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Marjorie Roemer, Lucille M. Schultz, Russel K. Durst, Reframing the Great Debate on First-Year Writing, College Composition and Communication, Vol. 50, No. 3, A Usable Past: CCC at 50: Part 1 (Feb., 1999), pp. 377-392

Ttives of the teaching of writing in United States colleges have inevitably excluded or simplified moments and facets of history in the service of asserting order within their comprehensiveness. While no curricular history means to include references to all the composition activity going on in the country, their representational figures, both professors and colleges, often present cases which ought to be understood as demographically, ethnically, or racially limiting. One striking absence from the broad histories of writing instruction in English and across the curriculum in American colleges is the composition instruction done at historically black colleges and universities (HBCU). On the other hand, the history of African American higher education has itself generated a vast literature, including chronicles of Howard University, Fisk University, Tuskegee Institute, and Atlanta University, many journals, including the Journal of Negro Education, as well as countless articles, scholarly books, and textbooks written by HBCU faculties, students, and alumni. This literature and its sources demonstrate that from the late

n their recent article on Importing Composition: Teaching and Researching Academic Writing Beyond North America, Mary N. Muchiri and her co-authors challenge our assumptions that composition is universal in its uses and applications, and that writing instructors and writing students do not occupy particular geographic locations. Muchiri et al. remind readers that composition is very much a product of North America and of capitalism and illustrate what happens to composition research when it is exported-how it changes in a different, de-localized context of its origination. Importing Composition highlights some of the assumptions that form the basis of U.S. research on academic writing-assumptions that sometimes seem bizarre in a new context (176). In our limited notions of

The essays in this book, stemming from a national conference of the same name, focus on the single subject required of nearly all college studentscomposition.Despite its pervasiveness and its significance, composition has an unstable status within the curriculum. Writing programs and writing faculty are besieged by academic, political, and financial concerns that have not been well understood or addressed.At many institutions, composition functions paradoxically as both the gateway to academic success and as the gatekeeper, reducing access to academic work and opportunity for those with limited facility in English. Although writing programs are expected to provide services that range from instruction in correct grammar to assistingor resistingpolitical correctness, expanding programs and shrinking faculty get caught in the crossfire. The bottom line becomes the firing line as forces outside the classroom determine funding and seek to define what composition should do.In search of that definition, the contributors ask and answer a series of specific and salient questions: What implicationsintellectual, political, and institutionalwill forces outside the classroom have on the quality and delivery of composition in the twenty-first century? How will faculty and administrators identify and address these issues? What policies and practices ought we propose for the century to come?This book features sixteen position papers by distinguished scholars and researchers in composition and rhetoric; most of the papers are followed by invited responses by other notable compositionists. In all, twenty-five contributors approach composition from a wide variety of contemporary perspectives: rhetorical, historical, social, cultural, political, intellectual, economic, structural, administrative, and developmental. They propose solutions applicable to pedagogy, research, graduate training of composition teachers, academic administration, and public and social policy. In a very real sense, then, this is the only book to offer a map to the future of composition.

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This collection of sixteen essays, authored by major scholars in the field of composition and rhetoric, offers an eclectic range of opinions, perspectives, and interpretations regarding the place of composition studies in its academic context. Covering the history of rhetoric and composition from the nineteenth century to the present, the collection focuses on the institutional and intellectual framework of the discipline while honoring Donald C. Stewart, a man who addressed the central paradox of the field: its homelessness as a discipline in an academic community that prides itself on specialization.Over the past two decades composition grounded in rhetorical tradition has emerged as a foundation for liberal and professional studies. These essays, furthering the often disputed point that composition is indeed a discipline, are divided into three parts that examine three crucial questions: What is the history of composition s context? How does composition function within its context? How should we interpret or reinterpret this context?In the first part, the essayists investigate the history of composition teaching, noting the formative influences of the eighteenth-century Scottish rhetoricians in the development of the American tradition as well as the effect of composition on education in general. The essayists question the public perception of rhetoric as the art of flimflam and examine the rise of expressive writing at the expense of argumentation and persuasion.In part 2, the contributors make clear that composition is a discipline in the process of defining itself. They explore the role composition plays in universities and the ways in which it seeks focus and purpose, as well as formal justification for its existence.In the last section, the authors scan the very edge of the field of composition and rhetoric, from examinations of the nature of the composing imagination and of the question of dialogue as communication to feminist theoretical approaches that attempt to bridge the differences between the New Romantics and New Rhetoricians composing models. The essays are enhanced by the coeditors witty and perceptive introduction and by Vincent Gillespie s tribute to Donald Stewart.

