Composition in Convergence

The Impact of New Media on Writing Assessment

Diane Penrod

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2005
• ISBN:
  9781135623579
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Evaluation & Assessment in Education

Composition in Convergence: The Impact of New Media on Writing Assessment considers how technological forms--such as computers and online courses--transform the assessment of writing, in addition to text classroom activity. Much has been written on how technology has affected writing, but assessment has had little attention. In this book, author Diane Penrod examines how, on the one hand, computer technology and interactive material create a disruption of conventional literacy practices (reading, writing, interpreting, and critique), while, on the other hand, the influence of computers allows teachers to propose and develop new models for thinking and writing to engage students in real-world settings.This text is intended for scholars and educators in writing and composition, educational assessment, writing and technology, computers and composition, and electronic literacy. In addition, it is appropriate for graduate students planning to teach and assess electronic writing or teach in online environments.

Chapter 1
Moving Toward Internetworked Writing and Assessment

Words and the texts they produce are the bonds of Internet culture, just as they are the bonds of Composition’s culture. David Porter, writing in Internet Culture, best summarized the prominence of language that exists within networked spaces: “Whatever else Internet culture might be, it is still largely a text-based affair. Words are not simply tools which we can use in any way we see fit. They come to us framed by specific histories of use and meaning, and are products of particular ideological struggles” (1996, p. 6). We could substitute the word composition for Internet and the intended meaning continues to hold. Both worlds are indeed text-based affairs, regardless of whatever else they might be. Yet, students who write in online environments display a marked difference compared with those students writing in a real classroom setting, as many writing instructors can attest. There is something transformative about teaching writing in networked space. The computer, a maze of wires and circuits in a box, recasts the writing process into something alive and genuine for students. Instructors who teach Composition in networked environments have suggested this point for years, both in lore and in the literature.

But, what is this “something” that marks the difference between virtual and real classroom spaces? How do we name this “something,” and more important, what do we value about this “something” that happens in the writing classroom when we move from print to pixel? From what I observe in my own classes as students post to their discussion lists, enter MOOs and adopt new identities through making textual choices, develop weblogs for themselves and for classes, and construct web pages for friends, clients, or organizations, it seems that the computer quite clearly converts the process of writing into the process of communication. In turn, students see how words carry certain historical contexts of use and meaning as well as how words can retain particular ideological references that reflect larger struggles.

Unfortunately, often writing and communication are two separate processes in composition courses. Perhaps this division arises from Composition’s connections to belles lettres and English departments, in which students write to express their feelings and little else. In these situations, writing does not necessarily have to be produced for a reader’s understanding. Many times, especially in first-year composition, writing can be a private exercise. And it is true that for most of us, writing is a private exercise. One only has to look at the personal notes he or she takes at a meeting or in a lecture, or at the journal entries written for a class or personal expression, or at certain affected academic or fictive styles in scholarship and literature that are studied in the classroom to realize that writing is not always meant to be understood. However, when writing communicates, ideas must be presented to others and acted upon by granting a response. Writing as communication demands public acknowledgment. Without a response, there is no communication. If there is no communication happening, then there is no understanding as to whether one’s words make meaning or fall silent. Consequently, the act of communicating depends on writers targeting those ideas, elements, and languages that frequently run counter to academic prose.

Online writing makes for a perfect example of writing as a communicative act, because it entails that a reply should come from others. Some forms of online writing, like blogs, MOOs, or e-mails, demand replies from others. Without a return acknowledgment of some sort, a posting carries little meaning for a community. As a communicative act, then, online writing makes material Paulo Freire’s observation:

Only through communication can human life hold meaning. The teacher’s thinking is authenticated only by the authenticity of the students’ thinking. The teacher cannot think for his students nor can he impose his thought on them. Authentic thinking, thinking that is concerned about reality, does not take place in ivory tower isolation, but only in communication.

(1993, p. 58)

It is the “public” characteristic of online writing that infuses the words with meaning and elevates them to a communicative act. To write publicly means that student writers make their words available to all in the course or in cyberspace, not just for the exclusive private classroom relationship built on paper between student writer and instructor or the semi-public partnership peer groups evoke. Following Freire, then, in genuine public discourse settings, such as those found online, the instructor is not the sole authenticator for student thought as he or she most likely is in private classroom contexts. The instructor’s voice is just one of many voices responding to the words. The polysemic quality and the concept of transforming the classroom writing experience into a real, communicative, public activity are two critical aspects of what writing instructors value about online writing.

