Response to Ellen Cushman's "The Rhetorician as an Agent of Social Change"
The first thing that struck me about Cushman's article is the voice. After three months or so of the rather stiff, traditional academic tone of the readings, it's nice to have a bit of a break. That being said, by the end of the piece I was about sick of the voice. I’m not sure what exactly was irritating to me, but after a while Cushman didn’t strike me as very professional sounding. Ah, well. Minor issue I suppose.
It was good to read about the issue of division between school and community. Her example sounds a bit more extreme than the tension we may see around this area, but I think the separation between educational institutions and community is something that schools should address. If one must exist within the community, good ties to it are certainly necessary. Though the situation of secondary is a little bit different (mostly in that they are, theoretically, part of the community as a whole), some of the same division occurs. Through improved communication and volunteering, who knows? Perhaps the educational world (and its surrounding community) will be a little bit brighter place to be.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
Response to Report of the Committee on Composition and Rhetoric – Charles Francis Adams, Edwin Lawrence Godkin, and George R. Nutter (1897)
As I read the report addressed to the Harvard board, I amused by how little some things have changed in the past 110 years. University composition teachers are finding their incoming students woefully unprepared and often blame secondary schools for not doing their job. There are several interesting (and decidedly more intellectual) ideas within the report, but instead I’ll draw your attention to a few quotes that stuck out to me.
“The indications are, however, that the Normal school standard is in this respect unduly low, and that our teachers need themselves to be taught” (106).
Like the other problems that the reports authors address, it’d be nice to think that this has been remedied, but I really don’t think it has. It is a common practice for teachers in my building who are working toward advanced degrees to bring drafts of papers to the English faculty to edit. The amount of train-wreck sentences I see composed by otherwise intelligent people never ceases to amaze me. I am a little leery, though, of the report writers wholeheartedly negative view of teacher preparation in composition. The writing samples included from the normal school sound pretty decent to me (I realize, though, they probably selected some of the better ones for the appendix). It would be interesting to know how many Normal Schools added (or already had) composition classes around the turn of the century.
“The papers filed in [the Lawrence Scientific School] were noticeable inferior in nearly all respects,—thought, neatness of execution, spelling, penmanship and observation,—to the papers in the other courses. They contributed nothing to the general result, and no extracts of them are included in the Appendix” (108).
“For, while the mass of the papers [from all the courses] are, as was of course to be expected, commonplace and monotonous, a few of them contain matter bright, observant, reflective, and at times humorous; and from such the Committee has endeavored to make a selection” (110).
These two quotes (as well as others) make me question the methods of the committee members. I realize that the better papers have more content on which to base analysis of composition education, but it is hard for me to wholly dismiss the Lawrence papers as the authors do. It looks like the writers missed a good opportunity to report on the state of training in technical communication. And who said you can’t learn anything from bad examples? This focus on only the best writers has its point and value, but I’m more curious about those muffled voices.
“School-masters are mortal; and, being mortal, they must have rest from their labors. They cannot work out of hours, as well as in hours” (114). Um…yes, they can. It’s just unpleasant.
“The province of the preparatory schools is to train the scholar, boy or girl, and train him or her thoroughly, in what can only be described as the elements and rudiments of written expression—they should teach facile, clear penmanship, correct spelling, simple grammatical construction, and neat, workmanlike, mechanical execution” (123). Poo. That doesn’t sound very interesting. In fact, to some students it might feel like a mechanical execution of an entirely different sort.
And my personal favorite…
Teaching in secondary school “demands steady, daily drill, and drudgery of a kind most wearisome. Its purpose and aim are not ambitious,—its work is not inspiring” (123). Need I comment on this one?
As I read the report addressed to the Harvard board, I amused by how little some things have changed in the past 110 years. University composition teachers are finding their incoming students woefully unprepared and often blame secondary schools for not doing their job. There are several interesting (and decidedly more intellectual) ideas within the report, but instead I’ll draw your attention to a few quotes that stuck out to me.
“The indications are, however, that the Normal school standard is in this respect unduly low, and that our teachers need themselves to be taught” (106).
Like the other problems that the reports authors address, it’d be nice to think that this has been remedied, but I really don’t think it has. It is a common practice for teachers in my building who are working toward advanced degrees to bring drafts of papers to the English faculty to edit. The amount of train-wreck sentences I see composed by otherwise intelligent people never ceases to amaze me. I am a little leery, though, of the report writers wholeheartedly negative view of teacher preparation in composition. The writing samples included from the normal school sound pretty decent to me (I realize, though, they probably selected some of the better ones for the appendix). It would be interesting to know how many Normal Schools added (or already had) composition classes around the turn of the century.
“The papers filed in [the Lawrence Scientific School] were noticeable inferior in nearly all respects,—thought, neatness of execution, spelling, penmanship and observation,—to the papers in the other courses. They contributed nothing to the general result, and no extracts of them are included in the Appendix” (108).
“For, while the mass of the papers [from all the courses] are, as was of course to be expected, commonplace and monotonous, a few of them contain matter bright, observant, reflective, and at times humorous; and from such the Committee has endeavored to make a selection” (110).
These two quotes (as well as others) make me question the methods of the committee members. I realize that the better papers have more content on which to base analysis of composition education, but it is hard for me to wholly dismiss the Lawrence papers as the authors do. It looks like the writers missed a good opportunity to report on the state of training in technical communication. And who said you can’t learn anything from bad examples? This focus on only the best writers has its point and value, but I’m more curious about those muffled voices.
“School-masters are mortal; and, being mortal, they must have rest from their labors. They cannot work out of hours, as well as in hours” (114). Um…yes, they can. It’s just unpleasant.
“The province of the preparatory schools is to train the scholar, boy or girl, and train him or her thoroughly, in what can only be described as the elements and rudiments of written expression—they should teach facile, clear penmanship, correct spelling, simple grammatical construction, and neat, workmanlike, mechanical execution” (123). Poo. That doesn’t sound very interesting. In fact, to some students it might feel like a mechanical execution of an entirely different sort.
And my personal favorite…
Teaching in secondary school “demands steady, daily drill, and drudgery of a kind most wearisome. Its purpose and aim are not ambitious,—its work is not inspiring” (123). Need I comment on this one?
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