Reflection on Basic Writing Course

Brittany Zayas

Professor Lynn Reid

ENGL B8104 Basic Writing Theory & Practice

19 December 2016

Final Reflection Paper

In the first class, we were asked to define “basic writers” and “basic writing.” Like everyone, I came in with certain understandings of these terms. My definition of basic writers drew from my own experiences working with them one-on-one at a college learning center and in small group settings at the private learning center I manage now. I wrote this in my notes that day: Basic writer: A writer who lacks fundamental writing skills, may not be able to pin them down to a grade level, but did not usually have writing taught to them in a cohesive structured way or in a way that suited their learning needs. May be a reader, but may read in such a way where they are not picking up on technique. May be well-spoken, but has trouble putting thought onto paper/screen. Variety: May be native English speaker, may be ESL/ELL; may have learning disability, may not. Important to know [these things] when teaching them, as they will be key to reaching them. Also should consider learning type.

This definition does not encompass all that basic writers can be, as I did not mention those suffering trauma (whether learning-related or not) or those who have not before had access to traditional education or support to build their comfort with Standard American English. I do hold to my original definition, but would add these other considerations, which I was aware of, but which were not on my mind that day. I do find that most basic writers lack certain foundational skills, which is why the majority are entirely aware of where they are at skills-wise and know there is room for improvement. I administer reading and writing assessments to children and adults at my job, so have seen patterns in struggling writers’ habits and educational history. The tests students are given generate a grade level equivalency (GLE) when scored. This is only a rough estimate and is just a number, as I tell my students, but more often than not, the GLE pinpoints the grade where the student struggled the most–even if the student is now an adult. A sixth grade GLE on a twenty-one-year-old’s test usually indicates troubles in middle school and precisely where the student felt sure that ELA was not their subject. After that grade, the student has been trying to catch up while teachers pushed them ahead. In adulthood, they have picked up common sense and independent skills, but they still lack those fundamental skills they missed out on, and that holds them back.

The class was also asked to define “basic writing”. I wrote: Basic writing: The fundamentals/foundation of writing. Elementary grammar knowledge, but also confidence/comfort with own writing voice, building on speaking skills. Reading comprehension can impact this but it’s not the same skill. I would now add a lot more about the field of basic writing, as that was what was most eye-opening to me in this course. Basic writing deals directly with issues of class, privilege, and access to education, as well as the implicit biases within academia. It is about ensuring students have a firmer foundation in writing, but also providing access to a space they may not have been able to enter because they don’t speak the same standardized dialect. This can lead to that confidence in one’s own voice–something that has always been important to me as an educator. When a student becomes aware of their own voice, their writing becomes drastically stronger. It’s easy to correct grammar errors, but much harder to pick on a lack of clear voice. Once a student can express an idea fully, everything else is just tidying up.

I tell my students that using my own experiences as a writer. I was never a basic writer; I always loved writing and had a solid grasp of grammar and technique. But as a creative writer primarily, I had a hard time gaining comfort with academic writing. My first paper in freshman composition was given back ungraded with a gentle observation that what I was saying made no sense at all. Subsequent papers were graded low, and being an overachiever, this was devastating. Thankfully, I had a friend in the learning center who tutored me and helped me structure standard papers, moving me up from a B student to an A student. Yet the more I wrote in college, the more I realized how subjective writing was. I would get points off for my constant semi-colon usage or lengthy sentences from one professor and then be praised for my details and descriptions by another professor. I learned that a grade only told so much. That is something I try to impart to my students, who take grades as the final word and judgment.

In my last two years of undergraduate school, I was fortunate enough to have professors who encouraged me in my writing. I was a history major, so was graded on content knowledge and accuracy. Creativity was not always of interest. But certain professors valued having fun with writing, even in historical study. I began to see my own voice as valuable in academia. For my senior thesis, I wrote a 100-page historical study on nationalism in the US and USSR during World War II. It was intense research, but writing it was unlike any other writing I had done before. I was presenting my own ideas at length, and I had opportunity to be both serious and ironic, to be fair but opinionated, and to even be funny when I wanted to be. I could be the kind of historical writer I enjoyed. That broke me out of the confines of academic writing and the constant professor-pleasing. I was bold in my writing that year, and produced some of my best academic work.

