Teaching Drafting or Drafting Teaching

This is always the point in the semester when I curse my decision to teach writing – and especially to teach the writing process. I don’t so much teach the writing process as a lesson, but as an experience and that is the problem. For all of our lofty classroom conversations about ideas, audience, and structure and all the brainstorming, journaling and reflection we do, there always comes that moment of truth when students submit a draft of their paper or project to the class workshop.  And now, I am forced, against my will, to give them advice that hopefully will make their next draft better. It is a lot of work. It is time consuming. It is life draining. What is especially depressing is that for all the hours I spend passing along this advice only a fraction of the advice will be taken and often that fraction will consist almost exclusively of surface errors and easy fixes (“reword this sentence” will be acted on while “rethink your organization” will be ignored).

Why are students so resistant to drafting?

Of course, not all of them are. This is also the point in the semester when I receive a lot of feedback about my successes and failures as a teacher in the form of both anonymous class evaluations and through students’ final reflections about what they have learned and how they have grown. In both of these, students’ reactions to this process of learning to draft and revise tend to the extreme, if opposite, ends of the spectrum.

Some students continue to resist and protest against “meaningless work” and “writing the same paper over and over” while others celebrate breaking the habit of “writing the night before an assignment is due” and “learning to be a writer.” I am thrilled to read that some students “finally understand what it means to be a writer” and are confident that they are “on their way.” But then there are the others…

They do not want to think about their writing and do not want to invest anything (certainly not much time let alone blood, sweat, or tears) in their writing. They have been taught a formula to write during their K-12 education and do not understand why I can’t give them a simple formula for college writing as well. Or worse, they have mastered that K-12 formula which has served them well on standardized tests (which is, after all, why so much K-12 writing focuses on this formula) and so when I question that formula or fail to grade a formulaic essay with anything less than an “A” then it is because I am a #@$%&.

I love drafting. Learning about drafting changed my life (and not just my writing life – it made me a writer which made my professional life possible). Even now, warning nerd sighting ahead, just the simple act of reading the definitions for draft supplied by Merriam-Webster makes me smile. The first definition “the act of drawing a net” is actually a wonderful description of the way I begin writing. My first drafts almost always involve casting a wide net as I long ago mastered the art of the “Shitty First Draft” advocated by Anne Lamott. I could actually write a whole blog post just about the definitions of draft and maybe I will on another day, but the point is that I am an enthusiastic drafter and sell it with evangelic zeal as well as build it into the structure of all my classes, but not all my students are buying.

I think some of the problem is that until you have really seen what a difference it makes in your writing then drafting just seems like a lot of unnecessary work – and even more work if you are involved in a workshop or feedback loop of some kind. This is when I try to explain to my students that drafting may appear to be more work, but it really isn’t because drafting is actually a lot more efficient and productive work. In racing, cycling and motorsports, drafting or slipstreaming is well-known to reduce the expenditure of energy and I believe there is a similar effect involved in writing drafts. Unfortunately, no photographers have captured cool visuals to demonstrate this effect.

Paula Krebs writes in “Next Time, Fail Better” that humanities students need to learn how to learn from failure, but I believe this is something we can all learn to do better. How can I teach my students to think about failure in a more positive way? How can I teach my students to learn from their mistakes? How can I teach them to understand that some failure is expected along the way? How can I teach them that there is not only no such thing as the perfect first draft but typically the final draft is far from perfect as well. I don’t know yet, but I have some ideas I want to try. As Krebs also writes, teaching is all about learning from failure. Every semester is a fresh draft of classes and lessons we have taught before as well as some shitty first drafts. I know that I am far from that finished, polished product (or teacher) I dream of becoming. But the good news is that my next draft is due in only a few weeks.

The Evolution of My Writing Workshop

I intended to blog about my philosophy of grading re Prof Hacker but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Isn't grading painful enough without thinking about it when I don't have to do so? Then another Prof Hacker post about grading (grading contracts that is) made me think again about how I manage grading. My philosophy of teaching is focused on fostering the growth of the writer and so I really do not like to dwell on the product of writing as I see it as a means to an end (the growth and development of the writer) rather than the end in itself. However, the workshop process that has evolved in my classroom is something that I could write about – and in fact have been asked to write about – and so here it is.

I have always set up my writing classes around some version of a writing workshop. For me, a writing workshop classroom means focusing on the writer and the writing rather than the teacher and the lecture. I believe writers learn and grow when they are actively engaged in writing and participate in a feedback loop that supports revision and fosters self-regulation. I believe the timely administration of a mini-lesson is far more effective than a lecture. But this post is about grading or feedback – not teaching. And so, back to my writing workshop. What does it look like? My writing workshop incorporates drafting and revision as well as a feedback loop. It uses reflection and self-regulation as well as working toward a final portfolio or some other final project.

These elements have remained constant but not static as they have evolved over the course of a decade of teaching writing. Back when I taught modes my students wrote five rough drafts and then after receiving feedback revised four essays and then after more feedback completed three final drafts for a portfolio. Today my students collaborate on a number of small projects before drafting papers that go through workshop before submission for a final grade and more feedback then they use those pieces as part of a larger final project (a blog).

