The Problems in Minimalist Tutoring

            When deciding on the validity of the theory of “minimalist tutoring,” or the “master class model,” I tend to lean towards the latter.  But don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what the minimalist theory of tutoring strives for, and I love when students find the answer on their own, but let’s be truthful: how many students do you know have the time to sit down and create such masterful ideas?  Most of the time, these students do not have time to sleep a good number of hours a night let alone write a paper.  The ideas of Jeff Brooks present answers for a “Utopian” kind of learning environment, and I believe that most of what the Shamoon and Burns article present is more realistic.

            When critiquing the Brooks article, I first found the strengths of his argument: the way the tutor should sit beside the student, and having the student focus on his or her own writing by having the tutor take on a secondary role.  However, even these strengths are weaknesses: a tutor can sit this way, whether or not using the minimalist method.  And also, the writer may be unresponsive and even more confused if left out alone with their paper; the only way that the student will know what to do is by seeing example. 

            It was much easier to find the weaknesses.   First off, most of Brooks’ steps to achieving the minimalist form of tutoring are awkward, if not impossible.  My favorite? “Have the student read the paper aloud to you, and suggest that he hold a pencil while doing so.  Aside from saving your eyes in the case of bad handwriting, this will accomplish three things…” (Brooks, 171).  Just reading the instructions leaves me confused, I couldn’t imagine doing this in a session, especially with someone I’ve just met.  Another favorite: “Give the student a discrete writing task, then go away for a few minutes” (Brooks, 172).  I couldn’t even imagine leaving someone when they have distinctly come in for my help.

            But the problem, even more than the awkwardness, is the inconsistency of these tips.  Not every student will create a perfect thesis in those three minutes you step out of the room.  Perhaps they write nothing; then what will you do?  Create some new awkward circumstance to hopefully pry some creative thought out of their confused, or simply uninterested, head?  No, I cannot see how this would work.  Myself being a very visual person, I learn by seeing, by copying, by comparing.  This learning is similar to the opinion of Linda K. Shamoon and Deborah H. Burns, who offer a “model-type” mode of learning.

            Burns observes that when teachers take control of a writer’s work, and show them what to do, the students often learn much more: “He took their papers and rewrote them while they watched.  They left feeling better able to complete their papers, and they tackled other papers with more ease and success” (Burn, 177).  It is important to note here that the teaching is not writing their paper for them, but showing them how to write it (and also how to write many more like this).  It is incredibly important to learn this way for some students who are much more visual.  I know that in my case, to have a teacher literally circle my errors and provide support, I learn much more efficiently than having my teacher leave the room while I ponder in utter confusion.  

Writing and Passion: Midterm Post

What was most exciting for me, as I embarked upon my first “scrimmage” writing consultation, was how well I could put what I learned to use.  To put it bluntly, I was interested if any of the information I had learned would work—and if all these little details would fall into place.  Even though I knew the consultant, I was afraid.  Afraid that I would influence her to change something she should not, afraid that I would guide her hand, but mostly, just afraid that I would insult her.  As a fellow writer, I immediately respected her; to know that I insulted her, or any other student looking for help, would upset me greatly.  But I overcame this anxiety and focused on the task at hand: I was first and foremost a writing consultant in this space, and so I pulled through successfully, to help a student and better both our skills.

            It was with the texts of our class that I strove to achieve this goal: to not insult, but rather consult.  The simple (or at first I believed them to be simple) notes from Ryan and Zimmerelli, about how to sit and react, proved to be the perfect starting ground for the consultation.  By sitting side-by-side, the consultant and I were able to “look at the work in progress together” (18).  I even knew to give my student her paper, so that she may be in control of her writing, and also discourage any sort of interference on my part.  Since the paper was in front of her, she found many of her mistakes before I could point them out.  I also found that with the paper in front of her, she could grab her pen and write on her draft.  If the paper were in front of me, these adjustments would not have been made. 

            Ryan and Zimmerelli also speak about presentation; the overall mental and physical state of the consultant reflects onto the writer.  I made sure to “dress casually but appropriate” and also, to “sit in a relaxed, comfortable manner” (18).  These small, simple things helped ease the two of us and reminded us that this was just a paper, and that there was no need to stress about it.  By organizing the consultation in such a way, the exchange was comfortable; instead of an authoritative figure beating sense into a writer, it felt more like a peer providing a bit of insight and help.  I could feel that we were two students, engaged in learning and making each other better writers.

            Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, Ryan and Zimmerelli taught me to listen actively.  And when I say this, I mean, really listen to what someone is saying and then—act on it.  Often, I have found that the best information that comes from a student is when I ask them a question and listen very carefully to their answer.  Often, in their explanation, I can illuminate a good point they made, or a fact they hadn’t mentioned before.  This is also a good thing to think about doing when you are confused by a writer’s point.  If you paraphrase, ask questions, and listen, it “serves as a way to check perceptions and correct any possible misunderstandings” (23).  By maintaining this open, relaxed space, it only betters the interaction and growth of both the writer and the consultant. 