Graduate school writing has not been easy for me, as I may be out of practice with academia, but also because I struggle with the rules more than I used to. I get frustrated when I feel myself following a formula or picking up on things that a professor may like. I want to say what I want to say and I want to say it how I say it. This was my first graduate course and I know I struggled with expectations. How much freedom does one have a graduate student? I am paying my way this time, out of my own pocket, one class a semester, and I feel determined to get what I need from my studies.

I think a lot about academic papers, and I notice the variance in structure within them. Some writers stick to staid formulas, quoting and paraphrasing more than they give their own opinions. I can’t bear that kind of writing. My favorites that we read were writers who gave real-life case study examples and spoke with passion for the subject. The Edward Quinn essay we read early on was fascinating and gave insight into 1970s college campus life that was far more memorable than any statistics were. I do enjoy the philosophy of Paulo Freire, because though Freire can be dry, he is passionate. As a writer myself I want to be better at writing with passion and taking care to be as comprehensive as I can. Perhaps I’m still finding my academic writing voice, especially since it’s been a few years since I last exercised it. In the next few years in which I slowly complete this degree, I hope to strengthen that voice. The more capable I am the better use I will be to my students, who teach me new things every day.

Beyond Basic and Academic Writing: A Review and Analysis of Tinberg and Nadeau’s The Community College Writer: Exceeding Expectations

Brittany Zayas

Professor Lynn Reid

ENGL B8104 Basic Writing Theory & Practice

21 December 2016

Beyond Basic and Academic Writing:
A Review and Analysis of Tinberg and Nadeau’s The Community College Writer: Exceeding Expectations

Howard Tinberg and Jean-Paul Nadeau’s The Community College Writer: Exceeding Expectations, a 2010 study of the expectations of first-semester writing students and their instructors, provides a critical overview of challenges faced and possible changes to be made for the benefit of the future. Both Tinberg and Nadeau bring their experiences as tutors, teachers, and educational directors, as well as their time as students and writers, to the table and attempt to be empathetic to the perspectives of students and faculty. The authors preface the book with their abbreviated biographies, noting that they both were raised in families that encouraged and valued education (Tinberg and Nadeau 4, 9). This not only demonstrates an openness about their own privilege and bias, but also a contrast to many of the students included in the study, who did not grow up with much educational support. As Tinberg relates, most of his students at community colleges have been interested in vocational learning that they can “market and apply in their careers” (7). They are not all there to learn for learning’s sake; rather they are there to gain demonstrably useful skills that they believe they can only get in a higher learning environment. This reality affects how the study itself is conducted, as students are at school to gain a degree, so do not have time for extracurriculars. It also affects Tinberg and Nadeau’s conclusion that something (it is never clear what), must be done by faculty and institutions to balance academic and career needs.

In order to find common ground in a variety of locations, Tinberg and Nadeau surveyed and interviewed students at four American community colleges in four separate states: Bristol Community College in Massachusetts; Santa Barbara City College in California; Illinois Central College on Illinois; Whatcom Community College in Washington. Tinberg and Nadeau sought to determine if students in these various institutions felt prepared for academic writing after basic or introductory writing freshman courses and if they were given writing assignments besides the typical academic essay, such as those from the sciences or the arts (3). Starting with this, Tinberg and Nadeau could establish a bridge between student expectations and goals to faculty’s, as they also inquired about students’ understanding of revisions and what role faculty feedback played in those. Consequently, faculty was also surveyed and interviewed, though only at Bristol Community College. These were both full-time and part-time faculty members, in diverse fields of learning, so as to understand the expectations that must be met for the non-English major in the majority of their classes.

