Mediated text is defined as written text produced with second- and third-party assistance in its drafting and final production. Because the Americans with Disabilities Act requires accommodation for deaf college students, mediated texts produced with second- and third-party assistance help deaf college students successfully complete writing courses. Biser, Rubel, and Toscano identify the function of mediated texts as a useful drafting technique for English as a second language students and for basic writers as well. Although they address philosophical and pedagogical implications of second- and third-party participation, mediated texts as heuristic devices may benefit many students in their drafting and revision.
Cody argues that basic writers should develop their own voices and not just imitate others', which will result in language that is "more sensitive to multicultural concerns" (109) and "more openly accountable for the damage caused from academia's privileging of dominant discourses" (109). To this end, Cody urges a move away from "pedagogies of imitation" (108), in which students must adapt to existing formulas and standards, reject familiar discourses, and "hide the evidence" (101) of their lives outside academia that often involve "oppression, marginalization, deprivation, and suppression" (101). Instead, he endorses a pedagogy that encourages students to use their own experiences and discourses in academic writing. This approach also helps students become aware of audience and purpose, affords them the experience of having readers pay attention to their work, and transforms academic language into a more representative discourse. Cody argues that instructors and students can work from such "expressive" language toward more "linear modes" used in academe without betraying their own discourses.
Collins contends that an unquestioned acceptance of the process approach to teaching writing may fail basic writers because of the myths that inform the implicit instruction in this paradigm—that "writing development is natural and that teaching is primarily the facilitation of development" (5). Collins also notes that process literature promotes a structuralist, binary approach to writing instruction and recommends a more poststructuralist appreciation of "differences among discourses" (5).
The authors begin with a dilemma: linguists emphasize the primacy of speech over writing, but this causes problems with labeling dialects. De Beaugrande and Olson refute the linguistic premise that restricted speech, such as that identified by Basil Bernstein as spoken by the British lower class, is an indicator of psychological and linguistic deficits, and the authors raise questions regarding the connections between speech and writing. The authors also argue that formal correctness is not a prerequisite for effective communication. They then describe a pilot project in which student athletes were assigned to create a narrative about three of their games—one week in writing, one week later in speech, and the third week in writing (the Write-Speak-Write Approach). Each student was asked to use the first written draft and an annotated, typed transcript of the speech to compose the final draft. Final drafts were longer and clearer than the initial versions. A change of approach to teaching basic writing in elementary and secondary schools could greatly ease the problems we are now facing at the college level, which often cannot be fully remedied in one or two semesters. Writing instructors should support the human freedom of access to knowledge through discourse.
In challenging Patricia Bizzell's negative characterization of hybrid discourses, Hebb claims that instructors should view them not simply as a mix of the academic and nonacademic but as part of a continuum of discourses for which no solid boundaries differentiate academic discourse from others. At one pole of the continuum is mainstream academic discourse, and Hebb argues that privileging "academic discourse" reinforces dominant ideology. At the other pole is the idiosyncratic and unintelligible. Hybrid discourses fall between these two poles and represent impoverished forms of discourse that "reflect neither the complexity and multivocality of group nor the individual voice(s) of self" (28). Instructors can help their students negotiate their passage into various academic discourse communities by assuming no hierarchy of value, offering students linguistic resources rich in their ideational and expressive possibilities, and encouraging them to produce hybrid discourses that perform intellectual work.
See: Patricia Bizzell, "Basic Writing and the Issue of Correctness,
Or, What to Do with
Mixed Forms of Academic Discourse" [4].
Contemporary pedagogies that call for an integrative approach to reading and writing in the "remedial" classroom increase the likelihood of divergence between students and instructors along the lines of literary interpretation. Instructors' readings tend toward conventions socialized by training during undergraduate and graduate study of English, while personal history strongly influences the logic of a basic writer's response to literary texts. To show that basic writers benefit by immersion in the intellectual task of generating new interpretive perceptions, Hull and Rose analyze the discourse surrounding one student's reading of "And Your Soul Shall Dance," a poem by Garret Kaoru Hongo. The ensuing reinterpretation of the poem demonstrates that "deficit-oriented assumptions about the linguistic and cognitive abilities of remedial students" (296) need reexamination. The more student-centered and "knowledge-making" model of pedagogy that would result might create moments of uncertainty or hesitancy for the instructor, who must nevertheless stand ready to provide guidance, focus, structure, and accountability.
Focusing on studies utilizing transcribed audio tapes as a method of researching basic writers' writing processes, Hunter and Pearce question if those processes could be understood by an analysis of think-aloud protocols. After observing the writing processes of eight basic writers, the authors conclude that writing assignments should be designed to minimize "premature editing" (stopping and starting) and that many basic writers do not have at their disposal the kinds of knowledge or language "to respond comfortably and effectively to traditional academic writing tasks" (263).
Basic writers have difficulty generating ideas while taking timed essay tests. Patterned after James Berlin's approach—a "positivistic, behavioral epistemology that focuses on steps in processes and descriptions of external reality" (113)—Kirch advocates that basic writers respond to the essay's prompt by asking themselves how other people might respond to the topic. This pedagogy helps students examine the topic more objectively, including their and others' insights, thus making them better able to respond to the topic. Through this technique, basic writers are enabled to "discover the political and social topoi" and "completely reposition the timed writing tests" (123).