            However, there will still be complicated problems I may find in someone’s writing and I will have to handle it correctly.  Let’s say that a student will read the sentence aloud and worry about the correct structure.  Often, they follow the rules, and still it reads wrong.  Hjortshoj illuminates simple rules like: “don’t use first person,” “don’t begin with ‘but,’” “only use action verbs,” or “thesis is only one sentence” (88-90).  Often, these work—but I have found that writing comes in many forms, and that rules are broken; what I can offer to the writer is to point out what I think sounds a bit off and what I would do to possibly improve it (without feeding them the answer).

            When giving the student advice, I have found that my most useful tactic is to explain the importance of reading the paper aloud.  Hjortshoj’s seemingly simple piece of advice is incredibly helpful, and also does not insult the consultant, but rather advocates for further revision on the student’s part.  The most common mistakes I have found in the papers I have read all deal with sentence structure.  Instead of pointing to a sentence and saying that the sentence is wrong, I will point out the area that needs to be looked at.  I will write, “I understand what you’re going at here, but I would read this section out loud to clarify some of your points.  This way, your sentences will flow and the overall message will impact the reader more.”  The phrase “your ear for language is … more reliable than your eye” (85) definitely describes what I feel about the power of reading work aloud.  If the writer is able to do his or her own correcting after the meeting, then the consultant can spend more time working on the structure and content of the piece.

            On a more personal level, when I reflect upon the experience of being a writing tutor, I am fulfilled.  Like almost anything new, I am nervous in my performance, but also because I know that I have an impact on these people—I don’t want to mess it up.  It is this responsibility that I am especially proud of.  A tutor must not show the nerve or anxiety, but must remain calm, casual, and professional.  If all of these are met, the center will accomplish much more than a simple tutor like me can understand.  One of the most impactful publications about writing centers I have found is a piece by McGlaun, a reflection of a current English teacher.  It is with pieces like this that I can see where I am now and what my future may be like.

            She begins as the writing student, asking her tutor for help.  McGlaun reflects on how shocked she was when she went to the writing center for the first time: “They allowed me, even encouraged me to ‘write wrong’” (5).  Now, she doesn’t mean that they let her run rampant without thought, flow, or organization, but rather let her focus on improvement, and her own participation with her writing.  She found the writing center to be a much more calming and reflective place than she had initially thought.  Later in her career, she reflected that the atmosphere was wonderful because she had seen the tutors as her peers.  She voices “what interests me in this story is the way in which we each instinctively turned to one of our peers for help” (6).  This statement is the reason that I set such importance on maintaining that comfortable, peer (rather than teacher) feel in my future consultations.  We listen to our peers and work off one another.  Lastly, McGlaun focuses on what she has found as a teacher: “We had not simply worked on her paper, her writing; we had worked on her student- teacher relationship, a relationship which by nature is ‘subtle, dynamic, and highly charged’” (7).

            To spend one’s life dedicated to this craft, and see it so wonderfully mold those around you, as well as yourself, is something to be proud of.  It was incredibly motivating to read this woman’s account.  Yes, she found troubles, but learned along the way, maintained her faith in the writing center, and worked through problems with her students.  When working with my first student, I established a comfortable setting, acted calm, asked questions, and followed what I have learned in my readings the past few weeks.  And although I have learned much through each text, a lot of my knowledge is second nature—I have been a writer my whole life, how could I alter that initial passion?  Every single person that I see will demand my highest attention and my highest respect, for we are both equals, learning and improving ourselves as writers.   

What Not to Wear

            I write this blog concerned for the happiness of my tutors.  I definitely believe that if there is one thing that we must do as tutors, besides help them become better writers, is to make them feel comfortable when doing that.  And I don’t mean that we must all be “fake nice” or even forcibly sweet and cordial, I believe that we must be compassionate, easy-going, and visibly relaxed.

            Imagine: if a writer comes in, stressed already, and finds her tutor guzzling down a large Redeye, pants dirty and shirt on inside out, what does this say about this person, and sadly, on the writing center in general?  Besides the necessity to be calm, understanding, and helpful, there is so much more to the overall presentation of the tutor.  In Leigh Ryan and Lisa Zimmerelli’s book The Bedford Guide for Writing Tutors, they discuss the importance of the right kind of clothing: “be aware that your body language and clothing also express unspoken messages” (18).  If a tutor were to wear sloppy clothing, the student would not take the tutor seriously.  Alternatively, if the tutor were wearing a nice dress with pearls or a suit, the student could be overwhelmed, feel insecure of their clothing choice, and not focus on their own paper out of sheer discomfort.

            I express my belief that a tutor should be conscientious about what they’re wearing.  Of course I don’t want you to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe of simple tees and basic jeans with the want to “dress casually and comfortably,” but I would think to myself “how would this student perceive me?” while changing in the morning.

            It is the little things that make the student more comfortable, and why not focus on them?  The ending result is that the student leaves the writing center happy and motivated.  

