This teaching practice paper shows how students may choose to work with ChatGPT, generative AI and Large Language Models (LLMs) to produce essays and written assessment solutions in a manner that may be considered as either acceptable or as a breach of academic integrity depending on individual and institutional views. Following a brief introduction to how chatbots work, case study examples show how modified prompts can be used to generate writing in alternative styles, how a writing tutor review can be simulated, and how LLMs can be run locally and without Internet access. The paper is intended to inform academic writing tutors, instructors, and assessors what is possible using generative AI for writing as of January 2024. It is not positioned to make a judgement regarding what is acceptable, but rather to illustrate how technically proficient users can accomplish more than is often indicated by writing beginner level prompts for a chatbot. Such techniques are accessible to many students and the Academic Writing Development community will need to consider its response.

Linguistic modeling of the writing process has gained in importance in recent years. Existing models, both from a linguistic perspective focusing on syntactic analyses as used in natural language processing and from writing research, are insufficient to actually linguistically explain what authors do when writing and revising. Writing is linear in time, but writers are free to move to any point in the text produced so far whenever they want, thus producing specific parts (e.g., sentences) in a non-linear fashion. However, the final product is a linear sequence of sentences. We therefore can interpret writing texts as a sentence-driven process. In this new framework, this article proposes a model of the production of sentences during writing. This sentence-centric model builds on existing considerations of transforming sequences, bursts and revisions, and takes into account aspects of linearity and non-linearity on the sentence level. We present a working implementation (available as open source software) and show which information can be gained by the resulting analyses in a small case study.

This paper draws on Bakhtins notion of heteroglossia to expand theorizations of community translanguaging. Ethnographic and practitioner inquiry methods are used to explore the multiple voices that multilingual elementary students adopted and adapted in their digital, translingual texts. Findings illustrate how children drew from multiple voices, including popular media, family collective memories, the school/teacher, peers, and heritage languages, and how they used those voices to recontextualize ideologies about language, literacy, and schooling and to participate in the social and academic work of the classroom. Implications for emerging theorizations of community translanguaging as well as design of more equitable pedagogical practices for multilingual learners are discussed.

Christina Saidy, Emily Robinson, and Kristin C. Bennett Abstract This qualitative study examines the experiences of first-year TAs as they conducted teacher research projects in the TA practicum. We argue that teacher research in the practicum provides a way to bridge teaching and knowledge making, foster a continual and layered learning practice, and extend the […]

Amidst the panic, fear, and uncertainty during the COVID-19 pandemic, Dr. Wenhong Zhang emerges as a go-to source for the Chinese public to seek information to protect themselves and find hope and order in their distress. Focusing on Dr. Zhang's 39 WeChat posts from January 2020 to March 2022, this case study reveals that he employs a constructed ethos and leverages WeChat as a powerful social media to craft the kairotic responses to the pandemic.

This article explores the extent to which Global North mHealth apps are designed for user empowerment and persuasion in the Global South healthcare context. Findings from a case study underscore the need for decolonizing digital technology to promote more inclusive and equitable access to the digital ecosystem. The article suggests that deploying rhetorically nuanced, justice-driven decolonial design approaches can help stamp out digital colonialism and build a just future by bridging the North-South divide.

Technical and Professional Communication (TPC) scholars and practitioners (TPCers) see a need to intervene in a range of complex problems. Yet scholars such as Leah Ceccarelli and Lauren Cagle have noted a gap between scholarly research findings and policy changes. To address this gap, I theorize a strategic grounding framework, consisting of multiple, linked tactics that over time enable TPCers to make a case to gain a seat at the table to shape policy. I theorize this framework through a case study of Stephen J. Pyne, founder of the subfield of Fire History, who influenced national and global fire management policy. I examine Pyne's professional papers, housed in the Stephen J. Pyne Papers Collection at the Arizona State University Archives. The framework offers TPCers a series of tactics that position TPCers as change makers as they place their expertise to shape policy that addresses complex problems.

This article considers the rhetorical risks of using generative AI to compose organizational communication during crises or in the aftermath of tragedies. It focuses on a case study in which representatives of Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College of Education and Human Development disclosed their use of ChatGPT to write a response to a school shooting at another university. The author argues that although generative AI can often be useful in technical and professional communication, it can also undermine perceptions of “rhetorical humanity” if its use is disclosed or discovered, making it rhetorically risky in certain contexts. Thus, knowing when not to utilize AI is an important aspect of AI literacy for practitioners.

This study examines how supervisor-candidate coauthoring collaborations contribute to doctoral students’ writer identity. Three candidates’ coauthorship experiences with their supervisors were investigated in depth using a multiple-case study design. Interviews, written reflections, and email correspondence between coauthors enabled thick descriptions of these candidates’ writer identity formation. Guided by Burgess and Ivanič’s framework of writer identity, the multiple-case study showed how the candidates’ autobiographical selves, discoursal selves, authorial selves, and perceived writer were influenced through the experience of coauthoring with supervisors. Notably, the candidates benefited from supervisor-candidate coauthorship by engaging in scholarly collaborations, bolstering their confidence as academic writers, and strengthening their authorial voice and rhetorical awareness. This study also reveals potential pitfalls or challenges of such collaborations, highlighting key considerations for supervisors and candidates considering coauthorship.

Drawing on a larger year-long ethnography at a public, urban, comprehensive high school in the Midwestern United States, this article describes the texts students composed in a co-taught sophomore (grade 10) humanities course combining social studies and English language arts. Bringing together sociocultural perspectives on literacy and composition with queer theorizations of time, I argue for the utility of attending not only to time’s multi dimensionality but also its multi directionality. Doing so in writing instruction can help thaw binary polarization and foster more humanizing temporal and in turn ideological movements. To illustrate, I present an ethnographic case of students writing about the history of gendered clothing in 20th-century U.S. society. I examine how different temporal ideologies had consequences for students (not) reproducing antagonistic, polarized binaries with respect to oppressive values, in particular anti-LGBTQIA+ values as they intersect with class, race, and politics. Although my emphasis is how gender and sexuality intertwine with economics, race, and politics, this article suggests that attending to the multidimensionality and multidirectionality of time is a productive site for scholars and educators committed to praxes of justice in writing instruction.

This article contributes to the writing center scholarship in three ways. First, it revisits and further develops the discussion on course-embedded writing support programs; in particular, it builds on Kelly Webster and Jake Hansen’s “recursive reflection about course-embedded tutoring” and responds to Mary Tetreault et al.’s call for utilizing archival research as a resource for tutor education. Second, it takes a unique approach to tutor education by exploring how embedded tutors for first-year composition classes develop their expertise outside of the formal training sessions. Third, it applies the theoretical framework of rhizomatic learning that has not been previously utilized to investigate the diverse experiences embedded tutors undergo as they acquire and refine their tutoring skills. The qualitative data for this case study were obtained from the Coordinator of Composition Tutoring’s reflective journal as well as session logs and reflections completed by course-embedded peer tutors for composition courses at a four-year Northeastern institution over the period of four semesters. The analysis of the data reveals the rhizomatic character of embedded tutors’ learning, where elements of the learning processes are interconnected and ever-expanding (Deleuze and Guattari; Grellier). The discussion includes a set of questions designed to encourage tutors to reflect on their learning processes. Writing center administrators can use these questions to gather data on how tutors develop their skills within their specific contexts.

Writing center scholars have long been interested in the configuration of administrative leadership, often focusing on the roles and designations of writing center administrators (WCAs), whether faculty or staff. This article builds on existing scholarship by examining the affordances—capabilities and limitations—of a mixed-designation administrative team composed of both faculty and staff. Using our writing center as a case study, we highlight the benefits and limitations of a leadership team composed of both faculty and staff. We outline our center’s transition to a mixed-designation leadership model and use affordance theory to delineate the potentials and constraints of such teams, exploring how this configuration impacts functionality, effectiveness, and reach. Capabilities of this model include institutional visibility and legitimacy, access to information and resources, institutional reach, tutor education and training, and mentorship. Limitations include time constraints and a split focus, communication challenges, role ambiguity, and potential reinforcement of hierarchical structures. We conclude with practical recommendations for WCAs seeking to enhance their team structure or add faculty or staff administrative roles. By exploring the unique potentials and limitations of mixed-designation teams, we aim to contribute to ongoing conversations about equity, inclusion, and effective leadership structures in writing center administration.

My intent in this qualitative study was to illustrate if and how inequalities in power and authority exist in interactions between tutors and multilingual (ML) tutees set in a university writing center in a predominantly White institution (PWI). Using Fairclough’s model of critical discourse analysis (CDA) as a guide, I analyzed selected transcripts to uncover how “language shapes and positions” tutors and tutees (Fernsten 45). I propose that using CDA to examine writing center transcripts can be an effective training tool for tutors working with multilingual writers. By analyzing how their discourse choices may unintentionally bolster linguistic dominance and diminish ML students’ voices, tutors can adapt their approaches while also identifying discourse choices that lead to constructive, collaborative interactions.

Trauma is ubiquitous, including in post-secondary settings, meaning that trauma-affected individuals are present in every classroom or service setting. While research has investigated the engagement of post-secondary instructors with student trauma disclosures, this work has not extended to cover the unique role of post-secondary writing center staff. Writing tutors may encounter trauma narratives through written assignments or verbal disclosures and often labour under a degree of precarity and lack control over curricular and assignment design, giving them little preparation before encountering emotionally challenging material. As a “helping profession,” writing tutors may be at risk of secondary trauma, re-traumatization based on personal trauma histories, or unsustainable levels of emotional labour. Employing a critical disability lens and an equity-centered trauma-informed framework, this project engaged eight university-based writing center staff in Ontario, Canada in semi-structured interviews to explore how they perceive and narrate their engagement with student trauma and how this may relate to trauma-informed pedagogical practices. Based on a Reflexive Thematic Analysis, several themes are explored, including the relationship between writing center structure/labour conditions and trauma-informed practices, types of emotionally challenging interactions, strategies tutors employ to engage with students during trauma-adjacent sessions, and gaps in ability to provide trauma-informed service. These themes provide insight into tutors’ experience with student trauma and imply recommendations to improve staff and student well-being through engaging with trauma-informed practices in the writing center.

