This study explores the impact of multimodal feedback types on student experiences with asynchronous writing tutoring. Through analysis of survey responses from students who utilized Drop-Off Essay Review appointments at a small, private college, this study finds that the combination of written and video feedback enables students to better understand and engage with asynchronous feedback from their tutors. Findings indicate that most students prefer video feedback or a combination of video and written feedback, noting that the video feedback helps elaborate on the tutor’s written comments. Results also suggest that offering multiple feedback options may help writing centers reach a wider range of students, as participants expressed varying individual preferences for different feedback types. Furthermore, the asynchronous format appears to provide a more comfortable entry point into tutoring for some students. This study contributes to the limited research on multimodal feedback in asynchronous writing tutoring and highlights the importance of examining how combined feedback types impact student experiences. Keywords : asynchronous tutoring, multimodal feedback, writing centers, student engagement, inclusivity Asynchronous methods of tutoring, in which tutors and students provide and review feedback on their own schedule, have been increasingly introduced in many college and university writing centers. While asynchronous tutoring is not a new concept, such tutoring methods provide the opportunity for students to receive feedback on their writing without ever needing to meet with a tutor, which brought great value during the online times of Covid-19 and led to these methods becoming more widespread during and after Covid restrictions. Often, asynchronous feedback is received in a written format, though asynchronous tutoring can also utilize audio and video feedback from tutors. As a new tutor providing asynchronous feedback to students, I often noticed students would not review all forms of feedback provided to them; many would ignore the screencast video provided with their written feedback, and this brought forth the question: were both feedback methods necessary? This study aims to understand how multiple feedback types (written feedback, in which the reviewer uses forms of written communication such as imbedded comments, emails, or letters; audio feedback, in which the reviewer records their voice talking through their feedback; and video feedback, an expansion on audio feedback in which the reviewer provides a video both talking through and showing their feedback) impact student experiences with online writing tutoring when used in combination with one another. This article will first examine previous research on asynchronous feedback methods, looking at comparisons between asynchronous and in-person feedback, considering the specific pros and cons of asynchronous tutoring, and exploring the impact of written versus media feedback, before presenting data from a study that explores student experiences and perceptions of online, multimodal feedback. Overall, I argue that using multiple feedback types creates a valuable relationship between those methods, allowing students to better understand and address asynchronous feedback from their tutors. Previous research has compared asynchronous and face-to-face tutoring (where tutors and students meet at the same time to discuss that paper), finding that the online format can change various aspects within tutoring. In Bell’s study on 10 asynchronous sessions, she found that “tutors are not simply applying the tutoring techniques and strategies they use in in-person session in a new online setting, but they are adapting these tools and approaches” (2019). Buck et al.’s study investigating online tutoring comments also notes how an online setting impacts feedback, explaining that the asynchronous format “introduces many interpretations of the tone” which can shift how feedback is received (2021, p. 38). Separate pieces of research investigating the difference between in-person and online formats also comment on how this difference impacts the tutor-tutee relationship. Buck et al. explain that the “tutor and writer cannot have conversations setting the agenda for the upcoming session,” and that this lack of communication among each leads to a shift in focus between the two, with the tutor and tutee often maintaining different priorities (2021, p. 39). These researchers continue to explain that the lack of contact between the two results in the tutor being unable to adjust their tutoring style in ways that is often done within face-to-face sessions. As tutors are unable to see how students will respond to their feedback, they are unable to get to know their student as a writer in their session, which is often vital to adjusting tutoring feedback based on the writer’s abilities (Buck et al., 2021, p.  39). Bell also explores the tutor-tutee relationships in her research, noting that tutors often made more attempts to define roles between themselves and the student in their sessions in order to “define relationships in an asynchronous setting where participants are not both present to otherwise negotiate and establish roles” ( 2019). Bell also found that tutors adapted to the online setting by finding different approaches to keeping attention on the subject at hand. Within face-to-face tutoring, it is common for tutors to read papers aloud in order to stay on the same page as their tutees. Within Bell’s study, she found that asynchronous tutors utilized screencast videos as a visual prompt to draw attention to the section tutors focused on ( 2019) . Other findings on the shifts between in-person and asynchronous tutoring consist of the format itself. Breuch (2005) explains that the media within face-to-face tutoring remains consistent across sessions, with tutoring always occurring within a physical space and through speaking to one another. In online writing centers, however, there are numerous options to communicate, and communications can take place in a variety of formats such as email or Microsoft Word (p. 23). These differences between the tutoring methods can ultimately impact a student’s experience with writing tutoring. Various literature also demonstrates that many students prefer and value online options for tutoring specifically. A study conducted by Bell and others finds three common variables for why students opt for asynchronous appointments: time, physical space, and feedback. Students feel asynchronous options make “best use of what little time” they have available in their busy schedules, provide a space for those with distance to travel to reach the center or that is more comfortable for those not finding the physical center accommodating for their needs, and provide feedback types that students find favorable (Bell et al., 2021, pp. 6-7). Another study highlighting how many students appreciate online options for tutoring found that 40% of participants from asynchronous appointments said that they would only come for online tutoring, while 57% of in-person respondents said that they would only come for in-person tutoring (Barron et al., 2023 ). This fact highlights the value placed on each tutoring form by students and shows that despite the changes from in-person to online, both options are valued by different students. Aside from students’ preference for the option, online tutoring brings many advantages. As mentioned, previous research establishes the benefits of time, change in physical space, and feedback (Bell et al., 2021, pp. 7-6). Chewning (2015) also comments on the benefit of time in online tutoring, elaborating that such methods provide more freedom to students “particularly in terms of when contributions to the process can be made by either party,” allowing for both tutors and tutees to address the appointment when they are ready and able to (p. 59). Gallagher and Maxfield echo this sentiment, explaining that the online format allows for students to “take breaks and work on certain revisions” before revisiting feedback, allowing for students who might get overwhelmed from large portions of comments to review their tutor’s feedback at their own pace (2019). Another benefit brought from asynchronous tutoring is the permanence of the feedback. Gallagher and Maxfield (2019) explain, while students have to rely on memory and any potential notes taken in face-to-face tutoring to inform them while making revisions after an appointment, students in asynchronous appointments are left with written or multimodal artifacts to reference at any point when working on revisions. They further explain that such an artifact can be utilized by students “to build a personal library of supplemental material over time” (2019). Bell and others also discuss this advantage in their study, explaining that because feedback is given in a more permanent format through comments or videos, students are able to revisit this feedback whenever they desire (2021, p. 7). Finally, an interesting benefit brought from asynchronous tutoring methods is that such options provide the ability to reach new students, bringing an aspect of inclusivity that may be lacking from in-person opportunities. In a study that incorporated several new tutoring options onto their campus, including an asynchronous option that they refer to as Written Feedback, it was found that “the more traditional in-person modality was the only modality where a majority (54%) of writers identified as white (191 of 356 respondents)” which suggested that while white students opted for “traditional in-person tutoring,” non-white students tended to prefer non-traditional methods of tutoring (Barron et al., 2023 ). Thus, this study concluded that nontraditional tutoring such as asynchronous tutoring allowed the typical boundaries of the writing center to be stretched in order to reach students who wouldn’t utilize in-person options. A similar finding came in a study investigating why students choose asynchronous options, stating that “those using online tutoring services may do so because in-person writing center programming is not always easy to access and not always designed to be inclusive” (Bell et al., 2021, p. 8). Thus, various research indicates that asynchronous and online tutoring reaches new audiences, often including students within marginalized groups, who might not feel comfortable visiting the physical writing center. There are also various findings displaying the disadvantages of asynchronous or online tutoring. For instance, Chewning (2015) explains in his findings through implementing online tutoring in his institution that there is value from in-person tutoring that simply cannot be recreated through online tutoring without proper