From the start of the project, student input was brought into the process. New students in a required college writing course at Bristol were interviewed the semester prior to the study so as to better tailor the questions later on. A survey was then administered the following semester to students at all four community colleges above. At Bristol, only 337 (a third of the total first-semester students population) responded, so their answers can only be assumed to represent the student body as a whole based on their being average students (Tinberg and Nadeau 25). This survey asked students to rate their writing abilities, understanding of the writing process, and past writing education. The core of Tinberg and Nadeau’s study, however, was the student cohort, which was partly pre-selected and partly volunteer, but all new to the college experience, and which came down to sixteen fully engaged students. This cohort was interviewed at the beginning and end of the semester, and finally informally interviewed the next semester. Unfortunately, there were fewer students with each interview, with only a quarter of the cohort attending the third interview. Of course, while students’ metacognition and self-analysis was useful in providing framework and structure to the study, the collecting of student writing was essential evidence of students’ initial abilities and subsequent progress. Students were encouraged to submit everything from notes to essays, but not all turned in a significant amount of material. Overall, the lack of student engagement in the study played an even larger role than researchers anticipated, which does affect the comprehensiveness of the results and conclusion.

To demonstrate that these issues are not unique to their cohort, Tinberg and Nadeau reference other studies that show how most community college students deal with several complications as they get their education: working many hours during the week, being first-generation college students, having children or families to take care of, returning to school after a period away, or a combination of these issues. The statistic that 73% of community college students are non-traditional is gleaned from other studies (Tinberg and Nadeau 58), but it is suggested they apply to the students at the colleges surveyed here. This same conclusion was reflected on by Sara Webb-Sunderhaus in her essay “When Access Is Not Enough: Retaining Basic Writers at an Open-Admission University.” As her title states, it is not simply enough to let all students in, institutions must consider that not all student needs are the same, especially at a two-year college (Webb-Sunderhaus 107). Webb-Sunderhaus explores more specific solutions to this problem by comparing theories of both David Bartholomae and Vincent Tinto, but like Tinberg and Nadeau she ends up raising more questions than answers. Non-traditional students come to college to better their chances at a job in a world they have already known is tough. This can make them more determined students and more responsible learners, but it also makes them hard to retain and rely on for consistency.

How that problem manifests itself is in student work is an idea that homework or assignments are for the professor and that class grade only.  In fact, students’ answers to the survey questions show that many feel that their academic writing courses are important (95%) but not beneficial for the future (48%) (Tinberg and Nadeau 59-60). This means half of those who know they need writing skills in college are only seeing writing skills as necessary for a grade and diploma, not as inherently useful. That attitude is seen more clearly in one of the cohort, Kim, who continually adapts her essay to the exact comments given by her professor, without giving attention to the overall structure or statement of the piece (Tinberg and Nadeau 77), or in Ben, whose teacher line-edits and pushes Ben into a formulaic essay and paragraph structure (Tinberg and Nadeau 87). Additionally, most of the 120 pieces of writing received were from English courses, which suggests that not much writing was being required of students in other courses (Tinberg and Nadeau 61). It was in the non-English courses that students were more likely to receive no comments and merely a check on submitted work, which decreased their motivation and made it difficult for struggling writers to improve. Overall, a recurring theme in the student snapshots was a desire for better feedback and scaffolding from professors.

A strength of Tinberg and Nadeau’s study is the comparison and contrast of student response to faculty response. Engagement was an issue with not only students, but faculty as well. Even after surveys that offered prizes, it took pushing a hard copy survey in staff meetings to get more faculty to participate. With a five-point rating system like the student surveys, faculty were asked to disagree or agree with statements regarding writing standards, faculty feedback, and expectations for students. Seventy faculty surveys were completed; most of those were full-time instructors. Tinberg and Nadeau note that the lack of significant adjunct participation was likely due to time and adjuncts not attending departmental meetings. Unfortunately, they do not delve deeply into the effects this predominance of full-time faculty and lack of part-time faculty had on the answers. A faculty cohort of eleven members (eight full-time and three part-time) was also selected by the authors, mostly based on the desire to have faculty from a variety of departments and disciplines. That cohort was interviewed at length, and those questions were mainly an expansion of the survey questions, though it certainly got more personal. Interview questions included queries like “What brought you to BCC?” and “If you could change one thing about students’ attitudes about writing in your course(s), what would it be?” (Tinberg and Nadeau 142). These interviews were also more organic than the question outline indicates, as researchers encouraged conversation or modified the order of questions based on faculty response and attitude.

