Tag Archive for ‘writing’ at Students 2.0

Tag Archive for 'writing'

Language Transcending Ink

Published by Arthus Erea on April 29, 2008 in Teaching. 14 Comments

Sparked by an inspirational post from Clay Burell, an incredibly thought-provoking comment thread ensued which challenged many of us to think about the importance of communication. In all its varied forms, communication is the most important skill in a new century where it is, generally, instant. The new tools and ideas challenge us to think and reevaluate how students are assessed and writing’s importance in this “brave new world.” The seed which grew this wide, 75-comment tall plant was, of itself, an interesting and engaging post about Muhammad Ali. In school, Ali got his share of D’s for his poor written skills. Yet, as the following quote from him shows, he had an intrinsic grasp of the English language, which he readily expressed through oral communication.

I went into a restaurant downtown - you couldn’t do that back then, because things weren’t integrated yet - and I sat down with my [Olympic] gold medal around my neck, and the waitress came up, and I said, ‘Yes, I’d like, uh, a cup of coffee, and a hot dog.’ And she said, ‘I’m sorry, we don’t serve negroes here.’ And I got so angry, I said, ‘And I don’t eat them, either. Now bring me a hot dog!’

Is this the kind of word play, humor, and fundamental grasp of language which you expect from a D- student?

Being only 15, I really did not know much about Muhammad Ali. I researched to discover the man behind these words that could “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.” As I read (and watch) more of his oratorical genius, the breadth and depth of his ability to manipulate the English language for success has not ceased to amaze me. (How many D- students end up being honored by giving the graduation speech at Harvard?)

I think we can all agree that Ali understood how to use English, but his grade report would beg to differ: Cassius Clay does not have passable English. This discrepancy can be attributed to the overwhelming emphasis upon writing throughout school curriculum. Honestly, as I look at the string of recent exams and assignments I fail to see how I would be able to pass or show any true talent without strong writing skills:

English: journalistic essay analysis of Romeo and Juliet
Science exam: write a paragraph upon various science concepts
Math exam: (along with other problems) explain a problem in paragraph format
Health: essay upon the elements of health
History: 1,000 word paper upon the background of Iranian nuclear weaponry

As you can see, in almost any subject, particularly English, strong writing is integral to achieving success. Is this really fair to those who, like Ali, do not have excellent command of the written language but can speak words with wings?

With so much fodder for discussion, a fertile comment thread developed, centrally around the question of should all communication mediums be weighted equally, or should writing be given greater weight?

To even begin to delve into that question, the arena for debate must be built around English and Language Arts, including the difference between the two:

...the difference between “language arts” and “English” is paramount in my opinion: English deals with the language of English. Language arts deal with the art of language. Language Arts can deal with multiple languages. Graphics are a language. Symbols are a language. There’s no reason they shouldn’t be stressed just as much written English.

If (practically) anything is a language, what separates Language Arts from other courses? I think the answer to that question lies in that LA should focus around how language can be written and spoken to craft meaning, while other courses focus upon the specific applications of the theory of language. Though Benjamin held a divergent opinion, the continual weighting of writing is shown in what courses are required:

Okay, let’s give graphic communication its own course. (Some might call it art) I’m 99% positive it won’t be a required course. In most schools, “art” isn’t.

Yet, English is. Taking my own school, for example, graduation requires 4 years of English (more than any other subject) and only ½ year of “fine art” (which includes both oral communication and visual artistry). Anyone see the discrepancy?

Ignoring the tangents into computers‘ place in the writing process, the continual emphasis upon writing is attempted to be justified by the good ol’ workplace argument that “it’s what employers want.” Looking at the changing landscape of the workplace, that argument continually holds less and less ground. In many of this century’s jobs, reporting is just as likely to be done through quick Skype calls, IM chats, and emails than through TPS reports. So long as applicants have the ability to communicate (whether through writing, speech, or graphics), employers can utilize their talents in diverse fields.

Of course, most of the world’s information is still stored in the written word. Walking into a library, it would be hard to imagine communicating any other way. Even the digital revolution has failed to change this substantially. For the most part, this lengthy debate was battled by masters of the
~~written~~ typed word. Still, digital tools give us the ability to communicate easily and efficiently using other mediums, such as speech:

In fact, I would even go so far as to say that being able to communicate using other mediums makes you stand out from the crowd. As I attempted to communicate, those rare gems shine out in a sea of stones.

Of course, the looming stresses of writing-based SATs and important exams continues to put pressure upon teachers to focus on writing. Though you may not have much room to maneuver, I challenge you: think about how you, as a teacher of any subject, can help to recognize the other mediums of communication and those who have mastered them.

