Poetic Multimodality

How do words and images convey messages, and how do they complicate and extend meaning when juxtaposed with one another? How do the various roles between the reader/viewer, the text, and author interact when reading multimodal texts? These were the two main questions I was left asking myself after reading Wysocki’s chapter 37 in The Handbook of Research on Writing. I’m an avid supporter of exploring the relationship of written words and images in texts. I’m also campaign for multimodality and of arts-based ways of knowing, living, experiencing, and doing. But I have to admit sometimes I don’t want to deal with the relationship of written words and images. Sometimes I just like to experiences these two modes of understanding individually and experience what they do to me. I really enjoy the distinct experiences I have just through words or just through images. Since this blog’s function is to serve as a document of my insights, reactions, and evolution around issues associated with writing, I wanted to use this week’s entry like last week’s as a space for poetry. For me the poem below, which is by Anne Sexton, speaks to and about so many of the themes and issues raised in our course thus far. Enjoy!

Words

By Anne Sexton

Be careful of words,


even the miraculous ones.


For the miraculous we do our best, 


sometimes they swarm like insects 


and leave not a sting but a kiss.

They can be as good as fingers. 


They can be as trusty as the rock 


you stick your bottom on.


But they can be both daisies and bruises.

Yet I am in love with words. 


They are doves falling out of the ceiling. 


They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.


They are the trees, the legs of summer,


and the sun, its passionate face.

Yet often they fail me. 


I have so much I want to say, 


so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.


But the words aren't good enough, 


the wrong ones kiss me.


Sometimes I fly like an eagle 


but with the wings of a wren.

But I try to take care


and be gentle to them. 


Words and eggs must be handled with care.


Once broken they are impossible 


things to repair.

Writing can be Multimodal

Since completing my investigation into arts-based forms of inquiry for my term paper, I have been thinking about what it means to write and who defines writing and how. I’ve also been wondering about to what degree we embrace multimodality and multiliteracies in our lives. Are they simply “nice” things to talk about in theory and pronounce that it is needed in the 21^st century? Are they just something to be used in classroom activities for students? Are they embraced at all levels of the academy why and why not?

For me, multimodal thinking and doing are something greater. They are ways of positioning one’s self in the world and ways of constructing meaning in, with, and from that world. One of the promises I made myself after investigating arts-based education research was that I will no longer tiptoe around my artist-self. So, in the spirit of arts-based modes of experiencing the world, I am going to use this blog space for a piece of creative writing. I organized this piece from letters my mother wrote me when I was about 3. Each time I reread these letters I am given the honor to glimpse not just my childhood but also my semiotic construction of the world through words. The letters illustrate how in just a few simple words I began to sort, define, and construct my expeirence of the world.

A Mother’s Notes to Her Daught

At times the things that you come up with surprise me.

About 3 weeks ago you learned that your name was Jenny. (Before this you called yourself, Baby)

You pointed to Daddy and said Daddy.

You pointed to Mommy and said Mommy.
You pointed to Yourself and said Jenny.

You come to me and ask me for a pencil so you can write and you can say “write.”

You like Mommy and Daddy to write with you.

You ask us to draw things like cats for you.

You still like cats really well all the animals, really.

You know what mailboxes are sometimes when we drive by them
You say “Bye Bye Mailboxes.”

I really think we are communicating now.

Texts as a Happening

All day today, I kept trying to think about what to write about for this week’s “dumbass” blog entry. It feels like the entire week my fingers have been glued to a computer’s keyboard or to a pen or pencil. Writing has been non-stop; I’ve written checks, in-class notes, sent text messages, responded to countless emails, finished one term paper, and the writing keeps coming even when I dream I’m writing! Even now, I am writing this blog while simultaneously working on finishing up parts of my inquiry paper and presentation for our course. Needless to say, I feel a little drained to think of an interesting topic or some deep connection or profound statement about writing. Nevertheless, I would like to use the space in this entry to share with you a fascinating book about writing that I encountered while researching and reading for my inquiry paper in our class.

