way to be a good orator is to be a good Christian." Astell was a forerunner of feminist ideals, although at the time she likely would have believed that feminism was unChristian-like, but she did not know the possibilities before her. Times were changing, and women were making advancements - and as Dr. Souder suggested, women were making "baby steps" toward equality, but in Astell's day, women were still subjective to ancient biblical beliefs which held that women should not speak in certain realms. And it was not only biblical tenets, but women were also subjected to heavily dominated male-shared beliefs to which Aristotle addressed when he said, "silence is a woman's glory." These attitudes kept women in the home and out of the public eye. It was for those reasons that Astell did not consider the possibilities of women becoming ministers and lawyers. She did, however, know that women had a voice they were not using and minds they were not developing.


We need a dash, no, we need a barrage of Mary Astell's encouragement today. More women than ever have entered our colleges and universities, and in fact, outnumber men in most higher institutions; however, some women's issues have worsened. After decreasing for a number of years, violence toward women is rising, and increasing numbers of women short themselves when they choose teen motherhood and do not consider the possibilities of our world. (These issues could be promoted as timely composition topics in our schools). Astell promoted that it was women's responsibility to improve their minds and to contribute to the education of their daughters. In some ways, we have taken steps backward in the education of many of our daughters. And while Astell was speaking of "fashionable ladies," in A Serious Proposal to the Ladies, she wrote, "Why won't you begin to think, and no longer dream away your lives in a wretched incogitancy?" and "Can you dote on a mean, ignorant and ignoble life?" Astell was frustrated with women not using using their God-given reason when she wrote those words, and she would be frustrated with women today.

Technology is a realm in which we realize possibilities, but there seem to be divergent paths on the information highway for women and men. In "Feminist Research in Computers and Composition" from Computers in the Composition Classroom, Lisa Gerrard discusses the possibilities of computer technology. She wrote the article in 1999, and some references are a bit dated, (technology writing is outdated the day after it is written, is it not?) but she addresses issues that continue to be problems today. While women are technologically literate, the ways women use computers and technology are different from the ways men use technology. Gerrard asked this question: "...does the computer-based writing class, which publicizes an individual's writing in many ways, affect men and women differently?" (196). What is the answer to her question these eleven years later? Our blogging is now not only for our peers, but it is available for all the world to see. That much public writing, especially when one is a novice and not well-versed in a mode of writing, is disconcerting.

Gerrard relates several examples of gender differences in computer usage. One is about games. She writes, "Games matter because they are teaching a whole generation of children about computers. If girls don't play games, they may come into our classrooms with little prior computer experience" (189). The world of gaming hasn't changed much in eleven years in that most games are still made for males. Women have, however, embraced computer technology. Does gaming promote more skills than than the ways women use technology? While women's usage might be different, girls and women have more computer skills than they did only a few years ago when they entered school. We are progressing as long as we continue to use our brains and consider the possibilities before us.

A history of questions and questionable history

Throughout history, men, scientists, philosophers, rhetoricians - women - have posed questions about what we know, how we know, what we need to know, and what we need to teach. Are we born with innate knowledge, or is life a continuous quest for knowledge building upon itself? How and why do we think? The answers to these questions have driven instruction, education, and curricula for centuries and have been largely reactionary to the current trends of the day in which they were posed. As Johanna brought up in class, Giambattista Vico was a humanist who believed we have an innate nature of knowledge. He suggested there are three stages of understanding and three types of knowledge. Maria Teresa Maiullari, in "Giambattista Vico," relates that Vico believed the educator should "be familiar with the natural predisposition of the human soul and must impel the student to develop this familiarity as well" (1). Learning, in other words, must be transformed into knowledge, and language was the mode by which communication and transmission of knowledge occurred. Vico was concerned with the "social and legal ordering" of society (5), but his ideal was the "attainment of an 'eternal natural Republic ordered by Divine Providence'" (3). In this manner, Vico believed there was an order to society and to government. God determined the providential order, but through self-autonomous study, students could learn their place in the hierarchy of social order. Learning and knowledge of all things was a process, and he believed that a well-rounded education included math and science. Vico's concern about the human condition, innate knowledge, and his belief that rhetoric was "a means rather than not an end to knowledge" (5) varied from the traditional modes of thought, education, and discourse that existed before him. He promoted a new way of thinking that was not widely accepted, but would be in time, as a humanistic approach to how we learn. Lester Faigley promotes a new way of thinking as well with regard to visual rhetoric's affect on what we see, what we know, and how we write. Vico might say that the predisposition of the human soul and self-autonomous study lead to our understanding of visual rhetoric.

