I was asked by a colleague to write my own teaching philosophy a few years ago after my first year or so of teaching first year comp at the College of Staten Island. I was completely unfamiliar with what this should look like but she gave me a few examples and one that resonated with me began with a metaphor. I was working on my Master’s thesis about a book in which the main character was a switchboard operator and I couldn’t think of a better metaphor for my experience teaching up until that point. I like to view the switchboard operator as a medium; not in the spooky communing with spirits way but in a way that connects those who are seeking out connection to others. I still feel the same way about my teaching philosophy as I did a few years ago which I find both comforting in that my students have mostly felt comfortable writing in my classroom, knowing that I am not the harshest critic, but also disappointing because I consider myself someone that perceives change as a litmus test for development.
An Instructor’s Role as a Medium in First Year Composition
Writing instructors are switchboard operators. A switchboard operator’s sole duty is to answer and connect calls; to send one caller and direct them to where they are needed, or where they want to go. I’d like to think that a switchboard operator is fluent in different dialects and a good listener, the perfect medium of ideas from various cultures, education levels, and age groups. They are desired for their multivalent capabilities to discuss almost anything with anyone. In a First Year Composition (FYC) setting, their primary job would be to connect students to their calling or to better find a pathway to express themselves. In this way, you are not a gatekeeper but simply guide a student as far as they want to take themselves.
In David Bartholomae’s article titled, “Inventing the University,” he explains that academic writing is only achieved through students modeling themselves after the author’s work which they read and to mimic that way in which those authors write. Bartholomae believes that a good instructor of writing guides their students to act and write within varying discourses as opposed to writing about them (11). Ultimately, what Bartholomae asks of his students is to let the academic topics they read and write about usurp them; temporarily let them become their voices and their interests until finally the authority shifts from author’s beliefs to the student, where it finally becomes their own (12, 17). This is extremely difficult to have your students process. Bartholomae asks for nothing short of a complete transformation of a student’s mind and way of being through their thinking, speaking, and writing. To accomplish this, I like to expose students to a wide variety of topics that they could take a liking to as well as have them write and assess each other’s short responses. Although this is not the most efficient way to get students quickly to their most desired subject matter, it is a broad survey into what college writing might be like for them.
On more than a few occasions, I’ve witnessed students start from having trouble writing about themselves in an introspective way to crafting their own writing topic for a longer writing assignment, and even tell me that the broad exposure to topics has led them to appreciate an author or to even rethink their choice of study. Of course, this consolidation does not occur without the occasional obstacle. My education plan is to get students writing about as many topics as they can; ones they love, some they loathe, others that they feel indifferent towards, and then hopefully some that are cathartic. While one instructor might focus on a narrow topic in which their students would be very proficient, my method is slow and interdisciplinary. Like the process of learning how to write, I like to think that mine is one of longevity and broad appreciation.
Like a switchboard operator, I am connecting multiple students with ideas and vice versa. With each connected pathway, the students develop one more skill or a slash through a writer’s bucket list when they are exposed to a myriad of writers and academic discourses. It’s even possible that along the way, a student teaches me something about a topic or a better feeling yet, I connect the student with a deeper understanding of themselves and others.
Bartholomae, David. “Inventing the University.” Journal of Basic Writing. 1986. Pgs. 4-23.
Very thought-provoking.
Just thinking out loud. You write, “[Bartholomae] explains that academic writing is only achieved through students modeling themselves after the author’s work which they read and to mimic that way in which those authors write.” I’ve been having a hard time with that lately, wrestling with the notion of the need for modeling a shared academic vernacular as a basis for effective communication versus the need to augment the ‘acceptable template’ for academic writing. I mean, aren’t templates (or models) potentially their own form of exclusionary practice? We as academics, definitely adhere to a template, at least in our peer reviewed communications, and reject or discount communication outside the norm of that practice. And to complicate matters, even the students we teach who communicate on a much broader (creative?) canvas, who, like us, are accepting of communication within their vernacular, also reject or discount those outside their own norms. Perhaps we need a bridge to meet in the middle? Or are we right to hold the line so to speak, to derive maximum benefit from academic discourse. I think the question is, what is the purpose of academic writing? For whom is it intended? And what should we be teaching our students so that they can thrive outside the classroom?