The Editing Process: A Black Hole to Originality?

       Whenever a teacher, a tutor or a peer helps a writer strengthen their paper, is the act ever untainted by opinions from the editor? I believe that no matter what, if anyone looks at a paper and critiques it, the editor’s comments will never leave the mind of the writer, and thus ultimately effect the paper—but is there a way to allow the writer to originally fill in the gaps illuminated by the editor? Is the writer doomed with the task of writing a paper, giving it to the teacher, and changing the paper to accommodate the needs of the professor? I’d like the think that the writing center may avoid this: because the tutor is not the teacher, the consultation allows the writer to maintain most of his of her own independence in the paper.
       In Richard Straub’s article, “A Concept of Control in Teacher Response: Defining the Varieties of ‘Directive’ and ‘Facilitative’ Commentary’,” he speaks of the fine line that teachers face when editing papers. Straub suggests that teachers should edit the papers as if they were the “common reader” (Straub, 224). Also, each teacher must remind him or herself “not (to) take over” (Straub, 224). I see the validity in his statements; teachers should not overcome the reader’s opinions but rather help the student become a better reader. But I ask you: how far can we really believe this? Each teacher, just as each person, has his or her own opinion and bias; it is impossible not to pass these onto the paper when edited.
       No matter if the editor is “directive” (Straub, 234) or not, the writer will no doubt change a piece of their writing; the writing will no longer be simply the writer’s work, it will be tainted (not necessarily good or bad) by someone else’s pen. I agree that there are levels to the editor’s impression on the writer, as some may be specific changes and some broad general critiques. Once the red pen goes to paper, however, the piece is no longer the original writer’s piece and thus any form of editing serves a similar role. A teacher must decide how much they wish to change that original writer’s words, which is truly a hard decision to make.

My First Shadowing Experience

                Last week I was able to observe my first writing tutoring experience.  It was interesting to be on the outside, and quite a bit less stressful I would imagine.  But what I found, from this one experience, is that I do not need to stress as much as I first thought.  The girl asking for help was incredibly nice, bright, and talkative.  We spoke to each other even before the writing consultant came and she explained that she needed him to review her application for an internship this summer abroad.

                As soon as the writing tutor entered the room, he was casual but still professional.  He greeted her, asked what she needed, and then sat down to work with her.  The entire conversation lasted about twenty minutes, in which he read her article and then offered ideas to better convey her enthusiasm for the project.  Interestingly, one of the things that he spoke of was to delve right into the information; by stating upfront what she wanted to do with this programs, she would be bringing the reader in and not holding him or her at a distance.

                Richard Lanham, a professor at UCLA, speaks about the importance of making language “clear and concise.”  His fourth point in his “Paramedic Method” is to draw the reader in immediately, telling them clearly what is going on.  I believe he makes a great point here—even if it may take a while to accomplish this smoothly and is easier said than done. 

                The point here is that the writing consultant helped out the writer; he pointed to places that needed strength, that needed the dramatic pulling in of the reader, to set her application apart from the others on the table.  The writer left happy, refreshed, and able to set to work on her paper, one written by herself, and not by the writing tutor.

Where Did I Put That Assignment Sheet?

            I cannot emphasize enough the importance of the assignment sheet.  Everyone knows what happens when the teacher passes out the assignment sheet: it is usually a month before the essay is due and so we put it in the back of our binders, make a little note in our assignment books, and presently forget about it.  It remains there, out of sight, and out of mind, so that when we look to write our essay, we often start without reading the sheet, relying on mere memory or guessing.

            Not only is this tragic, but we seem to be shooting ourselves in the foot here: the assignment sheet is the easiest part of the assignment, as it tells us exactly what to do.  I must ask: why do we often neglect it?  It still confuses me, as I begin essays and then ask myself “Wait—what am I even trying to answer?”

            Anna Kendall writes in “The Assignment Sheet Mystery” that students often ignore the assignment and write their own versions “because they ‘like it better that way’. And it is often these same students who explain that ‘the teacher doesn’t get’ their writing” (Kendall, 5).  This statement infuriates me; yes, I am an advocate of originality, but it is often never the case in this situation.  These students that stress their “originality” often are simply lazy, unwilling to cooperate with the teacher or follow the rules.

            I have had an experience with this just last month when helping a child on his essay.  I made the mistake of letting him write three body paragraphs without looking at the assignment sheet.  When I read through the three body paragraphs and found that none of them connected and did not reach any sort of point, I asked him for the essay question.  After a hesitation, we spent ten minutes in search for the missing assignment sheet.  Stuck in the back of a binder, I found that in no way did the boy answer the question that was asked.  We sat down and he began to outline a new essay, working what he already had into a new form.

            That simple ten minutes we spent looking for the essay question was incredibly worth it; without the question, his teacher would have no doubt scored him much lower.  And even more so, because of the assignment sheet, we were able to work together to create a clearer thesis and a clearer body.  The assignment sheet was able to answer many of our questions and hopefully earn him a better grade.