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In this critical history of the gendered politics of rhetoric and the rise of composition, Miriam Brody argues that nothing about words or their arrangement is innately gendered. Yet since the English Enlightenment, teachers have encouraged their students to admire and imitate manly writing, writing that is plain, forceful, cogent, and true. Similarly, students have been enjoined to avoid so-called effeminate or feminine writingwriting characterized as vague, unorganized, ornate, and deceitful.Such advice, part of what Brody terms the hidden curriculum, has served the interests of discourse communities as various as the early Enlightenment Royal Society in seventeenth-century London (by urging a clear and masculine style for the work of science) and the land-grant universities of nineteenth-century America (by claiming that the work of writing was similar to clearing the land and pushing back the frontier). Brody s discussion in fact becomes a social history of canonical rhetorical essays and important late Enlightenment, nineteenth-century, and early modern school texts. She points out that in their advice to writers even the Strunks and Whites and Peter Elbows of more recent times have extolled masculine virtues and urged control over invasive and problematic feminine qualities.Brody s book not only clarifies rhetoric s inheritance and transformation of the classical ideal of manliness, it also is the first critical work to explore the ideological significance of gendered imagery and to interpret in light of this imagery rhetorical essays and hard-to-locate early composition texts against a background of previously unpublished archival materials.

Preface - Elaine Maimon Writing Across the Curriculum - Susan H McLeod An Introduction Getting Started - Barbara E Walvoord Faculty Workshops - Joyce Neff Magnotto and Barbara R Stout Starting A WAC Program - Karen Wiley Sandler Strategies for Administrators Writing Across the Curriculum and/in the Freshman English Program - Linda H Peterson Writing-Intensive Courses - Christine Farris and Raymond Smith A Tool for Curricular Change WAC and General Education Courses - Christopher Thaiss Writing Components, Writing Adjuncts, Writing Links - Joan Graham The Writing Consultant - Peshe C Kuriloff Collaboration and Team Teaching The Writing Center and Tutoring in WAC Programs - Muriel Harris Changing Students' Attitudes - Tori Haring-Smith Writing Fellows Programs Conclusion - Margot Soven Sustaining Writing Across the Curriculum Programs

I often hear assertions, says Wendy Bishop, writing classes have no content, especially when compared to literature classes or other classes in other disciplines where famous texts by famous authors are commonly under discussion. In this unique compilation of essays, Bishop brings together the voices of teachers and students to affirm that the content of writing classrooms is the work that these individuals do together. It is this focus on reading and writing about writing that has made Subject Is Writing such a popular text. Like earlier editions, the third edition serves as both a classroom reader and a rhetoric for first-year college writing. End-of-chapter questions invite students to respond to the essayists with essays of their own. Turning to the appendix of Hint Sheets, teachers and students will find a selection of handouts filled with practical advice that will help them navigate through the daily life of their classrooms. The third edition has been enhanced with three new essays by teachers and the work of four new student authors. They discuss choosing topics, developing voice in writing, and understanding classroom writing assignments; they offer insights into drafting practices and encourage readers to investigate their writing lives in similar ways. The essays in Subject Is Writing are not esoteric, academic treatises, but relevant and earnest communications that speak to all writers as peers, colleagues, and interested adult makers of meaning.