Research has increasingly addressed first-generation (FG) students both in and outside the center (Baelemian & Feng, 2013; Bond, 2019; Denny et al., 2018; Ward et al., 2012), but there remains a need to address this unique student population from the perspective of critical theory. In a replication study of Bond’s 2019 “‘I Need Help on Many Things, Please’: A Case Study Analysis of First-Generation College Students’ Use of the Writing Center,” we examined the needs and perceptions of self-reported FG students in a writing center at a large, regional, public R2 university in the Midwest. We gathered preexisting digital data from WCOnline, consultants’ postsession notes, and our office of institutional research. Using thematic analysis, we coded, categorized, and compared FG college student and non-first- generation student data to better understand their unique needs. Thereafter, we corroborated our qualitative findings using quantitative analyses, specifically the Pearson chi-square test. Situated within the framework of cultural community wealth, our findings illustrate that FG students bring their own forms of cultural capital to the academy, challenging prior deficit-oriented narratives (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977; Yosso, 2005). Our study can be used to better address the academic needs of FG college students and to extend replicable, aggregable, and data-driven (RAD) writing center research (Driscoll & Wynn Perdue, 2012; Haswell, 2005) into conversations of justice, equity, and inclusion.

This article explores hospitality as a theoretical framework for valuing emotional engagement and rhetorical listening in writing center consultations, challenging traditional views that prioritize rationality and detachment. Anchored in a university writing center, the study investigates how writing tutors engage with writers, adopting hospitality as a core principle. Semi-structured postconsultation interviews and a focus group allowed tutors to reflect collaboratively on their application of the hospitality framework. Thematic analysis with in vivo coding ensured participants’ voices remained central to the findings. By examining the lived experiences of tutors, the study highlights the dynamic relationship between emotional and rational responses in hospitable tutoring. The results demonstrate the transformative potential of hospitality-based pedagogy in fostering healthier writing relationships, improving writer retention, and enhancing tutors’ academic and emotional skills. The article advocates for the criticality of emotional validation and rhetorical listening as central tenets of effective and hospitable tutoring.

For English as an Additional Language (EAL) students, generative AI (GenAI) offers meaningful support for writing in English, while also introducing a new set of challenges. Supporting EAL students in developing AI literacy is crucial to their growth as confident, adaptable writers, and writing center tutors are uniquely positioned to facilitate this development. This case study explores the experiences of undergraduate Brazilian international students at a small liberal arts college who received writing feedback from both peer writing center tutors and ChatGPT. Findings indicate that students valued the human connection, contextual understanding, and rhetorical support offered by peer tutors, while turning to ChatGPT for immediate, nonjudgmental assistance, particularly in navigating multilingual challenges. The study offers insight into how peer writing tutors can thoughtfully leverage GenAI to support multilingual writers.

This paper uses a corpus rhetoric approach to analyze persuasive strategies in competitive debates. The examined strategies are based on inference markers and selected types of systemic means of persuasion. The study is two-fold: the first part is the quantitative and qualitative analyses that characterize competitive debates compared to other persuasive discourses. The second part, the case study, shows the use of particular persuasive strategies related to inference markers and systemic means of persuasion in a specific rhetorical situation. As the quantitative analysis revealed, regardless of the debaters’ experience level, competitive debates are highly saturated with analyzed persuasive strategies. The case study depicts the dynamics of the selected debate; moreover, it illustrates the methodological value of linking macro and micro perspectives in the study of competitive debates as a rhetorical genre and educational activity.

This paper examines some of the labor three professors from three different disciplines needed to exert to produce effective VF on student writing for the first time. The research on VF demonstrates that students want more video comments but the labor to learn how to make VF has not been fully identified. I completed a case study with three professors to collect data. I interviewed the professors at the beginning, middle, and end of the study. After transcribing and coding the interviews, I identified where the professors exerted a significant amount of labor to make VF for the first time. To be motivated to try VF, instructors would benefit from an account of the time needed to learn video literacies, manage paralinguistic activity, and design and organize comments for a video. This paper answers the following research questions: What are the limitations of making VF for the first time? What kinds of labor are required to produce VF for the first time? What do educators need to know before making VF for the first time?

