Week One Response: NASA-Worthy Communication: Versatility and Humanism in English 101

Reading both Connors and Rutter this week, I was able to recognize more clearly how versatile and how “humanistic” English 101 is as a technical writing course. As a creative writer new to teaching composition and rhetoric, I’ve often had the fear that I could force too much literature or freewriting on students because that’s where I’m most practiced. But I’ve realized through these readings that as a teacher I tend to favor communication over the fields I loved in undergraduate. With the help of Connors focus on what’s truly useful to various majors and Rutter’s emphasis on humanism, I am reminded that English 101 is designed to be versatile by focusing on “common processes” and the “writer-reader relationship” and that the exercises I champion are not overly creative or literary—they are usually oral presentations and group work based on rhetorical practice for their academic futures (Connors 13).

One way English 101 allows for applicability to all majors is our focus on process vs. forms/templates (as Mills and Walter initiated in the tech writing field). We do have four required papers in English 101, but the emphasis is on how rhetorical processes change from paper to paper—teaching them how to fish vs. giving them a fish. Connors traces this emphasis as the root cause that technical writing “saw the expansion . . . into fields other than engineering” (14). The highly structured curriculum provides a great design for the course to be versatile; our challenge is showing students how the concepts taught by individual papers apply to other areas of their lives and careers, which I usually do by giving each paper topic a fair space in the classroom and allowing others to respond to it, authentically.

We also encourage the human element of writing through peer review, conferences, discussions, and presentations. When Rutter paraphrases, “Technical writing, [a project manager] said, is one-third writing proficiency, one-third problem-solving skill, and one-third ability to work with other people,” I was affirmed in my encouragement of professional communication between my students, even though they feel awkward or forced at times (21). I have a Rogerian-style activity (which worked really well in 102) in which students are required to present their paper topics (usually for argument-based papers), and I assign question partners. Each presentation will be confronted with a human face presenting the opposition to their argument, and the presenter must respond to it with the authenticity and consideration which should be inherent in all professional decision-making (to avoid future Challenger disasters, white collar crimes, oversights, colleague conflicts, etc.). I am happy to hear that this kind of emphasis on human interaction is so vital to the technical writing field, especially in our technological age in which most communication takes place in physical isolation.

Refreshing, these readings offered me a nice affirmation that composition is both relevant and useful to all the majors and also that the curriculum is (and I am) maintaining the level of human contact necessary to avoid oversights that lead to anti-social academic behaviors and careless decisions. Even if students have “little respect” for me because I am merely a GTA or an “effeminate” English scholar (which is a dated point Connors makes that still feels somewhat true), I have a firm belief that they will recognize the value of rhetorical skills and communication when they enter their majors, work alongside colleagues, present at their first conference, or write their first cover letter, proposal, or resume (10). With the informal setting of English 101, students gain the practice necessary to be comfortable when these professional milestones occur for them.

 

Connors, Robert J. “The Rise of Technical Writing Instruction in America.” Central Works in Technical Communication. Eds. Johndan Johnson-Eilola and Suart A. Selber. New York: Oxford U P, 2004. 3-19. Print.

Rutter, Russell. “Toward a More Comprehensive Definition of Technical Communication.” Central Works in Technical Communication. Eds. Johndan Johnson-Eilola and Suart A. Selber. New York: Oxford U P, 2004. 20-34. Print.

2 comments

  1. ewardell

    Christina, I had some of the same reaction after reading some of the articles: although their debate was focused on what to teach in technical writing, a lot of it could be applied to more introductory courses, or maybe even the English department in general.

    The exercise you’ve created for your students I think has a lot of value since it seems to not only give the students the perspective that there are stakeholders involved in their communication (and stakeholders are real living, breathing, people) as it also emphasizes an ethic of empathy centered around human interaction that reduces/removes the technological medium and barrier we often use to safeguard our sometimes irresponsible or disrespectful actions.

    My questions for you then, considering you’ve thought of ways to apply and teach professionalism and ethics in classes outside of just technical writing are these: should creative writing classes employ the same strategies you’ve employed in your ENGL 101 classroom? And do you think professional creative writers should give the same consideration to audience that technical writers do, or would that be selling out to the masses? Looking forward to your response.

    • cseymour

      Hi Eric. Thanks for asking me to think about my creative writing teaching! I think the answer is almost a no. Creative writers need the space and time alone to examine how they respond to the world in unique ways. If they are considering what the “opposition” or critics will say, they won’t be able to boil down their ideas and images to something both strange and beautiful. Of course, creative writers should consider that an audience will read their work, but their audience may not be one they see everyday–it’s an ideal audience, one who gets them, not one who dissents.

      I suppose the solution to your second question is workshop. In workshops, creative writers are encouraged to share what they like and don’t like about pieces but to never disregard a poem because it doesn’t fit with our specific aesthetic. We need to ask ourselves, what is the poem trying to accomplish, and how can we help it become more receptive to us if we aren’t getting it? I think those who participate in workshops who aren’t taught that everyone needs space for their own aesthetic to flourish are criticized as generating the “workshop poem” or the “MFA poem” that are SO clearly stated and accessible to so many people that it becomes boring. Creative writers just have to be smart about what comments to listen to and which ones to toss.

      Mostly here, I’m talking about poetry. Fiction may be a different story–since there’s a market for fiction, they are more often forced into guidelines that will sell their work. Poets, I believe, are given more artistic license when it comes to publishing.

      As for the professional landscape where poetry is shared–readings–it might be great practice for students to read their works and to have other students question choices with the purpose to defend and define their aesthetic style. In that sense, the answer to your first question is yes: creative writers take risks and make choices that they must back up, but considering the opposition in the drafting stages would be working from the top-down, not a great approach to elicit discovery and mystery.