Like Vico, John Locke had a love of scientific knowledge, but he differed from Vico in his view of knowledge and understanding. As Dawn suggested, Vico was a follower of the nurture rather than nature theory of acquiring knowledge and sharing it through language. Language's purpose, according to Vico, was to share thoughts and ideas as quickly and easily as possible, and to "convey the knowledge of things" (425). He believed we were not born with innate knowledge, and proposed that we acquire knowledge through experience. Experience takes the forms of sensation and reflection. We get our ideas from our five senses, and then we reflect (426). Locke varied from the traditional methods of teaching rhetoric. He questioned whether we should be drawing from canonical "artistic proofs" through use of the topics, or whether new avenues in "inartistic proofs" should be pursued from outside sources (425). Locke moves away from the classical topics and looks toward outside influences for invention.

Despite the centuries between them, Linda Flower and John Locke share similarities in their beliefs about how we learn. Flower is one who delves into cognitive processes and strategic problem-solving approaches to writing. Locke might concur about the ways in which we gain knowledge. Acquiring knowledge through experience is an aspect of cognitive learning. Like Locke, Flower is a proponent of the cognitive aspect of rhetoric.

David Hume influenced the knowledge of the masses through his historical publications, but the writing of history poses a number of problems. In "The Cambridge Companion to Hume," we read that Hume himself wondered "...how could we claim to have first-hand knowledge of the existence of Julius Caesar when the sources we relied on were in fact copies of copies?" (286). When does a primary source become a non-primary source? Do copies of copies besmirch history? What if the original documents have been copied incorrectly, abridged, expanded upon, or taken out of context? As for Hume, could he have, in order to make history more appealing to women, embellished or altered his writing of history to make it more entertaining to them than their "ordinary books of amusement?" (282). A problem with history is the writing of it. One person's view of history and his perspective about what he has seen, influences writing. Hume noted this when he studied ancient civilizations and found that ancient scribes could not have portrayed an accurate representation of society (288). Perspectives can be skewed. Although Hume claimed to record history with impartiality, he also claimed to "support Whigs and Tories alternately" (301). Hume seems to be partial to whatever side he happened upon. His history, therefore, would reflect what he saw from his perspective at a particular time. Might any of us expect that we could ever have a truly impartial, accurate history? Stanley Fish, skeptic that he is, might wonder the same thing. In his August 24 blog, he writes, "...I have no problem with alternative ways of teaching literature or history," and also implies that there is not a canon for teaching history (3). Which is the correct history to teach? The answer to this question, as is the answer to all questions, is dependent on the current trend of the day.

Living, Breathing Rhetoric

This is an anecdote but pertinent.
Today my students convinced me to be part of a fund-raiser in which I will get a pie thrown in my face. I had no intention of doing this (contact lenses and other excuses). However, they used rhetoric skills, and they won. (We've been working on persuasive techniques). They appealed to logos - "You should Mrs. Kelley. It's for a good cause." They appealed to ethos - "The Cancer Society will make sure the money goes to the right places." They appealed to pathos - "My cousin has cancer. You'll be helping people like her." They even used the bandwagon approach: "Other teachers are doing it, too," and they had an answer for my contact lens problem - "Wear goggles." I'll be off to Wal Mart soon to buy goggles and shampoo.

Rhetoric and Oratory Live

Richard Enos begins his "Recovering the Lost Art of Researching the History of Rhetoric" with an anecdote about a speech which he gave fifteen years earlier in which he used the words "rhetoric" and "oratory" (7). His audience, The National Communication Association, reacted strongly because of the words' negative connotations. He offers an explanation for their reaction: "the lack of education and understanding" led to a loss of "the knowledge of the discipline" (9). This group of people who should by all accounts embrace the history of rhetoric and oratory, reacted as if Enos were addressing methods and topics which the NCA had outgrown. Part of the problem for the NCA at the time was that they promoted a humanistic approach to the research of rhetoric. A current result of this approach has been that research has become criticism (13). Enos also realizes "that much of the work published in journals was not research but rather commentary" (11). Research has become an end to a process rather than an art that is sensitive to new growth. How do we reclaim the art? How might we keep our approaches to researching rhetoric fresh and alive? Enos suggests that we need to participate in primary research, and interview "theoreticians and practitioners of rhetoric and oratory" (17). If we do not, the result may be that history is lost forever.