If we but listen, we can hear a voice from the grave—Jacques Derrida’s mournful lamentation: “There is no longer, there has never been a scholar capable of speaking of anything and everything while addressing himself to everyone and anyone, and especially to ghosts. There has never been a scholar who really, and as scholar, deals with ghosts” (2006, 12), a scholar who “does not believe in the sharp distinction between . . . the living and the non-living” (12). But, then, as if in response, we witness the apparition of just such a scholar: Stuart J. Murray, the author of The Living from the Dead, who very much is dedicated to the ethical project of attending to those dead who continue to haunt the living. Indeed, the book’s cover features a spectral image, entitled “Ghost,” as it were, conjured by artist Si Lewen. As well, the very title of his work renders the “sharp distinction” between “The Living” and “The Dead” porous, quixotically indistinct, as signified by the unattached and unhinged preposition “from.” That is, the title does not announce that Murray intends to distinguish the living from the dead, nor separate the living from the dead, nor identify the living from the dead—in some categorical, decisive demarcation. Rather, Murray’s use of the preposition “from” might conjure—instead, a Derridean sense of a “borderline”—a relation marked by différance between the living and the dead. Etymologically derived from an Old English preposition, “denoting the distance, absence, or remoteness of a person or thing in fixed position” (OED)—in time or space, from evokes Derrida’s neologism. “Différance as temporization [time/deferral], différance as spacing [space/difference]. How are they [time/space],” Derrida queries, “to be joined?” (1991, 61). Murray’s syntactically incomplete phrase suggests that the living and the dead are conjoined in a relation of interminable deferral and indeterminable difference, entangled in a fluxed, symbiotic—parasitic, even—relation.Much more could be said on this t(r)opic of deferred presence (and much more, indeed, of parasitic consumption and carnophallogocentrism), but to our immediate point, as Murray’s work entreats us to consider, there is much to learn in conversation with the dead; and indeed, it is our ethical responsibility—burden, even, as he remarks—to “hearken” to their voices. Murray’s The Living from the Dead undertakes this burden, listening to “the dead, the dying, the dispossessed” (1), endeavoring to articulate “[u]nder what conditions might we hearken those dead who summon us, and exhort us, perhaps to reckon with our unspeakable complicity in their deaths” (1), while offering the following caveat: “These pages, which arise in care of such summons, exhortations, and calls to reckoning neither speak for nor as the dead, the dying, or lives lost” (1), for as he will reveal in his refrain, speaking for or as amounts to an unethical co-option, a resentencing to death of the dead and dying.Murray describes his work’s writing “something akin to thanatography” (1), which is through and through a rhetorical enterprise, necessitating an attunement to and with biopolitics’ “speech/acts and its tropological constitution of subjects, political identities, and lives lived” (10). That is, as Steven Mailloux has argued elsewhere, tropes are rotated in order to “rotate the troops” (1993, 299). Tropes, troops; life, death. Much is at stake.The subtitle of the book, Disaffirming Biopolitics, foregrounds Murray’s argument: that attending to these voices, to the dead, requires a certain disaffirmation of biopolitics, a disaffirmation of “a politics ostensibly devoted to life (bios)” (1), to the production of “life,” which is “governed by increasingly autonomous efficiencies and economies of scale, through techno-administrative mechanisms that include systems of surveillance, segregation, health and welfare regimes” (2), as well as “through education, . . . law, biomedicine, and popular culture, too” (2). The production of “life” instantiates itself by way of a “sacrificial economy” (5) that necessitates letting die (1), even “acceler[ating] or mand[ating]” (2) death. In short, “[b]iopolitics kills, albeit indirectly and in the passive voice. It lets die in the name of life. This book begins here in the care of deaths disavowed—rather than from life’s sacred vows and avowals” (1).Murray undertakes his thanatographical critique of biopolitics with an introduction, four chapters, and a concluding “refrain.” Through the use of case studies, examining sacrificial economies that mobilize tropes/troops, Murray listens to those—dead and dying—who are “let to die,” according to the rhetorics and logics of bioethics, as employed during the COVID-19 pandemic, by suicide terrorism, during the hunger strikes of California prisoners, during legal cases of “untimely” deaths of young children, and surrounding the technologically distributed, videotaped death of a disabled Black man. Each case study is situated within a rhetorical framework, and—as ever—critically foregrounds Murray’s own burden of “using,” for analysis, for his evidentiary purposes, these very “precious perilous bodies in sickness and suicide; in hunger, subjects of medico-legal power, of time and race and technology” (161). “My ‘uses’ are abuses,” he admits, “notwithstanding my intent” (161). This confession, which seeks no absolution, confirms, yet again, our/his irredeemable and “unspeakable complicity” in the violence of letting die (1).The stakes are grave, indeed, in Murray’s thanatographical critique—politically, ethically, and rhetorically, which remain, in refrain, indistinguishable, one from the other. In the face of “unconscionable state violence,” “the revivification of nativist nationalisms and racisms,” “merciless neoliberal governments and burgeoning authoritarianisms; and most recently, a deadly global pandemic”: “We live and die today on a knife’s edge of disaster” (1–2). Yet, the most devasting cut of his critique comes, on refrain, as an interrogation into his, my, our, individual and collective complicity in all. Once more, there is no option of good conscience, nor of absolution, although there remains “the future-to-come” (148). This should give us pause, to “wait abidingly” (148)—and should inspire a certain, disaffirming vigilance. At the gravest point, The Living from the Dead is a powerful, ethical invocation; a lyrical, performative provocation—and a promising, futural conjuration.Murray begins his rhetorical investigation citing Foucault’s halting attempt to “define” “biopolitics,” as worked through during a lecture at the College de France in 1976, where Foucault postulates that “one of the greatest transformations political right underwent in the nineteenth century was precisely that, I wouldn’t say exactly that sovereignty’s old right—to take life or let live—was replaced, but it came to be complemented by a new right which does not erase the old right but which does penetrate it, permeate it. . . . This is the right, or rather precisely the opposite right. It is the power to ‘make’ live and ‘let’ die” (qtd. in Murray 3).Murray astutely notes that Foucault’s description of this “epochal transformation” of power can be articulated only in the passive voice, and Murray argues that this is Foucault’s only grammatical recourse precisely because this new right somehow manifests “seemingly by no one, or nothing, and yet in the name of an incipient ‘life itself’” (3). However, Murray continues, although this new right is, in contrast to sovereignty’s supreme agency, “decentralized and reticulate” (4), the grammar of liberal humanism has “become a great biopolitical ruse” (4), propagating the continuing illusion “that I freely choose and choose the very conditions of my own choosing—a grammatical ‘I’ propped up in its delusional sense of rationality, autonomy, and enlightened agency. An entitled ‘I’ through which ‘life itself’ would speak” (4).This grammatical habit—like Nietzsche’s worn coin in “On Truth and Lying” (1989, 250)—remains, circulating in this sacrificial economy as zombie currency: the illusion of individual sovereignty. This “lie”—supported and reproduced by “a mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, anthropomorphisms” (250)—further belies that “the object of that [new] power, its site of application, is not a singular body to be disciplined or punished. Biopolitics makes live and lets die en masse. No longer concerned with given individuals, it is applied systemically on—and constitutes—particular ‘populations’” (Murray 2022, 4). Further, still, Murray maintains, not only is the grammatical “I” a rhetorical invention, but “life itself” is, also. That is, biopolitics mobilizes “a tropological regime that fabricates a vital ‘truth’ from which all else seems to follow” (3). This “truth” belies a so-called “concrete biological body,” which incarnates a trope of a “most disincarnate, sacred, or transcendental notion,” which is “neither given nor natural” (3). The Living from the Dead “surfaces” these mobilizations of metaphors—the tropes of “life itself” (14).Disaffirming biopolitics’ tropological moves is in response to scholars who advocate an “affirmative” or “democratic” biopolitics, who proffer a “kinder, gentler” biopolitics (12). Yet, as Murray convincingly argues, “to affirm is the performative speech/act of a (neo)liberal political subject and iteratively both relies on and shores up a problematic underlying ontology” (12). In this way, citing Nancy Fraser’s criticism, such affirmative attempts, therefore, do not “disturb,” but rather reify “the underlying social structures that generat[ed]” the very injustices, which we are interrogating and asking to be held accountable (12).Disaffirming, in contrast, is a thanatographical endeavor—a rhetorical one: “To critique is not to judge the truths or lies of biopolitics (it proclaims both), or whether it is good or evil (it can be both); rather, critique would pursue rhetorical questions concerning the conditions in and by which such statements could be voiced, circulate, and recruit desiring subjects as agents of the biopolitical apparatus” (13). In this way, “[t]o disaffirm is a devastating undertaking. It is not self-righteously censorious, neither a disapprobation nor a condemnation issued from a posture of moral superiority or a secure sense-of-self. . . . Instead, it would turn its gaze inward to reckon with my collusion and complicity in systems that let die in the name of my own livingness” (18). And, would amount to—if not a burial of the liberal, humanistic subject, certainly “a mortification of this subject, ‘I,’ who writes—here” (19).And then, what remains of The Living from the Dead is its refrain. After careful exegesis of the case studies, themes repeat. What remains, like a refrain, which repeats, remains. A refrain, etymologically, also carries the signifying saturation of the sense of “burden,” which Murray carries with him in his thanatographical study. As chorus or burden, Murray’s refrain through the book is to amplify, in its repetition, like a death dirge, the incalculable, immeasurable ethical burden that “we,” that “I,” that “he,” the author, carries as the ethical obligation in the face of the recognition of our own complicity in the letting die, in the knowledge that our, my, his, very living is at the purchase of the disavowal of so many deaths, the disavowal of all whom “we”/“I” have let die in this sacrificial economy (see also 171).Yet we must lend our ear. The responsibility to “hearken” to, address, and dialogue with “the dead, the dying, the dispossessed” (1) (“however fictively” [144]), however rhetorically, however lyrically, Murray argues, necessitates the use of apostrophe as a non-co-optive, non-cannibalizing trope. Through a careful explication of the distinction between the tropes of apostrophe and prosopopoeia, Murray makes clear that the latter, prosopopoeia, speaks for and as the dead—a making present, as a projection of the addressor, and, as such, is “the master trope of biopolitics,” “whether expressly in the service of making live or letting die. It is a voice that impatiently projects the response it wishes to hear. It refuses to wait; inattentive, it willfully mistakes the echo for origin” (145).In contradistinction, apostrophe attends to a nonpresent absence (144), and eternally awaits a response—an impossible response, because the “impossible possibility of the reply ontologically precedes the call, and calls-forth that call, hearkening in advance: the apostrophe is summoned (by the absent addressee), the apostrophe in turn summons, and we tarry in this space. The address is always in the eternal return of this refrain” (145).And the address, “if we seek possibilities for a critical response that might disaffirm biopolitics,” requires a different “rhetorical register” (145). Hence the apostrophic address, the address summoned by the absent addressee, requires the “mortification” of the liberal human subject, perhaps summoning a sort of sacrifice of “letting die.” In this impossible space, unmoored from “our liberal subjecthood” and the illusion of agentic sovereignty, Murray takes up the (un)timely question: How then? What now? How might “we” proceed ethically (19)? In this concluding chapter, Murray faces the impossible, ethical injunction: How, then, to “deal” with these ghosts—with all these dead and dying with whom I have some complicity—by my very “livingness”? He turns/tropes his thanatographical eye from other systems to himself—to the very act of writing about the dead, about those lives that have been allowed (accelerated or mandated) to “let die.” The repetition is palpable. The lament has a corporeal texture. One feels the weight of corpses; the burden is heavy. This grave acknowledgment, however, is not cause for despair—but rather hope; here for a future-to-come, for a new way of being—for a new relation between the living and the dead.Murray suggests that there is a rhetorical, ethical responsibility to hearken to, to address—in a mode of call-and-response. How, then? Murray, thus, queries: might “we” (as tentatively as he inscribes such a collective), alternately, “gather around the impossible possibility of death, rather than life itself—a thanatopolitics rather than a biopolitics” (170)? Murray explains (and I realize I am quoting him heavily, but his prose is so gorgeously citation-worthy): “We must not think that by saying yes to ‘life,’ one says no to power and to death; on the contrary (to continue borrowing on Foucault’s phraseology), one tracks along the course laid out by the general deployment of biopolitics. And yet, in the sanctimonious affirmation of my ‘life,’ biopolitics demands that I say No to death, that I possess my life by locating death elsewhere, producing it there clandestinely, outsourcing it, as the condition of my living-on” (171).Speaking yes to life or yes to death, indeed, presumes that one can address such, and—to our purposes—presumes that one can, in present circumstances, “own” one’s own death, where nothing could be further from the “truth.” To speak the “truth” would acknowledge that “we ourselves are stuck in the universal contexts of death and cooperate with the death industry” (Sloterdijk 1987, 203). And this is where Murray resurrects the ancient Cynics, who acknowledged “the death-warranting of our established order. They refuse[d] to uphold the broken liberal contract, its ‘free speech,’ its false equalities” (175). Rather, they called for a “life which is radically other” and which “itself responds to—perhaps it has hearkened—death’s address” (175).By way of explication, he conjures Foucault’s late work on Cynic philosophy, as “a sort of parallel history to Western philosophy” (165). That is, Foucault contrasts the philosophical impulses as advocated by Plato’s with that of Plato’s In the the to is with a much relation to the as articulated in the Murray explains the of the the on the of an ethical relation to as a the manifests itself a and of in to the body the that we Western philosophy, and liberal In the in contrast, “the relation to itself . . . not on the care of the . . . but on the care of life (bios)” within Cynic contrast to the and of life within biopolitics rhetorical the or by which I my life and to it rather as by of as by a reply to that It does not speak it lives it. . . . a new to the of to say the (Sloterdijk 1987, It responds to the with “a dialogue of and An disaffirming mode of a mode of of of that one’s life and one’s one is or has one is to live or let to or of the has been a by scholars in our as in a to on Foucault and the of the to speak to speak and to speak The has a and history within the rhetorical (see and but of is the to to as is on the and rhetorics have their to critical This is a by who Foucault’s of power, and who argues that that we will or those that do not sense within the of or is, then, not in the according to much as it is an a The mode of thus, this critical as that up the possibilities for or of the of the to that have in that him his life, but he articulated a of that could one’s mode of one’s mode of death. the of the no such are or even even if we this Murray, in refrain, Cynic philosophy, the no no of an no but it us to still, on refrain, are the remains, the of remains, and the “burden,” or ethical to to Derrida has the work of attending to remains, to remains that do not remain, as the the impossible nonpresent absence that renders all thus, the for what I the (qtd. in 1987, in order to acknowledge that which the How to the of How to the work of our complicity in the systems of How to to the remains, to our complicity with injustices, in order to into the of the to address—in Derrida’s a and of a responsibility for This is what Murray is a scholar who deals with who to address, who for a of “life” that in one’s relation with the living and the ethical relation that would disaffirm our biopolitical regime and would not just an other life, it is an other in which an other death will one be (175). This is his this is what remains.

• This study explores GenAI's role in multimodal composition, including Adobe Firefly and DALL·E. • GenAI reshapes the composition stages of invention, designing, and revising. • Despite its limitations, GenAI offers alternative solutions to wicked problems. • Post-GenAI use, students critically revise and iterate their compositions. • The study contributes to future research and teaching of AI-assisted composition. This study explores the integration of generative artificial intelligence (GenAI) design technologies, including Adobe Firefly and DALL·E, into the teaching and learning of multimodal composition. Through focus group discussions and case studies, this paper demonstrates the potential of GenAI in reshaping the various stages of the composition process, including invention, designing, and revising. The findings reveal that GenAI technologies have the potential to enhance students’ multimodal composition practices and offer alternative solutions to the wicked problems encountered during the design process. Specifically, GenAI facilitates invention by offering design inspirations and enriches designing by expanding, removing, and editing the student-produced design contents. The students in this study also shared their critical stance on the revision process by modifying and iterating their designs after their uses of GenAI. Through showcasing both the opportunities and challenges of GenAI technologies, this paper contributes to the ongoing scholarly conversations on multimodal composition and pedagogy. Moreover, the paper offers implications for the future research and teaching of GenAI-assisted multimodal composition projects, with the aim of encouraging thoughtful integration of GenAI technologies to foster critical AI literacy among college composition students.

In this paper, we demonstrate how studying the rhetorics of ChatGPT prompt writing on social media can promote critical AI literacies. Prompt writing is the process of writing instructions for generative AI tools like ChatGPT to elicit desired outputs and there has been an upsurge of conversations about it on social media. To study this rhetorical activity, we build on four overlapping traditions of digital writing research in computers and composition that inform how we frame literacies, how we study social media rhetorics, how we engage iteratively and reflexively with methodologies and technologies, and how we blend computational methods with qualitative methods. Drawing on these four traditions, our paper shows our iterative research process through which we gathered and analyzed a dataset of 32,000 posts (formerly known as tweets) from X (formerly Twitter) about prompt writing posted between November 2022 to May 2023. We present five themes about these emerging AI literacy practices: (1) areas of communication impacted by prompt writing, (2) micro-literacy resources shared for prompt writing, (3) market rhetoric shaping prompt writing, (4) rhetorical characteristics of prompts, and (5) definitions of prompt writing. In discussing these themes and our methodologies, we highlight takeaways for digital writing teachers and researchers who are teaching and analyzing critical AI literacies.