The faculty cohort was selected by the researchers from all the divisions of the college, and all emphasized writing in their courses, though not the typical writing assignments of basic or introductory writing courses. An occupational therapy professor stated that “clear written and oral communication skills” were essential in her field, though it was a technical and scientific discipline, as errors or vagueness in communication to nurses could result in harm to patients (Tinberg and Nadeau 41). Thus, “cross-border literacy” is highly valued; students should “demonstrate competence with literacy, both visual and word-based, and must produce exposition, analysis, and speculation” (Tinberg and Nadeau 54). To make that possible, faculty must be giving feedback that not only corrects grammar and structure, but also offers support for idea development and builds on students’ thoughts. However, most faculty rated their feedback as important, but most gave feedback electronically rather than face-to-face, eliminating that human element that is most useful for students and faculty to understand each other (Tinberg and Nadeau 147-148). A percentage that should be alarming to any institution is that when asked to rate how prepared their students were for “challenging writing assignments” by the end of the semester, 47% of faculty rated their confidence in the students as neutral with only 31% being sure students were prepared (Tinberg and Nadeau 148). Good writing teachers  will push struggling writers to explain their thoughts with more detail. But many teachers do not explain themselves, expecting vague feedback and numbers or checks to be enlightening to students–a major error if the goal is to get students to improve writing skills for the future.

Tinberg and Nadeau’s study itself is not unique–Marilyn Sternglass’ 1993 longitudinal study of writing development used student interviews and work samples to analyze student progress. Sternglass’ study was five years long (though she published findings 3.5 years in) so it gave a more comprehensive view of student growth over years, as opposed to Tinberg and Nadeau’s semester-long study. But with her case study of Linda, Sternglass came to many of the same conclusions as Tinberg and Nadeau. Linda picked up on academic expectations of formal writing after one semester, but she struggled with the varied types of writing across disciplines. She excelled in narratives in introductory composition, but she had trouble using evidence and her own analysis in her second semester psychology course (Sternglass 248). Like Andrew of Tinberg and Nadeau’s study, Linda struggled with being both analytical and creative in a film review (Tinberg and Nadeau 113; Sternglass 249). “Cross-border literacy” was something that Linda, like the students at Bristol, lacked, as it was not taught in basic composition courses, but only picked up over time. As Sternglass states, it is not enough for students to write, as “writing alone is not a sufficient teaching tool” and instructors must provide regular support for “students whose reading and writing processes require continual assistance and development” (258). Free-writing and narratives are great for getting students comfortable with writing, but do not build cross-border literacy and may not prepare a student who needs scaffolding for a technical science paper or historical analysis. Two decades after Sternglass’ study, this is clearly still an issue.

