No catchy title needed! That one says it all. First, allow me to provide you with some disgusting Euro-pop, courtesy of Romania's version of TRL. Melissa, you said you don't like techno. This will change your mind, I'm sure. Who doesn't like crazy dancing and half naked women?:
Aaaanyway. This semester. Wow. What is there to say?
I remember that very first day in 303 where I sat in the back watching all the general craziness (perpetrated, of course, by Rob and Justin). That class was such an eclectic group of people, all of whom I was terrified for most of that first day. The self-esteem train had left Sara Station, and I was convincing myself that I was never going to be able to come out of my shell and make friends with anyone there. Oh, how wrong I was. Happily, I realized that everyone in 303 was purely and utterly insane, and I realized that I was going to fit in just fine. I've never been a very social person; I've always preferred to hide in a corner and keep to myself. But that didn't really seem like an option in this class. I feel, like Eden said a couple of weeks ago, that I've found a niche at this school. Before, I was content to race between classes and spend my free time in the library or under a tree on the quad. Now, however, I know I can just go hang out in the writing center, or hang out with the folks from 303. There is a real sense of community in the center, and I'm really glad I'm a part of it.
I've never considered myself to be a very "careful" writer. Unless it was something I really cared about, I just threw a bunch of stuff on the page and turned it in, and, miraculously, received As for my rather lackluster efforts. A lot of time, history professors don't really care how you right; they care a lot more about how you've defended your thesis and how good your analytical skills are. As a disorganized, fly by the seat of my pants kind of writer, this situation suit me just fine. After going through 303 (which is the first English class I've taken in quite awhile), I find that I pay a lot more attention to what I put on paper. I actually read through a paper before I turn it in, now! I mean, what a novel concept! Being back in contact with the world of English composition has really forced me to try a little harder when I'm writing.
As to the course material, to be honest, I'm not the biggest fan of writing center theory, or tutoring theory. All of it kind of runs together, and seems to be saying the same thing over and over again. But, it's publish or perish, isn't it? So I can't really blame writing center scholars. I didn't even know there were such people as writing center scholars out there before I took this class. While the class discussions could get quite fascinating, and I will miss them, I must admit that I will not miss Andrea Lunsford, Bruffee, Stephen North, nor his alter-ego, Muriel Harris. I will take their teachings with me, but hopefully, I won't have to read any more of their works.
And the consulting, OH, the consulting. How many people can truly say that they like their jobs? Probably not a lot, which is why I feel so blessed to be working in the writing center. Working at the writing center is truly rewarding, and I rediscover my love for tutoring every time I have a particularly successful consultation. Thankfully, I haven't had any really horrible consultations this semester, aside from MD, of course, and even that wasn't too bad. I always feel that I walk away with something from every consultation, and I like to think that the student does, too. Thus far I have had no requests for a kidney from anywhere in the Third World from any child dying of starvation, not have I been able to save a baby from a burning Wal-Mart. But I believe, in some small way, I'm helping people.
I've gotten a couple of regulars since I started working at the center; I mentioned them in one of my earlier blogs. Throughout the semester, I've seen major improvement in one of the student's writing, and the other has been getting gradually better, slowly but surely. It's a real privilege working with both of them, and I hope to see them next semester as well, and watch their progress.
One thing I'm definitely going to need to work on in the semesters to come is citations. Usually, I'm pretty good about MLA and Chicago style, but I usually draw a blank when it comes to APA. I can easily rattle off footnote format, or works cited page citation format, but when it comes to most aspects of APA...I just suck at life. So, even though we have those little books that are readily available for those needing quick citation help with APA, I'd really like to have at least a basic in-text citation in APA style memorized by next semester. I know--dream big, right?
All that to say...Hurray, Writing Center, hurray, awesome consultants, and hurray, future. And hurray, Euro-pop. I swear you'll have that song stuck in your head for the rest of the day.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Journal #10 (Or, What Is This? Horseville? 'Cause I'm Hearing a Bunch of Neigh-Sayers. Word play!)
It has never been a struggle for me to write. I have never been a very loud or obnoxious person, letting whatever's in my head come out of my mouth without thinking it over. Well, not around people I don't know, anyway. I generally save all the thoughts I have until I can write them down. This gives me a chance to mull them over, to reform them into something kind of intellectual and occasionally pleasing. Maybe that's why writing has never been particularly difficult for me. I enjoy it. When it's not required, that is. It's because of this, I think, that I've always been puzzled by those people who hate writing with the fire of a thousand suns. Everyone has something to say. Everyone has a story to tell. So I've always wondered why people aren't excited to write. There's so much noise in the world, today. Couldn't people temper it by using a pen and paper instead of their cell phone?
Gah, whatever.
So this week, we looked at a couple of articles that contradicted each other. It was a writing center throw down, folks. There were broken bottles, and monkeys with knives, and a guy in a banana suit doing the Macarena. It was nuts. Actually, not really. That's kind of what I pictured when I thought about a few writing center afficionados going to battle.
I've often thought about my tutoring method. Teaching pedagogies are due eventually, and I've been trying to figure out what it is I do, exactly. I find that I'm somewhere in the middle of the two camps. There are some students where it's necessary to draw them out and hold their hand, in a sense, as they go through the writing process. A lot of ESL students are like this, at least the ones I've dealt with. After they come out of their shell a little bit, after they realize they can accomplish something on their own in English composition, I recede a little further into the background, letting them control the session more and more.
Obviously, with native English speakers, it's a little different, and I have to adjust accordingly. I'm definitely a lot more in the background, and the student is more in control of the session. But I more often than not find myself jumping in there and leading them through something difficult. It's all about adjustment, I guess, as all students are different and there isn't a one-size-fits-all method when it comes to this sort of stuff.
All that to say, I'm glad these articles weren't read at the beginning of the semester. Pushing them back forced me to develop my own strategy for tutoring writing. Not that they weren't beneficial; it's just that I feel I was able to spread my figurative wings a little more without knowing there was all this minimalist v. directive arguing going on.
Now I've just got to figure out what my pedagogy is. What should I call this bastard child of minimalism and directivism?
Hm.
I think I'll call him Barry.
In other news, I'm having a bit of a trial getting a jump start on my article analysis. My writing process begins with me thinking up a super catchy title. Only then can I begin. Any ideas? Just anything catchy will work, really, and I'll mold it to the particular article I've chosen.
Also, yay Iceland:
Gah, whatever.
So this week, we looked at a couple of articles that contradicted each other. It was a writing center throw down, folks. There were broken bottles, and monkeys with knives, and a guy in a banana suit doing the Macarena. It was nuts. Actually, not really. That's kind of what I pictured when I thought about a few writing center afficionados going to battle.
I've often thought about my tutoring method. Teaching pedagogies are due eventually, and I've been trying to figure out what it is I do, exactly. I find that I'm somewhere in the middle of the two camps. There are some students where it's necessary to draw them out and hold their hand, in a sense, as they go through the writing process. A lot of ESL students are like this, at least the ones I've dealt with. After they come out of their shell a little bit, after they realize they can accomplish something on their own in English composition, I recede a little further into the background, letting them control the session more and more.