resources which come with financial cost and the need for more staff or training. Due to this need, he states that a hybrid approach where writing centers offer a mixture of synchronous and asynchronous tutoring options, rather than solely replacing face-to-face tutoring with online options, would be more effective for institutions like his that are unable to provide the necessary funding and staffing (p. 61). Breuch (2005) discusses how the frustration people have with online writing centers stems from expecting these online options to function the same as in-person tutoring, but online writing centers need to have their own approach and adapt to the online format in order to be best suited for their format (p. 32). Chewning (2015) discusses how personal preference also means that some writers or even professors may be more receptive to face-to-face tutoring over online options (p. 59). Other research establishes, however, that there is a lot of preference for online formats. A study conducted by Wolfe and Griffin (2012) found that “87% of student writers who participated in an online session either preferred the online environment or had no environment preference” (p. 81). Satisfaction with feedback was also analyzed, and the study “found no significant differences in our expert raters’ perception of the instructional quality of the sessions; moreover, participants were equally satisfied with the consultations regardless of environment” (p. 83). Research on the use of different feedback methods is also crucial to understanding how asynchronous tutoring works. While there has been investigation of the use of video feedback within instructors’ feedback to students for over 10 years, only in recent years have there been writing center-specific research about asynchronous videos. Despite this drawback, findings from outside of the writing center can still inform how writers interact with different feedback types. Research on written feedback is wide with many interesting results. First, there are various ways that written feedback can be provided. Gallagher and Maxfield (2019) discuss how asynchronous feedback delivers writing in the format of advice letters, which differs from the common practice of utilizing embedded comments in student papers. These researchers explain how this format “still allows the tutor to address very specific passages, just as embedded comments do, by copying and pasting them into the advice and making them an integrated part of a more global discussion,” allowing the written feedback to focus on larger portions of the text more easily than is done when embedding comments, which focus on a specific section of the paper. Another study incorporated a pilot program testing different online tutoring options. In this study, both email and message board tutorials were utilized as written feedback forms, and it was found that message board tutorials were more effective for this institution (Chewning, 2015, pp. 60-61). As marginal or embedded comments are a more common form of written feedback, however, most research focuses on this type. A study on the effectiveness of online tutoring (ETutoring) comments found that this feedback type results in effective revision from students, explaining that “student revision in response to tutor commentary is typically of a high quality” (Buck et al., 2021, p. 38). A study utilizing Microsoft Word to make marginal comments as a form of written feedback to students in the classroom found that this feedback type tends not to be perceived as conversational by students, even if the instructor makes specific attempts for feedback to be worded conversationally (Silva, 2012). In discussing audio feedback, many researchers point out the humanity that this feedback type brings to the table. Gallagher and Maxfield (2019) comment that “A student then knows from page one that the work submitted was reviewed by another person, that a human being has invested time and energy in the student’s success.” This sentiment is echoed within studies done in the classroom setting, in which students comment that their instructor’s video feedback “added a more personal touch” and that “it was fun to put a voice with a name” (Cavanaugh & Song, 2014, p. 126). Research on video feedback specifically, rather than simply audio feedback, finds that “Satisfaction with online asynchronous screencast tutoring was readily visible throughout the data, but the importance of offering other tutoring options was also clear” (Bell et al., 2021, p. 8). In her own study, Bell (2019) also analyzes how screencast videos impacts tutor feedback, explaining that “tutors rarely relied on a single technique or strategy” while creating their video feedback, and that “In addition to providing feedback, tutors appeared to use multiple tutoring strategies and techniques to encourage audience awareness, reflection, and critical thinking, encouraging and engaging writers in the learning process.” Furthermore, in video format, it is found that the combination of visual and auditory feedback provides opportunities for focus on larger concerns while still providing the opportunity to point out specific portions of text (Silva), similarly to how embedded or marginal comments function. Cavanaugh and Song’s (2014) research also noted some comparisons between the two feedback types. They explain, “Students in the study noted that the instructor’s tone was quite favorable when receiving audio comments. They found this in contrast to the tone communicated in written format” (p. 126). Their research also highlighted another difference between the two feedback types in which the focus of feedback provided shifted depending on the feedback type. Within written feedback, it was found that professors often focused on micro-level issues such as grammar and mechanics, while audio feedback typically focused on macro-level issues such as organization and overall topic of the paper (pp. 126-127). This finding was echoed within Silva’s (2012) research in which she explains that written feedback drew attention to specific sections of the paper such as specific words or sentences, while video feedback “afforded detailed discussion of macro level issues.” Students further noted that written feedback tended to be more specific, but audio feedback often was more detailed in providing examples (Cavanaugh & Song, 2014, pp. 127-128). In discussion of these findings, the researchers suggest that audio feedback provides a more similar experience to face-to-face instruction, which is echoed by some students’ opinions on how the audio feedback was more engaging in maintaining attention similar to when in the classroom (Cavanaugh & Song, 2014, pp. 128-129). Buck and others (2021) comment on similar findings as it pertains to written feedback, finding that students often utilized written comments from their tutors “to make the most formal revisions, such as changes in spelling, punctuation, and usage” (p. 38). In fact, this study finds that even when tutors do focus on macro-level issues in their written feedback, students “do not respond to those comments most frequently,” and instead opt to focus on micro-level issues (p. 38). Student preferences for feedback types tended to differ, with these studies by Silva, and Cavanaugh and Song highlighting the importance of both options. Both studies show that students found written feedback to be valuable for the revision process but enjoyed the more personal mode of feedback within the video or audio feedback (Silva, 2012; Cavanaugh & Song, 2014, pp. 127-129). In the case of Silva’s research, the students who participated requested that their professor utilize a “hybrid approach” of the differing feedback types at the end of the study. While the research above highlights many findings on asynchronous tutoring, this study intends to fill the gap in research on multimodal feedback methods within asynchronous writing tutoring. This study emphasizes the importance of how student experiences may change depending on various feedback types, particularly when one type of feedback is used in combination with another type. While previous research focuses on the impacts of separate feedback types, often not within a tutoring setting, this study investigates how a structure containing multiple feedback methods enables students to engage with their writing feedback in a tutoring setting. At a small, private, comprehensive college in the Mid-Atlantic, Drop-Off Essay Review (Drop-Off) was introduced to the Writing Center in the fall of 2019 to implement asynchronous tutoring alongside in-person and Zoom options. Students are able to sign up their paper, prompt, and rubric through an online submission form for a Drop-Off appointment and receive feedback from a writing tutor by 9 pm the same day as their appointment. Drop-Off utilizes three main forms of feedback: marginal comments left directly on the student’s paper, a cover page attached to the top of the student’s paper, and a screencast video made through Vidgrid provided through a link in the cover page. Tutors are provided instructions for conducting Drop-Off appointments. Such guidelines include leaving feedback that address higher-order concerns such as organization and local concerns such as grammar and mechanics feedback where appropriate. These guidelines also instruct tutors to utilize their recordings to either summarize or explain the feedback they provide through comments and the cover page summary. Finally, tutor instructions for Drop-Off are to spend up to 60 minutes on each appointment without going over this time limit. The cover page summary portion of feedback includes various pieces of information for students to review. First, the rubric provides a section for the tutor to greet the student and introduce themself by name. The next section of the cover page provides a link to the video summary or explanation that the tutor created, while the third section is optional for tutors to utilize whenever additional disclaimers are needed. A notable disclaimer is one warning the student that the tutor did not receive the assignment instructions, and, as such, was not able to ensure that the paper met all requirements; however, multiple disclaimers exist for tutors to utilize (Fig. 1). The rest of the cover page provides the assignment requirements and tells the student which requirements were met, provided that the student attached instructions to their appointment, and gives the three priorities that the tutor focused on when providing feedback. Then, the cover page provides sections for the tutor to point out what the student did well in their paper and what they could change to improve upon their paper. To view the full Drop-Off cover page and its contents, see Appendix A.

