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WPA-L November 2005 Part 6

‹ WPA-L November 2005 part 5 | List of November Messages | WPA-L November 2005 part 7 ›

Isn’t the nature versus nurture argument a bit too reductive when it comes to writing—or most human behavior, for that matter? Clearly, as Flower and Hayes pointed out back in the 1980s based on their own research and studies in the cognitive sciences, people store knowledge differently (F&H’s “multiple representation thesis”). The basic duality we see is between verbal and non-verbal representations, although non-verbal covers an array of different ways we store knowledge (e.g., as visual images, as schema). I imagine that we also store knowledge verbally in multiple ways, too—and I’d love to read about the differences in verbal representations, if someone has a citation or two. Anyway, clearly, some of us are more “verbal” and thus, are, in some sense, “predisposed” to verbal ways of communicating. But that doesn’t mean that those of us who are not “verbal” thinkers can’t learn to communicate effectively. If we reflect a little while about that strong claim that good writers are all naturally (magically) “born writers”, I think we’ll all see that it’s simply untenable. We know too many examples of “made writers,” and the argument tends to be circular. Associate corporate exec Martha turns out successful reports and so, we label him a “born writer.” How do we tell he’s “born writer”? Well, all successful writers are born that way, and the person who claims to have worked hard to become a good writer? Well, she’s just fooling herself; she was born that way; she just didn’t know it. No, those claims just don’t work. Just too convenient.

I also think that a crucial aspect of the “born writer” claim is the emphasis we English teachers place on eloquence over clarity. (No, I don’t want to be setting up some reductive dualistic opposition. I understand that the two often go together and can be inseparable sometimes. But, as Peter Elbow has pointed out, thinking in terms of contraries can be productive sometimes.) We English folk need to remember that we’re oddities. We tend to be a disciplinary congregation of people who think verbally and who love written texts—AND who admire eloquence, even at the expense of clarity. This, I think, is one of the reasons rhetoric and literature remain at odds: rhetoricians recognize that eloquence can sometimes NOT be rhetorically appropriate.

Clarity, too, can sometimes not be appropriate, and that can put us at odds with others in the academy, but that’s another story. The point here is this: we often set a standard of eloquence for our students that is at odds with the standards of many of our colleagues in other disciplines, who simply want clear understanding made visible. Our emphasis on eloquent, memorable prose may privilege verbal thinkers and worse, may dispose us toward the idea that good writers are born that way. On the other hand, if we set a standard of clarity or simply rhetorical effectiveness, whether eloquent or not, we find that close to all of our students can achieve that effectiveness.

Now, whether they can transfer that knowledge across contextual boundaries—that is, beyond the composition course—depends on whether we’ve (1) given them reason to think about such transfer (relevance) and (2) structured writing instruction in ways that help them see potential transfer (teaching for transfer).

‹ WPA-L November 2005 part 5 | List of November Messages | WPA-L November 2005 part 7 ›