Obviously, with native English speakers, it's a little different, and I have to adjust accordingly. I'm definitely a lot more in the background, and the student is more in control of the session. But I more often than not find myself jumping in there and leading them through something difficult. It's all about adjustment, I guess, as all students are different and there isn't a one-size-fits-all method when it comes to this sort of stuff.
All that to say, I'm glad these articles weren't read at the beginning of the semester. Pushing them back forced me to develop my own strategy for tutoring writing. Not that they weren't beneficial; it's just that I feel I was able to spread my figurative wings a little more without knowing there was all this minimalist v. directive arguing going on.
Now I've just got to figure out what my pedagogy is. What should I call this bastard child of minimalism and directivism?
Hm.
I think I'll call him Barry.
In other news, I'm having a bit of a trial getting a jump start on my article analysis. My writing process begins with me thinking up a super catchy title. Only then can I begin. Any ideas? Just anything catchy will work, really, and I'll mold it to the particular article I've chosen.
Also, yay Iceland:
Friday, October 30, 2009
Journal #9
No fancy title this time. Sorry. Maybe next week.
A couple of weeks ago, before I was officially on the schedule, an English 90 student came in to the Center. I took him as a walk-in for some practice. I asked him what the assignment was about, and his reply was, "I don't know, some essay about me."
"So it's a personal essay," I reply.
"Yeah, I guess. Here." He hands me two freshly printed sheets of paper. "This is all I've got. It's supposed to be five pages."
I raise an eyebrow. "When is it due?" I ask.
"Today," he says. "Well, like 20 minutes." I groan inwardly.
"So...what did you want to work on?"
"Well," he says. "As it's due pretty soon here, I guess you can't mark on it. But, I don't know, I suck at writing."
I ask him if I can read it out loud, and he acquiesces. The grammar is jumbled, the word choice is poor, the sentence structure is luckluster...I'm at a loss as to what to tell this kid. As the session progresses, I'm getting more and more frustrated. Why wasn't he more prepared? What the heck am I supposed to do with this unmarkable paper? I scribble notes furiously on a writing pad.
"OK, you see here, how you used the word 'but' three times in the same sentence?" I ask. He nods. "Yeah, probably not a good idea. You could try breaking it up, if you wanted."
He leans forward. "Yeah, I can see that that's a big problem. I've been living in South America for the past five years, and I'm used to saying pero every couple of words, or so. Getting back in the swing of English has been a little difficult." A bell goes off in my head, and my frustration subsides. I can't be mad at a fellow globe trotter. How could I fault the poor guy for not using English in the past five years? I'd love to get inside this guy's head and see where he's been and what he's experienced, but time is running short.
"All right," I finally say. "As it's due now, I can't really change anything, obviously. May I suggest that next time you try to come in a little earlier? Then we could really straighten things out."
He nods sheepishly. "Well," he says. "This is just the first draft." I breathe a small sigh of relief. "But I'll definitely be back," he adds, waving a page full of notes at me. "Thanks so much for your help, I'm really grateful for it." I'm touched by this small show of appreciation. The rewards, admittedly, do not come often, but when they come, they're worth the wait.
One of the main reasons I applied to the Writing Center, as stated in an earlier post, was to help ESL students. Another HUGE reason I decided to apply, and one which made sure to tell Mike Mattison over and over again in my interview, was that I was interested in helping people. I remember telling him that I felt it was my duty to help one other person in one major way in my lifetime. Now, I don't know if I'll help someone in a major way through the Writing Center (I was thinking more along the lines of donating one of my kidneys to some sick kid in a third world country), but I still feel like I'm accomplishing something big here.
Speaking of Mike, did anyone see Phil's costume, today? I admit, I lol'd.
A couple of weeks ago, before I was officially on the schedule, an English 90 student came in to the Center. I took him as a walk-in for some practice. I asked him what the assignment was about, and his reply was, "I don't know, some essay about me."
"So it's a personal essay," I reply.
"Yeah, I guess. Here." He hands me two freshly printed sheets of paper. "This is all I've got. It's supposed to be five pages."
I raise an eyebrow. "When is it due?" I ask.
"Today," he says. "Well, like 20 minutes." I groan inwardly.
"So...what did you want to work on?"
"Well," he says. "As it's due pretty soon here, I guess you can't mark on it. But, I don't know, I suck at writing."
I ask him if I can read it out loud, and he acquiesces. The grammar is jumbled, the word choice is poor, the sentence structure is luckluster...I'm at a loss as to what to tell this kid. As the session progresses, I'm getting more and more frustrated. Why wasn't he more prepared? What the heck am I supposed to do with this unmarkable paper? I scribble notes furiously on a writing pad.
"OK, you see here, how you used the word 'but' three times in the same sentence?" I ask. He nods. "Yeah, probably not a good idea. You could try breaking it up, if you wanted."
He leans forward. "Yeah, I can see that that's a big problem. I've been living in South America for the past five years, and I'm used to saying pero every couple of words, or so. Getting back in the swing of English has been a little difficult." A bell goes off in my head, and my frustration subsides. I can't be mad at a fellow globe trotter. How could I fault the poor guy for not using English in the past five years? I'd love to get inside this guy's head and see where he's been and what he's experienced, but time is running short.
"All right," I finally say. "As it's due now, I can't really change anything, obviously. May I suggest that next time you try to come in a little earlier? Then we could really straighten things out."
He nods sheepishly. "Well," he says. "This is just the first draft." I breathe a small sigh of relief. "But I'll definitely be back," he adds, waving a page full of notes at me. "Thanks so much for your help, I'm really grateful for it." I'm touched by this small show of appreciation. The rewards, admittedly, do not come often, but when they come, they're worth the wait.
One of the main reasons I applied to the Writing Center, as stated in an earlier post, was to help ESL students. Another HUGE reason I decided to apply, and one which made sure to tell Mike Mattison over and over again in my interview, was that I was interested in helping people. I remember telling him that I felt it was my duty to help one other person in one major way in my lifetime. Now, I don't know if I'll help someone in a major way through the Writing Center (I was thinking more along the lines of donating one of my kidneys to some sick kid in a third world country), but I still feel like I'm accomplishing something big here.
Speaking of Mike, did anyone see Phil's costume, today? I admit, I lol'd.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Journal #8 (Or, Criminals Are Like Raccoons, OK? You Give Them a Bit of Cat Food, and Pretty Soon, They're Back for the Whole Cat.)
That was a quote from "The Office," possibly the best show of all time. Except for JAG:
OMGbestshowever.
Anyway. Email consultations.