The relationship between tutoring and teaching has been a recurrent topic of interest among writing center directors and writing program administrators. While scholarship agrees tutoring experience aids composition teachers with implementing process pedagogy and fostering a collaborative classroom, the relationship between tutoring and assessment of student writing is less clear. This qualitative study uses interviews with eight graduate teaching assistants with tutoring experience to examine how they transfer and juxtapose knowledge, practices, and values for response between the writing center and classroom. Like previous scholarship, this research finds writing center tutoring contributes to teachers’ enactment of constructivist, student-centered pedagogy and enhances their understanding of students’ relationship to writing and feedback, standard language ideology, and systemic inequities in education. However, evaluation led these instructors to experience tension between their values and preferred respondent roles, with many reporting anxious grading processes and some experimenting with alternatives to traditional grading. The article concludes with suggestions to build bridges between tutoring and teaching contexts, particularly through explicit attention to antiracist pedagogy and alternative assessment practices.

Through a collage of storied vignettes written by Morgan– a pansexual Lumbee tutor– and Elise – a white, bisexual writing center director– we discuss the implications of enacting linguistic justice through code meshing in the writing center. Specifically, this article discusses the racial, political and cultural complexities of enacting linguistic justice in the writing center and the lived experience of a Lumbee tutor code meshing and “value meshing” her way through writing center sessions. Using the term “value meshing,” we describe the emotional labor of contending with complex histories of race, culture, discrimination, institutional and internalized racism when code meshing as writing center professionals. From both the perspectives of administrator and tutor, we argue the term “value meshing” can serve as shorthand for the complex emotional burden of consistently negotiating our language, our identities, and our sometimes conflicting cultural values, especially in collaborative settings like the writing center. We call for writing center professionals to carefully attend to the emotional burden of tutors of color as they enact linguistic justice through code- and value-meshing. Keywords : Linguistic justice, Lumbee English, antiracism, code-meshing, value-meshing, linguistic diversity, wellness, White Mainstream English At the University of North Carolina at Pembroke (UNCP) Writing Center, Morgan’s laugh can be heard all the way down the hall. It echoes into the writing center director, Elise’s (Dr. Dixon’s) office. Some days, upwards of seven tutors will squeeze into Elise’s tiny office to chat, and our collective laughter cascades down the hallways of the building. These things didn’t start until Morgan became a tutor. While she was still in Elise’s writing center tutor training course and even after she began as a writing center tutor, Morgan would pop into Elise’s office for consulting advice, then to share stories about life. Elise noticed that this composed and quiet student’s language was changing in the process: her voice was deeper, her laugh louder and more at ease. She called most of the tutors “baby” and sent the g’s at the ends of her -ing words runnin’. Like all the tutors, Morgan had been trained by Elise that the writing center valued all languages and dialects, and that home languages are welcomed and delighted in at the writing center. Morgan’s comfort in sharing her home dialect was linguistic justice at work. Along with her fellow tutors, she had been trained by Elise to reorient her relationship to White Mainstream English (WME), to see language and dialects as morally neutral while recognizing that certain dialects had been devalued because of their connections to specific regions, cultures, races, and classes, and therefore to the prejudices to which they had been attached. In class, Elise had taught Morgan about code meshing and code switching (Delpit, 1995; Smitherman, 1986; Young, 2010), linguistic justice (Baker-Bell, 2020; Kynard, 2013), students rights to their own language (CCCC Language Statement Committee, 1974), as well as the implications for identity’s connection to language in the writing center (Condon, 2012; Denny, 2010; Dixon, 2017; Faison & Condon, 2022;  Faison & Trevino, 2017; Green, 2016). Most importantly, Morgan had come to understand that her language–however she chose to share it–was valued and valuable to her writing and her work as a tutor, so she spoke and wrote in ways that felt most authentic to her, free of the fear of judgment. A couple years into her career as a tutor for the center, and as Elise and Morgan’s friendship had deepened, Elise told Morgan, “I can tell when you’re comfortable in a situation because you start speaking Lumbee English more.” Morgan laughed, and then immediately spoke in White Mainstream English (WME): “I guess I do speak differently depending on my comfort level.” Elise noticed that her comment had shifted Morgan’s entire demeanor. Her shift into WME signified her discomfort at a white woman’s recognition of her language, culture, and identity. Despite our closeness, our identities and their histories weighed heavily on the observation. This story is one of many we aim to tell about the complexity of enacting linguistic justice in a writing center. More specifically, at the University of the North Carolina at Pembroke–a minority-serving institution (MSI), and historically American Indian university in the American South–language is rooted in very specific and complex histories of racism and white supremacy. UNCP was founded by Lumbee tribal members with the intention to train Native American public school teachers (UNCP, 2023). Many Lumbees speak Lumbee English, a dialect spoken by their descendents for generations. While Lumbee English can be heard in the halls and classrooms of UNCP, the widely accepted view amongst Lumbees (one also reinforced by most UNCP faculty) is that Lumbee English should not be used in academic writing. Despite being a dominant dialect at UNCP, the case for why Lumbee English remains subjugated lies between the realms of the Lumbee community, already socially and culturally nuanced, and the institution of UNCP as a model of Native excellence, perseverance, and resilience yet also a perpetrator of whiteness through institutional modeling and a majority white faculty. Despite being situated in the heart of Lumbee country (Pembroke, NC), where Lumbees live as the majority race, UNCP itself hosts a diverse faculty, staff, and student body that displaces Lumbees to a minority racial group (in their own college). Lumbee people, then, traverse complex terrain in which the foundational pride of community, identity, and language are present but are still often required to warp themselves into more approachable, digestible pillars of intelligence and validity by showcasing a written capability to conform and perform in WME. Navigating these linguistic complications is not unlike the connections Green (2016) draws between Dubois’ “double consciousness,” Smitherman’s “linguistic push-and-pull” and Green’s own conception of a triple consciousness, or, later, like a linguistic graft versus host disease wherein her home language is suppressed and transplanted with other languages that all fight to persist within her (pp. 75-76). Culture, language, race, and power consistently intermingle to create precarious and sometimes impossible circumstances in which minoritized people are forced to deny parts of themselves in order to foreground others, and vice versa. Thus, in this article, we discuss the racial, political and cultural assumptions existing between the lines of linguistic justice in the writing center and the lived experience of a Lumbee tutor code meshing and “value meshing” her way through writing center sessions. In Linguistic Justice, Baker-Bell (2020) calls for frameworks that interrogate and examine the specific linguistic oppressions experienced by linguistically marginalized communities of color and account for the critical distinctions between their linguistic histories, heritages, experiences, circumstances, and relationships to white supremacy. (p. 18) Drawing from Morgan’s personal stories about her experiences as a Lumbee tutor in the writing center, we aim to provide a framework for considering the emotional complexity felt by linguistically marginalized tutors of color in the writing center. Using the term “value meshing,” we describe the emotional labor of contending with our relationships to complex histories of race, culture, discrimination, and institutional and internalized racism when code meshing as writing center professionals. We cannot code mesh without value meshing, and making visible the emotional labor of value meshing importantly highlights just how difficult and emotionally fraught linguistic justice work in the writing center can be. We present the concept and term “value meshing” as a tool with which to use as a shorthand for the complex emotional burden of consistently negotiating our language, our identities, and our sometimes conflicting cultural values, especially in collaborative settings like the writing center. As a term, value meshing serves to make more visible the entanglement of language, race, class, and culture when we code mesh, and more broadly, when we engage in and advocate for linguistic justice, especially in a writing center setting. Value meshing, then, helps us read “between the lines” of what occurs when tutors of color enact linguistic justice through code meshing.