“I suppose the reason none of us burn incense in our writing classes any more is because of the dick drives. Smoke’s not supposed to be good for them, right? But what about the sounds, the candlelight, the students on the floor, the dark? What about that other scene of writing instruction? Where has that gone, the idea of the writing classroom as black canvas, ready to be inscribed as a singular compositional space?”

Catchy opening for a book about writing and the composition classroom, huh? I thought so! The book’s author is Geoffery Sirc and the title is English Composition as a Happening. Sirc uses the space of the book to raises some very simple yet powerful questions about the writing classroom such as: How shall writing be defined?; How shall we teach what we put into theory?; How can composition studies look to other disciplines to see how they view the processes of composition and what can English learn from them? To situate what Sirc is referring to when he say “Happening” he is referring to a very specific movement in the visual arts that took place in the 1960s. The term Happening was coined by Allan Kaprow and they were rather avant-garde “performances” that took place only once. I put quotations around the work performance because this work might provoke certain image in people that involve a very formal performance on Broadway for example. Performances typically imply a group of trained people who’ve practiced, memorized scripts, and act out something for an audience. However, the 1960’s Happenings could be described as were roughly (sometimes very roughly) scripted events performed in a public space and often –but not always- relied on volunteers to be part of the performance. Happenings were often intended to be a form of social commentary and raised questions about things such as the status of art and its relationship to life. Sadly, almost as quickly as the movement game to a head it died out. I have been fascinated with the book thus far because of Sirc attempts to draw parallels between the development of Happenings in the visual art field and the developments of the process movements in composition, which took place in the 1960s as well.

I’m very interested to see where Sirc takes these ideas with respect to using them in a 21^st century writing classroom. I will leave you with another thought-provoking quote from the author and maybe it will spark some thoughts about writing, knowledge, and us as professional in whatever discipline.

“My sense of composition is now a field that all reads the same books, shares the same notion of what counts as professional knowledge; this auto-replicating homogeneity of the professional becomes the material discriminator…reading selections based on ‘the sorts of readings we talk about when we talk with our colleagues’”.

** The first quote used in the blog entry comes from page 1 and the second comes from page 265 of Sirc, G. (2002). English composition as a happening. Logan, UT: Utah State University Press.

Hearing Diverse Voices

“We need to know more about how writing can be used to strengthen students’ identities of who they currently are and who they have the potential of becoming.”

“We need to be acting on the knowledge that we already have by ensuring that all students receive engaging instruction that requires extended, reflective, critical writing and supports their developing identities as successful writers.”

“We must also ensure that all students receive instruction that values the cultural identities and linguistic resources they bring into the classroom so they can develop powerful discourses that allow them to become contributors of knowledge in their own communities and in the larger society.”**

The three quotations above were pulled from the conclusion section of chapter 31 in the Handbook of Research on Writing. The authors, Ball and Ellis ended their piece with these calls for scholars to take up researching in greater depth the connection between writing and identity with respects to culturally and linguistically diverse students. A little over a week ago, I went to presentation at Ohio State University The Politics of Writing, Place, and Youth Digital Discourses, which was a snapshot from Dr. Valarie Kinloch’s newly released book Harlem on Our Minds: Place, Race, and Literacies of Urban Youth. Both her book and presentation represent a researcher’s journey into the complexities of youth literacy, community, and identity. Moreover, Kinloch’s research I believe truly embodies one scholar’s answer to the authors’ call for research about the relationships between identity and writing.

Her research not only investigated the lives of young people from Harlem and the relationships among place, writing practices, and social interactions, but it also touched on a number of additional issues including community, gentrification, power, knowledge, struggle, and multiple conflicting narratives. One of the most fascinating aspects about her work through both her research and writing she challenges traditional stances of writing being bound on the page, and instead she represents the literacy practices of urban youth multimodally by means of collaborative interviews, photos, and writing samples. The multimodal nature of writing is found in her book as well. A side note about the book: it is particularly insightful how she managed to weave together multiple voices (students/teachers/graduate students/community activist) from the Harlem community. As a readers it gave me a rich sense of the place and some of the individuals who reside there.