I'm a little apprehensive of starting to consult through email. When I've had friends send me their papers through email before, I've been unable to NOT copy edit. I remember one particularly frantic friend in high school who sent me her paper in chunks through instant messenger the night before her paper was due, and I copied it into Word, edited it, and chunk-sended it right back to her. I love picking out errors and correcting them. It's cathartic. It's like getting on your hands and knees and scrubbing your kitchen floor. It's like vaccuuming under the couch. It's like popping some sort of festering sore...too much? Sorry. I do realize that I'm doing them a (this was the word of the day, yesterday:) disservice in correcting them without explaining why I was correcting them, or giving them examples so they could correct themselves in the future. Still, though...it's more for my benefit than theirs. And it seems I've found the problem. I guess I'll just have to focus on the big things first, and then I can nit-pick just a little about grammar. Maybe.
I've been thinking of some different ways I could introduce myself in email consultations. How about:
Hi, my name is Sara. You'll find that I've added a music file to your paper. I would prefer you listen to it as you read, as I believe it provides the perfect theme music for my response letter.
Or maybe:
Good day to ye. This unworthy maiden's name be Sara, and she hath had the merry privelege of markingeth thine essay. If thou dost careth to taketh this maiden's suggestions, then apply them, and then, go forth and slayeth the dragon!
OK, so I'm still working on it. Sue me.
Now on to less pleasant things. I had my first bomb consultation on Wednesday. It upset me so much that I actually threw a small tantrum in front of RE and Joy. RE seems to have grown used to my idiosyncracies. Joy was so terrified that I felt the need to apologize in my last journal entry. Here's how it went down:
A non-trsditional student comes in seeking a consultation on what I thought was a simple communications paper. Instead, she starts pulling out paper after paper out of her notebook and piling them in front of me. There were, I kid you not, eight separate essays/assignments on the table. She kind of explained what she wanted, but then she jumped to something else she wanted help with, and then something else. As she spoke, I tried to take notes, but eventually, she just decided to go on a 45-minute long rant about how awful her English teacher is. I tried to organize all the papers in front of me, only to have her pick a few up, flip through them and put them down somewhere else, creating even more confusion. She just went on and on about how incompetent her English teacher was, and how great of a writer she (the student) was, and how the English teacher just couldn't recognize that. While looking over one of her papers, I tried once or twice to stop her tirade to point out a few mistakes, but she wasn't having it. She said her English teacher is an idiot, because she had been to the Writing Center a dozen times, and she showed me bits of writing pad paper from the Writing Center that were scribbled over with notes. I can tell you right now that none of of those notes had been applied, and then, if you can believe it, she pulled out MORE assignments/papers...GAH. I wanted to stab my eyes out. This went on for an hour.
An HOUR.
GAH.
Aaaand that's when I threw the temper tantrum.
But today's consultations went looooads better, so it's all good.
The end!
OMGbestshowever.
Anyway. Email consultations.
I'm a little apprehensive of starting to consult through email. When I've had friends send me their papers through email before, I've been unable to NOT copy edit. I remember one particularly frantic friend in high school who sent me her paper in chunks through instant messenger the night before her paper was due, and I copied it into Word, edited it, and chunk-sended it right back to her. I love picking out errors and correcting them. It's cathartic. It's like getting on your hands and knees and scrubbing your kitchen floor. It's like vaccuuming under the couch. It's like popping some sort of festering sore...too much? Sorry. I do realize that I'm doing them a (this was the word of the day, yesterday:) disservice in correcting them without explaining why I was correcting them, or giving them examples so they could correct themselves in the future. Still, though...it's more for my benefit than theirs. And it seems I've found the problem. I guess I'll just have to focus on the big things first, and then I can nit-pick just a little about grammar. Maybe.
I've been thinking of some different ways I could introduce myself in email consultations. How about:
Hi, my name is Sara. You'll find that I've added a music file to your paper. I would prefer you listen to it as you read, as I believe it provides the perfect theme music for my response letter.
Or maybe:
Good day to ye. This unworthy maiden's name be Sara, and she hath had the merry privelege of markingeth thine essay. If thou dost careth to taketh this maiden's suggestions, then apply them, and then, go forth and slayeth the dragon!
OK, so I'm still working on it. Sue me.
Now on to less pleasant things. I had my first bomb consultation on Wednesday. It upset me so much that I actually threw a small tantrum in front of RE and Joy. RE seems to have grown used to my idiosyncracies. Joy was so terrified that I felt the need to apologize in my last journal entry. Here's how it went down:
A non-trsditional student comes in seeking a consultation on what I thought was a simple communications paper. Instead, she starts pulling out paper after paper out of her notebook and piling them in front of me. There were, I kid you not, eight separate essays/assignments on the table. She kind of explained what she wanted, but then she jumped to something else she wanted help with, and then something else. As she spoke, I tried to take notes, but eventually, she just decided to go on a 45-minute long rant about how awful her English teacher is. I tried to organize all the papers in front of me, only to have her pick a few up, flip through them and put them down somewhere else, creating even more confusion. She just went on and on about how incompetent her English teacher was, and how great of a writer she (the student) was, and how the English teacher just couldn't recognize that. While looking over one of her papers, I tried once or twice to stop her tirade to point out a few mistakes, but she wasn't having it. She said her English teacher is an idiot, because she had been to the Writing Center a dozen times, and she showed me bits of writing pad paper from the Writing Center that were scribbled over with notes. I can tell you right now that none of of those notes had been applied, and then, if you can believe it, she pulled out MORE assignments/papers...GAH. I wanted to stab my eyes out. This went on for an hour.
An HOUR.
GAH.
Aaaand that's when I threw the temper tantrum.
But today's consultations went looooads better, so it's all good.
The end!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Journal #7 (Or, When We Fall in Love, We're Just Falling in Love with Ourselves)
First of all, if you're reading this and you said "happy birthday" to me, then thanks! A special thank you to April who made some of the most amazing cupcakes ever in life. Just thanks to everyone for making yesterday awesome.
Here are some issues I had with this week's readings:
I know that the whole idea behind this week's readings was that ESL students are an entirely different breed of cat, and that we need to adjust ourselves according to each student's needs. Honestly, however, a lot of the time, I had the feeling that the authors were trying to put the ESL students in a box. I realize that that wasn't their intent, but it felt like the authors were trying to devise a formula for working with ESL students. It's easy to understand why they would do that. If only there was a way to break students down into categories and sub-units, and provide a step-by-step formula to help each and every type of student. But as we talked about last night, this is impossible. Every student needs to be approached in a different way, and often, we only have a few minutes to figure out where a student is in his or her writing process, what they know and what they don't know, and how we can lead them down the right path. The idea of a writing center, therefore, is not necessarily a concrete concept. They always have to make adjustments, and need to maintain just the right amount of flexibility, yet retaining their integrity as institutions.
Is institution the word I want to use here? Maybe the whole problem is that writing centers are trying to become institutions, not realizing that their true integrity lies in the fact that they are not institutions...? I don't know, I don't really feel like writing about post-modernism and its effects on society.