How does America feel? We could ask introspectively—how does it feel to identify with, think about, and generally be proximate to America—or haptically—how does this imperialistic nation-state feel when it impacts different bodies? In American Magnitude, Christa Olson answers both versions of the question: she parses affects associated with American pretenses towards grandeur and reflects on the material consequences of America's inflated public feelings. The book deserves attention from anyone whose work encompasses affective publics, visual rhetorics, borders/borderlands, and the practices and legacies of American colonialism.Olson contends that, between the middle of the nineteenth century and the middle of the twentieth, “US Americans looking from the United States into the ‘other’ Americas to the south created, sustained, and circulated the United States as America through appeals to grandeur, import, and consequence” (6). Each of her chapters takes up a case study in the causes and consequences of the United States’ hegemony in relation to its neighbors. As her focus ranges across visual media from lithographs to animated films, she charts how public feelings accumulate, circulate in personal and national stories, and reinforce the self-importance of American self-representation. She also keeps an eye on the fragility of American self-aggrandizement and its failure to get non-U.S. audiences to take it seriously. The book not only carefully analyzes claims to national significance in rhetorical practice but also models how to write about hegemonic rhetorical patterns while decentering those pattern's own claims of importance.The introduction starts with Olson's “central assumptions”: that “American scenes” teach U.S. audiences the “contours and responsibilities of being American,” and that “becoming American . . . required looking not only within but also beyond US borders” (6). She develops those assumptions with three key terms: hemisphere, magnitude, and feeling. Describing her work as not strictly decolonial in practice, but as an investigation of how colonizing power functions, she focuses on “the history and consequence” (12) of U.S. habits of viewing the hemisphere as space to be controlled for gain. Magnitude names the rhetorical engine behind those habits and thus is the conceptual heart of the book. Magnitude, she argues, inheres in a variety of rhetorical practices for establishing importance and so appears in different guises across historical contexts. After defining its “close links to the sublime” (13), she rounds out the introduction by reminding readers that magnitude “rushes through a seeing-feeling body” (19). Locating magnitude in sensoria leads her to the final keyword, feeling. Magnitude's “normative common sense” is not an intangible idea but the lived reality in publics “formed through intensity of feeling and a need to monitor bodily borders both literal and symbolic” (23). Feeling, to Olson, constitutes publicness as such, as it keeps vivid the visceral qualities of what it is like to be in public. Magnitude, we might say, is not just a way of viewing, but a way of life.Chapter one offers both an origin story of hemispheric magnitude in American history and an innovative contribution to theories of visual circulation and public feeling. In it, Olson stories a wealth of archival material left behind by U.S. Americans trying to make sense of the Mexican-American war. She surveys the letters and lithographs through which the “war's implications—its aims, its triumphs, its costs—were before their eyes” (31). She theorizes “accumulation” to explicate why that archival material mattered, defining accumulation as “circulation's necessary counterpart,” involving “the buildup of material over time” regarding ideas and arguments, the slow gathering of “the stuff that sticks around and creates significance” (43). Accumulation innovates within extant disciplinary vocabularies of circulation and affect in that it allows Olson to discern affect mattering in moments when it moves too slowly to influence individual rhetorical encounters. Accumulation also lets her take a unique perspective on grandeur, describing it not as a single strike of sublime intensity but something that can gather too slowly to be noticed. American magnitude, she argues, did not occur overnight to Americans visualizing the Mexican-American war; it sedimented over time and across thousands of letters and ephemera of visual and material culture, and, like a mountain range, grew up gradually. Addressing why Americans accepted hemispheric hegemony as a dominant frame for viewing their place in the world, Olson claims that they acquiesced “to the precise shape of the nation as inevitable, as destined, and as exceptional” (65) largely by virtue of learning to take that shape for granted.The next chapter tells six stories about Frederic Church, the painter whose landscapes colored how Americans imagined “their” hemisphere. Trying to “defamiliarize the presumption of whiteness and [U.S.] Americanness that suffuses Church's paintings,” Olson tells “story and counterstory” (70) in a chapter that could have focused only on visual rhetorics. Expanding readers’ perspective on nostalgic paintings, the stories she tells contextualize, undercut, and complicate “the American stories” (71) and the landscapes of Church's that told them, that treat hemispheric hegemony as received fact. The chapter thus highlights the incongruity between magnitude's fictional “true American [white, Northern, masculine]” (81) and the character of the painter whose journeys south “left him gasping, itching, sweating, and shivering” (89). We get a picture of Church hiding his travails in tropical climates behind a more palatable painting of “placidity and tranquility” (87) that other white men could fantasize about conquering. Olson summarizes that “painting, in this retrospective, is colonization by another name” (99).Chapter three focuses on an irony of American magnitude: in an effort to be bigger than the rest of the world, American magnitude cannot recognize epistemologies other than its own, so it relies on tropes of “discovery, invention, and revelation” (105) to frame other cultures’ materials as spectacles for American eyes. Machu Picchu is the chapter's case in point for such rhetorical operations of “revealing discovery” (136). It follows Hiram Bingham, a mercenary adventurer dressed as a scientist, as he “went looking for greatness” to project to American viewers and “primed his methods to ensure he found it” (114). The chapter highlights not only how rhetorics of grand discovery “make the things that they bring to light” (137), but also how magnitude ignores entire epistemologies in framing the world as the measure of Americans’ greatness. Olson ends the chapter dwelling on the “opacity” of Bingham's “refusal to be held accountable by or to his Peruvian counterparts” (136), which Olson calls innate to rhetorics of grand discovery as such: “revelation, by necessity, hides” the “other possible understandings” (137–138) of what is being “revealed” as a discovery.The fourth chapter further develops the theme of magnitude's opacity, here from the perspective of people “looking askance” (171) at nationalistic paternalism. Olson investigates the Walt Disney Company's filmmaking work for the U.S. Office of the Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs, a unit meant to sell America's image to people in Latin America through pseudo-educational films that, in truth, barely passed as bad propaganda: “a bad gift,” in Olson's words, “presented as charity” (142). Comparing the U.S. American intent behind, and reception of, Disney films to the films’ reception in Latin America, Olson emphasizes magnitude's fragility. International audiences always viewed the tropes of “normative white, settler vision” with justified derision, in the process “pulling [American magnitude] off-course and making use of it slantwise” (178). This kind of humbling claim—that adherents to American magnitude who presumed their point of view to be “the unquestioned center of America” were “imagining things” (145)—winds down Olson's content chapters with a detailed example of how American magnitude has often failed to spur any usable rhetorical invention at all, let alone to compel actually existing hemispheric audiences to take it seriously.The concluding fifth chapter offers advice about how to resist magnitude's claims. Olson advocates a turn to “post-magnitude rhetorical history, theory, and criticism,” a disciplinary future where rhetoricians have learned “to sit with limitedness” (188). Identifying magnitude's impetus towards grandeur with the American academy's need for scholarship to be big, important, and, yes, grand, Olson refuses sweeping statements about what rhetoric beyond nationalistic magnitudes must be and instead offers advice about where such rhetorics would start. Specifically, she councils us to “be partial . . . keep a messy slate . . . do the hard work of connection [and] care” (188–193). It's a fitting way to conclude. The book models how to deal with authorial positionality in the face of an archive of harm. Olson weaves different modes of narrative, sometimes traditionally foregrounding a historical event explicated by the expert author, and at other times writing transparently about her access to, and affective response in the face of, various archives of magnitude. The book rewards close readings that pay attention to when it speaks in first-person and when it speaks as an authorial expert. Which, again, means that the conclusion is fitting: if we take Olson's call for post-magnitude rhetoric seriously, there was no serious way to end this book in the authoritative, as opposed to self-reflective, voice.One question lingers for this reviewer: Does Olson give magnitude too much credit? She seems to treat magnitude like a problem inherent in claims about significance as such, and not a problem specific to U.S. American nationalism. Olson would probably, if asked, dissociate magnitude from other forms for signifying importance, significance, and/or worth, and stress that magnitude is a particularly American place from which to evaluate something. But there are moments in the text where the distinction does not appear, and she considers magnitude like an unavoidable status quo, or even a feature of any claim about significance by default. I wonder if saying we need to be “post” magnitude gives too much credence to American magnitude's own aspirations toward perfection. Put another way: non-magnitudinous rhetorics only look limited and partial from magnitude's own point of view. Do we, by calling for new disciplinary paradigms to get beyond magnitude, accidentally reify its impact and, in the process, hide how some scholars, writers, and activists all along have been beyond magnitude—and have, in fact, never had the luxury of taking magnitude seriously?Olson has written an attentive and meaningful book, a clinic in the writing of palpable history. American Magnitude accounts for how magnitude matters materially, in bodies and maps, in felt distance and implied relation. It steadily innovates in approach to common theoretical concerns—circulation, sublimity, and so on—helping our discipline continue to shift focus from the sudden effects of rhetorical genius to the gradual accretion of norms, values, and forms. It is one of several recent landmark books in rhetorical studies (think of Emerson Cram's Violent Inheritance or Catalina M. de Onís's Energy Islands) that reject sweeping conclusions in favor of much more locally focused and self-reflective answers to problems of baffling scope and duration. It therefore communicates a sense of the fragility of magnitude: the light touch of the conclusion resonates with a fact Olson demonstrates from the introduction, namely that all visions of grandeur contain the conditions of their own diminution. In its scope and balance, it is clearly a book, like her research subject, that sedimented over time, accruing layers, eroding jagged edges, building gradually. The care with which Olson balances theoretical nuance, detailed case studies, methodological rigor, and self-reflection evokes the steady grace of the landscapes her book's subjects inhabit. The highest compliment we could pay it is to imagine all the ecosystems of research beyond magnitude—critical of U.S. American hegemony, attentive to flows of movement and immobility across and between borders, breathing in various formal and informal archives—to which it will surely contribute.

Through narrative inquiry, this study uses the concept of “imagining community” and finding purpose and agency related to selected and ascribed affiliations in order to understand the transnational literacies of two Somali American Muslim girls of refugee background attending high school in a US meatpacking community. With the girls as coauthors paired with two academics, we center the Somali American girls’ experiences in their school and community, illustrating strategic deployments of literacies and various identities to construct a sense of belonging/acceptance in different spaces. We also chronicle their resistance to different forms of discrimination arising from linguistic, cultural, and religious differences through their advocacy for themselves, their peers, and their communities. Ultimately, this study has implications for educators working with immigrant students, and reminds us of the wisdom of listening to students’ own voices.