Tinberg and Nadeau’s main purpose, which they get to in a roundabout way near the end of the book, is to explore the goals and expectations of students and faculty during the first semester in order to provide insight into preparation for incoming students and support later on. Students are at community college to learn useful skills, and they expect to be told what to do to succeed. Vague instructor feedback creates confusion, as students do not know how to begin fixing what seems to be wrong. Conversely, as de Beaugrande and Olson state in their 1991 study of the writing of student athletes, very precise instructor feedback is often taken by inexperienced writers as gospel, as students “follow the first draft much too closely” and attempt to change “cosmetic” issues of grammar rather than development of ideas (18). Twenty years later, at Bristol, this is an issue for students Kim and Ben, who as discussed earlier, followed instructor revision notes without considering their own voice or original intent (Tinberg and Nadeau 77, 87). Mina Shaughnessy in her Errors and Expectations (1979) explains how a student who makes corrections as given does not necessarily understand the reasoning behind it (289). Shaughnessy recommends that a “full session be given to introducing each assignment, and the assignments themselves should be highly specific in such matters as length, structure, and possible difficulties. All assignments should be accompanied by at least two examples, one by a student” (288). This gives students a broader perspective and helps them to see their own writing as something they can own for themselves. Tinberg and Nadeau express similar ideas about students’ shying away from ownership of their writing. They suggest teachers not give “directive” feedback, but instead give “non-directive” feedback that explains how something comes across and inquires about what the student-writer intended (Tinberg and Nadeau 125). This gives students agency, something students from underprivileged backgrounds may not have experienced before in education.

Just as every community college student is different, so is every community college. Thus, any study that intends to make a statement about community colleges must be taken as a generalization, even when it is as detailed as this one. Yet the students here in this early 21st century study are not so different in their needs and struggles from the students of community colleges and open admission colleges of the 1970s, as much as the world itself may have changed. Edward Quinn’s 1973 article on the incoming open admission and CUNY SEEK students pointed out that even for low-cost schools, it is an issue that “college students are adults who are not bringing money into the house” (31). This is why Tinberg’s students were so focused on being marketable and career ready (7). To ignore the role that class and privilege play in low-cost institutions versus major universities is to be blind to reality. Tinberg and Nadeau do not focus on class and privilege, but it comes up in the snapshots of the student cohort, most of whom are first-generation college students who lacked academic support in high school. Delving deeper into the sociopolitical aspects of that would have given the study more depth and also more applicability to a larger number of community colleges, especially those in urban areas, which are not discussed in the study.

Tinberg and Nadeau’s study brings up a question that is not new, but still is not always answered or considered by these kinds of studies. What is the point of giving first-semester college students writing-intensive instruction? It is not merely so they can pass a single-semester course. It is to prepare them for other writing courses across disciplines, so should allow for a balance of creative and technical writing skills. It is also not just to keep them in the academic world, but to give them a voice in it, which they can then apply and expand to the workplace and beyond. A major takeaway from Tinberg and Nadeau’s study is that these students came to community college with intent to learn. Instructors do students a disservice by merely telling them what they need, just as instructors do students a disservice by passing along knowledge without contextualization and clarity. There is no easy solution for the struggles of community college students and faculty. The first step to any change is faculty listening—not just to students from case studies, but from every student that walks into their classroom, whether they perform well or not. We will never know what we should give if we presume what students need.

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Works Cited

De Beaugrande, Robert, and Mar Jean Olson. “Using a ‘Write-Speak-Write’ Approach for Basic Writers.” Journal of Basic Writing, vol. 10, no. 2, Fall 1991, pp. 4-32.

Quinn, Edward. “We’re Holding Our Own.” Change: The Magazine of Higher Learning, vol. 5, no. 6, Summer 1973, pp. 30-34.

Shaughnessy, Mina P. Errors and Expectations: A Guide for the Teacher of Basic Writing. Oxford University Press, 1979.

Sternglass, Marilyn S. “Writing Development as Seen Through Longitudinal Research: A Case Study Exemplar.” Written Communication, vol. 10, no. 2, April 1993, pp. 235-261.

Tinberg, Howard, and Jean-Paul Nadeau. The Community College Writer: Exceeding Expectations. Southern Illinois University Press, 2010.

Webb-Sunderhaus, Sara. “When Access Is Not Enough: Retaining Basic Writers at an Open-Admission University.” Journal of Basic Writing, vol. 29, no. 2, 2010, pp. 97-115.

Reading Response 4: Reflecting on Reflection

Reflection is an essential part of any learning process. It is the point where one can stop and look back to see the path one walked and determine how far there may still be to go. This applies to life as well–though for those of us with depression or anxiety, reflection can often make it worse before it gets better. As cliched as it is by now, there’s a reason Socrates declared the unexamined life not worth living.