Another issue I had with the readings, specifically the Judith Powers' piece, was the whole presentation of tutors using the Socratic method when dealing with ESL students. So...we're using a Eurocentric liberal education model to work with foreign students who have most likely been personally traumatized by Western imperialism? Heh. I feel like I should have some sort of sign and a megaphone. Down with the system! No, not really. I'm being facetious, obviously, but I still wonder. ESL students come from a variety of different education backgrounds. For a lot of them, I'm sure, their education was made up of memorization instead of collaboration, and questioning a person in authority, even if it was to ask for help, was unheard of. So I wonder what the best way to approach that is. If they don't understand that it's OK to come to conclusions on their own, what are we supposed to do? We can't sit there and discuss Socrates with them, can we? Does it take multiple sessions or X number of years in the US to understand what's expected?
I guess I just need to develop my telepathy skills. Consultations would run so much easier if I could just see into people's heads.
Oh, and if I had X-ray vision.
Also, the power to fly and conjure chocolate out of mid-air.
And a wand.
K, this is sounding more and more like Harry Potter.
BTW: Joy, if you're reading this, sorry I terrified you by having a random, stomping temper tantrum this morning. I promise I usually only do that when I'm alone.
Here are some issues I had with this week's readings:
I know that the whole idea behind this week's readings was that ESL students are an entirely different breed of cat, and that we need to adjust ourselves according to each student's needs. Honestly, however, a lot of the time, I had the feeling that the authors were trying to put the ESL students in a box. I realize that that wasn't their intent, but it felt like the authors were trying to devise a formula for working with ESL students. It's easy to understand why they would do that. If only there was a way to break students down into categories and sub-units, and provide a step-by-step formula to help each and every type of student. But as we talked about last night, this is impossible. Every student needs to be approached in a different way, and often, we only have a few minutes to figure out where a student is in his or her writing process, what they know and what they don't know, and how we can lead them down the right path. The idea of a writing center, therefore, is not necessarily a concrete concept. They always have to make adjustments, and need to maintain just the right amount of flexibility, yet retaining their integrity as institutions.
Is institution the word I want to use here? Maybe the whole problem is that writing centers are trying to become institutions, not realizing that their true integrity lies in the fact that they are not institutions...? I don't know, I don't really feel like writing about post-modernism and its effects on society.
Another issue I had with the readings, specifically the Judith Powers' piece, was the whole presentation of tutors using the Socratic method when dealing with ESL students. So...we're using a Eurocentric liberal education model to work with foreign students who have most likely been personally traumatized by Western imperialism? Heh. I feel like I should have some sort of sign and a megaphone. Down with the system! No, not really. I'm being facetious, obviously, but I still wonder. ESL students come from a variety of different education backgrounds. For a lot of them, I'm sure, their education was made up of memorization instead of collaboration, and questioning a person in authority, even if it was to ask for help, was unheard of. So I wonder what the best way to approach that is. If they don't understand that it's OK to come to conclusions on their own, what are we supposed to do? We can't sit there and discuss Socrates with them, can we? Does it take multiple sessions or X number of years in the US to understand what's expected?
I guess I just need to develop my telepathy skills. Consultations would run so much easier if I could just see into people's heads.
Oh, and if I had X-ray vision.
Also, the power to fly and conjure chocolate out of mid-air.
And a wand.
K, this is sounding more and more like Harry Potter.
BTW: Joy, if you're reading this, sorry I terrified you by having a random, stomping temper tantrum this morning. I promise I usually only do that when I'm alone.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Journal #6 (Or, A Clever Man Commits No Minor Blunders)
Again, the title has nothing to do with anything. I just thought it was clever, which I thought was important, as I'm always looking for cleverer journal titles.
First week of being on the schedule! How exciting. I have this fear that, as the weeks continue and I quit numbering the days I've actually been consulting, I'll become completely jaded, and end up hating my job. Did you ever have that feeling that something that's fun to do will eventually end up completely sucking? At the moment, I don't think working in the Center could ever suck. However, I used to think that about my siblings. When my parents brought my little sister home from the hospital, I was elated. After a few weeks of the incessant crying, pooping and spitting up, she lost all her charm for me. After the novelty wears off, and the pooping, crying and spitting up starts, will I still be excited to come to work every day?
Anywho.
This past week, I was able to compare how both I and different students acted within a consultation.
My very first official consultation was with a sophomore who just needed her paper "polished up." She had thrown her paper together the night before and wanted another person's opinion on, you guessed it, flow. The session went very smoothly. We were able to get through all of it, and she was grateful for the help. We were able to start a dialogue about different sentence structures, and how punctuation adds effect (no, I'm serious--we actually talked about Martha Kolln before I'd even read this week's chapter...spooky). Eventually, she was going through the paper correcting herself. At one point, I turned to her and said, "Heck, I don't even know why I'm here--you're doing all the work." I think she really came away with something. That was satisfying.
The next official consultation I had was with an ESL student. In this session, I found that I was doing most of the talking, and I tried to reign myself in a couple of times, but it was difficult: there were so many things wrong with the paper that I couldn't set a clear agenda. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I lived in Romania for a little while, and did a lot of writing-based work with non-native English speakers. In those situations, I didn't have "collaboration" in mind. I had proofreading in mind. I had correct-every-single-grammatical-error-in-this-paper in mind. I hardly ever looked at organization, and I certainly never brainstormed. So coming from this kind of "tutoring" background definitely came into play in this consultation. I went through the paper, sentence by sentence, correcting errors while only briefly explaining their significance. The student nodded and smiled, but I don't think she really got it. In the end, the student was quite satisfied and requested further sessions with me, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she only wanted to work with me again because I basically acted as a grammar check.
It probably wasn't as bad as I think it was, but still...I need to change my tactics for the next time we have a consultation. I spoke with RE afterwards, and she told me that she has the same problems with the ESL students she works with: grammar is their first priority. She said that this wasn't necessarily a problem, but that I have to keep in mind that we're here to help writers understand concepts so that they can apply them later to their writing. She suggested that the next time the student comes in, I focus on something else first, like organization, or whether or not the student has actually fulfilled the assignment requirements, and then get to grammar. This sounds like pretty sage advice to me, and I hope I can execute it in a tactful manner the next time I meet with her.
Anyway...all that to say, yay first week!
First week of being on the schedule! How exciting. I have this fear that, as the weeks continue and I quit numbering the days I've actually been consulting, I'll become completely jaded, and end up hating my job. Did you ever have that feeling that something that's fun to do will eventually end up completely sucking? At the moment, I don't think working in the Center could ever suck. However, I used to think that about my siblings. When my parents brought my little sister home from the hospital, I was elated. After a few weeks of the incessant crying, pooping and spitting up, she lost all her charm for me. After the novelty wears off, and the pooping, crying and spitting up starts, will I still be excited to come to work every day?
Anywho.
This past week, I was able to compare how both I and different students acted within a consultation.
My very first official consultation was with a sophomore who just needed her paper "polished up." She had thrown her paper together the night before and wanted another person's opinion on, you guessed it, flow. The session went very smoothly. We were able to get through all of it, and she was grateful for the help. We were able to start a dialogue about different sentence structures, and how punctuation adds effect (no, I'm serious--we actually talked about Martha Kolln before I'd even read this week's chapter...spooky). Eventually, she was going through the paper correcting herself. At one point, I turned to her and said, "Heck, I don't even know why I'm here--you're doing all the work." I think she really came away with something. That was satisfying.
