Uptaught Response II

            The second half of Ken Macrorie’s Uptaught seemed to rely more heavily on his and his students’ experiences in transference of a number of important points, both slight and sweeping.  This book was easy to read because Macrorie uses said experiences as examples to prove the validity of his arguments to his readers.  This is in fact one of his central lessons—experience trumps simple recitation.  It seems as though Macrorie believes this sort of teaching method to be lost on the generations, with each being more concerned with the institution they attend than the actual educational value they are receiving.   Macrorie demands the need for change in the realm of higher education, going so far as even promoting a nationwide student strike against the University in an effort to improve conditions.  Realizing unlikely success in such a feat, Macrorie offers up several ideas of what education should be for its students and professors and what it should not.

            Evaluation is such a large component of education for students and teachers alike.  Macrorie asserts neither is properly surveyed.  He writes, “[s]ince the day we killed Engfish I have been discovering that the professor should be tested by the performance of his students” (103).  I like this idea because it completely disregards those ridiculous evaluation forms we are required to fill out for each class near the end of every semester.  Most teachers express their disdain for the forms as they are handing them out while students sigh thinking about what they are going to do after they fill it out as quickly as possible.  Perhaps the University thinks this is the only way to measure the success of the relationship between student and teacher.  I have to disagree considering only a portion of students and teachers take them seriously.  There must be some other way to judge the value of this classroom association.

            The range of success stories within the classroom is another matter entirely.  How many students can actually say they successfully complete a course—rising above what is required of them and actually holding onto what they’ve learned for more than a couple of weeks?  This is the responsibility of both student and teacher, both of which much be committed to a shared success strategy.  Macrorie writes, “[…] a teacher who believes only one or two of the students in each of his classes are capable of doing fine work will in subtle ways communicate that lack of faith” (116).  Sure there are always a few standout students in every class, but there are far more who do just what they have to to earn the credit.  I have been that student in a number of classes.  It usually comes down a student not feeling like the information being presented will do them any good in the world post graduation (or sometimes laziness and a complete lack of motivation).  Regardless of the reason, subtle communication within the classroom has quite an effect on students and teachers alike.  Macrorie seems to promote an engaged style of teaching and learning that captures the interest of each student individually, making each course somehow applicable to their outside lives.

            I enjoyed Macrorie’s section on some of these experiences, rather, experiencing failure within the educational system (142).  The ten instances he shared pretty much complimented my ideas of certain higher education, but instilled a sense of worry into those of my future endeavors.  Grad school cannot be that bad.  That would turn out to be quite an expensive bad experience should an applicant choose and be accepted into the wrong institution.

            The greatest part of the second half of Uptaught was Macrorie’s heres and theres of education.  He writes, “Somewhere in campus life around him […] lies a here for the student to investigate.  Once he begins that investigation, he has something to compare with the theres which the professor would like him to think about” (168).  Students must be as much a part of their education as the studies themselves.  If there is not some sort of anchor to what is being learned, it will continue being an endless cycle of meaningless memorization and fact absorption.  The anchor is in a student’s relations, found (most often) outside of the walls of academia. As Macrorie would suggest, there is no there without here.  This experiential philosophy permeates throughout the book.

            Macrorie ends Uptaught with the idea, “[…] teachers must find ways of getting students to produce (in words, pictures, sounds, diagrams, objects, or landscapes) what students and teachers honestly admire” (186).  I like this conclusion because it begs the question—if a student is not passionate about what he is studying, then what the hell is he here for?

            

            Here's an interesting article on the student/teacher relationship.  It is in fact essential to the value of education.  http://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ1000159.pdf

Uptaught Response I

     Ken Macrorie's Uptaught is thus far a compelling read.  I've never quite come across anything like it in terms of its content and transference of its content through structure and examples.  I really enjoyed the structure and the examples he used to reinforce his points about experiential writing.  In reading the first half of Macrorie’s decade-sweeping account, I came across a number of ideas I was surprised a professor of higher education would make claim to. 

            In reference to the basic form and function of college-level composition and what seems to be the expected role of the English professor, he declares, “[t]his dehydrated manner of producing writing that is never read is the contribution of the English teacher to the total university” (8).  Unabashed in his assertion, Macrorie challenges himself and other academics to all but disregard the emphasis put on the logistical requirements of writing as a means to represent the overall quality of what is written.  I like this idea and would love nothing more than to follow it through the remaining weeks of my undergrad, but I feel like it is too casual and its adoption would limit my post-grad options.  A true writer should put more focus on writing from experience than they should on making sure each requirement is fulfilled, yes.  But becoming a successful writer seems like so much more of a reality with a thorough education.  The written requirements of academic research and other papers are demanded of students in receiving such instruction.  It is by no means a perfect system.

            I like Macrorie’s idea that his students’ fragmented and disjointed writing was better and more alive than any obligatory writing they had done in prior courses (20).  Not paying too much attention to sentence syntax and structure allowed his students to open up and write about what they could see and feel.  The aliveness of sense-centered writing is what really proves its worth and superiority to some of the most eloquent, but dry academic writing.  This creativity is lost in the hierarchy of English education from elementary to intermediate to high to collegiate level studies.  Macrorie sums up this devaluated movement as sort of passing the buck to the next educator in line (52).  Students are expected to learn certain rules and principles in preparation of their ensuing education.  But what prepares us for writing in the real world once our institutional education has come to a close?  The majority of students will be ill equipped for what is expected of them in their future careers because of the lack of creativity and value in higher education writing.

            Macrorie’s small section on sin and correction as a holy duty was a favorite passage if no other reason than because it is so applicable to my life.  Incorrect spelling and misuse of words is a peeve of so many academically oriented with the English language.  I am constantly correcting people’s mistakes whether it be in a paper or over a text message.  These things just must be fixed.

            Macrorie brought up an interesting point about avoiding clichés in writing, where he expected his students to come up with something on their own instead of using recycled phrasing.  I have always had a difficult time with this, namely because I do not want to replace a commonly known phrase with a string of words I think others will understand but really they only make sense in my own head.  I run into this constantly.  Well put, “[i]t’s both a pressure and a privilege to be here” (83).
            Finally, it was refreshing to hear a figure of academic prestige state transcripts and test scores are not proper estimations of a student’s abilities.  Sure, there has to be some way to measure this ability within a large pool of students.  Grades have somewhat of an ability to do that, especially when surveying candidates for specified education, but they cannot be the only means of appraisal (93).  Graduate school requires the personal essay and employers will sometimes give applicants a test run.  But so many fall through the cracks and what might be potential success is ignored entirely.  There has to be some other outlet for this group.

          Here's an interesting study of the relationship between analytical and creative writing.

http://ehis.ebscohost.com.proxybz.lib.montana.edu/ehost/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?sid=96260c19-9d60-4eba-a306-9041559b8d8e%40sessionmgr4002&vid=12&hid=4208