New Visions of Collaborative Writing, Janis Forman Alice M. Gillam Methods and Methodology in Composition Research, Gesa Kirsch and Patricia A. Sullivan Russel K. Durst Gaining Ground in College Writing: Tales of Development and Interpretation, Richard Haswell Robert Brooke Beyond Outlining: New Approaches to Rhetorical Form, Betty Cain Richard M. Coe Portfolios in the Writing Classroom: An Introduction, Kathleen Blake Yancey Karen L. Greenberg Reading and Writing Essays: The Imaginative Tasks, Pat C. Hoy II David Z. Londow To Make a Poem, Alberta Turner Working Words: The Process of Creative Writing, Wendy Bishop Diane Kendig Teaching Hearts and Minds: College Students Reflect on the Vietnam War in Literature, Barry Kroll Lucille Capra Illumination Rounds: Teaching the Literature of the Vietnam War, Larry R. Johannessen Lucille Capra Vietnam, We’ve All Been There, Eric James Schroeder Lucille Capra

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So ends Arthur Clarke's classic 2001: A Space Odyssey, and, as David Bowman contemplates with some dismay his seeming mastery of the universe, his unstated question is one the contemporary writing or literature teacher might well appropriate for his or her own contemporary pedagogical dilemma: So what do I do now with my students? It is the question a high-school English teacher once asked me as she read some Derrida and Nietzsche as part of a required Contemporary Theory and Pedagogy class I was teaching. Her pedagogical quandary was not an isolated one. I answered her with another question: What if a student in your freshman writing class submits to you a rough draft of a paper which you consider to be racist-very racist? Would you, or should you, with that paper-or perhaps one that asserts that it is the duty of Christians to ferret out every gay and 'beat some sense into him'-mark it as any other paper? She seemed to squirm in her seat. She had, in fact, once gotten a racist paper, and her response had been unequivocal: she did not allow the paper and sat the student down and set him right. Whatever truth there is to Foucault's assertion that each society has its regime of truth, its 'general politics' of truth-i.e., the types of discourse which it accepts and makes function as true (Truth 131), and whatever personal power agendas are working subtly at the heart of any particular discourse, still, to that teacher that morning, there were some things you could be certain about. In the case of a racist paper, some seemingly universal principle far beyond political correctness, beyond situational truths, was at issue. Still, as she struggled through some of the assigned readings for the course, it was clear she was having some difficulty reconciling her own moral fervor

At the Point of Need is a richly detailed account of the experiences of teachers, tutors, and students over a five-year period in a university writing center, whose main mission was to enable basic and ESL writers to handle college writing demands. By and large, it's a success story, with implications and applications far beyond the purview of that particular writing center. Essentially, it wasn't broad knowledge of teaching or writing that these teachers and basic writers needed. What they needed was permission and encouragement to evaluate their own work; a way to evaluate it for themselves while including feedback from others; peers to help them brainstorm things to try when they got stuck; support for trying the unconventional; and freedom from constant impersonal assessment.

This is the first book-length study of the status of composition in English studies and the uneasy relationship between composition and literature. Composition studies and institutional histories of English studies have long needed this kind of clarification of the historical and political contexts of composition teaching, research, and administration. Susan Miller argues that composition constitutes a major national industry, citing the four million freshman-level students enrolled in such courses each year, the $40 million annual expenditure for textbooks, and the more than $50 million in teacher salaries. But this concrete magnitude is not expressed in political power within departments. Miller calls on her associates in composition to engage in a persistent critique of the social practices and political agenda of the discipline that have been responsible for its institutional marginalization. Drawing on her own long experience as a composition administrator, teacher, and scholar, as well as on a national survey of composition professionals, Miller argues that composition teachers inadvertently continue to foster the negative myth about composition' s place in the English studies hierarchy by assuming an assigned, self-sacrificial cultural identity. Composition has been regarded as subcollegiate, practical, a how-to, and has been denied intellectual rigor in order to preserve literature' s presentations of quasi-religious textual ideals. Winner of three major book awards: The Modern Language Association' s Mina P. Shaughnessy Prize The Conference on College Composition and Communication' s Outstanding Book Award The Teachers of Advanced Composition' s W. Ross Winterowd Award