In our peer writing tutor/consultant alumni research project, participants indicate that writing center work is primarily focused on negotiating relationships. We identify two primary orientations participants had to negotiating relationships: “removing roadblocks” and “building bridges.” We discuss the potential for the bridge-building orientation to promote an inclusive culture of writing across campus.

I propose spatial affordances as a tool for assessing pedagogical writing spaces such as writing centers. I outline a heuristic I used to evaluate the opportunities and limitations of two spaces and emphasize its adaptability to other learning spaces. Spatial affordances are useful because they underscore how place/space/location structures and facilitates writing practice.

a collage of photos of roses created by Talitha May, taken at the International Rose Test Garden in Portland, Oregon.Emerging from the lower left corner are roses in variegated colors: pink, white, yellow, red.The upper right corner and background of the image are burgundy, with "Peitho 27.1 Fall 2024" in a yellow sans serif font in

Keene State College's fact book for 2022–23 notes that 40 percent of the student body at my institution in 2020 identified as the first generation in their family to attend college, yet it's rare that a student discloses this identity in the context of our Center for Research and Writing. It's likely that, in my day-to-day work as the assistant director of the center, I work with first-generation college students every day, but because we don't ask students to disclose this demographic information on our appointment intake form, I rarely know for certain. On the one hand, the invisibility of this identity is surprising: in our writing center we learn a lot about students—they disclose all sorts of things to tutors in their sessions, from the mundane (how much they like or dislike an assignment or their major) to the personal (their work history, hometown, mental health challenges, or linguistic identity). And yet, students’ first-generation status often remains unknown. Such status does not physically or linguistically “mark” a student in the same way as many other identity markers (e.g., race, gender, or socioeconomic status)—first-gen students can, at least sometimes, decide who knows their status. On the other hand, the fact that students don't regularly disclose this information to me, in particular, is probably no surprise at all.As a continuing-gen student myself (my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all graduated from college before I set foot on my undergraduate campus), I know that I speak and act in ways that mark me as an institutional insider and thus potentially, and very unfortunately, as someone who might unfairly judge first-gen students. (When I asked a few of our undergraduate peer tutors whether students ever disclosed their first-gen status during sessions, they reported that it did happen occasionally, most commonly after a good deal of rapport building or when the student was writing a personal narrative.) Beyond the barriers that my identities and positionality might present, however, I also wonder whether the writing center is a fraught space for disclosing a first-gen identity. Because writing centers are often—wrongly—conceived as sites of remediation, a first-generation student struggling with imposter syndrome might worry that accessing our services is an admission that they “don't belong” in our academic community. (Not true!) However, since we don't currently collect this kind of demographic information from students who use our center's services, I can't say for certain that first-gen students are avoiding (or using) our services.This not knowing about our work with first-gen students, along with the intention to design services that are welcoming and supportive to this group, prompted me to read Beyond Fitting In. As a relative newcomer to the first-gen conversation, I wasn't fully ready for the sustained interrogation of term/identity first-generation that persists across the collection. (Silly me: I thought because it is a widely recognized identity category that it was also easy to define.) While the collection is divided into three sections, with only the first dedicated to unpacking the meaning of first-generation, almost every essay it contains addresses the problem of definition. One strength of this collection, then, is that it offers an opportunity to witness scholars actively grappling with meaning while also showing, as Anne Ruggles Gere asserts in her intro/preface, that “first-gen students are a real group” (ix). First-gen student, faculty, and administrative voices resonate throughout the collection, which features qualitative research on the lived experiences and perspectives of members of this group, as well as reflections from the contributors themselves, many of whom claim a first-gen identity.Because the collection resists a unified definition of the term, my conceptualization of first-gen accordioned as I read—expanding, contracting, and expanding again. For example, Christine Alfano, Megan Formato, Jennifer Johnson, and Ashley Newby's essay, “Research-Writing Pedagogy,” shares definitions of first-gen generated by students at Stanford who self-identified this way. Although one of these students had family who attended college, she viewed herself as first-gen because she was the first in her family to enroll at an elite institution: “First-gen is no longer just a first in your family to go to college but more first to reach a new height of educational level” (256). While students can certainly be empowered by fitting this label to their personal experiences, other essays, including Beth Towle's “Finding First-Generation Students through an Intersectional Approach to Institutional and Programmatic Data,” make clear that overly broad institutionally imposed definitions may harm the most vulnerable students by “eras[ing] their unique cultural backgrounds” and making them “even less visible by institutional structures” (101).Towle self-identified as a “poor” undergraduate student but shared the institutionally imposed first-generation label with students of middle-class backgrounds, causing her to feel unseen. In turn, Towle argues, labels like “working-class, low-income, and lower socioeconomic status can serve us better than first-generation when we are talking about specific student needs and cultural experiences” (111). In the case of the Stanford student, the first-gen label seems to have helped her recognize and even embrace her particular cultural circumstances and positionality within her institution. In Towle's case, the first-gen label exacerbated feelings of otherness.While authors in the first section of this collection, “Defining First- Generation Students,” interrogate “first-gen” as an identity category, the second and third sections address questions of literacy education for first-generation students, beginning with a consideration of pedagogies at traditional sites of literacy instruction in part 2 (i.e., the