Even though I also ended last week’s blog with a quotation from Maxine Greene’s book Releasing the Imagination, I find it fitting to end this entry by quoting her yet again. While Chapter 31 by Ball and Ellis is a review of literature about identity, writing, and diverse students, the chapter's message for me goes beyond those points and reaches into larger ontological, ideological ideas about what it means to live in a democratic society. In thinking about the chapter and Kinloch’s scholarship, I can think of no better way to end than with Maxine’s words:

How are we to comprehend the kind of community that offers the opportunity to be otherwise? Democracy, we realize, means a community that is always in the making. Marked by an emerging solidarity, a sharing of certain beliefs, and a dialogue about others, it must remain open to newcomers, those too long thrust aside. This can happen even in the local spaces of classrooms, particularly when students are encouraged to find their voices and their images (p. 39).

** The quotes at the beginning of this entry come from page 511 of: Brazerman, C. (2008). Handbook of Research on Writing: History, society, school, individual, text. New York, NY: Routledge.

More Questions than Answers

I have a feeling that this blog entry is probably going to read somewhat like an abstract painters work. You know something is going on in the composition on the canvas but sometimes nothing comes out clearly. In fact, this entry is probably very reflective of my current frame of mind about writing because at this point in the semester I'm full of more question than answers and one idea after another. I’ve also been doing some serious introspection with respect to community, writing/text, change, identity, power, semiotics, aesthetics, and artfulness. What is writing? How do we define it, pin it down, put a rock on it? How do our perspective on writing illuminate certain ideological underpinnings? So, my apologize in advance if this is more like ideas bouncing on, off, between, around, and into, each other rather than neat-and-tidy, fully fleshed out ideas.

For this entry I’d like to spend time briefly on my impressions from Chapter 26 in the Handbook of Research in Writing about adolescent and adult writing development. I found the chapter’s contents to be informative especially with respect to learning about the various pedagogies and policies surrounding writing, but I would agree with the authors’ statements that for adolescents and low-literate adults writers pedagogy, federal education, and labor policy have not always been learner centered and the models of writing development are not conducive for learners, especially from a sociocultural perspective. I would also say that such perspectives on writing don’t position writing as an endeavor embodying the spirit of democracy, imagination, creativity, artfulness, experience, process, and/or community. In addition, I was left with an unexpected bitter taste in my mouth form of the kind of language sometimes used to discuss writing. I’m by no means attempting to place fault on the authors of the chapter because they’re simply synthesizing research studies for the purpose of the handbook, but what I’m left questioning is the kind of vocabulary used in discussion around writing. Some of the examples from the text included: skills-based, writing skills development, competency-based, on-demand assessment, skills acquisition, writing as task, etc. Doesn’t all this vocabulary seem somewhat counter productive to what we are learning about writing?

Some of the question I was left asking myself after reading this chapter. 1). With all these research about adolescents and adults, where are the voices from the adults and youngsters? What do they have to say about literacy, teaching, policy, etc, and how much influence does their perspectives on literacy have, if any? 2). Another thing I’ve been questioning has to do with the ideas expressed in the adolescence in literacy section of the chapter about in and out of school literacy as well as a “third space” to witness youths’ writing practices. This idea of the third space left me wondering about how much teachers should bring out-side school literacies into the classroom and what are the ramifications of doing that? How are we affecting/changing those literacies when we attempt to bring them into the context of schools?

All this said, I can't help but wonder how are we teaching writing and what for? I'd like to end with a passage from Maxine Greene (1995) Releasing the Imagination: Essays on Education, the Arts, and Social Change, which for me speaks to some of the issues raised in this chapter on adolescent and adult writing development. Maxine wrote the following:

Those are are labeled as deficient, fixed in that category as firmly as flies in amber, have little chance to feel they can be yet otherwise than what they have become. Marginalized, they are left to the experience of powerlessness unless (usually with support) they are enabled to explain their "shocks" and reach beyond (p. 39).

