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Richard.Jewell.net |
CollegeWriting.info
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CollegeWriting.info |
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Fun with Writing about Texts |
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1. Sometimes the best way to begin learning how to respond to the text of a reading is to experiment first with non-text subjects. For example, summarize in 10-50 words what makes you happy. Then gather in small groups, share what you've written, and then summarize your summaries in 50-100 words. Then continue this activity by analyzing: imagine three very different people; state what kind of person each one of them is (e.g., a conservative minister, the owner of a large store, or a soldier); then describe in 50-100 words what each one would think about your group's summary of what makes you happy.
2. Imagine someone you like whom others dislike (or the reverse--imagine someone you dislike whom others like). Describe for 40-60 words, fairly and accurately, how you perceive him. Then describe for another 40-60 words how the others probably perceive him. Then describe for a final 40-60 words how someone quite different--an employer, perhaps, a parent, or a child--might perceive him.
3. Imagine that you have a really difficult employer at work. First, put aside your emotional reactions and summarize fairly and accurately in 40-60 words what he or she is like. Then, in another 40-60 words, describe how he probably is perceived by someone very different from you, how he probably is perceived by customers, and how you perceive him. Finally, evaluate his job performance as his boss or coordinator. Do so by using a five-point evaluation system and writing 10-20 words for each point: (a) quality of work, (b) quantity of work, (c) attitude about work, (d) customer relations, and (e) employee relations.
The first time I became really, really excited about college reading and writing was in my fourth semester of college. I was taking "Humanities III" from Mr. Golding at Shimer College, primarily a world literature class in which we also studied aesthetics--philosophy of literature--and wrote several major papers. At first, Mr. Golding seemed very strict and formal, calling each of us "Mr. Jewell," Miss Reuben," etc. He started each week by lecturing. At first I thought his lectures, like most other instructors', would be filled with information that, however important to his discipline, would be boring. However, he managed three surprises. First, he unfolded the confusing passages and the deeper meanings of each novel so that we found ourselves in an amazing world of concepts and effects. Second, he watched our faces as he spoke, and whenever more than one or two of us seemed not to understand him, he would stop and explain in clearer language. Third, not only was he, himself, really enthusiastic about the literature we all were reading, but he also conveyed that enthusiasm to the rest of us. The combined effect of these three qualities of his presentation made the class a fascinating experience.
In the latter part of each week, he would engage us in discussion. At first I was afraid to contribute, for I had other instructors who took "discussion" to mean an opportunity to argue with students himself or, at the least, to scoff at their ideas. However, Mr. Golding gave us his utmost respect. When he opened the floor to discussion, he would ask some questions, and then he would lean back against his front table and coordinate. He would encourage opposing views, always greet each idea, no matter how silly or off base, with aplomb, and only intercede to help clarify our comments to each other or to keep us talking respectfully to each other. I learned quite a bit through the discussions, one of the few times in my first four semesters of college that this was so.
The real excitement for me was in discovering myself as a good academic writer. I had had few classes before that in which I had to write, and in the ones where I had, I always felt I was trying to learn how to write in a secret code that the instructor would not reveal, and that I had to be careful not to use my own beliefs. Mr. Golding encouraged us, instead, to develop our own interpretations of our literature. We did, in each paper, have to apply a reading from philosophy to one of the books for that period of time. However, we were free to apply it in any way we wanted, just as long as we could support what we were saying well with quotations from both the philosophy and the literature. I received a "B" on my first paper and then three "A's."
A cynic might argue that I just happened to finally find the kind of instructor and the kind of course material that best suited me, and that might be true. I do, in fact, tend to enjoy world literature more than American literature, and I so much enjoyed the philosophy part of Mr. Golding's course that I moved on to a philosophy major.
Even so, there were two or three aspects of Mr. Golding's teaching--and my learning style--that joined. First, I learned to mark up my textbooks--my literature books--more than ever in his class. I would write comments in the page margins as I read, more comments as we talked about the book in class, and even more comments during a second reading of the parts of the book I would use to write a paper. By the end, some pages of my books were so dense with notes that I had to continue writing them on one or more of the following pages.
Second, Mr. Golding was the first college instructor to ever describe how to write a paper. I have to admit that I was the person in the class who asked him most of the questions about how to develop our papers. However, once asked, he gave us quite a bit of useful information. Other instructors avoided answering such questions and expected us to have already learned it somehow--to have magically absorbed it from the air or from the great masters we were reading. Mr. Golding, however, described to us briefly but clearly exactly what he wanted in both structure and method--a clear, specific, interesting thesis; several main supporting reasons; a good number of quotations; and good explanations and transitions. In those days (long before most colleges had separate composition courses), the relatively brief time he spent on writing instruction was a blessing.
In addition, he truly did let us develop our own ideas in our papers. If we adequately supported these ideas with plenty of quotations that logically worked, he would grade us well, even if he didn't necessarily believe what we were saying himself. He was more interested in seeing us actually practice analyzing our literature and arguing about it using a theory. His interest in helping us develop as thinkers and writers showed, finally, in his comments on our papers. They did not agree or disagree with our ideas and beliefs, but rather only with how well or poorly we constructed our argument and our paper. His interest was to help us write better papers next time.
Are you reading this because you must write about readings? Instructors have a wide variety of styles in teaching writing about readings. Perhaps two of the most important tools you can learn from the chapters in this section are how to use critical reading methods, and how to ask the right questions of your own instructor about exactly what kind of paper he or she wants. The key to the first is to mark up the pages of your readings--a lot. And the key to the second is, simply, to speak up and ask.
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