This paper explores the diasporic tellings of Black African refugee-background youth through a critical Ubuntu literacy framework. The five tenets of a critical Ubuntu literacy state that participants are (a) already participating in community; (b) reflecting on oneself in relation with others; (c) seeing themselves in relation to community; (d) engaging with text in relation to others; and (e) undertaking a communal process and impact. In this one-year qualitative case study, we examined multiple sources of data from and about twelve Black African refugee-background students, ages 14 to 23, from seven different countries. In examining these data, we came to see how Black African youth from refugee backgrounds wrote about their diasporic histories and lived realities that illuminated the five tenets of a critical Ubuntu literacy framework. Through a thematic analysis, we found that renegotiation of individuality and collective identity was fostered through (a) collective resistance to challenge assumptions; (b) individuality within a collective community; and (c) collective identity that transcended borders. This study has insights for how a critical Ubuntu literacy framework can be used with students in community-based spaces. In addition, it has theoretical and methodological implications for how honoring students’ epistemological frameworks can reframe traditional literacy frameworks and research.

Organizations use social networking sites (SNSs) to create collaborative communication channels among employees, consumers, and clients. Organizations expect future employees to be well trained in using SNSs. However, students do not accept SNSs as a professional channel of communication since they use SNSs for fun and socializing. A hypothetical case study was developed to explain the consequences of the unmindful use of SNSs in a professional context. The article discusses the need to use a case study in this context. The effectiveness of the case is assessed through a survey questionnaire. Recommendations for BPC faculty for using the case are also discussed.

Integrated tasks are often used in higher education (HE) for diagnostic purposes, with increasing popularity in lingua franca contexts, such as German HE, where English-medium courses are gaining ground. In this context, we report the validation of a new rating scale for assessing reading-into-writing tasks. To examine scoring validity, we employed Weir’s (2005) socio-cognitive framework in an explanatory mixed-methods design. We collected 679 integrated performances in four summary and opinion tasks, which were rated by six trained student raters. They are to become writing tutors for first-year students. We utilized a many-facet Rasch model to investigate rater severity, reliability, consistency, and scale functioning. Using thematic analysis, we analyzed think-aloud protocols, retrospective and focus group interviews with the raters. Findings showed that the rating scale overall functions as intended and is perceived by the raters as valid operationalization of the integrated construct. FACETS analyses revealed reasonable reliabilities, yet exposed local issues with certain criteria and band levels. This is corroborated by the challenges reported by the raters, which they mainly attributed to the complexities inherent in such an assessment. Applying Weir’s (2005) framework in a mixed-methods approach facilitated the interpretation of the quantitative findings and yielded insights into potential validity threads. • FACET analyses show reasonable reliabilities and scale functioning. • Mixed-methods approach facilitates interpreting the quantitative findings. • Raters perceive rating scale as valid operationalization of integrated construct. • Applying Weir’s socio-cognitive framework reveals potential validity threads. • Raters attribute challenges to the complexities inherent in integrated writing.

Previous literature has shown that generative artificial intelligence (GAI) software, including large language model (LLM) chatbots, might contribute to qualitative research studies. However, there is still a need to examine the relationships between researchers, GAI technologies, data, and findings. To address this need, our team conducted a thematic analysis of our reflexive journals from an LLM chatbot-assisted research project. We identified four roles that researchers adopted: managers closely monitored the LLM's work, teachers instructed the LLM on theories and methods, colleagues openly discussed the data with the LLM, and advocates worked with the LLM to improve user experiences. Planning for and playing with multiple roles also helped to enrich the research process. This study underscores the potential for using conversational roles as a framework to support reflexivity when working with GAI technologies on qualitative research.

ABSTRACTThis project investigates how the goals of microenterprise entrepreneurs affect their use of communication genres. Although slide-based business pitches are key for traditional entrepreneurs, microenterprise entrepreneurs have little interest in investment. Therefore, acquiring customers through short elevator pitches takes this central position. This article also explores the social justice dimensions of microenterprise acceleration, finding that such organizations can provide important services in combating inequality. This project uses writing, activity, and genre research as a theoretical framework, and the research site is a microenterprise accelerator in Tacoma, Washington called Spaceworks Tacoma, which supports both lower-income and Black owners of small businesses.KEYWORDS: Workplace studiesprofessional practice, social justiceethicsentrepreneurshipWriting, activity, and genre research (WAGR)microenterprises AcknowledgementsFirst, I would like to thank the entrepreneurs and the director of Spaceworks who very graciously gave me their time to talk about their organizations. I would also like to thank my dissertation committee, Richard Johnson-Sheehan, Jennifer Bay, Bradley Dilger, and Clay Spinuzzi who provided guidance on both the research process and the writing and revising of the manuscript. And finally, I would like to thank Rebecca Walton and this article's anonymous reviewers, who helped me to strengthen and sharpen the article.Disclosure statementNo potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).Additional informationFundingThis project was not supported by any funding.Notes on contributorsMason T. PellegriniMason Pellegrini is an assistant professor in technical communication and rhetoric at Texas Tech University. His main research areas are entrepreneurial communication, workplace writing, academic publishing, and qualitative research methods. In 2022, Mason received a Fulbright Open Research Grant to Chile, which he used to study entrepreneurship communication at the famous Chilean business accelerator Start-Up Chile.

