"My teacher hates me!" The writing center as locus for a rhetoric-based WAC program.

Students--even, and perhaps especially, "good" students--are aware of the duality of their learning, the need to learn both disciplinary material and specific conventions of writing and thinking. However, these conventions may not be recognized as discipline-specific, but seen as "hoops" to jump through, a "game to play" in order to satisfy the immediate audience--the instructor. Perhaps especially at a school the size of Eureka College (approximately 500 students, 40 full-time faculty), word gets around quickly that "this is what Professor So-and-So wants;" "don't write about X or make Y mistakes in Dr. Z's class, or you'll get a bad grade." These unwritten "rules" refer less frequently to lower order concerns such as pronoun-antecedent agreement, first vs. third-person narrative, or active voice vs. passive which can and do vary widely between professors teaching the same subject or even the same course) than to broader issues of topic, purpose, audience and stylistic voice. Even more distressing is the propensity of students to engage in "pseudo-academese," an artificially inflated prose style that they believe is the key to success, and for writing center consultants (unwittingly) to perpetuate this belief. "Writing smart" is a tendency for which undergraduates are often penalized (losing points for "clarity" and "organization," among other things), but in which graduate students and many academics frequently engage, creating a paradox which leaves most people bewildered.

The good news is that such "hoop-jumping" and academic doublespeak indicate students' awareness of two basic rhetorical concepts: audience and voice. They hear about this in first-year composition, and possibly in later courses, but successful "bottom-up" implementation (advocated by Martha Townsend and others) of a rhetoric-based Writing Across the Curriculum program depends on support from faculty and writing center consultants. These two groups bear primary responsibility for reinforcing the basics of rhetoric that are inherent in every discipline, and for helping to raise students' awareness of the audience, voice and purpose involved in each writing task. The anecdotal evidence discussed here indicates students' awareness of writing to please a specific audience, desire to elevate the writing voice to a (perceived) level of expertise, and frustrated search to find something "new" to say. These, most writing instructors might agree, are not problems in themselves--in fact, they motivate many of us to write and publish in our academic fields.

Who cares? Writing for those who "know"

"Everyone" knows that if you write about gender and feminism in British Literature II, you'll get more points than if you write about almost anything else. Clearly, in some students' minds, this is due to British Lit Professor's personal preference for such topics, and not to the relevance of topics to course material or objectives. This catch-22 can also bind students when given their choice of a topic for a writing assignment: in an effort to present material that will appear "fresh" and provide them with their own moment to speak, students may pass over topics they know to be close to the instructor's areas of personal interest. As one writing center consultant puts it, "Why tell the butterfly guy what he already knows?"

Why indeed? Kenneth Burke's "parlor" model serves to address at least part of this concern (and many concerns of voice and purpose, as we shall explore later). Students, or anyone else who explores a new subject or area, can envision themselves as entering what Burke calls "the unending conversation":

   When you arrive, others have long
   preceded you, and they are engaged
   in a ... discussion ... too
   heated for them to pause and tell
   you exactly what it is about. In
   fact, the discussion had already
   begun long before any of them got
   there, so that no one present is
   qualified to retrace for you all the
   steps that had gone before. You
   listen for a while, until you decide
   that you have caught the tenor of
   the argument; then you put in your
   oar. Someone answers; you answer
   him; another comes to your
   defense; another aligns himself
   against you, to either the embarrassment
   or gratification of your
   opponent.... However, the discussion
   is interminable. The hour
   grows late; you must depart. And
   you do depart, with the discussion
   still vigorously in progress. (110-11)

The search for a "solution" may occasionally drive a conversation in a given field, but far more frequent (and useful) are those discussions that are ongoing dialogues. The conversation does not end when a student--or anyone else--withdraws.

The Burkean parlor model is central to the effectiveness of interlocking WAC programs and writing centers, and serves to illustrate the connections between audience, purpose and voice. Thus the "butterfly guy" may not be looking for his undergraduates to tell him something he has never before encountered about lepidoptery; rather, he may be assessing their ability to determine the discourse climate, and gauging their understanding of and engagement with the material through their contributions to the conversation. "New" contributions, while not discouraged, are not necessarily the primary objective of the students or the instructor. The audience, then, goes far beyond the immediate one of instructor and/or peers provided in the classroom context; students are training themselves to listen to their own voices, and anticipate the value of their contributions--who will listen, and who won't? Who will contribute in turn, and what will they be likely to say?

"Writing to get it done:" Three views of purpose

The parlor discussion model also serves to address the closely-intertwined concept of purpose. The same consultant (a biology major) who questions the purpose of telling professors what they already know expresses frustration over the "devaluing" of personal observations and experience in the sciences, and the need to couch everything in someone else's words in order to achieve credibility. Once we discuss the rhetorical and pedagogical benefits of grounding oneself in the conversation in order to achieve the necessary dual-level of expertise in content and style to have something worth contributing, he appears more comfortable. It's still not the same thing the British Lit professor wants, though--she constantly asks students for more original ideas and critical thinking, steering them away from recitation of quotes and facts toward ways of thinking that are "new" to them. On the other hand, every time a student tries to break up the monotony of a history paper with a little bit of humor or creativity, the professor runs a red line through these personal touches and deducts points from "voice." If only all professors could get together and decide once and for all what it is they want, my comp classes have sighed, it would be so much easier for them to deliver.