first-year writing classroom, the writing center) and concluding, in part 3, with a series of essays exploring where and how literacy instruction is happening across campus—including within Bridge programs, STEM-intensive programs, and co-curricular and work activities.Part 2, “First-Generation Students in the First Year and Beyond,” includes Shurli Makmillen's essay “First Generation Students at a Historically Black University Talk about ‘Proper English,’ ” which interrogates literacy norms at a historically Black university through the voices of students whose parents immigrated to the United States. One reflects, “You know how recently there have been so many incidents where people or the police are getting mad at people for speaking a different language in public. So that resonates within me because it's almost as if that could happen to me, very easily. Or that could happen to my mom or my dad. It resonates very personally” (201). This example, among many in the collection, impressed upon me that literacy education can be a site of advocacy and empowerment for first-gen students, while at the same time literacies can mark and unfairly disadvantage these students both within and outside the classroom.One thing I appreciate about this collection is that it does not just name the curriculum as a site of advocacy but often provides illustrative examples of how that work might unfold within a classroom. My favorite example of this kind is offered in part 1, in Jenny Rice's “Integrated Regionalism and First-Generation Students: A Place-Conscious Heuristic.” This essay is a tightly woven and sometimes lyrical advocation for and illustration of the generative potential of teaching place-based literacies, focused on regional pedagogies of “teachers in the mountains” of Appalachia. These pedagogies emerge from a specific place, time, and culture, drawing together literacies of home and literacies of school.In part 3, “Writing Contexts for First-Generation Students, Teachers, and Administrators,” Courtney Adams Wooten and Jacob Babb explore how self-identified first-gen writing program administrators (WPAs) see their work as influenced by their identity and educational histories. This essay gently challenges the notion that advocacy efforts are best made at the system level, as many of the WPA participants reflected that they more often pursued “individual rather than programmatic interventions when working with first-generation students perhaps because it is in these interactions that they feel a real difference can be made” (311). It's heartening to read that one-to-one mentorship, of the kind that happens in writing centers every day, can meaningfully impact first-gen students. However, Adams Wooten and Babb's essay also underscores the challenge that WPAs like me have “in wielding their limited programmatic power to make significant changes” (312). And, for this reason, I would argue that this collection might be especially useful reading for those in administrative roles with the power to make curricular decisions or to influence institutional policy; the challenges that face first-gen students are both individual and systemic.Indeed, one of the collection's unifying themes is a call for systemic change and what the collection's editor, Kelly Ritter, calls “concrete, collective action” (2; see, more specifically, essays by Moreland on dual enrollment programs, Towle on institutional and programmatic data, and DeGenaro and MacDonald on institutional messaging). Elaine P. Maimon's afterword focuses mainly on reshaping PhD programs but makes this broader call to action: “New majority students often listen to demeaning and unhelpful internal voices that tell them they are not fit for college because they are too old, too poor, or too different. We must shift the emphasis from what's wrong with students to what's not right with our institutions” (318).Finally, upon closing the book, I found myself lingering over the definitional questions raised within its pages. As many of the essays demonstrate, first-gen status can be empowering when it is defined and claimed by individual students. As William DeGenaro and Michael T. MacDonald argue, “Ultimately, agency and transformation come not from being a first-gen student but rather from claiming an identity as one—there is power in naming oneself” (24). At the same time, institutions have used “first-gen” as a data point and often as a means of counting students served and tracking risk; as Christina Saidy notes in her essay on paired retention and first-year writing courses, “Often, the scholarship and university edicts regarding at-risk students, especially first-gen students, focus on the deficits of these students and the challenges they face in entering higher education. These deficits are tied to measurable data—test scores, high school grades, socioeconomic status, first-gen status—and are measured by attrition rates” (146). It's tempting to ask, after reading Beyond Fitting In, if we can we have one (self-identification) without the other (institutional identification and tracking).Answers to this question may be beyond my pay grade. There are many, many reasons to classify and count students, including those of equity and inclusion. And, in fact, before I started writing this review, I consulted our institutional statistics and noted, with real shock, that between 2012 and 2021 our institution retained less than 60 percent of first-gen students through their fourth year. Those numbers are abysmal and obviously demand a response—and the essays in this collection offer paths forward, ways to support first-gen students and demonstrate their belonging, for institutions willing to invest in this group.What does this discussion mean for my writing center space? I want first-gen students to know they are welcome, that they belong, but I don't want them to take our efforts at inclusion as a prejudgment of their abilities. Come to the writing center, first-gen students! We know you're out there and likely struggling! However, I am not convinced, after reading this collection, that this work should begin with tracking or data collection. Working to track first-gen students’ engagement with our center would require that we settle on a definition that very likely wouldn't accurately or adequately capture the experiences of these students. Instead, I want to continue to work to make our space one that validates the experiences and literacies of all the students who step through our door, to lift up and celebrate the accomplishments of first-gen students—and tutors—as a way to demonstrate their belonging in our space. These efforts necessitate the kind of one-on-one work, as described by Adams Wooten and Babb's WPA participants, that is the heart of writing center practice. And for me personally, it means continuing to do listening work that can fuel change, the kind of listening Christie Toth describes in her contribution to the collection, which requires paying special attention to “perspectives that challenge my assumptions about what we are building together” (174).