The proliferation of materialist perspectives in rhetorical studies has generated feelings of disciplinary crisis and fragmentation. Early materialist formulations of rhetoric, such as those put forward by Michael Calvin McGee and Raymie McKerrow, conceptualized materiality discursively and, thus, maintained continuity with more traditional accounts of rhetoric as a practice of “symbolic action.” However, beginning with texts such as Ronald Walter Greene’s “Another Materialist Rhetoric” and Jack Selzer and Sharon Crowley’s edited collection Rhetorical Bodies, scholars began emphasizing the ontological and embodied rhetoricity of physical contexts and environments over discursive and ideological conceptions of materiality. This turn toward the ontological and embodied has rapidly expanded over the past twenty years, with numerous scholars now offering new materialist, postcritical, ecological, computational, and digital perspectives on rhetoric that privilege concepts such as affect, circulation, and assemblage over more traditional rhetorical terminology.It is in response to this tension between standard rhetorical perspectives and materialist rhetorical approaches that we can appreciate the interventions of S. Scott Graham’s recent book, Where’s the Rhetoric? Imagining a Unified Field. Rejecting the view that the materialist turns in rhetorical studies (particularly rhetorical new materialisms [hereafter referred to as RNM] and computational rhetoric) have left the discipline more fragmented and less capable of defending a unified perspective on rhetoric, Graham believes it is possible to generate a new unified theory that can affirm the lines of scholarly influence that have given rise to RNM (what Graham calls modern rhetoric’s “right branch”) as well as the more traditional lines of scholarly influence that have led to a formulation of rhetoric as “symbolic action” (what Graham calls modern rhetoric’s “left branch”). To accomplish this task, Graham argues that we should avoid the tendency to view RNM as “other” to traditional narratives about rhetoric and, instead, consider how these latter perspectives are compatible with the former. Much like unified field theories in physics that seek to bridge older perspectives on general relativity with newer perspectives on quantum mechanics (e.g., string theory and quantum loop gravity), Graham believes it is possible to achieve similar results in rhetorical studies by approaching standard rhetorical perspectives from the ontological viewpoints enabled by RNM.What makes Graham’s angle on this claim particularly unique is his premise that a proto-new materialist perspective has underpinned some of the most influential left branch approaches to rhetoric all along. While most rhetoricians start from the present when introducing concepts associated with RNM, Graham, following historically informed thinkers such as Scot Barnett, Debra Hawhee, and Thomas Rickert, demonstrates that there is a line of thinking about “symbolic action” as “situated action” that goes back to the relational approach to metaphysics put forward by philosopher Henri Bergson in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Thus, as Graham argues, if we begin with Bergson’s relational ontology, rather than the postmodernist and social constructivist philosophies that (explicitly and implicitly) shaped interpretations of rhetoric’s left branch during the second half of the twentieth century, we do not “need to re-engineer rhetoric” to fit the latest trends of RNM (41). From Graham’s perspective, many standard rhetorical perspectives have been hospitable toward new materialism from the outset. To appreciate this fact, we simply need to recuperate the Bergsonian legacy that informs this tradition.To make a case for this Bergsonian approach to rhetoric, the first main chapter of Graham’s book (chapter 2) engages in detail with the work of Kenneth Burke. As a crucial founder of the symbolic action paradigm, Graham believes that if he can show the influence of Bergson on Burke’s thought, he can, in turn, demonstrate how scholarship informed by Burke is also influenced by Bergson. To trace the influence of Bergson on Burke’s thinking, Graham focuses on Burke’s early work, especially Permanence and Change. In contrast to Burke’s later writings (e.g., A Grammar of Motives, A Rhetoric of Motives, and Language as Symbolic Action), which have been crucial to interpreting him as a theorist of symbolic action, Graham argues that Permanence and Change is directly indebted to a Bergsonian process philosophy that emphasizes the rhetoricity of situations. For the Burke of Permanence and Change (which Graham calls Original Bergsonian Burke [OBB]), there is no ontological or epistemological gap between symbolic action and material situations. Instead, symbolic practices and the situations that underpin such practices (e.g., environmental ecologies, social ecologies, digital ecologies, etc.) can all be conceived immanently, as nested complex dynamic systems that reveal motives toward reality. Hence, according to Graham, available in the writings of OBB is a Bergsonian ontology that emphasizes relational processes all the way down and rejects any Cartesian dualism (or Kantian correlationism) between nature and culture and things and words. For OBB, which is also the Burke Debra Hawhee focuses on most extensively in her book Moving Bodies, symbolic action is the effect rather than the cause of material processes of becoming, and rhetoric is the act of responding to these material processes in a satisfying way that is always itself creative and inventive.After offering a novel way to think about Burke and his materialist contributions to rhetoric, chapter 3 of Graham’s text turns to Carolyn Miller’s highly influential essay “Genre as Social Action” (originally published in the Quarterly Journal of Speech in 1984). As her piece is deeply influenced by Permanence and Change, as well as the writings of Austrian philosopher Alfred Schutz, Graham believes that rhetoricians can also read Miller’s formulation of genre as presupposing a Bergsonian ontology. While Miller does not mention Bergson in her essay, Graham argues that by appreciating the influence of Bergson on Burke and Schutz, it is possible to see that Bergson has indirectly influenced Miller’s account of genre. Graham argues that rhetoricians can also appreciate the link to Bergson in terms of how Miller’s project explicitly rejects “modernist materialism and the postmodern fetishization of discourse” (90). For Miller, the situations that produce genres—as repeated patterns of discourse—are not mechanistic and mechanical but active and dynamic processes that sediment through time (what Bergson calls duration). For Graham, then, the resources for interpreting Miller as “in some ways, the [discipline’s] original rhetorical new materialist” are already at play within her text (90). If we simply expand Miller’s understanding of situation so that, like OBB, it accounts for patterning and structuration not only at the social level but also at the flattened ontological level of movement and becoming, then Miller’s Genre as Social Action (GASA) framework can be reconceptualized in terms of a new materialist method that Graham calls Genre as Process (GAP). Whereas GASA conceives of genres as abstract nouns that emerge out of stable social patterns, GAP emphasizes genre-ing, “[t]he processes of structuring activity that occurs in situational hierarchies and guides situated action” (73). A GAP approach also helps realize Miller’s recent call for deeper engagement with new media technologies. As dynamic structures that are always entangled with their larger contexts and environments, new media technologies, such as Twitter, are best approached through a GAP framework that can appreciate the way these technologies repattern the norms of genre (e.g., letter to the editor genre on Twitter vs. traditional letter to the editor genre). Approaching GASA as GAP, then, allows rhetoricians to conceptualize genre in terms of dynamic patterns of circulation that are continually predisposed toward change and entropy. While effective genre deployment, like Burke’s rhetoric, requires kairotic responsiveness (or what Graham, borrowing from Whitehead, calls satisfaction), this situated responsiveness (especially in digital contexts) is itself inventive and, thus, continuous with the patterns of circulation that makes genre itself possible.Chapter 4 of Graham’s book concludes the conceptual portion of his project. In this chapter, Graham argues that a GAP framework can enrich not only traditional rhetorical (left branch) perspectives but also RNM. While Graham identifies as a new materialist rhetorician who favors the ontological turn in rhetorical studies, he believes that part of what makes the GAP framework valuable is its tendency to move RNM back toward a study of “the recurring experiences of practicing rhetors” (122). Too often, Graham argues, advocates of RNM adopt a “zoom-out” (distributed agency) perspective that makes it challenging to locate rhetorical agents’ strategic, situated practices. A GAP approach, by contrast, returns to the situated rhetor without rendering their agency discrete, atomistic, or self-contained. By conceptualizing rhetorical agency as the accomplishment of “structuring structures” that produce performatively enacted boundaries between the human and the nonhuman, GAP enables both a “zoom-out” and “zoom-in” approach that can account for the rhetorical strategies that satisfy particular human situations and exigencies. Graham’s framework, thus, not only improves traditional rhetorical perspectives by making them more process-oriented but also enriches RNM approaches by making them more suited to analyze rhetorical practices and discourses.The remainder of Graham’s book is a sampling of case studies that apply the GAP framework to cultural artifacts. In chapter 5, Graham discusses the qualitative research he produced studying the work of Brandon, a graphic designer who consults with various companies to create novel digital products. Graham argues that the novel digital products that Brandon produces for these companies can be understood through a GAP framework. Across his consulting work, Brandon must demonstrate an ongoing sensitivity to the genre constraints of various situations (that are ecological, social, and digital) to effectively satisfy his clients and consumers—a practice Graham calls “fit foraging.” Graham argues that a clear example of this approach to “fit foraging” is the holiday e-card video game that Brandon produced for the Ryzex Corporation (a UPC scanner manufacturer). After being asked by Ryzex to create a novel holiday e-card that could satisfy the company’s various clients, “Brandon designed a shooting-gallery Flash game that used Ryzex UPC scanners as ranged weapons and barcode-marked boxes as appropriate targets” (126). According to Graham, this shooting gallery game was an excellent example of fit foraging because it combined the genres of the holiday e-card, shooting gallery games, and Ryzex’s unique brand identity to produce a novel outcome.In chapter 6, Graham turns his attention to scholarship on computational rhetoric. Focusing largely on his own work deploying content-analytic methods, Graham argues that these approaches work through an ongoing dialectic between intuition, which he defines as “an experiential approach to metaphysical inquiry” (139), and abstraction. This Bergsonian framing is valuable, Graham argues, because it locates practices of quantification in a GAP framework that understands data as “aggregations of intuitions rendered symbolically so that the patterns, abstracted for the local sites of situated action, become more clearly visible” (149). Hence, for Graham, computational rhetoric should be approached not as “other” to more traditional rhetorical perspectives but as a distinct genre of rhetorical inquiry that is compatible with his larger GAP framework. Graham’s insights in this chapter also have important implications for scholarship centered on the rhetoric of science. Like content analytic methods, scientific inquiry can be understood generally as a process of abstracting the intuitive and forging a fit with material reality through embodied experimentation. Graham’s Bergsonian approach to the rhetoric of science is, thus, compatible with scholars, such as Bruno Latour and Andrew Pickering, without needing to draw extensively on their distinct science and technology studies vocabulary. If we simply start with a Bergsonian relational ontology, Graham argues, all rhetorical practices emerge out of the nexus between intuition, the patterns of stabilization (or duration) that result from intuition, and the processes of symbolic abstraction that attempt to provisionally capture intuition and duration in a satisfying way.In chapter 7, Graham returns to a more specific case study that deals with the rhetoric of Donald Trump. Arguing that the Trump moment poses a crisis to traditional studies of presidential genre, Graham claims that a GASA framework can help make sense of Trump’s success as a rhetor. Graham’s method for analyzing Trump’s rhetoric works at two registers. First, Graham shares the results of a quantitative study he conducted to test the widely held conviction that “the 2016 presidential primary [featuring Donald Trump was] . . . more negative . . . [than] prior campaign cycles” (165). Contrary to popular perception, Graham shows that his study reveals that a similar level of negativity characterized previous primary debates and that there is no stark difference. Graham then zooms in on the specific rhetorical strategies enacted by Trump during the primary debates, focusing in particular on his infamous exchange with Marco Rubio about hand (penis) size. Graham’s main argument here is that Trump’s communication during this exchange (and others) can be appreciated in terms of a Laconic rhetoric genre that “leverages the powerful organizing structures of reality TV and Twitter flame wars to supplant the traditional genre-ing processes of political oratory” (176). Graham argues, furthermore, that this same Laconic genre did not work when Rubio deployed it because his situated responsiveness did not align with “the media apparatuses that supported . . . [Trump’s] rhetoric” (176). Graham’s case study in this chapter, thus, shows how a GAP approach to presidential genre, especially when paired with computational rhetoric, can reveal illuminating insights about rhetors. While a historical perspective on negativity in presidential primary debates cannot capture, on its own, the qualities that made the Trump presidency unique, Graham’s GAP framework is able to locate the specific “structuring structures” that made Trump such a powerful contemporary rhetor.Chapter 8 concludes Graham’s text by recapping key theses and offering a glossary that defines key terms. My summary sense of the key takeaway is that Graham offers scholars a new materialist perspective on genre (GAP) that can account for the diverse material structures that pattern symbolic meaning in historically specific contexts. Effective responsiveness to this new materialist conception of genre works in terms of Whiteheadian satisfaction, or fit foraging, which I would describe as an ontologically situated enactment of kairos (similar to the account offered by Debra Hawhee in Bodily Arts). In addition to providing a recap of his project and clearly defining key terms in the book, the concluding chapter of Graham’s text notes some of the book’s limitations. Some of the critical limitations raised here include a need for more careful engagement with cultural rhetorics (i.e., rhetorics that study the performance of identity and embodied subjectivity), applying GAP to old media in addition to new media, and considering GAP more directly in relation to sound studies.While Graham does a good job acknowledging the limits of his project, I’d like to conclude this review by discussing what I perceive as a few more limitations. First, in addition to engaging more directly with cultural rhetorics, Graham’s text could benefit from a more robust theorization of power and its effect on the patterning of genre. For example, while I agree that new materialism should explore the processes that produce the situated boundary of the human, I believe, following the interventions of scholars such as Sylvia Wynter, Zakiyyah Iman Jackson, and Armond Towns, that what constitutes a “fitting” response within this domain is overdetermined by structures of racialization (as well as patriarchy, heteronormativity, ableism, etc.). Graham’s work does not discuss the boundary of the human in this way, and his case studies seem to overlook the problem of positionality in relation to genre. It would be interesting, as part of Graham’s ontological account of genre formation, if he considered how genres emerge out of historically specific patterns of exclusion and bordering.Second, while I find Graham’s advocacy of “zoom-in” approaches to RNM compelling, I feel that his book could engage more with the nonhuman. Most of Graham’s case studies foreground the materiality of new media, but they say little about concrete extrahuman processes of mattering. I’d like to hear more from Graham about the role of physical ecosystems and nonhuman entities (like plants, animals, and even inorganic matter) in the dynamic materialization of genres. It seems that from an RNM perspective, something as banal as the energy used to power new media technologies would play a constitutive role in genre formation.Finally, there is the question of whether turning to Bergson can resolve rhetoric’s crisis of disciplinary identity. Bergson, after all, is first and foremost a philosopher, and Graham’s project could have benefitted from more argumentative scaffolding to support the case that Bergson was doing philosophy from a rhetorical vantage. Perhaps if Graham returned to some of the earlier disciplinary debates over rhetoric and philosophy that occurred between the late 1960s and early 1980s, he could locate more commonplaces for exploring these tensions and justifying why Bergson’s relational metaphysics should be conceived as an ontological approach to rhetoric.Limitations notwithstanding, Graham should be praised for this important contribution to the discipline. Graham demonstrates a masterful understanding of RNM, computational rhetoric, and thinkers associated with the left branch of rhetoric. And his ability to synthesize all this work into a unified theory is very impressive.I look forward to reading new scholarship in genre studies that builds on this text, and I look forward to following the theoretical debates it prompts with respect to the compatibility between RNM and traditional rhetorical perspectives. I also look forward to future scholarship that situates Graham’s process-oriented account of rhetoric in relation to a larger historical context and disciplinary genealogy. As scholars such as Debra Hawhee, Thomas Rickert, Scot Barnet, and Mari Lee Mifsud have all shown (at least indirectly), perspectives that resonate with the process philosophy of Bergson can be found in Greek antiquity as well as the Homeric period that predates Greek antiquity. More work should be done to connect these historical threads so that rhetoric’s ontological relationship to process, change, movement, and indeterminacy can be fully appreciated.