Asserting that composition teachers should shape the content of their courses around the needs of their adult students, Krahe draws on David Kolb's experiential learning model and delineation of learning styles to teach writing courses focused on the concept of rhetorical situation. Krahe values Kolb's learning theory over others because it "acknowledges that learning is lifelong" (138), a concept critical to teachers of adult learners. Krahe develops her course content in accordance with Kolbs four learning styles: the converger (learns by thinking, analyzing, and doing), the diverger (learns by intuiting, planning, and reflecting), the assimilator (learns by thinking, analyzing, planning, and reflecting), and the accommodator (learns by intuiting and doing) (139). As Krahe works to teach the concept of rhetorical situation, something she considers critical to composition instruction, she creates assignments that allow students with these learning styles to succeed. Krahe also offers an overview of her course content and assignments as an example.
Process-based error analysis from English as a second language studies offers insights into the errors native speakers make in written composition. The process-analytic approach views errors as necessary stages in all language learning, the product of intelligent cognitive strategies, and potentially useful indicators of the processes a student uses. The error-analyst investigates the sources of error to help students reach target forms and levels of discourse. Like Mina Shaughnessy's work, this approach sees errors as the product of learning and thinking. Error analysis does not dictate any single teaching device, and instructors should avoid simple exercises or explanations. Instead, they should view teaching as hypothesis-testing, look for systematicity and pattern in student error, individualize materials and strategies for particular errors, and explain sources of errors to students.
McAlexander conducted a study of two developmental writing classes to investigate which form of peer review—oral or written—most benefited students. The class she describes as composed of intermediate developmental writers reported a strong preference for oral feedback, with students stating that oral review comments were far more helpful and enjoyable than written comments, especially those written by classmates they did not know. In contrast, students from the class that McAlexander notes demonstrated lower levels of academic and social skills reported that neither method was helpful or enjoyable. McAlexander concludes that the personality of the class is largely responsible for student experiences with peer review. Thus, instructors cannot make assertions about student experiences with peer review without first taking into consideration the levels of student self-confidence and motivation and the level of social interaction observed in the particular classroom.
Miller argues that basic writers are likely unaware of their own critical thinking skills and that teachers must demonstrate to them how to apply those skills in their own writing. Because students often distrust their own experiences and abilities, Miller suggests that teachers have an obligation to validate students and give them a sense of safety within the physical space of the classroom, for only when students feel safe will they partake in the cognitive activities associated with critical thinking. Miller also stresses the importance of challenging students and describes his own use of difficult texts by Annie Dillard and Mark Twain. Miller concludes by suggesting that engaging students in critical thinking about their own work and the work of others leads them to experience and understand critical thinking as a more "natural" process.
Nixon-Ponder promotes the use of problem-posing dialogue in adult writing classes to strengthen the self-esteem and analytical skills of students. The technique consists of five parts. First, the instructor presents students with a "code"—a photo, a text, or some other item that is to be the central focus of the unit. Students study the code and begin to answer questions to familiarize themselves with it. Second, students identify a problem associated with the code. Third, students personalize the problem. Fourth, the class discusses the personal and social aspects of the problem. Finally, students discuss possible solutions to the problem. Nixon-Ponder concludes that using this problem-posing dialogue technique is effective for adult learners because it shows them that their life experiences are relevant and important to academic tasks, thus empowering them and strengthening their self-esteem as students.
Basic writing students benefit from conceptually mapping their own writing processes. This activity gives students the opportunity to identify and classify, spatially, their own writing behaviors. Writing students of all abilities often do not recognize the correlation between their successes and failures as writers and the decisions they make when writing, but this problem is experienced most frequently by students who are less acculturated to the college learning environment. As a metacognitive task, mapping highlights the movement from idea to idea or task to task that all writers undertake, both independently and through collaboration. Various student experiences of mapping are presented in detail. Examples of student maps are also provided.
Perl summarizes her 1975–1976 study of the composing processes of five unskilled college writers at Eugenio Maria de Hostos Community College of the City University of New York. Perl argues that, prior to this work, little was done to study basic writers and their "observable and scorable behaviors" (318) in the composing process. One specific goal of the study was to provide a mechanism for documenting composing processes: research in a "standardized, categorical, concise, structural, and diachronic" (320) format. Perl developed a code for what students do in their composing processes. "Miscues" in students' own reading and writing work were also noted in a standardized format. The discovery that the students' composing processes were consistent, even when the resultant writing appeared to have been done in a haphazard or arbitrary manner, supports the research Shaughnessy did in the late 1970s. Perl argues that basic writing faculty must look at students' internalized processes to make decisions about instruction.