Even after 75 comments, the debate is not yet resolved. For this, I turn to your additional voices and ideas. In a world filled with words, how can equal weight be given to all the forms those words may take?

Photo on Wikipedia, from the Library of Congress
Photo by Sifter on Flickr
Image by author, using icons from the silk set

The Well of Inspiration

Published by Kaelie Giffel on March 9, 2008 in Learning. 19 Comments

The students of Students 2.0 would like to extend a warm welcome to Kaelie Giffel, our newest author. Please enjoy her debut post below.

Inspiration is a fickle thing. Sometimes it hits you like a truck, and other times it swerves off the road to avoid you. I know an art teacher who has a quote about inspiration on his wall as a rule: “Inspiration is lazy. Don’t wait for it.” That has been my inspiration, my drive to continue writing even through the stress of high school.

Writing in high school is like walking through a mine field without getting hurt—it’s difficult, but possible. I find myself making difficult decisions regarding how to spend my time. I have a constant homework load, because of my AP social studies class, and it isn’t something I can put off for a night. It always comes back to haunt me in a failing quiz grade. So, I use class time to write. It took me a few weeks to figure out that English class is the dead zone for writing (much like the dead zone for electronics in Siberia). American literature is bad enough for my brain cells, let alone my creativity.

Everyone in high school has some sort of creative outlet: music, books, writing, athletics, science. (The last two may not seem creative, but I’ve utilized both; they take a different kind of creativity.) Writing and music are the most common. In the middle of writing Tarot Cards and Black Roses, my first novel, someone said something to me that put a halt to the book’s production. She said, “You’re a writer? I am, too! We should share our work!” In that second, the cold truth hit me: I’m not the only teenage writer in the world.

It was an odd thought, because it sounded so general, but it in my mind it was specific. I didn’t mean bloggers, poets, or young journalists; I meant the supernatural writers who delved into the darker part of the world. The thought hurt. It really did. How was I so stupid? Why did I believe that I was unique? My beloved story became just a really big file on my computer that I refused to tend to.

I sulked for two months, trying to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t as unique as I thought I was. At the end of the two months, I got my butt into gear. I wasn’t the only student writer trying to get published, but that was a horrible excuse to use for not writing. I needed to get over myself because the sweet seductress inspiration was calling to me. I was unique because I was fulfilling my dream. I could write a novel and finish it. I had the drive and the endless encouragement of my support network.

Never in my life has someone straight up told me I couldn’t do something. All my friends and relatives want me to be a writer. They think it’s a very good possibility for my career. My dad’s favorite question is, “How’s that novel coming?” Even my teachers have encouraged me. Except once. Early in the year, I told my teacher (in response to a question she asked) that I wanted a career in creative writing. The look she gave me said everything I knew she wouldn’t say aloud. It was a look that whispered, Abandon your dream. That’s not going to happen. That broke my heart. After that day, I picked up my writing with a vengeance.

The best way to motivate a stubborn person is to tell them they can’t. Because they will do exactly what you told them they couldn’t and they will exceed previous expectations. I continued my novel for one reason: to prove I could. That mindset is what propels me through the novel, even when my well of inspiration has dried.

Teaching Brevity

Published by Arthus Erea on December 16, 2007 in Teaching. 63 Comments

Teacher: “For the holidays, I would like everyone to write an essay with their thoughts upon tradition.”
Student: “How long should it be?”
Teacher: “Use a standard 5 paragraph format. I expect at least 1 page from each of you.”

If you have spent any time in the classroom, this scene should not be at all foreign to you. I still cringe every time I see it played out—the fact that we measure quality in terms of length when the two are really independent variables. However, I blame neither the teacher nor the student. The student has come to expect specific directions on how to do every assignment. Meanwhile, the teacher realizes many students will be lost without some sort of standard to be measured against. Unfortunately, the dangerous cycle is perpetuated.

In reality, some people can say so very much with a simple message scrolled on a wall. Meanwhile, nothing can be said with oh so many words. (Politicians are particularly adept at this.) The mark of great writers is not how many words they use, but which ones. The art of brevity and choosing the right words is a fine one; it is also becoming increasingly important as our information overload continues. Those who master the art of brevity hold great power.

If we recognize that the art of brevity is an important one, why do absurd length requirements continue to be enforced? I understand the student’s need for some sort of ~~standard~~ scaffolding to write with, but how about trying a new one? Instead of having requirements, how about constraints? Force students to think about each and every word by limiting the number of words allowed. Try it yourself—can you tell a fragment of a story in just 140 characters?

This is not a new concept; I have participated in many chain stories where each contributor adds just a single sentence. However, using the power of Twitter, we get Twittories. By using the power of the network, a very interesting collaborative story is being developed. Since the contributors come from so many cultures, the perceptions and voices vary and add an element of surprise to the story—you never know what will come next. If you haven’t already, register to participate in a little collaborative, creative and brief writing.