This essay is about resistance, mine and my students', and about the angered and impassioned writing that arises when texts challenge the ideologies of readers. It's been two years now since I taught the particular section of freshman English that gives rise to my story and my writing. course was the second semester of Northern Illinois University's two semester freshman sequence, a course that emphasizes documented writing, the sort that baptizes students into academic discourse. My course was thematically organized and designed to sensitize students to some of the larger problems in our culture; in fact, we were looking at institutions of all sorts-education, religion, politics, and so on. I should say that this sort of ideological consciousness-raising is very much part of our faculty's concern; ours is a largely blue-collar student body where white suburban students meet inner-urban ethnic diversity, sometimes for the first time. And so I felt that having a thematic section on The Status of Women was a good and strong part of my syllabus. class had read three essays in this unit, and after minimal discussion and minimal direction, they adjourned to the computer lab to write their readings of one of the essays. I asked them to react in writing for several pedagogical reasons, the first of which is purely pragmatic-I wanted the class to begin to compose at the computer terminal rather than to transfer handwritten text to disk. Second, I wanted them to interact with the text, to cite it, to struggle with it, to read in another way than they may have been accustomed to reading. Third, I wanted their writing to produce reading that would subvert their assumptions about gender roles, that would allow them to sort out what is biological from what is gendered.

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As a community-college English instructor immersed in teaching four sections a semester, at least two of which are writing courses, I have very little time to study theories of composition and pedagogy. And yet, out of a desire to improve as a teacher, I read theory in what little time I have. I look outside my classroom to learn what theoreticians have to say about what happens in my classroom. I have, over the years, internalized a view that if I am to find theory I am to do so outside my classroom-in the major journals and at conferences. I have also come to expect that the theoreticians, those writing the journal articles and presenting papers, are most likely to be from universities, and a relatively small number of them. Needless to say, I do not expect the theoreticians to come from the community colleges or from other institutions whose faculty devote most of their time to teaching. In recent years, however, the line between theory and classroom practice has begun to be breached, the dichotomy between the two questioned. When Robert Coles, whose words begin this essay, encourages me to consider theory as rooted in observation, in things observed and people observing, I wonder whether, maybe, even a beleaguered community-college writing teacher can theorize, and I begin to think it is possible. I am further encouraged by events happening in the profession. In this regard, an extraordinary thing happened at the 1990 CCCC Convention, which took place in Chicago. Jane Peterson, while giving the Chair's Address on Valuing Teaching: Assumptions, Problems, and Possibilities, identified herself unequivocally as a teacher who had in the past taught five sections in one semester and would continue to do so. At one point, she turned to the

Creating a Computer-Supported Writing Facility: A Blueprint for Action, Cynthia L. Selfe Computer Writing Environments: Theory, Research, and Design, Bruce Britton and Shawn M. Glynn Fred Kemp Critical Perspectiveosn Computers and Composition Instruction, Gail E. Hawisher and Cynthia L. Selfe Bruce L. Edwards Reclaiming Pedagogy: The Rhetoric of the Classroom, Patricia Donahue and Ellen Quandahl Sharon Crowley Audience Expectations and Teacher Demands, Robert Brooke and John Hendricks Alice M. Gillam The Psychology of Writing: The Affective Experience, Alice Glarden Brand Robert Brooke Coping with Failure.: The Therapeutic Uses of Rhetoric, David Payne Paul W. Ranieri Critical Thinking: A Semiotic Perspective, Marjorie Siegel and Robert Carey Alice Heim Calderonello Effective Documentation: What We Have Learned from Research,Stephen Doheny-Farina Jack Selzer

Drawing on scholarship in a variety of disciplines - philosophy, political theory, sociology, sociolinguistics, anthropology, literary theory, rhetoric - the authors outline an approach to the study of literacy that does not neglect the cognitive or individual aspects of literacy but rather sees them as largely shaped by the social forces of our political, economic, and educational systems. Ranging from the first-year writing class to adult literacy programs, the essays point the way to effective teaching strategies, program design, and research opportunities.Seven new chapters - on such topics as collaborative writing, discourse communities, women's literacy, and functional literacy - and eight previously published ones make up the book, providing a comprehensive theory of writing as social action.