In "Rhetoric and Praxis," Edward P.J. Corbett, Maxine C. Hairston, and James Kinneavy also suggest ways in which the concepts of rhetoric may be kept alive. Corbett relates that writing teachers have devoted increased attention to heuristics. He attributes the "sudden resurgence of interest in the canon of rhetoric" (43) to learning about the ways in which writers write. For the past several years, teachers have shown greater concern for process. Today's teachers are simply renewing interest in one of the classical canons originated before Aristotle. His topoi, the common and special topics, were starting places from which speech or writing could begin. Topoi served orators well for centuries, but ran into a snag when Hugh Blair devalued them. Blair referred to the Latin loci (Greek topoi) and wrote in "Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres," that the Grecian sophists gave an orator "recipes for making speeches on all manner of subjects" (50). Blair seems to be saying that it's not really invention if it's prescribed or formulaic. Blair lectured for twenty-four years at the University of Edinburgh in the 1700s, but his influence endured into the 20th century. His views likely contributed to the demise of invention, and may be the reason that "teachers today have declined to use this heuristic system in the composition classroom" (51). Fortunately for today's writers, heuristics have reappeared. Some students need a place to begin.

Maxine C. Hairston promotes reintroducing the enthymeme as an invention. It is a strategy she and other scholars believe incorporates rational, ethical, and emotional appeal in rhetoric and personal discourse (59). Hairston identifies problems she believes have had a harmful influence in the history of the enthymeme, including that many people involved in rhetoric have misunderstood or oversimplified it, ignored its importance because of their disinterest in rhetoric, and that composition courses have shifted from "product to process" (60). The enthymeme is a time-saving device from which a writer will have a place to begin. Because it addresses all the appeals, it is an effective device.

James Kinneavy also acknowledges the validity of the enthymeme, (60) and promotes kairos in today's composition classes. He notes that kairos is absent from some of the modern texts that accompany university courses. But could it be that if kairos is not directly taught, it is implicitly taught? Do we not promote timing? Are our essays not on timely subjects? We typically encourage students to compose topics on which timing is of the essence.

Enos, Corbett, Hairston, and Kinneavy promote incorporating traditional rhetorical concepts in today's composition classrooms. Yes, some are formulaic, but considering the numbers of students who lack composition skills by the time they arrive at our universities and colleges, students need invention and the timing that kairos affords, and they need to be able to obtain primary evidence. An article, "New Push Seeks to End Need for Pre-College Remedial Classes" appeared in the New York Times in May of 2009, stated that millions of students must take remedial or developmental composition courses. Perhaps if these rhetorical concepts are introduced or implemented earlier, students might have a better foundation - and one to build upon - when they begin their post-secondary education.

Self-actualization and Real Writers

In "Pre-Writing: Models for Concept Formation in Writing," Gordon Rohman and Albert Wlecke examine traditional methods of teaching writing and find that neither "intensive evaluation" nor frequent practice improves writing quality (217). They explore the processes by which people arrive at concepts, one of which is Jerome Bruner's "concept formation," (218), and find his phrase to be somewhat lacking. They coin their own term "concept transference." By their definition, concept transference is based on the premise "that a major task of the writer is to discover within himself a pattern with which to organize his subject" (218). Most of us writers likely do form concepts and organize our thoughts into a recognizable pattern which leads to discovery (perhaps even an epiphany), and transfer our newly-found treasure to paper and speech.

Rohman and Wlecke further explain that people inherit concepts rather than form them, and those concepts echo their culture (219). Rohman and Wlecke assert that "There is no one philosophy of writing" and "there can be no one method to teach it (221). The two based their research and developed a course on the following belief: "that writing is a form of human behavior, but more specifically, is a form of human self-actualization, and in writing a person is satisfying his basic needs for self-affirmation as well as the immediate, practical needs for communication" (221).


I beg to differ, at least as far as most beginning writers are concerned. For the purpose of this argument, I refer to beginning writers as most students in grades K-12 and a quite few undergraduates. In our educational systems all students must write. Some students will find discovery in writing but only a few will achieve self-actualization. While a few are motivated to write, for the majority, it is a process that is required at all levels in all educational institutions. Could required writing by its very nature squelch discovery and prevent self-actualization? Perhaps it is because students must write that they write poorly. Could it be that not all humans are meant to be writers?

Rohman and Wlecke begin their essay by asking, "Why do students write poorly?" (216). They also ask, "...why does not more of a student's language teaching 'stick'?" (217).


I offer this explanation: students forget because their writing has no relevancy.

Every year I must reteach aspects of English that students have learned and forgotten. One of the teachers in our discussion group reflected that students claimed they had never before been taught sentence structures. I am certain that teachers before me have taught parts of speech, grammar, and the types and kinds of sentences, yet students forget what a noun is from one year to the next. When students write about a topic that is relevant to them - perhaps about an issue related to their culture - their writing comes alive. Personal narratives are easy to teach, because students write about something they know. But I must teach other modes, and it is in those modes that language loses its "stick." An aspect of my pedagogy is that I must be a motivator in order to help students find a connection and relevancy in their writing. One more thing I've found to be true: frequent practice and evaluation has helped my students improve their writing.

Rohman and Wlecke offer insightful evidence and a valuable tool for our writers' bags, but for some, traditional approaches still work.