The next official consultation I had was with an ESL student. In this session, I found that I was doing most of the talking, and I tried to reign myself in a couple of times, but it was difficult: there were so many things wrong with the paper that I couldn't set a clear agenda. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I lived in Romania for a little while, and did a lot of writing-based work with non-native English speakers. In those situations, I didn't have "collaboration" in mind. I had proofreading in mind. I had correct-every-single-grammatical-error-in-this-paper in mind. I hardly ever looked at organization, and I certainly never brainstormed. So coming from this kind of "tutoring" background definitely came into play in this consultation. I went through the paper, sentence by sentence, correcting errors while only briefly explaining their significance. The student nodded and smiled, but I don't think she really got it. In the end, the student was quite satisfied and requested further sessions with me, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she only wanted to work with me again because I basically acted as a grammar check.
It probably wasn't as bad as I think it was, but still...I need to change my tactics for the next time we have a consultation. I spoke with RE afterwards, and she told me that she has the same problems with the ESL students she works with: grammar is their first priority. She said that this wasn't necessarily a problem, but that I have to keep in mind that we're here to help writers understand concepts so that they can apply them later to their writing. She suggested that the next time the student comes in, I focus on something else first, like organization, or whether or not the student has actually fulfilled the assignment requirements, and then get to grammar. This sounds like pretty sage advice to me, and I hope I can execute it in a tactful manner the next time I meet with her.
Anyway...all that to say, yay first week!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Journal #5 (Or, You Put the Abyss in Abysmal)
That title has really nothing to do with this post, I just thought it was sort of funny.
So I had my first consultation the other day! It was super exciting. Jenny was sick, and had asked someone to cover her clients. I was only there for an hour, and one of her clients was a no-show. I was about to despair (actually, I was about to thank God) when, lo and behold, in walked Allison. It was the first time she had been in to the Writing Center, and she was a little confused and shy. As I led her back to one of the tables, I kept running through my head everything I had observed in consultations, and everything I had been taught. Of course, my mind went blank.
I tried to break the ice by chatting with her a little bit. I debated whether or not to let her know that I was new to the Center, and eventually decided against it--I figured she would trust my judgment more if she thought I was a seasoned expert. My fidgeting and speed talking didn't really prove this to her, however. I began to calm down after I had read through the assignment sheet and actually got into the paper (which was a very short fiction piece for her English 101 class). Her main concerns were grammar, punctuation and, you guessed it, flow. As she began to read aloud, I thankfully noticed a few things that I could comment on. I set an agenda in my mind that focused on the things she told me she was having issues with. Stopping her after the first paragraph, I asked her where she would pause naturally if she were reading the paper to an audience. Miraculously, she seemed to get what I was talking about, and she began adding commas and periods, and reconstructing sentences all by herself. Even more miraculously, as the session progressed, I noticed that she took my words to heart and actually understood what I was trying to get across! I was flabbergasted, simply flabbergasted. The session ended, and I encouraged her to come back to let me read it after she had made some changes. I let her know that I was really interested in the story, and was curious as to how everything would turn out. She assured me happily that she would.
She probably won't, but it was nice of her to say that.
According to the Newkirk piece, I did some good things in my session, and some not-so-good things. The not-so-good things were that I definitely talked to much. I went on a couple of tangents, and "wasted" a few minutes shooting the breeze with the student. The talking to much was probably not the best thing to do, but we did have a few very productive silences in which I just let her think and come up with answers on her own. I found that when I left her to her own devices, she usually came up with the right answer. And to be honest, I don't think those minutes I used getting to know Allison were wasted at all. I was making a connection, and like Julianna was saying last night, a lot of times it's that little extra effort that we make in getting to know people that makes an impression on them, whether we see them again or not. I hate the idea of the Writing Center turning into a machine: sucking in students, reconstructing them and then spitting them back out again. That connection that we make an effort to make definitely determines whether or not the student will (willingly) return to the Center.
I'm just saying.
OK, something else really fast:
Last night, Rob asked why students might feel more comfortable going to a tutor as opposed to going to the Writing Center. The idea that instantly popped into my head was that students view tutors as the experts; they're the high-end call girls that service the Upper West Side in New York. They view them as clean and efficient, so they don't mind throwing a little extra cash into the transaction. The Writing Center is viewed (if it is viewed at all) as a bunch of other students telling students how to write; we're the run-down bordello on the outskirts of town next to the pig ranch. We're free and obscure and a last resort. Now I don't know why this particular analogy struck me so forcefully as I was listening to the conversation last night, but I think it illustrates it rather well. The question, as Ryan put it last night, is how to do we change our image?
I say t-shirts. Also, I think I might slap a few tattoos on my face some day in order to have people walk up and ask me whether my skin condition is being treated. And I'll say, "Funny you should ask. You should write a paper about skin diseases and bring it to the Writing Center!"
Or something.
So I had my first consultation the other day! It was super exciting. Jenny was sick, and had asked someone to cover her clients. I was only there for an hour, and one of her clients was a no-show. I was about to despair (actually, I was about to thank God) when, lo and behold, in walked Allison. It was the first time she had been in to the Writing Center, and she was a little confused and shy. As I led her back to one of the tables, I kept running through my head everything I had observed in consultations, and everything I had been taught. Of course, my mind went blank.
I tried to break the ice by chatting with her a little bit. I debated whether or not to let her know that I was new to the Center, and eventually decided against it--I figured she would trust my judgment more if she thought I was a seasoned expert. My fidgeting and speed talking didn't really prove this to her, however. I began to calm down after I had read through the assignment sheet and actually got into the paper (which was a very short fiction piece for her English 101 class). Her main concerns were grammar, punctuation and, you guessed it, flow. As she began to read aloud, I thankfully noticed a few things that I could comment on. I set an agenda in my mind that focused on the things she told me she was having issues with. Stopping her after the first paragraph, I asked her where she would pause naturally if she were reading the paper to an audience. Miraculously, she seemed to get what I was talking about, and she began adding commas and periods, and reconstructing sentences all by herself. Even more miraculously, as the session progressed, I noticed that she took my words to heart and actually understood what I was trying to get across! I was flabbergasted, simply flabbergasted. The session ended, and I encouraged her to come back to let me read it after she had made some changes. I let her know that I was really interested in the story, and was curious as to how everything would turn out. She assured me happily that she would.
She probably won't, but it was nice of her to say that.
According to the Newkirk piece, I did some good things in my session, and some not-so-good things. The not-so-good things were that I definitely talked to much. I went on a couple of tangents, and "wasted" a few minutes shooting the breeze with the student. The talking to much was probably not the best thing to do, but we did have a few very productive silences in which I just let her think and come up with answers on her own. I found that when I left her to her own devices, she usually came up with the right answer. And to be honest, I don't think those minutes I used getting to know Allison were wasted at all. I was making a connection, and like Julianna was saying last night, a lot of times it's that little extra effort that we make in getting to know people that makes an impression on them, whether we see them again or not. I hate the idea of the Writing Center turning into a machine: sucking in students, reconstructing them and then spitting them back out again. That connection that we make an effort to make definitely determines whether or not the student will (willingly) return to the Center.