This real, communicative, public function of student writing in internetworked spaces revolutionizes Composition and holds out promises for practitioners that writing will be removed from the skill-and-drill and current–traditional approaches to writing instruction. Yet this same liberatory quality can confound the use of traditional writing assessment models to evaluate student growth and development in the writing classroom. This latter point becomes a thorny issue for K–20 writing teachers, as federal and state legislative demands for accountability push us to ensure that certain basic writing standards are being met in the classroom. As many English education specialists, education theorists, composition researchers, and K–12 teachers will suggest, these political expectations for leaving no child behind frequently reconstruct writing classroom settings that return teaching to the spoon feeding of information so students can pass minimally challenging state writing exams (Apple, 2001, 2003; Hillocks, 2002).

Computer-assisted writing pedagogy offers the potential to break students’ “banking concept of education” (1993, p. 53) so familiar in Freire’s readings and so commonly found in a majority of writing assessment systems. In public, networked spaces, students learn that others beyond the teacher’s voice can authenticate their words and imbue the students’ words with meaning. For experienced or comfortable writers, this can be a liberating moment in the classroom. However, for students at ease with the banking concept of education in the writing classroom, the freedom can be unnerving—if not downright confusing. After all, if students are saturated with a top-down educational model that focuses mostly on grades, test scores, and teacher perceptions, then any classroom writing activities that move beyond this paradigm will be met with students’ attitudinal resistance or cognitive dissonance. All too often, these reactions are discovered in instructors’ student evaluations at the end of the term. A recent anonymous response written in a course evaluation from one of my College Composition II classes indicates the potential problem for some students who find public writing and the abandonment of the banking concept of education discomforting:

Some would say they [our writing classes] are not as productive as I thought [they were] because they [other students] are used to, and find comfort in, a traditional (boring) classroom. I’m sure sometimes classes went against Dr. Penrod’s lesson planbook [sic], but I found every one productive

(fall 1998 semester, brackets mine for clarity).

This student aptly points to the difficulties some of his or her peers may have with a writing classroom that responds to technological convergence. The current–traditional or purely process-based composition class, or a writing class focused solely on meeting expectations for state writing assessment exams, read as a “boring” writing classroom by this student, has set opportunities for the students’ composing processes. Productivity in the traditional writing classroom is defined by many students, professors, and programs as how many words or pages are churned out, how efficient those words or pages are in relation to a real or perceived template for good writing, and how those words or pages are legitimated by an instructor’s grade. Composition’s convergence with technology transforms this older notion of productivity. In this particular composition class that I taught, “productivity” became redefined as students interacted with their ideas through the use of computers and different media forms (both print and electronic) as they wrote about their views for and with others. Instead of students imitating a model for good writing, the students’ online interactions were used to establish benchmarks for what good writing was within the contexts of different course assignments.

I found it telling that in the evaluation, this student mentioned my having a lesson plan book to guide my daily actions in the classroom. (I do not use one. I do have a syllabus, but points of flexibility are built into the course design to accommodate an extra day of discussion, research, or writing whenever needed.) The student’s comments reflect the reality that, whether personally or institutionally imposed, many writing teachers do adhere to a strict sequence when teaching composition and that any disruption in the order fouls up the semester’s learning activities. This student’s observation underscores how “learning productivity” is often defined in education, as following an inflexible schedule of events that culminates in a capstone assignment or course.

Here, too, computer-based writing instruction alters the method of delivering course content, which shifts our understanding of “productivity.” As writing instructors have found, in an interactive, networked environment, it is difficult to keep a rigid lesson plan or course schedule. This is because the faculty member frequently responds to multiple, individualized situations in the students’ writing and thinking processes. Depending on the students’ comfort levels with technology, some can move forward quickly whereas others take much more time to accomplish the same task. Usually, in computer-based classroom environments, I have found that the simpler the syllabus structure, the easier it is to maintain a sense of direction and a sense of discovery for both instructors and students. That way, students can move at their own paces, and I can tweak instruction to serve where the students are in the course. This seems to me to be more productive learning, although the course looks and feels chaotic at times.