My feedback process has also evolved over time. During my first years of teaching I graded even rough drafts but as I was teaching as many as five sections of writing (with a total of 125 students) at a time that was an incredible burden. Plus, I found that it actually interfered with the revision process as some students would take the attitude that the paper was “good enough” and did not always realize that the grade assigned to a rough draft did not translate into the same grade for a final draft. Around the same time I began teaching writing online and so I moved my workshop into a discussion board. Students posted their drafts in the discussion board and received feedback from me as well as their peers. I really loved this model as it allowed me to focus on helping students improve their writing – and not on grading. I also discovered that the transparency of sharing writing and feedback in this way fostered conversations with and among students about writing that would not have occurred under my old workshop model. I also learned that making the entire workshop process visible in this way made these conversations a resource for all students. I became so enamored of the online writing workshop that I began to use it even with my face-to-face classes.

Then I initiated a collaborative grading research project with two of my colleagues that involved the use of rubrics and I soon found that my blissful workshop model could not seamlessly integrate the use of rubrics. It took a semester to work out how to use rubrics in a way that still offered substantive feedback that supported revision. After the research project was over I asked my students about continuing the use of rubrics (secretly hoping I could abandon them) but students overwhelming responded that they liked the rubrics and found them useful when drafting as well as revising. And so rubrics continue to play an important role in my writing workshop as well as of course my grading.

I have always believed that reflection plays an important part in the growth and development of a writer and that belief has been reinforced by my experience as a teacher, a writer, and a researcher. In fact, my most recent research project reinforced this to an extent that surprised me. At various points during my teaching career I have used writing journals as well as portfolio reflections. I have required that students write a “grade note” when submitted papers that explains how their work meets or exceeds the criteria for a particular grade. My current writing workshop asks students to reflect on their process for each writing assignment and then to metawrite at the end of the semester about their growth and development as a writer. In addition, my students are required to Tweet thoughts about writing which may or may not be further developed in their writing reflections and metawriting.

I hope my writing workshop helps my students grow and develop as writers but my research on that is still pending. You know that pesky dissertation has taken a lot of my time.

My Teaching Philosophy

My teaching philosophy and my course plan seem to be in a constant state of flux. I used to worry about all this change but recently Prof Hacker wrote that constant innovation is actually a sign of great teaching so I will stop worrying about that anyway.

I see myself primarily as a teacher of writing and so focus is on composition pedagogy. Of course there are many composition pedagogies and I find mine influenced by five schools of thought (at least) in my current incarnation. Is that something new to worry about?

I was first introduced to process pedagogy when I was a student in Lee Brooks' sophomore high school English class. The idea literally changed my life. I believe I would never have gone on to become a professional writer and writing teacher without that experience. As a result, process pedagogy continues to play an important role in the way I teach writing and my teaching is strongly influenced by the work of Peter Elbow and Donald Murray. As Elbow teaches, I encourage true invention such as freewriting, playing with words, etc. As Murray teaches, I encourage writing for discovery and exploration and a willingness to take risks. I teach writing to writers and believe everyone is a writer. While I believe strongly in the power of process, I loath the forced structure taught in so many textbooks and classrooms. I believe every writer should develop an individual writing process that is flexible enough to adapt to many writing tasks. I long resisted the idea of post-process but admit that while I continue to think process is key to developing as a writer my classroom is more post-process. While it includes some element of choice and follows a workshop model that includes iterations of drafting, feedback, and revision, I do limit the range of topics and utilize mini lessons.

I firmly believe in placing the writer and writing at the center of the classroom and every activity and assignment is focused on one simple goal – writing development – which is definitely influenced by expressive pedagogy. My classes have long included freewriting, journals, reflective writing, and small group work. I am strongly influenced by bell hooks' “engaged pedagogy” and Paulo Freire's “liberatory pedagogy” as well as the work of James Britton and the National Writing Project. I understand I am teaching the whole student and I strive to build a critical consciousness about thinking and writing (and thinking about writing).

Collaboration has long been an important part of my life as a writer. As a published novelist I worked with writing groups and as a newspaper reporter and editor writing groups were also key. I learned the power of peer response for myself and as a result have always made it a part of my writing classroom and then as I learned more about the work of Kenneth Bruffee, Anne Ruggles Gere, and Richard Rorty collaborative pedagogy became a central part of my teaching. I believe, as Charlotte Thralls and Patricia A. Sullivan write, that collaborative pedagogy mirrors the true nature of writing and this is another reason it strongly influences my teaching.

Like Ira Shor I often ask myself, and my writing students, what is good writing and how do you become a good writer. My recent move to a writing studies pedagogy for my composition classes is a good demonstration of my own commitment to critical pedagogy. As Freire, Henry Giroux, and Shor have taught, my classes are student-centered and focused more on questions that students ask and answer than questions and answers provided by the instructor alone. I believe greatly in the power of thinking and communication and hope to improve the skills of my students in these essential areas but realize they must be able to take the lead to do so.

Of course these concerns also lend themselves to feminist pedagogy. I strive to decenter authority in my classes as much as possible and place more emphasis on process than product. I hope my students will gain a better understanding of social justice and issues of power as we read, write, and think together to explore these important issues.