Understanding How I Learned: A Literary Narrative

As I sit in my graduate courses at City College, understanding how adults come to learn, it is not lost on me that I can see most of the concept and theories being applied to me as I absorb the pedagogy. One of the tidbits of information that first took me aback in my first class was hearing that while children are learning language in their home, their grammar is not corrected by their parents or caregivers. We, my four siblings and I, were always corrected in our grammar at home. In hindsight, I find it ironic how my brothers and sisters and I were given a strong foundation of how to use the correct form of words by parents who did not finish high school. My mother is from the south and when her family moved north when she was 12, their southern accents obviously came with them. I know her twang was a source of ridicule and after a while my mother would not say a word unless she knew she was saying it correctly.
And as I write the previous sentence, I’m reminded of my struggles with my son, Jordan. When he was a toddler when his pediatrician suggested I get a speech therapist for him after discovering he had very few words in his repertoire at 15 months. My son is not an only child but having a sister who is 5 ½ years older, makes it seems as if he is sometimes. He’d play quietly by himself and motion or point when he wanted something. After a few sessions with Maureen, she said “Jordan has his own language but he won’t verbalize it unless he can say it correctly.” It was then I began to notice how my son was listening to our conversations; I could almost see him trying to say the words in his head. Today, Jordan still struggles with having responses well thought out and ready to share with the classroom much like his mother. To be called on to participate and not have the right words in place is a scary thing for the both of us. I did not notice my mother or myself in my son’s literary journey until the writing of this narrative.
As an avid reader of 1980’s trash novels of Jackie Collins, Sidney Sheldon and Danielle Steele to name a few, I developed a vivid imagination and began writing stories about my friends and reading them during down time. Stories were great because they gave me the audience, the attention I wanted to show off how clever I was with my words. I liked to play with them, rhyme them, twist and break them to see what else they could do. Words could make you laugh or cry, make you gasp with horror or incite you to riot. I realized writing was the most honest I could be with myself without ever having to say a word. I always tried to prove to myself that I had a voice, even if my tongue became tied up by the nerves that infiltrate my stomach any time my name is called on to participate. I imagine that is how my son feels.
Although, I was the go to girl for story ideas, love letters to current ex boy or girlfriends, I had not yet transferred this gift academically. My papers were a little too sing-songy, my ideas not clear or solid so by the time I was in my 12th grade English class, the novelty had worn off and I felt I was just a cheesy girl who liked pretty prose and poetry.
I went to high school in the Hell’s Kitchen section of New York City where most of the students were black and Latino who lived in various parts of the five boroughs. My grades weren’t stellar, mediocre at best, but the one class I knew I could hold my own, when I applied myself, was English. My twelfth grade teacher, Mrs. Spilotro, was a stickler for little things. I would always receive my papers back with comments about one thing or another. One comment that stuck out for me was how my cursive “k” wasn’t a textbook cursive “k.” She made me do my homework assignment over making sure I wrote the “k” according to the penmanship “k” posted in the classroom. I felt she was nitpicking at everything I did and therefore my effort subsequent assignments were lacking. Our relationship continued like this for most of the year.
However, this would change after one particular assignment. Mrs. Spilotro had been reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to the class as we followed along in our books. The books were shared with her other classes therefore they never left the classroom. At the end, she gave an assignment in which she asked us to write a paper on if The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn should be taught in schools. Her directions were to “give evidence to support your claims using 12th grade English.” This sparked my interest because I knew exactly what she meant. I read the papers of the other students on the bulletin boards with “95’s” and “100’s” in proud big red numbers. I knew I could give her what she wanted
When she handed all the graded papers back, everyone received theirs exbut me. I thought to myself, here we go again. What’s wrong this time? As it turned out, nothing, it seemed, as Mrs. Spilotro read my essay to the class. I could see them looking around to see whose paper it could be. Who didn’t get their paper back? No one thought it could be mine. My daily conversations with classmates were not remotely similar to my essay so when she handed the paper back to me I heard the collective gasp of the class. She went on to point out how I made use of the words “derogatory” and “consistently” and provided examples from the text and of the time period to support my argument of why it should be taught in school. She gave me the slightest of smiles when she handed me back my essay. It had a profound effect on me because I felt as if I was now part of a club, that she was proud of my work. Subsequent papers that were submitted made no mention of how I wrote my letters, but focused on the content, what I could explore, how I could expand my thought or idea.
My teacher did not recognize my linguistic competence until she read my essay. I did not recognize that I was flexing my linguistic abilities by speaking in a familiar and conversational tone with my classmates and then submitting a well-received academic essay. This is when I first noticed that using the academic language held a certain kind of status in the classroom that did not translate outside of the class.