Writing center consultants represent the very best student writers--both in terms of higher-order and lower-order proficiency, and adeptness at figuring out what various audiences "want." My lingering concern is that these "wants" are being ascribed to individual professors and not to the discipline, and that this view of writing-across-professors is reinforced in the writing center. Of course, many professors themselves foster this view, with well-intended advice to the class such as " Go to the writing center--they'll tell you what I want!" The "I" in this case is interpreted quite literally (and may even be meant literally by some).

Through a series of WAC workshops based on John Bean's Engaging Ideas, Eureka faculty are encouraged to have their students determine the purpose of the assigned writing task: writing-to-learn or learning-to-write. When I suggest to the writing center consultants that they too can raise students' awareness of the purpose of their own writing by asking them to identify into which of these two categories their papers fall, one offers a third purpose: writing-to-get-it-done. Undoubtedly this will occur at least some of the time. But since students already have a known fondness for attempting to determine the motivations and desires of their professors, why not use this to everyone's advantage? Students who visit the writing center are now asked to identify the assignment as a writing-to-learn or learning-to-write activity (always allowing for the possibility that it could be both); this can help them become more adept at guiding themselves toward the objective of the assignment, rather than simply "getting it done." Central to any WAC program, after all, is the view of writing as a form of thinking and learning.

Pitching student voice

John Harbord, of the Centre for Academic Writing at Central European University in Hungary, correctly observes that issues of commodification enter the discussion as well: "the grade does not come from the academic discipline, it comes from the professor.... We can't blame students for wanting to dance the tune the piper calls. They'd be fools if they didn't." He cites variations in personal preferences over first, second- or third-person, passive voice, and "contribution" among professors, as well as significant differences in feedback and grading styles. It is worth noting that many of these personal differences address lower-order concerns of grammar and phrasing, although the line between these areas and "voice" can become obscured. The history professor may not have a personal affinity for dry, colorless prose, but recognizes the need for objectivity in that discipline and encourages students to keep personal voice from "interfering" with content.

Students strive to master the discourse style of the discipline they are studying at the same time they strive to please their professors; at the same time, those in academia perpetuate these discourse conventions even as we demand clarity, organization, and a strong writing voice--while not always practicing what we preach. Some professors will claim in class, on syllabi, and on students' papers that logic and structure are more valuable than the "entertainment" factor, and yet we choose to read books, articles and papers that entertain us, that mesh with our own interests and views; we reward, consciously or not, papers that do the same. How can this confusing mix of signals--about what we want, what we value, what builds credibility, what type of thinking profits the writer and the audience--be addressed?

Writing center consultants can familiarize themselves with a variety of discourse styles through studying advanced undergraduate and published papers within each field, and can become more adept at identifying writing-to-learn and learning-to-write assignments and encourage other students to do the same. At the same time, much of the "guesswork" on the students' part can be reduced by clearer guidelines from professors about what exactly the standards of "good" writing are for each respective field or writing task. The Eureka College Writing Center is in the process of compiling roughly standardized guidelines for stylistic and rhetorical conventions across the curriculum, to be used as resources for training and consultations. These ask professors to examine and articulate their expectations and objectives for writing assignments--which can open up insightful dialogues among members of a discipline and strengthen the structure and objectives of assignments themselves, to avoid unwittingly setting "traps" for students.

The October 2003 launch issue of Praxis: a Writing Center Journal is an invaluable resource for new and experienced consultants alike, and is a good way to introduce students to kairos, Burke's "identification" with audience, Toulmin 's concept of warrant, and other key rhetorical principles. Above all, students' essential rhetorical awareness and desire to write for and with a perceived audience, purpose and voice is to be recognized and commended; guidance and reinforcement from all academic areas (both faculty and peer-tutors) can provide direction on how to shape this innate awareness and diligence into productive processes and results.

Works Cited

Bean, John. Engaging Ideas. New York: Wiley, 2000.

Burke, Kenneth. The Philosophy of Literary Form: Studies in Symbolic Action. 3rd ed. U of California P, 1974.

Harbord, John. "Re: Tutor Training/ expectations." Online posting. 15 Oct. 2003. WCenter. 15 Oct. 2003 <[e-mail]>.

Townsend, Martha. "Writing Intensive Courses and WAC." WAC For the New Millennium. Ed. Susan McLeod et al. Urbana, IL: NCTE, 2001. 233-258.

Valerie Perry

Eureka College

Eureka, IL