I'm just saying.
OK, something else really fast:
Last night, Rob asked why students might feel more comfortable going to a tutor as opposed to going to the Writing Center. The idea that instantly popped into my head was that students view tutors as the experts; they're the high-end call girls that service the Upper West Side in New York. They view them as clean and efficient, so they don't mind throwing a little extra cash into the transaction. The Writing Center is viewed (if it is viewed at all) as a bunch of other students telling students how to write; we're the run-down bordello on the outskirts of town next to the pig ranch. We're free and obscure and a last resort. Now I don't know why this particular analogy struck me so forcefully as I was listening to the conversation last night, but I think it illustrates it rather well. The question, as Ryan put it last night, is how to do we change our image?
I say t-shirts. Also, I think I might slap a few tattoos on my face some day in order to have people walk up and ask me whether my skin condition is being treated. And I'll say, "Funny you should ask. You should write a paper about skin diseases and bring it to the Writing Center!"
Or something.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Journal #4 (or, A Consultation, Revisited)
A few days ago, I was able to observe RE in a consultation. The woman she was helping was a non-traditional student (that's the PC term for older people who are coming back to school, right?) who needed help with an application to the social work program. RE was friendly and welcoming to the student. She smiled and spoke to her in a relatively open manner, but was always professional. The consultation covered many topics, but primarily focused on content editing: the student was concerned that the application letter was too long and too broad in scope and she wanted to cut it down. After reading the application questions thoroughly, RE asked whether or not the student thought she had actually answered the question. She asked which parts of the essay the student thought did not fit the question. The student, who did most of the talking, explained which parts of the essay she didn't think fit. RE marked those parts accordingly.
Throughout the consulation, RE leaned forward, often using her hands to help her speak. She kept eye contact with the student and nodded occasionally to show she had understood whatever the student said. Once in awhile, the student, who was quite bubbly and talkative, would go on a tangent. RE would comment on what she said, then use a leading question to return focus to the paper. RE let the student know when there were only about five minutes left in the session, and diligently stuck to her time. She didn't make it obvious, however. I hardly noticed her looking at the clock. At the end of the session, RE suggested the student make another appointment after she had had some time to look over the corrections they had made together. The student thanked RE for her time, and told us that she was on the way to the computer lab right then to work on her paper.
Over all, this was a very successful session in my opinion, and RE handled it with professionalism and awesomeness.
In fact, everyone that I have had the chance to observe over the last few weeks has handled their sessions with professionalism and awesomeness. For some reason, I have this lingering fear that I will not handle mine with such grace. When I get nervous, I tend to fidget and talk a million miles a minute. I also tend to go on tangents. So maybe I will get nervous and lead the student, who only came in for some help in formulating a topic, quickly down the road of constitutionalism and the revolutions of 1848 in Europe. I do this to myself a lot--psych myself out, that is. Insecurity is rearing its ugly head again. I need one of those Whack-a-Mole mallets to smash it down again. I don't want be too scared when the moment comes to just jump in to consulting.
In other news, whoever purchased the fun-sized candy bars for the Writing Center, thank you. I had a very nice mid-afternoon snack of Baby Ruth bar and Moroccan mint tea. Healthy and wholesome.
Throughout the consulation, RE leaned forward, often using her hands to help her speak. She kept eye contact with the student and nodded occasionally to show she had understood whatever the student said. Once in awhile, the student, who was quite bubbly and talkative, would go on a tangent. RE would comment on what she said, then use a leading question to return focus to the paper. RE let the student know when there were only about five minutes left in the session, and diligently stuck to her time. She didn't make it obvious, however. I hardly noticed her looking at the clock. At the end of the session, RE suggested the student make another appointment after she had had some time to look over the corrections they had made together. The student thanked RE for her time, and told us that she was on the way to the computer lab right then to work on her paper.
Over all, this was a very successful session in my opinion, and RE handled it with professionalism and awesomeness.
In fact, everyone that I have had the chance to observe over the last few weeks has handled their sessions with professionalism and awesomeness. For some reason, I have this lingering fear that I will not handle mine with such grace. When I get nervous, I tend to fidget and talk a million miles a minute. I also tend to go on tangents. So maybe I will get nervous and lead the student, who only came in for some help in formulating a topic, quickly down the road of constitutionalism and the revolutions of 1848 in Europe. I do this to myself a lot--psych myself out, that is. Insecurity is rearing its ugly head again. I need one of those Whack-a-Mole mallets to smash it down again. I don't want be too scared when the moment comes to just jump in to consulting.
In other news, whoever purchased the fun-sized candy bars for the Writing Center, thank you. I had a very nice mid-afternoon snack of Baby Ruth bar and Moroccan mint tea. Healthy and wholesome.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Journal #3
I was sitting at the computer the other day when I heard a small cough and a timid, "Excuse me," coming from the direction of the door. I looked up and saw an extremely beautiful, slightly nervous-looking woman standing next to the coffee maker.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I have an appointment with ___."
"Sure, OK," I reply. "What's your name?"
She told me. The name evoked images of smoky, protest-ridden Tehran, or perhaps the near impassable mountains of western Afghanistan. The accent spoke of several years spent in western Europe--France, maybe. As I amused myself by putting together a history for this mysterious woman, I kept asking myself the same question: Why on earth did she decide to come to Boise, Idaho?
I am continually surprised at the number of ESL students attending Boise State. When I moved out here five years ago from the East Coast, I was expecting a state full of white, gun-toting, beer-guzzling, potato-growing hayseeds. And lo, my expectations were fulfilled--except for the beer-guzzling part. What I didn't know, and what I am still amazed by today, was how many refugees have found homes here over the years. With an eclectic mix of Bosnians, Afghanis, Iraqis, Somalis, Chinese, Koreans, and Vietnamese, Boise is a virtual United Nations. This is good for me, as I am fascinated by other countries, languages and cultures. It's a wonder to me that, small and isolated as it is, Boise has become a center for refugee resettlement (as I understand, it has something to do with job availability and a high standard of living). These refugees learn English, find jobs and send their kids to public schools, where they are strongly encouraged to pursue higher education. And, as the work ethic among immigrants tends to be extremely high, they often do pursue higher education right here at Boise State.
One of the main incentives for working in the Writing Center for me was the chance to be able to work with ESL students. I've had a bit of experience in helping ESL students with their writing. From 2007-2008, I lived in Romania and attended classes at the local university. The students who were in the classes with me spoke perfect English, often along with their native Romanian or Hungarian, and had studied German and/or French extensively before taking on English. The Romanian education system is very focused on linguistics. Romania's history includes various violent take-overs by and extended alliances with other nations, so language became a critical element in every Romanian's education. And so there I was: a stranger, a native English speaker knowing only a little French and even less Romanian without any clue as to why the hell I had actually come. It was very interesting being on the other end of the spectrum. People speak slowly, and often loudly, for your benefit, not realizing that deafness and foreignness don't go hand in hand. People make jokes at your expense, speaking quickly so you don't catch it all. You can't read signs, or go to the grocery store alone, or ask for directions. It's very difficult to find your niche when you're so far from all you know.
