I’ve been working so long with colleagues on teaching Reading courses in Developmental Education that Evan Seymour’s grilling of the 500-word theme in the Fall issue of Viewpoints was a refreshing reminder, as is Barbara Spadaro’s article in this issue, of a significant piece of work that goes on within the College.
In truth, after reading Evan Seymour’s article in the last issue of Viewpoints, attending the seminar he sponsored, dredging up Lee J. Martin’s The 500-Word Theme, and reading Barbara Spadaro’s thoughts in this issue, I find myself even more perplexed about the nature, though not the purpose, of Freshman Composition than I am usually. I agree with Barbara that the 500-word theme (do articles and prepositions count?) seems too mechanical, though I like ham sandwiches and think much can be done with this example of the lunch pail genre once one moves beyond pressed ham on Strohman’s with hot house tomato and some sort of green leaf. I mean, Westphalia ham with watercress and a bit of remoulade spread on a Sarcone’s roll (hold the tomato unless in season) strikes me as quite satisfying, especially with a sprinkle of Turkish oregano and a slice of aged provolone.
Nevertheless, what I take Barbara to be saying in her essay (and Evan in his) is that Freshman Composition should be about intellectual development, with the writing produced by students serving as concrete evidence that the development has occurred. It may be that we delight in showing a student how better to hold rhythm in a sentence, but in my practice the effort is in showing how to hold the rhythm of a thought through a paragraph. And the comments I see written on the many student papers I read suggest that I am not alone. I do not think Freshman Composition is so much about helping students become fluid writers as it is about helping them become clear thinkers. It is for this reason that I believe revision of student essays should not focus only on correcting errors of sentence structure, which has always struck me as simply editing their work, but on the development of thought relative to the assignment.
If this is the case (and I would welcome comment for the Spring issue of Viewpoints), then the 500-word theme as the principal container for developing thought is, as Barbara notes, a model to be viewed with suspicion because it presumes form prior to process and limits the development of imagination. Barbara is correct; writing is messy. Thinking is messy. The kitchen counter at my house is frequently messy. To be sure, there are rules for writing, thinking and cooking, but they should inform rather than constrain.
Barbara notes that the 500-word theme is “too easy” to grade. I know what she means and I think she’s right, but I’d characterize it differently. I think the 500-word theme took root because without a preconceived model, undisciplined thought, even when not further encumbered by poor grammar and syntax, is exceedingly hard to assess when the object is instruction rather than simply grading. Here is the beauty of the 500-word theme—regardless of the assignment, regardless of whether the student understands the assignment, the rules of engagement are clear: Does the introduction lead to the thesis? Are the topic sentences in place? Got a couple of main points for each? Examples? Grammar OK? By golly, I think we have a college essay! Now, let’s add some paprika, and a touch of cayenne, or maybe some thyme and lemongrass and now we have an A or a B. But maybe not…too much paprika spoils the balance. Not enough lemongrass? Looks like a C. In fact, what the five paragraph essay really provides is a basis for explanation that does not appear arbitrary.
The problem in “teaching” a paper is never one of passing or failing. It’s trying to explain why one paper is a C and another a B and what each grade represents as a value of learning. The 500-word theme may be short on thought, but it certainly provides a secure structure for comment beyond simply scrawling “vague” in the margin. Our job, unlike Justice Potter Stewart’s in another context, is not to know a problem paper when we see it. It’s to explain why. The 500-word theme allows us to do that easily and predictably, though maybe at a price we shouldn’t be willing to pay, at least not as a matter of course.
The seminar sponsored by Evan was both challenging and affirming. We read closely a text by David Bartholomae (“Inventing the University” from When a Writer Can’t Write: Studies in Writer’s Block and Other Composing Problems, ed. Mike Rose. 1985. The Guilford Press ) and one by Joseph Harris (“Revision as a Critical Practice” College English, Volume 65, Number 6, July 2003) and discussed the nature of academic discourse, in the process of which I became even more perplexed about the form, though not the purpose, of Freshman Composition. However, participants did affirm that Freshman Composition should be in the service of developing a student’s facility with the written form of academic discourse, with the emphasis being on developing as opposed to expecting that students arrive in English 101 ready to tackle commentary on Aquinas’ Summa Theologica.
During the last two meetings, we looked at assignments that Temple University Freshman Composition faculty had brought to CCP earlier, and which formed the basis of a discussion between our two faculties conducted by Dianne Perkins. My first response was a flashback to a professional development workshop Dianne and I facilitated last spring. We had wanted to look at the types of assignments colleagues across disciplines developed to assess student learning. The workshop was scheduled for 90 minutes, so Dianne gathered seven such assignments, hoping we had enough to keep people engaged throughout the session. So of course, we never got past the first assignment, which was simultaneously judged to be utterly brilliant, lacking clarity in a couple of places, or a crime against the rules of order and logic. Needless to say, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. And so, I believe, did the participants in Evan’s seminar. I cannot speak for the others who attended, but for me this was one of those times when having fun also occasioned a bit of insight. For if the 500-word theme, or 1,000-word theme, or 1,500-word theme are excoriated because theme means formula, and if formulas are employed because this allows for secure commentary and makes the instructor’s job easier at the cost of developing thought on the part of the student, then my response is that we should design assignments that lead a student through a series of steps (academic discourse) while encouraging deliberate thought. For if the purpose in Freshman Composition is to show the academic novice how discourse might be improved rather than how to conduct that discourse in an elegant fashion, then surely, how it might be improved must be relative to a set of principles more solid than the professorial baritone of “because we say so.”
It is here that the work we’ve done with teaching Reading would seem to fold nicely into the discussion of writing. In Reading, all exams should be formative. They should be diagnostic tools to see if learning has occurred and instruments in the service of addressing where it has not. The process, of course, begins with the instructor knowing what the student should be learning and then designing assignments that move learning in that direction. Similarly, the Freshman Composition course should be formative; it, too, should begin with the instructor knowing what the student should be learning—and shame on us if it is only an arrangement of parts. As with Reading, the place to embed what we want students to learn is in the assignments we construct, for they should provide our students the first secure step toward what makes academic discourse both valuable and useful. Another way of saying is this that in Freshman Composition the primary text should be the assignment.
In the meantime, while I’ve put Martin’s 500-word theme text back on the shelf, it is not with the conviction that it won’t again be visited. It strikes me as a useful recipe to ward off student brain lock in a stressful testing situation and maybe even a bit more. For now, though, I think it’s time to revisit Aristotle’s Rhetoric and to take another look at Pam Anderson’s How to Cook Without a Book.
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Maintained by Jay Howard,Jan 2004