In her opening address, Composing Ourselves: Politics, Commitment, and the Teaching of Writing, Andrea Lunsford challenged the participants at the 1989 CCCC to tell the story of the teaching of writing in multiple voices which encourage differences and diversity. Cautioning against definition by others, particularly by those who would describe writing instruction in reductive terms or define writing instructors in limiting ways, Lunsford warned those present that we could be composed in the discourses . . . of others (75). For those of us teaching in two-year colleges, Lunsford's descriptions of historical precedents of marginalized voices writing themselves into being were particularly evocative. Her imperative for composition studies to remain inclusive, interdisciplinary, collaborative, nonhierarchical, and dialogic was a further articulation of the CCCC 1989 theme of empowerment and of interdependence. Furthermore, the 1990 CCCC theme, community through diversity, includes a strand on English in the two-year college. This focus recognizes the significance of teaching writing in two-year colleges and should provide the opportunity for participants to explore and articulate the strength in diversity among two-year institutions of higher education. Indeed, two-year schools are the largest single sector of higher education in the United States, with approximately one half of all students taking composition in two-year colleges (Facts 3). These 1,224 accredited schools serve more than five-million credit students, and many of those students transfer to four-year schools (AACJC Commission vii). The numbers of students taking composition in community colleges alone indicate the significance of community-college English departments (Raines 29). Yet no major study has been published since the 1965 NCTE and CCCC report, English in the TwoYear College. A follow-up to this report could be a critical contribution to an evolving text on the teaching of writing. In fact, the Association of Depart-

learning, one that will bring about changes in teaching as well as in student writing. We also need to establish quite clearly that WAC programs certainly do not exclude examinations and more coursework in writing as a means of establishing proficiency, but that WAC is not to be identified solely with writing proficiency. Finally, there is an issue not dealt with directly by my survey, but which has come up in anecdotal comments at the meetings of the National Network of Writing Across the Curriculum Programs and which deserves further study-the matter of change and faculty resistance to it. The idea and the practice of writing to learn goes against the predominant paradigm of education in the university, which valorizes the teacher-centered lecture class. In this paradigm, students are passive rather than active learners; they learn from the expert, not from each other. WAC programs challenge this notion of education, and those of us involved in such programs like to point to the successes we have had in changing faculty attitudes towards writing and learning (See Robert Weiss and Michael Peich, Attitude Change in a Cross-Disciplinary Writing Program, CCC 31 [Feb. 1980): 33-41). But changing attitudes and changing actual classroom practice may be two different things. Faculty resistance to change can be profound, as Deborah Swanson-Owens found in Identifying Natural Sources of Resistance (Research in the Teaching of English 20 [Feb. 1986): 69-97). Such resistance could, over a number of years, gradually wear away even the most firmly established institutional program. But I do not want to end on a negative note. While we need to be aware of the dangers that face the WAC movement in general and second-stage programs in particular, the survey results indicate cause for some cautious celebration. WAC as a movement is strong and is continuing to grow. It is up to all of us involved in such programs to be alert to the dangers, but also to be pleased that we have come this far.

with their intentions, however absent these intentions seem to us at first. In order to respond to these intentions we may ask our students to be responsible for their development, to monitor and record this development. We may lead them into an internal struggle, in support of which our advice is only marginally significant. Our soundtrack is defined by a constant deferral to their powers of production. And victory over the ape will be won with the sound of many voices, and the strength of one's will to hear the silence.

In a style that combines scholarly care with remarkable readability, North examines the development of the field of composition in a way it has not been examined before. Rather than focusing on what people claim to know about teaching writing, he concerns himself primarily with how they claim to know it. Eight groups of knowledge-makers are treated in separate chapters: Practitioners, Historians, Philosophers, Critics, Experimentalists, Clinicians, Formalists, and Ethnographers. Each of these chapters orients the reader by tracing the mode's first uses in the field and listing its best known and most important adherents; then goes on to explain how the mode of inquiry works, illustrating key points with painstaking analysis of well-known studies. In his final three chapters, North turns from these individual modes to consider the field as a whole: How have these different ways of making knowledge come together? What is Composition now, and what is it likely to become?