Ann M. Amicucci describes in “Using Reflection to Promote Students’ Writing Process Awareness” how weaving reflection assignments into her freshman composition class helped create a sense of ownership and critical self-examination among the students. Freshmen often come to a writing class expecting to spew out standardized work that has been drilled into them in high school (low teacher pay, ridiculous bureaucratic regulations, outdated textbooks, ignorant administration, and many other factors contribute to this). It’s not easy to unpack and remove almost two decades of learning experience in a semester. But Amicucci guided students in their own unpacking, by asking them to reflect on what a writing process is and how they go about it (42). Students rattled off the conventions and then focused on how they missed the mark at times. They were knew their own process well. The recurring reflection assignments throughout Amicucci’s class pushed the students to continually reassess themselves. They could consider if they had adjusted certain writing practices they had or whether they still stuck to the same process.

There was no clear statement by Amiccuci on whether the students’ writing improved, but the overwhelming response was a better understanding of themselves as writers. This is key to a student’s growth as a writer, which may take years. But first, a writer needs to  own their own writing, and understand their process as their own habits and outpouring of ideas.

At my job as an educational director at a learning center, I read incoming students’ self-assessments before meeting with parents. The students who can state their weaknesses on that initial assessment are usually correct (when compared to their test scores) and are often more likely to improve in their tutoring sessions. Understanding of self is critical to success.

I would utilize reflection in a writing class, but would make it low-stakes enough for students to not stress over it, while making it worth the effort. However, some students will always feel anxious over any assignment, so a rubric and very clear expectations must be given. I would structure it in small chunks prior to or directly after major assignments, as Amicucci did. This helps prepare students for some assignments and helps them reconsider their own completed work in order to do better later on. Additionally, students’ reflections can help an instructor form a better understanding of students and be able to assess their work more fairly.

Analysis of Amicucci’s Writing Prompts (Assignment Post 3)

In her CEA Paper on the pedagogical value of reflection in writing courses, Amicucci shared some of the assignments she gave to her students. Without context of the lessons themselves, it can be difficult to discern the effectiveness of these, but free of context, it is also easier to imagine repurposing these in all kinds of classes.

Amicucci’s Week 1 assignment is partly an ice-breaker and a way for the instructor to know the class. Currently, I am putting together a curriculum for a class on independent living skills for adults with intellectual disabilities, so I have been considering the need to set aside time in a first class to know who your students are. This can help the instructor better adapt the curriculum to the needs of the students. I liked the question about the student’s “relationship with writing”–it’s not focusing so much on the student’s writing skills but on their perceptions of themselves and writing itself. It can open up a lot to be addressed later in the class. The question regarding “critical thinking” not only pushes the student to explain what they view as critical thinking, but also to reflect on how often they use that skill. People tend to use critical thinking more often than they think, even if it’s when watching episodes of a reality TV show or reading a BuzzFeed article, so to open up the discussion on a simple usage of the skill is helpful.

I do think the Week 1 prompt has too many questions, especially for a starting prompt. They would have been overwhelming to me as a student. I still have a hard time with a paragraph of questions, even when I know I don’t need to answer all of them. Breaking these into bullet points and combining similar questions would be helpful here and could avoid unnecessary confusion. As an instructor, I have always found that to be most effective in getting information across to students. It makes an assignment seem simpler when a student can see it split up into manageable chunks.

I have mixed feelings about the Week 6 prompt. First of all, it should be broken up into bullet points for clarity. As for the prompt itwelfth, what I like about it is exactly what I dislike about it: the two seemingly disparate options. Option 1 is creative (“a fictional story or poem that metaphorically depicts your inquiry process”) and Option 2 is more traditionally academic (“an explicit version of the…inquiry process”). Amicucci’s states she created these options because of ongoing anonymous class evaluations (great idea!) that asked for more creative assignments. Personally, despite my love for creative writing, I dislike Option 1, as it seems forced and actually boring, like it is trying too hard to be fun. As a student, I would prefer the straightforward Option 2, which also seems more useful. But I recognize that all students are different and I have worked with students who would prefer any creative option, as they have trouble with and/or are easily bored with academic responses.