Eventually, however, when my language skills improved, I found my niche. The students in my class were always eager to learn the newest slang or curse words that America had to offer. They paraded me around in front of their friends as a kind of trophy. And perhaps most importantly (and the entire reason why I even went off on this Romania tangent in the first place), they were constantly after to me to help them with their English papers. "What's a better way to say this?" "How's my punctuation?" "Does this sound awkward to you?" "What's a good idiom to use here so I sound more American?" "Citation? What the heck does that mean? I just copied it all from Wikipedia. Is that OK?" I really enjoyed helping them become better English speakers and better English writers. It was great to find a purpose in the craziness that was that entire experience.
All that to say, I am very excited to begin consulting if it means I get to work with ESL students.
Knock on wood. Now that I've said that, something will happen to make me hate all ESL students. But I hope that won't happen.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I have an appointment with ___."
"Sure, OK," I reply. "What's your name?"
She told me. The name evoked images of smoky, protest-ridden Tehran, or perhaps the near impassable mountains of western Afghanistan. The accent spoke of several years spent in western Europe--France, maybe. As I amused myself by putting together a history for this mysterious woman, I kept asking myself the same question: Why on earth did she decide to come to Boise, Idaho?
I am continually surprised at the number of ESL students attending Boise State. When I moved out here five years ago from the East Coast, I was expecting a state full of white, gun-toting, beer-guzzling, potato-growing hayseeds. And lo, my expectations were fulfilled--except for the beer-guzzling part. What I didn't know, and what I am still amazed by today, was how many refugees have found homes here over the years. With an eclectic mix of Bosnians, Afghanis, Iraqis, Somalis, Chinese, Koreans, and Vietnamese, Boise is a virtual United Nations. This is good for me, as I am fascinated by other countries, languages and cultures. It's a wonder to me that, small and isolated as it is, Boise has become a center for refugee resettlement (as I understand, it has something to do with job availability and a high standard of living). These refugees learn English, find jobs and send their kids to public schools, where they are strongly encouraged to pursue higher education. And, as the work ethic among immigrants tends to be extremely high, they often do pursue higher education right here at Boise State.
One of the main incentives for working in the Writing Center for me was the chance to be able to work with ESL students. I've had a bit of experience in helping ESL students with their writing. From 2007-2008, I lived in Romania and attended classes at the local university. The students who were in the classes with me spoke perfect English, often along with their native Romanian or Hungarian, and had studied German and/or French extensively before taking on English. The Romanian education system is very focused on linguistics. Romania's history includes various violent take-overs by and extended alliances with other nations, so language became a critical element in every Romanian's education. And so there I was: a stranger, a native English speaker knowing only a little French and even less Romanian without any clue as to why the hell I had actually come. It was very interesting being on the other end of the spectrum. People speak slowly, and often loudly, for your benefit, not realizing that deafness and foreignness don't go hand in hand. People make jokes at your expense, speaking quickly so you don't catch it all. You can't read signs, or go to the grocery store alone, or ask for directions. It's very difficult to find your niche when you're so far from all you know.
Eventually, however, when my language skills improved, I found my niche. The students in my class were always eager to learn the newest slang or curse words that America had to offer. They paraded me around in front of their friends as a kind of trophy. And perhaps most importantly (and the entire reason why I even went off on this Romania tangent in the first place), they were constantly after to me to help them with their English papers. "What's a better way to say this?" "How's my punctuation?" "Does this sound awkward to you?" "What's a good idiom to use here so I sound more American?" "Citation? What the heck does that mean? I just copied it all from Wikipedia. Is that OK?" I really enjoyed helping them become better English speakers and better English writers. It was great to find a purpose in the craziness that was that entire experience.
All that to say, I am very excited to begin consulting if it means I get to work with ESL students.
Knock on wood. Now that I've said that, something will happen to make me hate all ESL students. But I hope that won't happen.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Journal #2
Seriously, this post is in dire need of a more clever title.
Does collaboration eliminate individual thought? This is something that keeps coming up as I mull over this and last week's readings. Collaboration, that omnipresent, idealized concept, is loosely defined as social writing: peer response assignments, participation in writers' groups, anything in which people exchange ideas and information in order to positively influence each other's writing (or at least that's what I wrote down in my notebook during our last meeting). Regardless of the subject of the group's writing, the overarching goal of collaboration is self discovery. By engaging in conversations and receiving feedback from other writers, the individual further develops their own point of view.
Well, that's lovely. But, returning to the question, does this social writing take away individuality? Perhaps I've been blinded by society's blatant mistrust of collaborative work, but the thought of group writing bothers me. It makes me think of groupthink, and groupthink makes me think of communism, which makes me think of the Cultural Revolution in China, and that makes me think of that rather disturbing scene from "The Last Emperor" when the students were taking great pleasure in humiliating their former professors in the streets of Beijing, and that makes me think of the collaborative work the Emperor and his servants did while writing their life stories when they were serving a lengthy sentence in a re-education camp because the the Emperor had had some rather shady dealings with the Japanese, who had created a nation in the Manchurian region of northern China and named in Manchukuo, which was an action that was ironically condemned by all imperialist Western nations, and...oh, you don't care. I often forget that not all people are history majors. Anyway.
What I keep wondering is, if everything I have ever written and will ever write has been influenced by things I have read or people I have talked to, does that mean that I have never had and never will have an original thought? Does that mean that anyone who has ever written anything, anyone who has ever developed a ground breaking idea in any field, is guilty of plagiarism?
And if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it...?
I don't know, I have the feeling I'm not making a lot of sense. But the concept of collaboration is reaffirming my fear that no one is saying anything that hasn't been said before. All of the odd thoughts that float through our brains as we daydream have already been thought. Humanity is set on the spin cycle and history as we know it has come to an end--at least it has if you take Fukyama's viewpoint. My, that's depressing. So somewhere, at some point in history, someone else has had the same thoughts I'm writing out right now (Well, at some point in recent history, as the Cultural Revolution only happened in the last forty years or so, and "The Last Emperor" was made about twenty years ago). I am not an original. Fortunately, I am convinced that there is something more than this copycat life. Perhaps I can have an original thought when I reach the other side. At least I have that to look forward to.
Then again, as billions, perhaps trillions of people have died since the beginning of time...No, I won't even go there.
To cheer you up after this rather melancholy post, here's an awesome song by the amazingly talented Alexi Murdoch, who is my future husband. He just doesn't know it yet.