Vivian Kao is associate professor of English and director of the first-year composition program at Lawrence Technological University. She teaches courses in writing, literature, film, and the intersection of technology and the humanities. Her courses often feature multimodal assignments that challenge students to think about composition as activity, experiment, and craft. Her other publications include an account of students exploring essay form by building three-dimensional structures, and a forthcoming visual essay on virtual museum exhibits created in response to modernist literary texts.Jessica Masterson is assistant professor at Washington State University Vancouver, where her research concerns the intersections of language, literacy, and democratic teacher education.Sarah Moon is assistant professor of humanities at Massachusetts Maritime Academy, where she teaches composition, writing about literature, environmental writing, and American theater. Her scholarly work has been published in Community Literacy Journal, Literacy in Composition Studies, Journal of Multimodal Rhetorics, and Center for Sustainable Practices in the Arts Quarterly. A playwright, she was the 2023 artist in residence for Eastern Connecticut Center for History, Art, and Performance, where she developed the original full-length drama Apostates.Molly Parsons earned her PhD in English and education at the University of Michigan. She is currently assistant director of the Center for Research and Writing at Keene State College, where she has the privilege of learning alongside talented undergraduate tutors. Her research interests include the ethics of writing center practice, grammar instruction for tutors, and, presently, the implications of artificial intelligence for tutoring and teaching. Find her other work in Praxis: A Writing Center Journal, Writing Lab Newsletter, and Another Word, a blog from the University of Wisconsin-Madison's writing center.Kevin Piper teaches literature and composition at Madison College and is an honorary fellow at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where he received his PhD. His recent work looks at how teachers can use student feedback to improve their practice. His literary scholarship has spanned a wide range of areas, including ethnic and Indigenous literatures, postsecular literature, and literary modernisms. He can be reached at kcpiper@madisoncollege.edu.Malini Johar Schueller is professor in the Department of English at the University of Florida. She has been the faculty advisor for Students for Justice in Palestine on her campus for many years and is a member of the organizing collective for the US Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel. She is the author of several books, including U.S. Orientalisms: Race, Nation, and Gender in Literature, 1790–1890 (1998), Locating Race: Global Sites of Post-Colonial Citizenship (2009), and Campaigns of Knowledge: U.S. Pedagogies of Colonialism and Occupation in the Philippines and Japan (2019). She has coedited Exceptional State: Contemporary US Culture and the New Imperialism (2007) and Dangerous Professors: Academic Freedom and the National Security Campus (2009). She is the director of the award-winning documentary In His Own Home (2015) about police brutality and campus militarization. In 2019 she was selected to participate in a Faculty Development Seminar by the Palestinian American Research Council. Currently she is working on an essay collection, From Palestine to You. She teaches courses in comparative settler colonialism, including Palestine, and courses in postcolonial theory, Asian American studies, and US imperialism.Elina Siltanen was university lecturer at the Department of English, University of Turku at the time of writing this article, and now works at the University of Eastern Finland. Her research focuses on contemporary American poetry, more specifically on the role of affect in reading complex literary texts, and her article is a part of her research project “Difficult Relations: Reading for Emotion in Recent American Experimental Poetry.” Recently, she has published articles on the connections between conceptualism and confessionalism in poetry in the Journal of Modern Literature and on metamodernism and New Sincerity in English Studies. She has a double doctoral degree from the University of Turku and Luleå University of Technology.D. T. Spitzer-Hanks is an early-career researcher interested in critical composition studies and in transatlantic critical classical reception in the long nineteenth century, specifically in North America and the United Kingdom. Spitzer-Hanks is particularly interested in analyzing how patterns of communication and perception create social structures in which inequity is fostered and sustained and seeks to find ways to intervene in such processes both as a scholar and as a member of society. Trained in gender and ethnicity studies at the University of Utrecht in the Netherlands, Spitzer-Hanks earned a PhD in English studies from the University of Texas at Austin. In their private life, Spitzer-Hanks enjoys gardening, parenting, and running from their anxieties.

From the recognized beginning of the “laboratory” movement in composition instruction, teachers have sought to employ new and more practical methods useful in developing student writing. Such trends continue today as new generations of students enter the academy and new challenges emerge. From such conditions, we might see how components within a system of activity work together to meet objectives and develop outcomes within the shared dialectic of an activity system. With this idea in mind, this article reviews writing center-related scholarship from the late 1880s through the early 1940s to trace emerging contradictions in laboratory teaching’s praxis. Through the evaluation of laboratory teaching’s textual artifacts using Cultural-Historical Activity Theory (CHAT), I present a narrative about the development of the earliest writing center praxes: The Formative Period. With this article, I look to narrate an epochal beginning for writing center activity and present the development of guiding principles we find in our writing center work today. Through the process of revealing historical impulses, this article offers a view of writing center praxes in their elemental stage: The Formative Period, early 1890s-early 1940s. Ultimately, this article will show how the writing center is an activity that, over time, has mediated old system contradictions and developed new methods born of self-reflection, debate, evaluation, and progressive mediation, which continues to evolve. As communities like writing centers re-create themselves—through pushing and pulling, conflict and resolution, tension and release—they birth new realities, which all begins with the Formative Period.

We trace the history of the global-local dualism, noting how writing center researchers and practitioners have employed it. We next discuss problems and complications inherent in the dualism, such as the way it obscures the interconnectedness of text components. We illustrate our points with excerpts from writing center conferences. We end by discussing possible implications of our analysis for tutor training. Our goal is to provide a more nuanced understanding of this ubiquitous dualism in writing center studies.

Recognizing the power of storytelling as an influencing writing centre practice (McKinney), this paper examines my near-decade long relationship with writing centres and explores stories I have told about writing centre work. Using analytic autoethnography, I analyze three reflective narratives from my writing centre history across two countries, through multiple disciplines.  Despite the differing contextual factors of these narratives and the stories they feature, my analysis reveals institutional neoliberalism as the guiding influence on my storytelling. This finding is discussed alongside literature on emotional labour, contingent employment, and institutional interference. Ultimately, this paper highlights the untapped potential of autoethnography as an accessible methodology for precariously employed writing centre scholars and calls on the field to consider the influence of neoliberalism on our communication with students and tutees.

Utilizing three tutoring episodes as qualitative data, this article attempts to define and articulate multilingual labor in the context of the Southern US writing center while working with multilingual writers. Incorporating Betweener​ Autoethnography as a methodological lens and Descriptive/Self-affirmative framework, the author, a South Asian Rhetoric and Composition doctoral student from India and a multilingual speaker/writer, urges WC directors and peer tutors in the US how to consider fostering multilingual tutees’ writing development by intentionally critical creating moments where the languages of writers are received as assets, which often go unnoticed.

Throughout the 2010s, “success” became a common descriptor in writing centers, academic units, and student services. While the term carries connotations of professional achievement and economic improvement, it is rarely explicitly defined. This ambiguity is an example of how the interests of public institutions of postsecondary education are entangled with neoliberalism. Using a corpus-assisted critical discourse analysis approach, this essay examines uses of the ideograph “success” within an original mini-corpus comprising the webspaces of eight writing centers from one large state university system in the United States. The analysis considers how writing centers contribute to neoliberal discourses of “success” that are defined by specific political and business ideologies, reinforce white supremacist ideology, and require students, tutors, and others associated with writing centers to adopt those same perspectives.

In this article, we describe a two-day, intensive STEM training that we piloted in summer of 2022 to prepare newly hired professional staff to support STEM writers. The training was created by the director and associate director and was offered to two professional consultants and two graduate assistant consultants in-person over a two-day period before the start of the fall semester. Staff training should always be responsive to local contexts, and we are aware our model may not transfer to other university settings. However, we do hope that our pilot offers a model that other universities can adapt to meet local needs and implement when training professional and graduate staff. Although we focus on professional staff, our model may also be useful for supplementing a generalist approach to training graduate and undergraduate peer tutors who work closely with STEM writers or as a primary form of training for embedded consultants working within STEM courses. As we discuss our model, we turn to writing in the disciplines scholarship to explain our choices and ground our pedagogy. We also turn to research on tutor training and writing center staff professional development. As we describe our training activities, we also identify areas for improvement based on our own perspective and that of our professional and graduate staff attendees.