The concept of productivity must be redefined when computer technology is introduced into the writing classroom. Whether using electronic discussion lists, web writing, hypertexts, MOOs, and the like, the classroom always centers on the word and the ability of others besides the instructor to discern meaning (not to mention increasing the students’ potential for developing solid grammatical and spelling skills so a computer can respond to their commands). Productivity no longer refers to a set number of words or pages to be churned out; rather, productivity connects to how effectively writers communicate in a given context. All this alleviates the need for an instructor to follow a rigid daily or weekly structure, because he or she constantly surrounds the students with writing practice. The computer’s potential for releasing instructors from the confines of their planning books allows them to reach the roots of what writing instruction needs to be and what student writers need to learn—how to control their thoughts and language to communicate with an audience, regardless of genre. Students then begin to discover for themselves the power of the written word, as real audiences respond to their ideas while a machine carries out their requests.

This pedagogical change is not unrecognized by students, who frequently react to the instructional shift in a positive manner. Instead of instructors telling students how to write, or explaining to students which models to use in their writing, or even demonstrating to students what to put on the blank screen in front of them, computer-based composition classes inspire students to take responsibility for their education. As a result, students’ enthusiasm and interest toward the course increase. This point was made clearer to me after a student in a College Composition II class wrote in his or her final evaluation: “We continue discussions about topics and work outside of class by use of classlists (e-mail)” and “By using hands-on techniques and modern technology, she [the professor] conveys the ideas of College Comp II in a way that the youth of today can understand” (fall, 1998).

Students who come to our writing classes with little experience in technology—albeit this type of student is becoming increasingly rarer but still does exist in some places—can benefit from these experiences. Several students wrote in their student evaluations that although they were nervous entering a course that had such a heavy focus on technology and writing, “the lectures and assignments were interesting” and “the information learned will help me in the future” (fall, 2003). Infusing technology into the writing process made quite a few students think of themselves as “professional writers” because they had “the opportunity to discover and present their work in a professional forum on line” (fall 2003). This dimension of having students see themselves as writers with a real audience is important for them to take genuine ownership of their work.

The computer’s promise is great for enacting Freire’s (1993) “authentic reflection” in undergraduate students’ writing processes. Using online contexts, students develop a consciousness about their writing simultaneously with learning about the world around them. They begin to see that without another’s recognition of their words, writing has no purpose. In essence, electronic communication offers students a chance to see themselves as writers with an audience. Once student writers are aware of themselves as being real writers with something to say, they acknowledge—as this student did—that their writing courses “open up the realm of greater research or more effort, time, and overall work being put into a single paper or project” (fall, 1998). This is an important step for undergraduates to accept in the writing process, especially in the latter sequences of first-year composition devoted to argument, research writing, and audience reaction.

As Freire suggested, students who reflect on themselves and on the world in communication with others “increase the scope of their perception” and “begin to direct their observations towards previously inconspicuous phenomena” (1993, p. 63). Again, let me draw on another comment from a final course evaluation to illustrate the effect that technological convergence has for encouraging students to develop the type of self-awareness about their writing that composition faculty aim for each semester. Regarding how students have come to recognize elements in their writing over the term, in the evaluation this particular student says that the blend of networked activities in the class “emphasized the difference between informal writing and argumentative writing. I felt comfortable writing informally before I took this course. Now I also feel comfortable writing argumentatively” (fall, 1998). For this student, just as for others like him or her, the mix of writing and thinking in different media and in different genres not only helped this person recognize discursive changes but also aided the student in developing a comfort zone when writing with different levels of formality.

What is it about computer-based writing environments that elicits these types of student remarks, none of which are uncommon, as we read in journal articles and hear in conference papers by our colleagues who also practice computer-assisted writing instruction? As mentioned earlier in this chapter, online writing activities accentuate the private–public split in the composing process. However, technology inverts what we think is private and public. Although each of us may have private thoughts, once those thoughts are typed into a networked space like e-mail or the web, our minds link with other minds. So, the mind’s private actions are made public instead of being kept unstated. This is especially true with certain electronic genres like weblogs, as the online journal format promotes the mind’s continual reflection and private action. The body, which is public in most social spaces, becomes private when we communicate electronically. Unless all of us share the same physical classroom space at some point in the semester, the students and the instructor may not know what others look like in the class or from where the students respond. When we compose asynchronously, we do not know how the writer looks. Most likely, we do not want to know this information. We certainly do not know who our audience is or what the members look like when we correspond with others on discussion lists or at gaming sites.