Response to "Braiding and Rhetorical Power Players: Transforming Academic Writing through Rhetorical Dialectic - by Kimberly K. Gunter

It seems as if every discipline has its conflicts with both camps adamantly standing behind their research and beliefs. Basic Writing pedagogy is no different. I believe this article does well to try and marry the merits of Bartholomae and Elbow thereby suggesting a less tighter grip on the definition of academic writing. The author does not want to abolish the 40 year reign of college academic writing but she does appreciate the idea of mixed discourses.
Her example of her student, Laura, whose writing transformed by the end of the semester was evidence that with the careful selection of texts and a little gentle prodding to direct students, Ms. Gunter successfully pulled from her student the kind of discourse that intergrated her thoughts and ideas with the readings she selected. In doing so, Laura did not shy away from confronting concepts she disagreed with but communicated that disagreement in a way professors would find favorable.

I find it odd that although most scholars think that academic writing is elitist, there is nothing being done to change that perspective given the mixed culture that surrounds us. Students still have to write papers from a distance that does not bring them into the conversation. As I see it, it is almost as if academic writing is a test to see if a student has the wherewithal to participate in the discourse with the others in the field. Do they know the arguments? Can they support them with outside sources? Can they write without the "I" pronoun? I see the merits of academic writing as a teacher because it requires close reading and understand of material with an orderly progression of thoughts and ideas that come to a conclusion.
As Ms. Gunter did with this text, adding mixed discourses and instances of pop culture (she mentions Ellen Degeneres, Steel cage death match to name a few), she has made a conscious choice not to use academes. In doing so, she authored an article that is interesting, not only because of the subject matter, but because of the personal ties she included. Ms. Gunter made this article a page turner.

Response to Narrative Discourse and the Basic Writer - Norbert Elliot

Mina Shaunghnessy is pretty much a god to City College in part because of her fierce championship of basic writing pedagogy. Therefore, to read about the supposed controversy brought on by Min-zhan Lu's attempt to fracture the work of Mina Shaunghnessy saying "she feared conflict" in a time during the 70's where conflict was rampant appears disingenous. What this argument is about really is the place of narrative in academic discourse. Although in academia papers are written to be quote filled, source cited, with a position taken for or against a concept or idea, narrative writing provides a different set of systems that can be used to produce writing that is thoughtful and insightful and offers a new perspective on topics that have been toiled about for years. Because basic writers are usually the marginalized students, students of color, different ethinicities and cultural backgrounds, their voices may be squelched in the academic setting. Narrative writing allows those voices to bloom and offer various perspectives of arguments academia may not want to acknowledge or perhaps have held so close as to believe their perspective is right.
It is my opinion that narrative writing can be the jump start to directing our students to the type of writing that will be required of them in the higher level courses. However, It is my experience that narrative writing helps in thinking and reformulating ideas and allows the student to take ownership of what he has read in order to write what is authentic for them. Narrative writing is freeing in a way that expository writing is not but it is not easy as some seem to think. Narrative writing requires choices (topic, setting, idea), editing, re-thinking, and sometimes an overhaul of a particular set of beliefs. This is the type of mental exercise we can give our students when we assign papers. Narratives can teach them to see from their point of view and from society's and come up with a conclusion that may or may not be a core belief. When we get students to write their narratives, we allow them to open up in a way that academic writing does not.