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(especially the reading of literature) has often been justified in the writing classroom because reading gives students something to imitate (see, for example, Miller's Composition and Decomposition and Comley and Scholes's Literature, Composition, and the Structure of English). The text, it is argued, provides a model of effective writing which students can copy, and the process of reading critically, practiced on literature, can become a model of how writers should behave in reading their own work. is thus seen as useful because it models both forms and processes for writers to imitate. But is this kind of imitation how writers really learn to write? Or does imitation in learning actually work some other way? In this article, I'll suggest an alternative understanding of imitation and reading in the writing classroom, and I'll exemplify this alternative using material from a semester-long participant-observation study of a freshman Composition and Reading course. The alternative runs as follows: when a student (or any writer) successfully learns something about writing by imitation, it is by imitating another person, and not a text or a process. Writers learn to write by imitating other writers, by trying to act like writers they respect. The forms, the processes, the texts

According to a recent survey, top and mid-level managers admit that one of the four main difficulties that beset them in their writing is to organize content. Yet another survey reports that of weaknesses found by college teachers of composition in freshman writing, inability to organize essays falls sixteenth, after, for instance, failure to proofread and over-use of the passive. 1 This gap between what students will need to be able to do on the job and what teachers think students need appears even more serious when one looks at how the teachers worded this sixteenth weakness: Students are aware of only one organizational pattern-the five-paragraph theme. Five paragraphs, of course, are not necessarily a pattern of organization at all, but rather a stylistic uniform. As we shall see, college freshmen, even writing impromptu on the second day of class, actually generate a variety of good organizational patterns. The implication is that writing teachers do not distinguish extended patterns in student writing very readily. This is an ungenerous conclusion, though later I will offer more support for it, and I hasten to say that college students often make their organization hard to see. Researchers, too, have not helped teachers here, and not one piece of research can be found even naming the sorts of organization that students do use for whole essays. Basic information seems called for. Such, at least, is all my essay here pretends to offer. First I will describe a classification of organizational patterns for whole essays and a method by which both teachers and researchers may use it to analyze student essays. Then I will report the results of such an analysis applied to a controlled study of underclass writing. Since this study distinguishes freshman, sophomore, junior, and competent adult levels of achievement, I can conclude with recommendations for teachers that are not wholly intuitive.

To establish the issues that must be considered by evaluators of college writing programs, Witte and Faigley review major evaluation studies conducted at the University of Northern Iowa, the University of California San Diego, Miami University, and the University of Texas.For each study the authors devise a series of questions that probe every aspect of theory, pedagogy, and research: What do we presently know? What assumptions are we making and how do those assumptions limit our knowledge? Are those limitations necessary or desirable? What do we still need to know?Such questions demand much of program evaluators, who also must face additional difficult questions as they evaluate a writing program. Do the instructors conducting the writing classes share common assumptions that are reflected in their assignments, evaluative procedures, teaching procedures, and course content? How stable will the program prove to be over time? Will the writing program have a lasting effect? Do students leave the program with increased confidence in their ability to write?As Witte and Faigley urge program evaluators to pose these questions, they also bring to the problem a new comprehensive conceptual framework that both necessitates such queries and provides an opportunity to answer them.

In the summer of 1936, George Orwell sat at his desk in his cottage in Wallington, Near Baldock, Herfordshire. with birds chattering or squabbling in the rafters overhead, he began to write an essay about shooting an elephant, an essay which would become remarkably popular. (See Bernard Crick, George Orwell: A Life [London: Secker and Warburg, 19801, p. 200.) Most remarkable of all, even for the author of 1984, Orwell foresaw with incredible clarity my 1980 freshman composition class: black, Chicago bornand-raised Paula Smith; Massey-Ferguson-seed-cap-wearing Dale Harvey; all A's, small-town (Sheldon) Kevin Youngers, and all the others. With at least my Iowans in mind Orwell wrote, And at that distance, peacefully eating, the elephant looked no more dangerous than a (Shooting an Elephant, in The Collected Essays, Journalism, and Letters of George Orwell, ed. Sonia Orwell and Ian Angus [New York: Harcourt, 19681, I, 239). Of course the notion that Orwell included a cow comparison for farm-oriented Dale and Kevin is absurd. But nearly all the editors of the composition textbooks we call readers imply that Orwell (and other authors) wrote specifically for college students or generally for anyone ever able to read English. Actually Orwell's concern about a specific audience began before my students were born. In a May 27, 1936 response to a query from Michael Lehmann, editor of New Writing, Orwell writes: