Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Number 6: for the week of February 25, 2010

My dear readers,

The main concern I encounter in this week's readings is a desire to discover what lies behind writing. When is it done? Why is it done? How is it done? I must admit, for someone with only a minimal familiarity with composition theory before entering this course the myriad of theories I encountered this week was almost too much for me. However, I was able to make some headway. First of all, by the definition laid out in "Cognition, Convention, and Certainty" I am an outer directed theorist. By which I mean simply that I have always believed nothing happens in a vacuum. Everything we do is affected by the world in which we live and our fellow beings who inhabit it along with us. While I do believe that there are parts of life and processes that can be universal, I likewise believe that they usually are not. This is mainly due to differences in perceptions of individuals and groups involved and disagreements that arise therein. In other words, generally speaking, there are things that everyone can agree on. For instance, the sun will rise tomorrow. But as for why it will do so, there may or may not be competing theories. Why? Differences in perception, which in turn grow out of differences in environment and life experience. These differences must be marshaled carefully for effective teaching.

The question posed at the beginning of the article by Flower is one which I suppose is obvious but which I had never thought of because for years I thought I knew the answer for certainty. Here's what I mean she essentially says that it is difficult to still hold the view that good writing is just a matter of making choices. Well, now, that was news to me. You see, when I was in English 206 with Dr. Leon Coburn he told us flat out on the second day of the semester that good writing was in fact nothing more than making choices and that the best writers simply learn to consistently make the best choices. I took that advice to heart and it has helped me reach the point I am at now. The four questions she poses on page 274 are interesting although somewhat repetitive. Certainly writing is driven by goal. No one would write if they didn't have a reason to. By that I do not mean, that people must be mandated to write. I simply mean a writer who feels like he has nothing to say doesn't tend to write. Setting aside potential financial reward why would a novelist compose a novel if he did not have a story he thought was worth telling? As for freezing goals as a growing network… well, yes and no. A creative person who simply enjoys the act of writing an expression may take just having written something down as an end in itself. I do that quite often you might like to know. I do deeply enjoy her discussion of the stage models of writing though it would probably mean more to me later in my career when I have read more of this type of literature.

I enjoyed the Dias chapter on distributed cognition. Its model of knowledge and information flowing to and from teachers, students, administrators etc. goes back to my earlier point nothing happens in a vacuum. I'm reminded of the old Discovery Channel TV series Connections hosted by James Burke. That was one of his main theses for the series that everything in life is connected somehow or other and that all knowledge comes out of other knowledge and then breeds still more knowledge which continues the process. I can see that in terms of evaluation at the university level. In other words the grades I give my students this semester will be not only a measuring stick for them but also for me as an instructor and the department as a whole. Since nothing happens in a vacuum, nothing can be taught in a vacuum. Hence we should try to incorporate every teaching tool from every genre and subject area we possibly can.

Russell seems to have that same idea when examining academic and nonacademic writing. I don't suppose most academics think much about nonacademic writing do they? His mention of dialogism seems only common sense to me. The cognitive and the social always worked together. In fact I would argue they help to construct and shape each other. After all, without some societally based knowledge to start with how can you really understand anything?

Kellogg has it right with the stages developing writers go through. At first we simply tell knowledge on paper with no sense of decorum or style. We don't concern ourselves with audience or how what we write may be perceived in the future. In knowledge transforming the move beyond that occurs as I take it we begin to move from writer based to reader-based prose. In other words, we figure out that we are not the only being that may ever see what we write. In the final stage knowledge crafting not only do we know that our audience is not as but we take deliberate steps to affect what they would feel and how they will perceive us. I'll wager very few writers who have ever lived really do this effectively. The idea of deliberate practice is very well put. After all, whatever one's view on the writing process the more that process is attempted the more improvement is possible.

I particularly enjoyed Ong’s in the way that he talked about orality. I had never thought about the idea of written language being more permanent than its oral counterpart. I've never considered that the moment a word is spoken its sound is already nearly gone. That is an interesting concept I will have to ponder further when I have more time. Mind you, spoken language can achieve immortality if it is heard by someone who remembers it. The many bardic traditions of Europe and elsewhere testify to this fact. Indeed, though the sounds of individual spoken words may disappear more quickly than their printed counterparts if they are remembered those words may outlast printed versions which can be lost or damaged. I remember in bibliography and methods with Dr. Erwin reading a case study about the Maori in New Zealand during the early days of Christian missionaries in the islands. The missionaries were so intent on printing texts so that oral traditions would not be lost they failed to realize that fueled the Maori bothered to read the printed texts preferring instead to recite things orally, a method that they found more reliable.

Ong brings up the point that people who come out of cultures that are highly print-based did not quite know what to do when faced with information that cannot be written down. On the other hand those who come out of oral traditions do not have this problem. On a brief personal note, there are some members of my family who even to this day have never learned to read. They rely entirely on orality and memory for the transference and retention of information. Honestly, I operate that way mostly too.

My physical condition makes it difficult for me to hand write or even hand type long works. I either tape-record notes or simply memorize what I hear. As a matter of fact, this very blog which you are reading was composed not by typing on a keyboard but by speaking into a special software program that transcribes my words. I wonder, would some of the theorists we have read so far consider me less than literate based on how I must live my academic life?

Thank you so much for your time,

James Altman

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