Mozart, Beethoven, and Engfish

How appropriate to read an excerpt from Ken Macrorie's Telling Writing before I begin a blog that my professor and my peers will read. Academic blogging is intimidating! The previous statement was truthful, although it may be merely "not the truth" but..."some kind of truth" (300). I can honestly tell you that this is not going to be a truthful writing. I have already made corrections. I have added added words to make my meaning clear, and before I am finished, I will have changed my writing so much so that I will be guilty of committing Engfish.

Engfish is not truthful writing. It is the "phony, pretentious language of the schools" (207). It is the writing of academia. It IS the writing we students believe our professors and our peers expect from us. Are we not like the boy who "reaches for impressive language"? (300). Truthful writing, on the other hand, is devoid of phoniness and pretension, and instead, is "natural language without thinking of ...expression" (302). That language might be achieved by free writing.

Macrorie asks students to complete a number of free writing exercises. In those writings, students write words quickly without concern for grammar and punctuation, and for specified periods of time. He compares writers who write freely for "Truth" with those who write for "Great Thoughts" (303). The differences are profound. Those who write with the intention of achieving "Great Thoughts" tell. Those who write for "Truth" show. Macrorie shares two paragraphs written by identical twin girls relating the same event. The first tells: "I feel like I have evolved from a cocoon now. I can see the light again." Telling writing is filled with lifeless state-of-being verbs and inflated adjectives. The second twin shows: "The first day we got in the wrong math section...Then Tuesday we got stuck in the snow in the driveway, and we missed the math class" (304). Writing that shows paints vivid, concrete images. Truthful writing, born from our heart differs from Engfish produced by our brain. Could Mozart, then, have been a truthful composer and Beethovan an Engfish (of sorts) composer?

Although composing orchestral scores differs from writing prose, the creative process is similar. In The Composing Processes of Twelfth Graders, Janet Emig shares an excerpt from Stephen Spender's "The Making of a Poem" that a "Mozartian is one who can instantaneously arrange encounters with his unconscious" (234). Free writing could be compared to a Mozartian plunge in which a writer loses himself or herself in the depths of his or her art and "surfaces with a finished pearl." A "Beethovian" conversely, "is the agonizer, the evolutionizer." Beethovian writing is an evolutionary process. I sometimes write with Mozartian abandon, but I write for academia like a "plodding miner." I suppose it must be that way. Truthful writing is just too naked.

Writing Across the Curriculum and The Appeals

Should our schools - and the state of Colorado - require proficiency in belletristic writing?
A question I've had after perusing our assigned readings, and especially David Russel's American Origins of the Writing-across-the-Curriculum Movement, is why do our schools - and our states - require that our students write in belletristic modes? Not only is it required that students write in descriptive, narrative, and fictional genres, but it is required by the No Child Left Behind legislation that they be proficient. Mandates also require that students be proficient in expository writing (typically persuasive and research writing), but those are genres which are more conducive to writing about real world situations.

Writing in education, as our authors have shown, has not always been what it is today. Education and the evidence of what was learned was oral. And as our readings have pointed out, various types of writing, which have included rhetorical writing, have ebbed and flowed in our universities and in our schools. Writing was once stictly rhetorical. Responses to reading were once written as well. Educational institutions have required combiniations of both. As David Russell relates, writing was once seen as a "central function of the emerging disciplines." Most writing done by students and professionals was "real world" writing. Belletristic writing, that which was "the product of genius or inspiration," was left to humanities departments.

I teach writing to middle school students. I teach students how to properly respond to literature. how to use transitions, techniques for adding voice, improving their word choice in descriptive and narrative essays, how to build character development in fictional writing, how to organize research papers, and how to incorporate the three modes in persuasive writing. Without fully comprehending the Latin terms, students learn how to appeal to the logos, pathos, and ethos of their audience. There is value in learning the appeals, because while they are students and after they are not, students' arguments throughout their lives will be more persuasive if they effectively use rhetorical appeals. There is value in writing in many different modes, but is it necessary that they do so? Must they write proficiently in all of them?

It is true that most of my students, and many students who share similar demographics of my school district in southeastern Colorado, are not proficient in Colorado Student Assessment Program (CSAP) writing. Interestingly, not one group collectively, grades three through tenth statewide, exceeds 49% proficiency. Singularly, districts may have higher or lower rates of proficiency. When districts with high poverty rates, such as many of those in southeastern Colorado, are compared with districts which have higher incomes, the proficiency rates are much lower. Perhaps if we returned to the "real world" writing that David Russell describes, our pre-secondary students might be able to focus on the basics of writing. Students need to learn how to respond to literature and how to simply write coherently and correctly before they can write in the more belletristic modes.