Within universities, writing centers are often seen as service providers that allow students to receive support and feedback on their writing.  The usefulness of writing centers has been evaluated by things such as total number of visits and return visits, students’ trust and comfort in asking tutors questions, and tutors’ overall knowledge of writing concepts. But few researchers have shone light on students’ own perceptions of the usefulness of a writing center, especially perceptions between native English (NES), non-native English (NNES), and Generation 1.5 students. We did just that by sending a usefulness survey to 800 universities across the U.S. We analyzed the data from 463 student responses to these surveys using non-parametric statistics and found that NNES and Generation 1.5 students reported more difficulty making an appointment than NES writers. They also reported being slightly less likely to ask their tutor questions, trust their tutors, and return to the writing center, which is perhaps the most important outcome of usefulness. This information can help writing center administrators better anticipate multilingual writers’ needs and take steps to improve informational materials and the writing center experience for these writers which may increase their overall attendance.

This essay explores contemplative pedagogies in the writing center, a space the authors believe allows for practices of mindfulness, awareness, and reflection in organic ways, as writing center pedagogy focuses on the importance of the relational, flattening hierarchies, and a focus on the conversation between writer and tutor (or between writers). With a focus on the whole person, the writing center advocates for the type of contemplative pedagogy Mathieu and others have called for: “To see any problem as an opportunity to make ourselves more aware of the way we perpetuate pain and suffering in the world” (Minnix). Grounding this essay in bell hooks’ framework of community, we will explore two important pedagogies to our center: intentional kindness (Boquet) and rhetoric of respect (Rousculp), and ways in which they have fostered contemplative pedagogy in the writing center during difficult and tenuous times in the current political climate.

As institutions cope with the difficult task of managing scarce resources to support student learning, college writing centers, like other student services, need to be able to articulate and, at times, quantify the benefits they offer the populations they serve. This study examined outcomes associated with visiting the writing center at one American community college in a southern town. Using binary logistic regression, the researchers compared the effects of writing center visitation on the probability of passing and/or earning an A for students enrolled in introductory English and psychology courses, while accounting for other student-level covariates including prior GPA, SES, and minority status. Results indicated that writing center visitors were significantly more likely to pass their English courses and were more likely to earn As in both subjects. Further, the level of visitation was a significant predictor of student outcomes, particularly in English courses, with students who visited the most frequently experiencing a significantly increased likelihood of both passing and earning As. Overall, these results suggested that writing center visitation was meaningfully associated with students’ success in these courses at this institution, after accounting for additional individual-level variables commonly identified as predictors of educational outcomes.

This study analyzes the experiences of undergraduate peer-tutors in a heritage language writing center (HLWC) located at a large public university in the United States. As former heritage language (HL) students themselves, tutors have to navigate the complexities of being bilingual advocates for their tutees while promoting the linguistic ideals of the academic community, where literacy expectations can be more rigid. In order to delve into their experiences at the center, this qualitative investigation examines the end-of- term reflections of 19 Spanish HL tutors working at a Spanish HLWC, addressing the following questions: (1) How do tutors perceive their role as language advocates and arbiters? (2) How can these beliefs be supported or addressed by the HL program? Ideal tutors occupy a middle ground between being a peer-student and an expert-student, whose role is to scaffold the mentee’s process. However, we find that HL tutors struggle with competing linguistic expectations between the heritage and the academic community. Finally, we discuss three areas of tension that are important to address in HL tutor training and program design: ambivalent notions about students’ proficiency and preparedness, their role in the instructional team, and their relationship to expertise.

This article offers articulation theory as a tool for listening and thinking about the culture in and around writing centers. After defining a method of articulation analysis that considers articulation, disarticulation, and rearticulation, as well as alignments, contradictions, and tensions within a context, the article performs an articulation analysis on contemporary writing center work. The analysis considers the writing center’s relationship to democracy, multiculturalism, neoliberalism, ethics, and social justice, as shaped by the Great Depression, the Vietnam War, and the 2008 financial crisis. The article concludes with a reflection on the results of the analysis and interventions that may open possibilities for systemic change, including approaches to communal justicing, modeling workplace culture, and training tutors in articulation analysis.

A large body of literature on writing center pedagogy suggests that serving multilingual student writers requires approaches different from those developed for native English-speaking students, a difference that may pose unique challenges to tutors. To identify and address these challenges, we elicited tutors’ perspectives on their work with multilingual writers as well as examined how these perspectives change as tutors gain experience and in response to revisions in a training curriculum. Specifically, we analyzed survey responses provided by two consecutive tutor cohorts at three points in their first semester working at the writing center. The overriding theme to emerge from participants’ responses was that working with multilingual writers often meant working at the sentence level to help them expand their linguistic and rhetorical choices, but this tutoring was sometimes challenging. The first tutor cohort even described sentence-level tutoring as transgressive, as they struggled to distinguish it from fixing or editing writers’ prose. In contrast, the second cohort, who went through a revised curriculum, treated sentence-level tutoring as acceptable practice, theorized it in richer ways, and expressed themselves as better prepared to support multilingual writers. In addition to describing revisions to the curriculum, this study also provides pedagogical implications for tutor educators.

This review focuses on the main points, methodology, and contribution to writing center studies in Higher Education Internationalization and English Language Instruction: Intersectionality of Race and Language in English Language Instruction by Xiangying Huo. Contributions to the field include a critical perspective of a non-native speaker's experience as an English-language instructor across three research sites and an example of autoethnography as an effective methodology. The primary finding is that non-native students are less likely to initially perceive non-native English language instructors as legitimate.

Guest editors' introduction to The Writing Center Journal 42.1 (2024).

This article reflects on the creation of bilingual spaces, focusing on writing centers as facilitators of academic dialogue regarding academic writing and culture. The writing centers of Pontifical Javeriana University and Florida International University jointly explore how these centers can serve as bridges to promote effective communication and cultural exchange in educational environments where different languages coexist. The analysis addresses the significance of these spaces in fostering linguistic diversity and the impact on academic development. Este artículo reflexiona sobre la creación de espacios bilingües, centrándose en los Centros de Escritura como facilitadores del diálogo académico en torno a la escritura académica y la cultura. Los Centros de Escritura de la Pontificia Universidad Javeriana y de la Universidad Internacional de Florida exploran conjuntamente cómo estos centros pueden servir de puentes para promover la comunicación efectiva y el intercambio cultural en entornos educativos donde coexisten diferentes lenguas. El análisis aborda la importancia de estos espacios en el fomento de la diversidad lingüística y su impacto en el desarrollo académico.