Writing can be Anxiety-laden

Last week was the first time in a very long time that I have experienced serious anxiety about writing. Sure, I can get stressed out from time to time about the writing process, but writing isn’t something that typically worries me much anymore. For the most part, I feel I have a command of what academic writing demands from me, and I can transmute ideas from my mind into syntactically sound sentences that are organized well. I generally enjoy the composition process. Last week I was given a take home essay exam, which I thought would be easy enough. I spent countless hours mulling of each sentence deleting and adding new ones, questioning every word, re-reading again and again my note as well as articles, and in the end after finishing the questions I was still felt unease with my written responses. Writing tested me and was a painful, anxiety-laded exercise.

So, why am I bringing this up in this week’s blog? Even though, as a writing tutor, I spoke with and listen to students across academic as well as diverse linguistic and cultural backgrounds expressing similar fears and anxieties about writing, I’ve for so long forgotten what the negative emotions and feelings associated with writing can feel like fist-hand. I have taken for granted my ability to produce written texts, which I was reminded of in Local Literacies by Barton and Hamilton. My task last week reminded me writing is a process that is not detached from the person doing the act of composing, and writing apprehension can have a great impact on individuals’ perceptions of themselves, teachers, material, and the composing process. Of equal importance, I was reminded that writing apprehension is a type of anxiety that is rooted in factors such as time, writing tasks, in-class and out of class constraints, experiences, and perceptions of the writer.

Having my experience with writing anxiety was actually refreshing in the sense that it got me thinking about how writing can relate to my chapter on Marxism from Tyson’s Critical theory today: A user-friendly guide. Writing instruction and writing with specific contexts take place within a kind of structure and that structure imposes certain demands on the individual doing the act of writing. I haven’t had a chance to delve to deeply into this idea of writing and power yet; however, I’ve started reading some of the work of Jacques Derrida, the father of Deconstructionism. I found an interesting video of Derrida himself talking about writing and fear: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoKnzsiR6Ss&feature=related

Our World as a Text

There are different literacies (p.9).

Literacy is primarily something people do; it is an activity, located in the space between thought and the text. Literacy does not just reside in people’s heads as a set of skills to be learned, and it does not just reside on paper, captured as text to be analysed. Like all human activity, literacy is essentially social, and it is located in the interaction between people (p.1).

I can’t tell you how many times in my life I have entered a public restroom. I’ve visited every state in the US excluding Hawaii and Alaska, which means a lot of road trips, gas stations, motels, restaurants, airplanes/airports, and other fine establishments. I’ve even frequented the loo internationally in Canada, Mexico, Germany, England, Turkey, etc. I’ve been in school for 21 years of my life, which obviously accounts for countless visits to the water closet, and I randomly find myself at the porcelain bowl in my other public outings such as while at the grocery or the mall. Why you might be asking is this crazy lady opening her blog talking about public toilets? Well regardless of where they are, hordes of public restrooms have one thing in common...graffiti.

We’ve all seen them - notes left by the hands of others at a specific place and time professing things like people loving people, people hating people, phone numbers, so-and-so was here, inspirational quotations, philosophical debates about life, drawings, and conversations about random topics. In fact, on campus the other day I read an extensive dialogue in the ladies room about Harry Potter that was juxtaposed with a debate about who is better, Edward or Jacob, from the Twilight books. If you think about it, restrooms stalls offer us an unexpected yet very rich cultural site. Stall writing indeed reflects particular “values, attitudes, feelings, beliefs, and social relationships”, which Barton and Hamilton (1998) put forward in their social theory of literacy (p.6). Since finishing their book, Local literacies: Reading and writing in one community I’ve found myself intentionally searching for various day-to-day ways that people use literacy in their lives, and for me, restrooms represent just one example of literacy events as a social practice.