However, instructors know that when students are sending us e-mail in the wee hours, they are writing and thinking long after the day’s class is over. When students send their instructors postings about something that occurs related to a class that was taken a year or two ago (or more) and resonated with the student’s experience in the class, then teachers know that writing, thinking, and reflecting remain part of that student’s learning process.

New Media/New Risks for Writers and Their Instructors

As mentioned in the last section, instead of the corporeal aspects of writing in the classroom (the physical acts of letter formation or putting pen to paper, for instance), the mental features of communicating with others becomes highlighted when we shift to computers. For certain student populations in our writing classes, the celebration of the mental process over the body in composing is an important shift. As Leigh Kobert, one of my graduate students who also worked in the medical publishing field, pointed out in a post to our class list in Writing for Electronic Communities, a graduate writing class I teach, in the spring 1999 semester,

One of the early readings described “disembodied voices and decontextualized points of view.” However, I can think of a context in which this disconnection is very welcome. As I believe I have said I work with people with physical and learning disabilities. Some of the people I talk to struggle just to get out a sentence. Rheingold touches on the factor of people with disabilities, i.e., CMC [Computer Mediated Communication] allows the to be treated as they have always wanted to be “as thinkers and transmitters of ideas and feeling beings.” It must be incredibly freeing to experience a medium for once without the disability being the first thing that everyone is aware of. There is at last a chance to be judged outside the vessel of a limited body or speech/hearing disabilities.

Leigh described an appealing situation for many reticent students, especially for those with medical or physical conditions that hamper face-to-face (F2F) communication. The celebration of the mind over the body in computer-based writing allows greater numbers of students to participate because of technological innovations that make communication possible for students with disabilities. However, faceless interactivity is also a rhetorical context full of risks for a writer. Howard Rheingold (1991) observed that some online writers are hampered by the disconnectedness and decontextualization that can occur with electronic communication. That seems to be true; gregarious students, who enjoy a live audience for their ideas, frequently have difficulties making the move to computer-based writing activities. And there are still many students who value being present in a traditional classroom interacting with instructors and peers. Of course, it is also important to mention the digital divide that separates families with computers from those without (or families with broadband vs. those who have dial-up access). For varying reasons, all these students find themselves feeling vulnerable or disadvantaged in computer-based writing classes because of the disconnectedness and decontextualization that can occur with asynchronous writing.

A second, but equally important, risk in online communication is a “panoptical” effect that occurs with some participants. Periodically, the experience of writing for discussion lists or for web sites is compared to Foucault’s description of Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon, where everyone is seen or read, so each person monitors accordingly his or her thoughts and language. To clarify this for the classroom experience, a panoptical effect describes a situation in which students’ posted words and ideas are observed by everyone participating during that writing session. As I said earlier, networked writing is almost always public, even in classroom settings. In fact, the only private form of networked writing that might exist is when a writer posts a message to him or herself as a reminder or to archive later. Otherwise, online conversations are meant for public view and reaction. Some students respond to this circumstance by self-censoring or self-monitoring their replies to the group. Others react to the constant sending and receiving of messages by tapping into the relationships formed on screen (some of which may or may not seep into F2F class encounters) or by constructing a different personality from the one presented in the classroom. This latter option is done when students wish to avoid the panoptical effect and speak freely. Their construction of a new identity masks their real presence in virtual space.

If this comparison of net...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• About the Author
• Introduction
• 1 Moving Toward Internetworked Writing and Assessment
• 2 Transforming Texts, Transforming Assessment
• 3 Who Owns the Words in Electronic Texts?
• 4 Rethinking Validity and Reliability in the Age of Convergence
• 5 Hot and Cool Technologies in the Age of Convergence: Assessing the Writing in Room 25
• 6 Access Before Assessment?
• 7 Remediating Writing Assessment
• References
• Author Index
• Subject Index