What if students were asked to do the same thing? Imagine the thought which would have to be put into each and every word if the grade was based upon only 42 of them. Students would learn the art of brevity, and how to use their entire vocabulary to express their ideas clearly. It is not what is said, but what is not said.

What are your thoughts on brevity? How do you teach it in class? In the spirit of word choice, see if you can keep your comments to under 42 words. How concise can you be?

Or, in another word: brevity.
Continue reading ‘Teaching Brevity’

Plagiarism: Not Quite As Simple As It Seems

Published by Stacy on December 11, 2007 in Learning. 41 Comments

My friends and I were discussing plagiarism with one of my favorite teachers the other day when he told us a story from when he was in college. One of his friends had gotten a permanent mark on her record because she accidentally plagiarized in one of her papers. She hadn’t cited or paraphrased a government act properly because she assumed that it fell under common knowledge. Unfortunately for her, her school had a strict plagiarism policy and that small mistake almost got her expelled.

The unspoken moral of that story, of course, was that it’s better to cite everything—just to be safe. Because something like that might happen to you someday. This got me thinking about how easily that could have been me.

While I don’t think teachers in high school are quite as stringent when it comes to plagiarism, I’ve heard more than my fair share of plagiarism stories. Some of them are hilarious in a “you’ve got to be kidding me” sense because it’s hard to believe there are students out there who will pay $24.95 for a poorly written term paper. Or that someone would simply print off a Wikipedia article and scribble their name on the back. One of my friends, a 7^th grade English teacher, dryly recalled an incident when three students in one class printed off some of Shakespeare’s sonnets and tried to pass them off as their own. There are many forms of plagiarism; different layers that might not be as simple as “copy and paste, try to pass it off as own work”.

Yet when I hear the word “plagiarism”, I think of kids who copy someone else’s paper word-for-word despite knowing better. One of the reasons why I think plagiarism is so rampant is because it’s hard to define.

There’s really no concrete definition because it can be very subjective. Some teachers/professors are lenient when their students turn in papers that discuss ideas and themes other people have mentioned because many people may have similar interpretations. Likewise, there are only so many different ways anyone can summarize a book. Would that count as plagiarism?

Point blank: when do we cite and when do we not?

Even though teachers have lectured about the evils of plagiarism since 5^th grade, I sometimes still find myself staring at the computer screen, unsure on whether I can copy my AP Environmental Science textbook’s definition of biodiversity or if I needed to paraphrase. Do I even know how to paraphrase that term when the textbook’s definition seems to leave no room for a more direct explanation? Teachers always tell students to reword things they write, but what if the student can’t think of another way to reword what they want to say? In this incidence, sheer laziness isn’t the factor behind it.

It’s the ambiguity of plagiarism that worries me. While I can understand if another student and I both turned in a paper with suspiciously similar wording, what if we both turned in papers with a similar thesis or we discussed the same themes/ideas?

The concept of having to cite themes and ideas (how do you know who to cite?) has always made me uneasy. Maybe it’s because throughout my high school career, none of my teachers have seemed to enforce it. If that’s the case, I wonder if I’m going to be in for a nasty shock when I’m in college. I have the unfortunate habit of picking up random phrases or ideas without noticing. So I’m really not the person who came up with that brilliant elephant analogy even though I thought I was.

Accidental or unconscious plagiarism aside, deliberate plagiarism is something I can’t excuse. Plagiarism is becoming more common now because the internet makes it easy for students to get a hold of written papers online. However, I’d like to think that most students (or at least the ones my age or older) would know that technology works both ways. Teachers now have plagiarism detection software and they can Google with the best of us. I’d like to think that they also know that FreeEssays.com is charging them a ridiculous amount of money for a “C” paper. And if they’re honestly trying to fool their teacher, reformatting their $24.95 essay might be a good idea—nothing tips off an educator quite as much as an unformatted paper that still contains hyperlinks, ads, and the name of the site from where she or he purchased it.

Now a truly ironic factor would be if I accidentally plagiarized within this very post. I’ve been careful not to Google or read any articles on plagiarism just in case so all of this is simply me going by what I know, but you can never guess. They say each writer has their very own unique voice and word choice, but maybe I have a writing doppelganger somewhere in the cybersphere.

To all you educators—do you have any funny or memorable plagiarism stories? I’d love to hear them.

Lastly, I’d like to thank Diane Cordell for recommending me for Students 2.0 as well as introducing me to the world of edublogging. She is one of our biggest supporters and her endless encouragement and belief in all of us has been incredible.

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