This article examines connections among disability, colonization, university policies, and writing center work in North America. By positing that university policies have long mimicked medical and scientific processes for creating—and then discriminating against—perceived categories of disability, this article makes interventions into traditional writing center practices and pedagogies without dismissing the spirit with which these aspects of our field came to be. The article has several central claims: Disability has been constructed by nondisabled entities (including doctors, scientists, and institutions). Disability’s “drift” and myriad forms act as both specter and insidious insurance against progress or inclusive design. Writing center scholarship has consistently made claims toward equity yet still must reframe its points of engagement. Disability itself provides opportunities to reconstruct not only our relationships to one another but to our field and world. While these claims do situate writing centers (under the auspice of the institution itself ) as agents of colonization and control through their ableism and expectations for bodies, bodyminds, and identities, they also leave ample opportunity to imagine and build upon the values that shape our praxis. What can we imagine for one another, beyond accommodations and retrofits? What does a decolonized, disabled body have to offer? How can we find out?

This critical self-reflection is not a success story; rather, it is an effort of decolonial thinking that reckons with the idea, experience, and practice of centerlessness during pandemic-induced online transitions and operations in a graduate writing center (GWC). By tracing the contours of a series of interlocking disruptions the author and her graduate writing center community experienced during COVID-19, this article brings into sharp focus present colonial legacies inhibiting effective developments, moves, and adaptations to the GWC physical center space and praxis. Through retrospectively following pandemic-induced disruptions to her center, the author critically engages how epistemologies of coloniality and modernity cultivate a narrative of centeredness that unintentionally objectifies graduate writing centers and reduces them to disembodied artifacts of the institution. Ultimately, the author shares how the struggle with feelings of centerlessness—in space, practice, and ideology—provides insights into how we might move toward different, always emergent, and unrealized alternative relational praxis for decolonial and ecological graduate writing center futures. Rather than conceive of and experience the graduate writing center as a placed and institutionalized entity, the author imagines how the disruptions she felt with her center might instead suggest storying and practicing the GWC as a distributed interactional space.

This piece informs my journey of thinking and contextualizing the validity of autoethnography as a decolonial qualitative research method in writing center scholarship. This piece provides the lilt of everyday writing center initiatives, labor, and workings using five email exchanges as data depicting my interactions with various writing center stakeholders as a transnational writing center studies student-tutor, administrator, and doctoral student from South Asia, specifically India. This piece also argues how I used my experiences as one of a writing center’s personnel as a tool of empowerment in my liminal position in my writing center and elaborates on those experiences, broadening the scope of research trajectories and mediums within writing center scholarship using counternarratives in the existing literature.

This study explores the discursive practices the researcher utilizes during recurring asynchronous writing consultations to engender mutually adjusted and context-driven interactions meaningful to writers’ development during virtual tutoring. While earlier studies have critiqued asynchronous tutoring for its inability to efficiently promote the writing center philosophy, the inevitability of writing centers’ transition to online modes due to the global COVID-19 pandemic warrants that writing center scholarship rethink the effectiveness of these online spaces. This study utilizes a discourse-analytic approach to analyze textual data collected from both WCONLINE and drafts I, the tutor, worked on. Individual interviews are also collected to ascertain writers’ perception of recurring asynchronous writing consultations as conversational. Textual analysis reveals that conversations occur in recuring asynchronous writing consultations on three contextual layers: first is the opening phase; second is the dialogic phase; and third is the closing phase. Interview data also shows that participants perceive their asynchronous sessions as conversational as those sessions not only function to inform, elicit, direct, and suggest, but also promote familiar relationships and provide affirmations. The study concludes by offering recommendations on how to retool the asynchronous writing consultation as not a lesser appointment option but a different option with the same opportunity as traditional writing consultation.

This work examines articles published in the Writing Center Journal between 2001 and 2020 in order to understand more about the publishing, scholarship, and research practices of the field of writing center studies. Through analyzing articles published in the Writing Center Journal between 2001 and 2020, this work makes three contributions to the field. The first contribution of this work is an overview of the shift from scholarship to research in the field of writing center studies. The second contribution of this work is to highlight the growth of collaborative scholarship and research during this time. As is demonstrated in the article, co-authoring is increasingly the norm in the field; there are also many benefits of collaboration and co-authoring in scholarship and research. The third contribution is to show the benefits of multivalent research—research that includes participants at multiple institutions—as well as the growth of multivalent research between 2001 and 2020. Multivalent research can make arguments about the field that research conducted at individual institutions cannot. This work challenges the way research is thought of in the field and provides avenues for strengthening research in the field of writing center studies in the future.

This article shares findings from a survey study (n = 73) focused on writing center administrator (WCA) perceptions of two phenomena we see on many secondary and postsecondary campuses in recent years: writing centers expanding to become learning centers, and writing centers consolidating or merging with other tutoring services on campus. Through analysis of the qualitative, open-ended survey responses, the study revealed that WCAs’ views of these trends are greatly impacted by local conditions and levels of autonomy, as well as WCAs’ beliefs about expertise. Also, consolidation and expansion are seen by WCAs as shifting writing center identity in threatening, unpredictable, or generative ways. Differences in the ways these trends have played out in secondary versus postsecondary writing centers are also discussed. Overall, this study discusses WCAs’ experiences and “hopes and fears” regarding writing center expansion or consolidation, shares a framework of considerations for those facing potential expansion or consolidation, and identifies areas for future research.

Replicable, aggregable, data-supported (RAD) research has become standard in writing center studies. Choice of research question is determined by local conditions and exigencies, often influenced by institutional assessment policy and national mandates. The methodology of choice in most writing center research is qualitative inquiry, though quasi-experimental quantitative studies, with their inherently difficult protocols and ethical problems, persist in their effort to address the question fundamental to writing center labor: Does writing center tutoring improve student writing? In a quasi-experiment applying propensity score matching to a sample of student users of the Rockowitz Writing Center at Hunter College of the City University of New York, this study comprehensively surveys the scholarship and interrogates the local context, argues for the authority of grades and GPAs as outcome measures, and offers results that, considered in aggregate with center lore and quantitative writing center research, infer causality: Yes, we do help students improve their academic writing.

This essay presents a reflective account of the origin story of a linguistics justice initiative within the writing center. It concludes by posing questions aimed at promoting dialogue among writing center practitioners as they consider similar initiatives within their own contexts.

Writing Centers & Racial Justice seeks to answer the question many writing center directors seeking to enact antiracism have: “But how do we DO it?” This edited collection is not a how-to guide but offers strategies, suggestions, and even curriculum for writing center administration. It is broken down into five parts, each tackling a different component of writing center work, such as hiring and retention practices as well as tutor education. It calls on readers to look outside the writing center and begin to expand this work through their institutions and communities, as well as directly calling out professional organizations such as IWCA for their failure to adequately prioritize racial justice. This book is a must-read for any director seeking to move beyond antiracist theory and into antiracist action.