Research problem: In our increasingly globalized world, the fields of technical and professional communication (TPC) and translation studies (TS) share many points of contact, especially among practitioners. However, within academia, the fields remain largely siloed. To help bridge the gaps between TPC and TS, to advance interdisciplinary research in the two fields, and understand how technical communication and translation can be discursively integrated, this article offers an integrative literature review of research in TPC and TS that focuses on intersections between the two fields. Research questions: 1. What are the research questions, purposes, and objectives in the research under study? 2. Who is represented in the literature, and what languages do they speak? Methodology: To understand how the fields are converging, we conducted a staged integrative literature review of peer-reviewed journal articles and book chapters in TPC and TS. Next, we performed a thematic analysis to investigate patterns across the collected literature. Results and conclusions: Our analysis suggests five themes that help connect research and practice in TPC and TS, including pedagogical approaches for training students for careers in international technical communication and translation; collaborations among practitioners in both fields; questions of social justice, language diversity, and language access; available resources and tools; and the role of culture in translation. We conclude by advocating for a stronger integration of the two fields and by suggesting how to build on the foundations of research work conducted in the five identified themes.

Background and key aims: As a result of economic, social, and technological changes, companies wishing to compete in the global economy see both technical communication and translation as integral to continued relevance. The purpose of our research is to identify the evolutionary convergence of technical communication and translation through an analysis of published academic studies. Method: We conducted an integrative literature review for the period extending from 2000 to 2022. We selected publications from online bibliographic databases and then followed a staged review process aimed at identifying relevant studies. We carried out an overall thematic analysis, complemented by an analysis of subgroups of sources. We also looked at the “initial drivers” behind studies. Then, we explored possibilities for using network visualizations to account for the interaction between papers and the associated relevance both disciplinarily and globally. Results and discussion: The themes of field convergence and localization are represented consistently throughout the two-decade period. The need for virtual team collaboration accelerated during the second decade, largely because of online collaborative projects between students of technical communication and students of translation. Surprisingly, technology was the focus of only a minority of papers. Exploratory use of visualization tools showed that there still is a lack of overlap in terms of scholarly attention across the US and Europe. Conclusions: Our study shows thematic convergence in scholarship in the two disciplines. Future similar studies might gain from using network visualizations to better illustrate the interaction between studies.

About the case: This case study examines how students, instructors, and industry partners in university and industry collaborative translation projects perceive and respond to their experiences with these projects. It reports on collaborative translation projects at Xi'an International Studies University, involving the active participation of three stakeholders. Situating the case: Translation and technical and professional communication (TPC) education both prioritize cultivating students’ practical skills of producing audience-centered content. They both value collaborative approaches as effective methods for bridging the gap between academia and industry. Although TPC education aims to foster students’ technical and professional writing competence and prepare them for industry demands, translation education focuses on developing students’ translation competence through context-dependent learning. Various models have been proposed to define translation competence, with the multicomponent model being the most prominent. This model emphasizes multiple skills and attributes that translators need, reflecting the influence of market demands and technological advancements. Collaborative approaches like project-based learning (PjBL) have been advocated to bridge the gap between academia and industry. However, research at the program level and from stakeholders’ perspectives remains limited. Methods: We adopted a mixed-method strategy and employed surveys and one-on-one interviews to examine the responses from the stakeholders about their experiences and the impacts of the collaborative translation projects. Results: Statistical analysis of the surveys and thematic analysis of interviews and open-ended questions indicate that all stakeholders concur with the projects’ benefits in enhancing students’ translation competence and shortening the gap between classroom translation education and market demands. Despite these benefits, all stakeholders face various challenges that should be addressed by expanding the scalability and sustainability of collaborative projects, fostering closer and direct collaboration between instructors and industry partners, and enhancing the ethics of professional code and strategic competence of students. Conclusion: Based on the research results, we suggest further research directed at the sustainability of these projects and the scalability of their benefits toward a bigger population of students.

This article presents a case study of instructor and student perceptions of collaborative learning in multiple sections of an upper-level, online business writing course. Our goals are to understand current attitudes toward collaboration among business writing instructors and students and to examine points of dissonance regarding attitudes, frameworks, and definitions of collaborative writing. Further, we aim to understand how collaboration is valued, how it is framed and valued in terms of either process or product, and various associations between collaboration and community. Our results revealed collaboration to be a shared interest by business writing instructors and students alike but at the same time it is received differently in online versus in-person interactions. In this article, we identify these dissonances and discuss what they mean for collaborative learning.

Embodied Environmental Risk in Technical Communication , edited by Samuel Stinson and Mary Le Rouge, is a timely collection of essays addressing the ways that humans conceptualize and interact with their environment when attempting to communicate the dangers of crises---such as climate change and COVID-19. Explicitly responding to the work of Jeffrey Grabill and Michelle Simmons (e.g., in their seminal 1998 essay, "Toward a Critical Rhetoric of Risk Communication"), this collection offers a broad variety of lenses for thinking about humans' relationships to their surroundings, especially while communicating environmental risk. The 14 chapters in this volume apply methodologies including rhetorical and discourse analysis, ethnography, integrated risk communication, and antiracist framing to topics ranging from university communications about the pandemic to groundwater pollution to upcycled art installations, in the process complicating traditional understandings of risk as something that exists "'out there,' independent of our minds and cultures, waiting to be measured" (Slovic, 1999, p. 690). Considered broadly, the collection offers human bodies and ecological impact as more effective barometers for risk than abstract calculations; individual chapters offer heuristics grounded in human experience or environmental considerations, along with discussion questions and assignments for use in classroom settings. The diversity of topics and methodologies represented ensure that the collection offers something of interest to most scholars and practitioners of risk communication, environmental communication, or embodiment in technical communication.

In Salt of the earth: Rhetoric, preservation, and white supremacy , James Chase Sanchez examined rhetorical processes that sustain white supremacy: identity construction, storytelling, and silencing. This cultural rhetorics project used narrative inquiry, autoethnography, and constellation to explore "hegemonic storytelling" (p. 47--48). Sanchez centered narratives about growing up "Brown" (p. 10) in Grand Saline, Texas and returning to his hometown years later to create a documentary film, Man on Fire , about minister Charles Moore's self-immolation in a local parking lot. Ultimately, Sanchez argued that a deeper understanding of oppressive rhetorics is useful for rhetorical scholars, communications practitioners, and storytellers of all types (historians, journalists, filmmakers, archivists, etc.). He guided rhetoric and communications design towards more thoughtful consideration of embedded communicative norms and the harmful practices they conceal.

Multimedia platforms have become living archives for spectacle and normalized cruelty, inviting audiences to watch and watch again. What does it mean to consume media that is despicable in both content and form? What are the impacts of doing so repetitively? What is the appeal of public revelation? In his book Caught on Tape: White Masculinity and Obscene Enjoyment, Casey Ryan Kelly unpacks the role of spectatorship and consumption related to obscene enjoyment. Paying attention to manners of disclosure, Kelly uses psychoanalytic theory to work through how public revelations speak to racist and misogynistic underpinnings of whiteness. Through case studies on public freak out videos, leaked audio files, and viral sex-tapes, Kelly explores the perpetual feedback loop of grandiose public revelation to achieve post-racialism. This critique shifts accountability from an individual issue to a structural consequence of white-masculine power.Kelly's introduction, “On Obscene Enjoyment,” contextualizes the role of the viewer by outlining the variables of his analysis. Speaking in conversation with traditional notions of secrecy and surveillance by scholars such as Jodi Dean and Douglas Kellner, Kelly centers the appeal of a public matter that was initially private. Disclosure itself creates the perception of an authentic reality behind closed doors. The spectatorship involved reflects a particular perversion wherein the viewer knows it is wrong to look yet looks anyway. It is from this perspective that Kelly introduces Lacanian psychoanalytic theory, specifically the role of jouissance, to address satisfaction that is sought out by the subject through unattainable means. This “lack” in the self moves the subject toward desire. Watching and listening to publicized privacies creates a moment of significance, of forbidden enjoyment, which scapegoats structural inequity with the individual outburst to unconsciously assure the white subject that their power “still exists” (18). Drawing a throughline between the spectator, white masculinity, and lethal jouissance, Kelly presents a theoretical framework to prepare the reader for what's to come.In Chapter 1, Kelly measures whether “publicized exposure” of obscene behavior ends up stopping white masculine violence (30). Analyzing a leaked tape of a sexually violent tirade by director Mel Gibson, a public outburst by former Seinfeld star Mike Richards, and a racist sex-tape by professional wrestler Hulk Hogan, this chapter examines the double movement of public obscenity as it relates to whiteness. First, these artifacts create the illusion of an instance that has been overcome, playing further into the fantasy of post racialism. Secondly, the instance is also experienced as an ongoing threat. These archived obscenities reinforce white anxiety, demonstrating that racism is “embedded in the white racial unconscious” (43). From this perspective, racism and misogyny are acts of obscene enjoyment, where white desire is projected onto the subjugated Other. Gibson, Richards, and Hogan display how the white imaginary influences dominance throughout the population from “knowledge of racial complicity” (33). This is not to excuse it but rather to understand the depth in which primal fantasies control white masculinity. Understanding the dependence whiteness has on the racialized other becomes crucial to contextualizing the spectator's role in this process.Chapter 2 explores the depths of white anxiety through discourses surrounding Los Angeles Clippers owner, Donald Sterling, and his girlfriend at the time, V. Stiviano. Unlike the blatantly racial epithets of the first case study, Sterling scapegoats his internalized racism with an argument of culture. After Stiviano, a Black and Latina woman, had been spending time at an NBA game with Black friends, Sterling demanded that she stop “broadcasting” her association with Black people (56). Despite being the owner of a predominantly Black team and dating a Black woman, Sterling felt “there was a culture” he, and Stiviano by association, needed to abide by in public. This culture, Kelly argues, normalizes plantation culture to mask white men's phobic response to racialized bodies (56). Using the frame of Lacanian anxiety, Kelly discusses both racial capital and white denialism as essential subjects to understanding how white power becomes more associated with humanness than other racial identities. The broadcasting of Sterling's private racism reveals a white anxiety regarding people of color occupying traditionally white environments. Kelly uses the language of contamination to conceptualize the reality of what Sterling's logics were trying to convey. While Sterling blames culture for his racist claims, he fails to acknowledge consequences of the role he plays in maintaining it.In Chapter 3, Kelly investigates the particular gratifications that occur from viewing and circulating public racist meltdowns. Charting his digital ethnographic analysis of YouTube's algorithm, Kelly demonstrates how the excessive publication and viewership of racist freak out compilations reveal a racist jouissance, allowing white viewers to experience the pleasure of the irruption of hysterical behavior while simultaneously shielding them from their own complicity. Working closely with the work of Joshua Gunn, Kelly turns to aesthetics of pornography and fantasy to explain the disidentification that results from such content. He reveals that the “repeated viewing of people of color subjected to humiliation is ultimately the benefit of the spectator rather than the victims of hate speech” (101). Kelly applies this conclusion across all four case studies to account for the obscene pleasure associated with repetitive absolution.The final case study, Chapter 4, spotlights the rhetoric around the Access Hollywood hot-mic tape leaked during Donald Trump's first presidential campaign. The conversation features a violent and sexually explicit conversation between two men, discussing their entitlement to a woman's body. Kelly connects this to Freud's myth of the primal horde, a parable involving a totem representing a dead father as the end to excess enjoyment for the paternal figure and renewed enjoyment for those who saw the totem thereafter. Trump's election represents a “logical extension of the decline of the paternal signifier” (105). When Trump makes the claim that “when you are a celebrity, they let you [grab ‘em by the pussy],” he is declaring a form of political power and celebrity that is grounded in a state of exception. His role as the primal father fosters the “passive masochistic attitude” that “wishes to be governed by unrestricted force” (108). In combination with the fact that this tape is audio only, Trump's statements become demands for his own desire: How can we please him? From this position of power, his statements function as a test of loyalty to listeners—the dynamic conditions his audience to divert agency to him. For this reason, the Access Hollywood tape is not an embarrassing exposure but rather one that revealed the truth of Trump's ideology as it related to political power. Trump's statements invite audiences to be the object of desire as the politician ruthlessly sought out his own.Kelly ends the book with an Epilogue titled “On Pointless Enjoyment.” In these final pages, Kelly notes that media spectatorship will always exist from unconscious desire. It is not just what is caught on tape and then publicly viewed but instead the compulsion that is fed through repetitive viewing. Kelly offers this as his entry point into rhetorical criticism, explaining that people are hailed into viewership that feeds into one's desire. His objective is to make sense of “what white masculinity discloses about itself” and the audience dynamics created through simultaneous public and private admission (127).Kelly offers a solution: a “defense of accountability that starts with the subject's avowal of desire” (133). In other words, we need to separate white masculinity from the death drive so that white victimhood may be curtailed in relation to oppressive or violent actions. Shifting accountability to the self moves the impulse the spectator feels toward the Other and “traverses the narcissism of liberal fantasy” by further understanding the lack that seeks fulfillment (131). Moments of obscene enjoyment are the result of a lack of a lack—a pursuit of satisfaction that results in pushing blame onto the Other. The shift Kelly is calling for toward accountability reverses the direction of lack back to the self, demanding self-reflection in a body that is often understood as victimless.Kelly's careful analysis of the digital shift from private to public is crucial for scholars in rhetorical studies as we grapple with complacency in everyday consumption. Expanding on his previous book, Apocalypse Man, Kelly deftly guides readers through psychoanalytic theory toward the intersections of imagined fantasy and obscene reality to understand the influence that viewership has on the self and the Object. This charge ultimately centers concern for accountability, sharing with readers the powers of acknowledgment. While readers might question the extent to which acknowledgment can foster significant change, Kelly claims that we must understand the fantasy to unravel it. He masterfully crafts a vision of the intangible to bring forward the function it has in our conscious reality. The research is deep and unapologetic, emphasizing the simplicity of the obscure. While I wish this call toward accountability were expanded upon in each chapter rather than the epilogue alone, Kelly's argument still prompts questions of change, rather than within the Other, within ourselves.Caught on Tape brings forward the importance of understanding our own consciousness and consumption patterns as they pertain to the systemic violence of whiteness. It indicates that voyeurism is never passive and repetition never coincidental. The invisible tethers of hegemony continue to command power in moments both immediately and after-the-fact. The excruciating pleasure we encounter in the process is what keeps us tied in the meantime. Kelly's manuscript is a crucial read for scholars at the intersections of digital rhetoric, whiteness, and surveillance, as we posit answers to continuously pressing questions of ideology, ethics, and technology.

