Tuesday, January 21, 2014

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

2 comments:

  1. I really liked your sentence: "The anchor is in a student's relations." I definitely agree with this, and would like to push it further into the students' experiences. I think what is special about composition and writing courses is that there is often not one right way of doing it, and it varies based on tone, voice, and style: all things that students' learn based on experiences. How do we get students then to share these experiences in a way that is valuable to everyone? Although I agree with Macrorie that the Third Way of teaching is more valuable, I cannot help but wonder how to make this work in a technical writing course, or in a way that is valuable to all majors. Should what is valuable to a student's life be more important than a genre's specific way of doing things? I cannot help but wonder how to blend these approaches, which I do think desperately need to be harmony with each other. How to do that though will have no answer unless people like Marcorie can document their students' writing? As a writing major what do you think was missing from your education?

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    1. I feel like I cannot rightfully answer that last question until I've been tossed into the real world with my degree put to use. It's like English graduates are a football team put out onto the field with a whole new set of plays and no idea how the other side is going to respond. It's a trial and error sort of thing. If I had to guess at this point, i would say the knowledge I gained throughout the writing program at MSU was pretty well-rounded, but I would have liked the academic writing to be more connected with the creative. I feel like they were pretty separated throughout our time here. I realize some of us will take more professional routes with our careers while others are more creative in their endeavors, but I know that whatever happens for us will require both at some point. If say I was trying to publish a manuscript, I would have to do something else until it was done and a check from all the work came in if at all. I don't know how this sort of learning could be accomplished, but I would have liked to see a greater emphasis on the relationship of these writing styles in the real world.

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