Does collaboration eliminate individual thought? This is something that keeps coming up as I mull over this and last week's readings. Collaboration, that omnipresent, idealized concept, is loosely defined as social writing: peer response assignments, participation in writers' groups, anything in which people exchange ideas and information in order to positively influence each other's writing (or at least that's what I wrote down in my notebook during our last meeting). Regardless of the subject of the group's writing, the overarching goal of collaboration is self discovery. By engaging in conversations and receiving feedback from other writers, the individual further develops their own point of view.
Well, that's lovely. But, returning to the question, does this social writing take away individuality? Perhaps I've been blinded by society's blatant mistrust of collaborative work, but the thought of group writing bothers me. It makes me think of groupthink, and groupthink makes me think of communism, which makes me think of the Cultural Revolution in China, and that makes me think of that rather disturbing scene from "The Last Emperor" when the students were taking great pleasure in humiliating their former professors in the streets of Beijing, and that makes me think of the collaborative work the Emperor and his servants did while writing their life stories when they were serving a lengthy sentence in a re-education camp because the the Emperor had had some rather shady dealings with the Japanese, who had created a nation in the Manchurian region of northern China and named in Manchukuo, which was an action that was ironically condemned by all imperialist Western nations, and...oh, you don't care. I often forget that not all people are history majors. Anyway.
What I keep wondering is, if everything I have ever written and will ever write has been influenced by things I have read or people I have talked to, does that mean that I have never had and never will have an original thought? Does that mean that anyone who has ever written anything, anyone who has ever developed a ground breaking idea in any field, is guilty of plagiarism?
And if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it...?
I don't know, I have the feeling I'm not making a lot of sense. But the concept of collaboration is reaffirming my fear that no one is saying anything that hasn't been said before. All of the odd thoughts that float through our brains as we daydream have already been thought. Humanity is set on the spin cycle and history as we know it has come to an end--at least it has if you take Fukyama's viewpoint. My, that's depressing. So somewhere, at some point in history, someone else has had the same thoughts I'm writing out right now (Well, at some point in recent history, as the Cultural Revolution only happened in the last forty years or so, and "The Last Emperor" was made about twenty years ago). I am not an original. Fortunately, I am convinced that there is something more than this copycat life. Perhaps I can have an original thought when I reach the other side. At least I have that to look forward to.
Then again, as billions, perhaps trillions of people have died since the beginning of time...No, I won't even go there.
To cheer you up after this rather melancholy post, here's an awesome song by the amazingly talented Alexi Murdoch, who is my future husband. He just doesn't know it yet.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Journal #1
I wish I could come up with a cleverer title. And figure out how to copy and paste. It seems easy, and yet...Technology, my cursed enemy, we meet again. Anywho:
Ah, another school year begins. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the football team is footbal-ling, and the administration is sucking every last cent out of the student body for various nefarious purposes. It's a beautiful thing. This fall semester is a particularly special one for me, as it marks the beginning of my internship at the Writing Center. Though my knowledge and experience of writing centers is limited, I hope to make some small contribution to the Center, and more importantly, to glean knowledge which will help me with my own writing and that which will help me aid others in the future.
I have been to the Writing Center only once before, and under duress, if I recall correctly. My biology professor, for some mischievous reason of her own, decided to make it a requirement for all of her students to visit the Writing Center at least once while penning the dreaded lab report. It should be noted that I am not a fan of criticism, especially when it comes to my writing. I have a hard time taking criticism, I have a hard time giving it out--but these are things I am working on. Oh, the divers glories that stem from low self-esteem. Having someone read through and (God forbid!) correct my writing was unthinkable, unconscionable, completely out of the question.
It was with trepidation that I scaled the stairs to the Writing Center, and with hesitation that I handed my paper over for scrutiny. I twisted and squirmed in my seat in anxiety, trying to arrange my features into something I hoped appeared menacing, but probably only looked as if I had bad gas. After the initial awkwardness of hearing my work read aloud, however, I began to relax. Hearing someone else's opinion on my writing helped rather than hindered me in the writing process. Surprise, surprise. Though I did not visit the Writing Center again, but I remembered the experience. So when it was suggested to me that I apply for an internship at the Writing Center, I jumped at the chance. To be on the other side of that table, to help someone else have that gestalt moment in the same way my consultant helped me seemed a wonderful idea. So here I am, an intern, about to take my first bumbling steps into the larger writing world.
My first week in the Center was largely uneventful. I did some dishes, participated in a class tour, and helped type up a few handouts. There were no belligerent students or bomb threats, nor any rabid dogs or random Ebola outbreaks. There was, however, some talk of a John Waters Halloween costume, which is rather scary, I must admit. I didn't get any hands-on Writing Center experience, really, but I think I did something more important: I began to make connections with the people who work there. They are far from the grammar Nazis and harsh critics I had imagined. They're laid back and fun to talk to, and just want to help people become better writers.
Plus, they let me do the dishes, so they can't be all bad.
Ah, another school year begins. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the football team is footbal-ling, and the administration is sucking every last cent out of the student body for various nefarious purposes. It's a beautiful thing. This fall semester is a particularly special one for me, as it marks the beginning of my internship at the Writing Center. Though my knowledge and experience of writing centers is limited, I hope to make some small contribution to the Center, and more importantly, to glean knowledge which will help me with my own writing and that which will help me aid others in the future.
I have been to the Writing Center only once before, and under duress, if I recall correctly. My biology professor, for some mischievous reason of her own, decided to make it a requirement for all of her students to visit the Writing Center at least once while penning the dreaded lab report. It should be noted that I am not a fan of criticism, especially when it comes to my writing. I have a hard time taking criticism, I have a hard time giving it out--but these are things I am working on. Oh, the divers glories that stem from low self-esteem. Having someone read through and (God forbid!) correct my writing was unthinkable, unconscionable, completely out of the question.
It was with trepidation that I scaled the stairs to the Writing Center, and with hesitation that I handed my paper over for scrutiny. I twisted and squirmed in my seat in anxiety, trying to arrange my features into something I hoped appeared menacing, but probably only looked as if I had bad gas. After the initial awkwardness of hearing my work read aloud, however, I began to relax. Hearing someone else's opinion on my writing helped rather than hindered me in the writing process. Surprise, surprise. Though I did not visit the Writing Center again, but I remembered the experience. So when it was suggested to me that I apply for an internship at the Writing Center, I jumped at the chance. To be on the other side of that table, to help someone else have that gestalt moment in the same way my consultant helped me seemed a wonderful idea. So here I am, an intern, about to take my first bumbling steps into the larger writing world.
My first week in the Center was largely uneventful. I did some dishes, participated in a class tour, and helped type up a few handouts. There were no belligerent students or bomb threats, nor any rabid dogs or random Ebola outbreaks. There was, however, some talk of a John Waters Halloween costume, which is rather scary, I must admit. I didn't get any hands-on Writing Center experience, really, but I think I did something more important: I began to make connections with the people who work there. They are far from the grammar Nazis and harsh critics I had imagined. They're laid back and fun to talk to, and just want to help people become better writers.
Plus, they let me do the dishes, so they can't be all bad.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
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