I would not assign Option 1 unless I was certain students understood what a metaphorical depiction in a story looks like. I would perhaps have given samples previously, so they don’t feel like they’re going in blind. Giving samples can be really helpful to students, especially for journal/blog assignments, which can vary in formality requirements depending on the  instructor. As an adolescent education major, modeling and scaffolding were always on my mind–they pushed us to consider how we would model what we wanted from students and how we would scaffold the students to get them there. This is not always emphasized in adult education, which is unfortunate. Learners of all ages benefit from these techniques.

Overall, these prompts encouraged critical thinking and self-reflection, skills which are useful to students in any major or career.  A biology major would benefit from thoughtfully examining what they read and considering their own methods. Too often composition courses privilege English majors and humanities students in general, but English instructors must consider the value and direct use of their lessons to those in other fields. Pushing students to be more observant and self-aware is a step in the right direction.

Strategies for Reading and Referencing Academic Texts (Assignment Post #2)

In her book Teaching College Writing to Diverse Student Populations, Dana Ferris compares different types of learners based on their acquisition of English. Her main focus is ESL students, and she breaks them up into three generalized groups: 1) International students, whose L1 is grounded in its own grammatical rules and culture and whose L2 is based on a rote technical knowledge; 2) Early-arriving students, who came to the US as children and have picked up English naturally, so have an L2 that is culturally-informed, but may lack technical rules, especially since their L1 is stunted from not having been given to them fully in schooling; 3) Late-arriving students, who have neither an academic or natural understanding of the L2, so struggle expressing themselves and understanding expectations. These are, of course, not 100% accurate for all individuals that make up these language-acquisition groups, but these generalization provide a useful framework for students to prepare for when teaching ESL populations.

Based on my own experience working with L2 students in all three categories, a common struggle is selecting and utilizing quotes effectively in assignments. The sample promps on communication and community would be something that could be interesting and relatable to all students, but for L2 students the requirement to use three quotes, might be initimidating. It is good to give a quote minimum, as it provides structure, and a quote maximum would be helpful as well. I would make sure to say “3-4 quotes from any one of the readings”, so as to limit the students who might use quotes to take up space. L2 students may also be overwhelmed by the readings themselves and feel that quotes would be better than their own words, so should be emphasized over their own thoughts. This would handicap their analysis and make the paper a dull read.

I would first review what it means to engage with a text–taking notes, highlighting, writing down definitions, paraphrasing, even writing “lol” or a smiley if that’s what came or mind while reading it. As Ferris noted (Ch. 4), L2 students all also have varied learning styles, so an instructor ought to consider what is best for each L2 as an individual. We could do a short in-class exercise like this and then share with a partner and then the class. Students would be encouraged to pick out quotes that jump out at them, as they will have more to say about those. L2 students (and even L1s) should be reminded to write down definitions of unfamiliar words, or even words that they get in context but do not know how to use. Then they would spend some time rephrasing the quote in their own words–not focusing on the grammar but just on unpacking the meaning of the quote itself. We would discuss how a quote should usually be nestled in their own words–with a phrase or sentence that introduces it and then a phrase or (preferably) a sentence or more that explains it and then connects it to the thesis or topic sentence. This would better equip them to write their essays and feel confident using and analyzing quotes.

This would be assessed in the essay. I would thus make the rubric clearer and more specific, possibly with examples for students to use as models and to help them make sense of their own grades. I have been in classes myself where instructors asked students what they think their grade should be, based on the rubric, and that self-assessment is counted into their overall grade. That could be confusing to freshmen, but might be useful for L2 upperclassmen or graduate students, as it help them reflect on their own academic standing and goals.