Perl used Janet Emig's 1969 work on "composing aloud" to set up this study of five students at Eugenio Maria de Hostos Community College of the City University of New York in 1975 and 1976 and to create a formal, standardized approach to viewing the work that basic writers do as they complete writing assignments. The findings show that the student writers, though often unskilled, had consistent strategies for composing. While the students spent little time on prewriting, there was no indication that this created subsequent problems. Students discovered meaning as they wrote in a process that was recursive, discursive, and decidedly nonlinear. Editing created most problems for the students, as they often hypercorrected or began to correct before writing enough to untangle what they wanted to say. Perl argues that these students do know how to write and have stable composing processes. She suggests a "loosening" of the writing process: "readying oneself to write, sustaining the flow of writing, shaping the discourse for oneself, readying the discourse for others" (31–32) as a consideration for basic writing instruction.
Purves suggests that composition is a complex business that is in a constant state of change. We expect students to come to the university with a certain level of prowess with composition, but perhaps that expectation is unrealistic. Part of the problem is that we are sometimes unsure of what we should teach students. What genres are important? Are we more concerned with grammar or content, style or voice? Do we want students to challenge the academy or become part of its discourse community? Technology complicates the matter further. Composition is evolving into a complex manipulation of images for a rhetorical effect—images including graphemes, punctuation marks, paragraphs, typefaces, illustrations, images, and sound effects. Perhaps in this new digital world we are all neophytes. Rather than worry about teaching students how to write well, Purves says, perhaps we should question the very nature of writing.
Paul and Elder contend that for students to become better thinkers two activities must take place: they "need to be able to identify the parts of their thinking, and they need to be able to assess their use of these parts of thinking" (178). The authors list what these "parts" of thinking are and give guidelines for how students can develop and assess them. The students guidelines are provided in an easy-to-follow "handout" format.
This study of students and writer's block finds important differences among writers. Five case studies form the basis of the study, which includes a thorough discussion of writer's block and the challenges student writers face when their performance as writers does not accurately reflect their abilities. Rose concludes that the blocking these writers faced was caused by "writing rules or . . . planning strategies that impeded rather than enhanced the composing process" (390). Acknowledging the complexity of the writing process, Rose proposes that writer's block can in many cases be alleviated if the rigid rules and plans that seem to control writers' performances can be discovered. The essay contains both interview data and writers' self-reports of their composing processes. In interdisciplinary fashion, the essay also contains a survey of "several key concepts in the problem-solving literature" (390) that undergird Rose's analysis.
Through a narrative of her personal experiences, Ryden explores the metaphors of "hard" and "soft" that are often used to describe pedagogical approaches. As a young female instructor at a predominately male school, she avoided pedagogical approaches that might make her appear "soft" and thus vulnerable. Later in her career, she discovered a composition model based on community and process, which necessitated a "softer" approach. Working through the evolution of her pedagogy from "hard" to "soft," she observes, "In order to enact a pedagogy of process, I had to enact a pedagogy of care" (58). However, this pedagogy of care also concedes to certain gender stereotypes. Ryden examines whether process and care are really all that "soft", and questions whether our current pedagogical metaphors "rely on an ethic of care that itself relies on a naturalization of the maternal role of women" (59).
Shafer addresses the fundamental tension between students self-expression and the conventions of academic discourse taught in composition courses. Shafer compares vivid examples of three students emotionally charged yet nonstandard writing with the correct but bland academic writing often said to be valued in composition courses. In doing so, he critiques David Bartholomae's pedagogy by asking, "Who is really being served in a pedagogy that elevates prescription over critical dialogue?" (359). Shafer refers to Paolo Freire, bell hooks, Mina Shaughnessy, Louise Rosenblatt, Peter Elbow, and Donald Murray as he develops an argument against "a contrived discourse that serves to exult the academic community over the students it is supposed to empower" (357). He also supports students efforts to accommodate their writing to the instructors and institutions requirements, even if these tend to stifle voice, by helping students focus on audience analysis.
See: David Bartholomae, "Inventing the University" [2].
In general, writing teachers are people who did well in school, enjoyed English, and got high grades on everything they wrote. They use internalized models of their past composition successes to evaluate the work of their students, a system that always puts the basic writing student at a disadvantage. Students learn to write by writing, and the teacher who interferes with this process by imposing too many conditions must recognize that the goal of instruction is to guide students to be self-sufficient. Teachers must be sensitive to the details of the various difficulties students may have in handwriting, spelling, punctuation, grammar, and making and ordering sentences. Each student is an individual who will follow a unique, nonlinear path of development. The teacher-student relationship is best described as one in which two people learn from each other.
Sirc addresses several issues: subject positions, student ability, and the debate about whether basic writing should focus on teaching "academic writing" or recasting the academic standards of appropriate writing. Mentioning composition's stringent focus on writing process, Sirc endorses the last choice from the above list. The power of revision—both by readers and writers—in the tweaking of meaning forces writers into closure. Sirc prefers Malcolm X's flexible philosophy from the end of his autobiography to be used as a model for basic writing instruction. Most students who began reading Malcolm X's story began with a fairly stable notion of identity, a closed notion of who people are and how they engage with the world. Sirc claims that most students remained in that mind-set. However, some students demonstrated change, and Sirc believes that many will not remain solely within that reductionist framework (71). By endorsing this approach to the classroom, Sirc opens the possibility for students to learn the positive force that literacy can have in their lives.