Abstract This article critically examines how the term diversity rhetorically functions in progressive white parents’ school choice discourse. I draw from interview and focus group data with white, politically progressive, socioeconomically advantaged parents of K12 school-aged children living in the Madison, Wisconsin area. I demonstrate the significance of the racialized contexts in which the polysemous term diversity circulates to suggest how diversity produces contradictory “both/and” meanings. I argue that emphasizing the privileged positioning of white rhetors illustrates how diversity functions both to celebrate multiculturalism and to maintain whiteness as center. My analysis explores how parents position diversity in relation to their school choice decisions as threat, as distant other, as capital, and as commonplace. In doing so, I demonstrate the varying degrees to which diversity functioned to reinforce whiteness's dominance. Through troubling how parents engaged the term in uncritical ways, this paper contributes a nuanced and complex interpretation of how diversity rhetorically functions in polysemous ways within white progressive parents’ school choice discourse to produce paradoxical meanings.

We report our qualitative study on two graduate student instructors’ experiences teaching alongside an experienced professor in an experimental super-sized first-year writing class. Using the framework of wobble (Fecho et al), we explore how mentors can help novice teachers navigate moments of destabilization and uncertainty.

This research team sought to gauge potential changes in the composition landscape by replicating, diversifying, and extending Bergmann and Zepernick’s 2007 study. To potentially measure the impact of years of transfer-focused work, we examined participants’ perceptions of first-year writing (FYW) classes at multiple institutions and in multiple fields at four diverse institutions. Gathering data from thirteen focus groups and sixteen interviews, the study included sixty-four total participants at four universities across the United States. Our findings diverged from the original study. The results indicated students felt that FYW was both personal and academic; that FYW taught students how to write; that FYW instructors were experts in their field; that FYW teaches best writing processes and practices; that personally relevant writing is important to writing transfer; and that for writing, there is “no box under the bed.” These findings suggest that transfer curricula may be working in tandem with other approaches, such as Writing about Writing, to shift students’ perceptions of the importance of FYW.

This eight-year longitudinal case study follows one high school English teacher from her practicum and student teaching through three subsequent job sites, with one year off due to prohibitive job stress. To study the developmental path of Caitlin, the teacher, we rely on the metaphor of the twisting path, which comes from Vygotsky’s attention to socially mediated concept development. This development is reliant on engagement with obstacles that promote growth and conceptual synthesis, with some obstacles becoming prohibitive and discouraging and with the path proceeding in a serpentine rather than straightforward way. Our principal data source is a series of biannual interviews conducted either in person or via video-conferencing platforms. We trace Caitlin’s developmental path by attending to her encounters with competing perspectives, policies, and practices informing the English curriculum, especially as they were enforced by different stakeholders. These obstacles were at times internal to her own thinking (e.g., the tension between relational, student-centered instruction and the belief that students need guidance to reach their potential), at times local in terms of English department and schoolwide tensions (especially, contentious battles over canonical versus relational and contemporary teaching), and at times from distant sources in the form of community pressures and externally created policies affecting instruction (in particular, imposed standardized teaching and assessment in conflict with instruction predicated on relationships and teacher judgment). These conflicts were virtually nonexistent in the fourth school she taught in, an alternative school where test scores were far less important than establishing supportive relationships with students through which they experienced care and cultivation. This eight-year longitudinal case study contributes to research that investigates how school contexts affect teachers’ persistence and attrition, with attention to which sorts of environments provided obstacles that benefitted Caitlin’s development, and which were prohibitive.

Although research illustrates the benefits of biliteracy, most bilingual students will not have access to a bilingual education program in which they receive official instruction in all their languages. However, the English language arts can become a space where any teacher can support students’ biliteracy through purposeful curricular, instructional, and family engagement choices. This case study of two early childhood educators illustrates specific actions teachers took in their language arts instruction to support home language literacy development, along with English, even with languages they did not speak. Specifically, results illustrate that three key general ideas allowed them to support students’ biliteracy: gathering information about the students and their languages, incorporating the home languages into their classroom, and most notably, developing strong family partnerships for caregivers to play an active role in home language literacy instruction. In this article, we share their specific actions that other ELA educators can take and the response from two students from low-incidence languages: an Arabic-heritage speaker and a newcomer Russian speaker from Ukraine. This study illustrates humanizing, rather than standardizing, language arts instruction that disrupts monolingual norms in order to provide bilingual students (from emergent bilinguals to heritage speakers) a more equitable education.

Black mentorship is key to the professional development of Black scholars in technical and professional communication (TPC) and writing studies. Blending narrative ethnography and grounded theory, this article extends existing investigations into mentorship among Black professionals, by exploring how mentorship and rhetorical kinship among Black TPC and writing professors enrich their professional development. With implications for both academia and industry, this article highlights how Black TPC scholars develop, negotiate, and sustain Black professional ethos.

Through an auto-ethnographic critical reflection methodology, this article describes our attempts to use course documents as tactical tools of resistance within undergraduate professional writing courses. Using introspection to examine how our positionalities and values shape the choices we make when constructing course documents, we advocate for scholars and practitioners of rhetoric and technical communication to engage in a sustained practice of critical reflection as part of developing inclusive and equitable pedagogy and classroom coalition building.

While thoroughly theorized in rhetorical studies, the body primarily is understood as or through text. Following a literature review of the body in rhetorical scholarship, this article argues that the situated, concrete body is integral to ideological identity through its function as doxastic warrant in enthymematical argumentation. The article finally outlines a rhetorical-ethnographic orientation for investigating the points of expression for a doxastic body of a specific field.

Chemist Ethaline Cortelyou, a significant figure in the emerging profession of technical communication in the 1950s, became a national mentor to women in the sciences, first leading them into the practice of technical editing and then away from it. This article presents a case study of her awakening to the true nature and cost of the patriarchal workplace and her own complicity in actively supporting sexist assumptions and the status quo. During the Sputnik crisis, Cortelyou recognized and overcame her internalized sexism, revised her advice to young women in the sciences, and became a public advocate of workplace reform.

The ability to work with data is an important skill for students enrolled in technical and professional communication programs, but students with limited mathematical and computer programming literacies might find it difficult to do basic data analysis or customize data visualizations. This article examines the extent to which ChatGPT can make data analysis and visualization more accessible for students with limited technical proficiency. The results suggest that although the tool is poised to have a substantial impact in helping students create effective data visualizations, its efficacy as a data analysis tool is more limited.

This case study offers examples of the use of artificial intelligence (AI) writing tools at a small nonprofit workplace dispute resolution center. It explores the limits and strengths of these AI tools, as well as the mediation field's concerns around using AI as a replacement for mediation work. Further, it explores the implications of AI tool use for the ethos of the writer and the AI tool itself as well as for the current pedagogy deliberations occurring in the technical writing field at large.