“In many literacy events there is a mixture of written and spoken language…but it is clear that in literacy events people use written language in a integrated way as part of a range of semiotic systems” (p. 9). This quote reminded me about graffiti, which our class touched on last week and was also mentioned in areas of Barton and Hamilton’s text. Graffiti is a form of social literacy practice that I find absolutely fascinating whether it is on a building or in a restroom. I’m drawn to it because of its visual appeal and international use; for me, it’s very much a form of art. It provokes people into questions. I respect the craftsmanship an artist has to possess to manipulate her/his media as well as the thought process and the conversations, either inside the artist's mind or outside with others, that go into creating compositions and choosing locations. The reactions of those in authority and other members of the public are intriguing too.

At a point in my life I was skeptical about the value and purpose of graffiti until an eye-opening trip I took to New York City. While there, I visited an enormous warehouse covered from top to bottom in a mural of graffiti. This living work of art is called 5Pointz and is a site where graffiti artists from around the world come to leave their marks. The experience of standing in front of this massive building pushed me into a space where I could being to think of graffiti as art. The building itself is a very powerful statement about graffiti as a means for making meaning on the individual level but also the social level. The images represent the voices of souls with something to say about their lived experiences. To consider a different approach to graffiti and learn more about the 5Pointz project in New York check out the following links:

Official website: http://5ptz.com/graff/

The head (CEO if you will) of the 5Pointz project speaking about it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnZp5Iv3Dd0

GREAT detailed images from 5Pointz: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxNLptLhDrc&feature=related

** All the quotation found in this entry are pulled from: Barton, D., & Hamilton, M. (1998). Local literacies: Reading and writing in one community. New York, NY: Routledge.

Visual Texts, Written Texts, & Myself

As I sat here this morning with my cup of green tea, I was attempting to figure out which of this week’s readings I wanted to reflect on for this blog entry. I had settled on writing a response to the chapter by Prior and Lunsford in the Handbook of research on writing entitled, History of reflection, theory, and research on writing. I was planning on tweezing out connections I saw between their ideas about comparative rhetorics with the work of linguist Robert Kaplan, who in the 1960s developed the idea of contrastive rhetorics that dealt with the writing differences of various cultures. I was also considering drawing some parallels between what I’ve been reading in structural semiotics with what the authors said about translation being “a site for intense reflection on writing” (p.86). But, the beckoning warm rays of the sun coaxed me outside for a walk where my mailbox foiled my original plan as soon as I opened it.

Inside was something I’ve been waiting weeks for with child-like excitement, a collection of books from Art 21, which is an ongoing PBS series that illuminates the work and issues of contemporary artists from around the globe. For weeks now, I’ve been engulfed in what I call “academic-mode” where I’m experiencing the theories, inquiries, and thick prose of scholars, and I’ve realized that I haven’t given time to my artist-self and this collection of book feed that inner space inside me. The visual world not only serves as my way into words, but it also serves as my way out of them. When I say the visual is my way out of words, I mean images give me chance to escape into a realm of feeling…of intuition…of experiencing. Whether I’m observing a visual landscape as in a painting or horses grazing in the fields or whether I’m creating a visual composition, the visual world allows me to muse within myself. In that space I can escape the demands and confines of word-laden modes of communication like reading, speaking, or writing. For me, much of visual art is about translating experiences, feelings, questions, and other contemplations into a visual form. The words of the poet Rainer Maria Rilke speak right to the conversations with art that happen in me on a deeper level, which I believe is rooted in spirit.

You must give birth to your images They are the future waiting to be born Fear not the strangeness that you feel

The future must enter you

Long before it happens.

To bring this blog entry full circle, which might prove to be problematic, I want to go back to Prior and Lunsford’s chapter 5 in the handbook. Even though Prior and Lunsford ascribe to a theoretical understanding of writing that is a “multimodal phenomenon”, which I agree with, as an artist I’m at times frustrated with academic dialogues about multimodality and visual literacy (p.82). Discussions of multimodality and visual literacy sometimes feel like a double-edges sword to me. I think it feels this way because in my head I’ve acquired competing narratives from the writing worlds I have encountered including composition theory, tutoring writing, my own writing, and my experiences learning about and creating visual artworks. Even though there is a push to extend the definition of writing to include other semiotic modes of communication, I wonder, like other scholars such as Kress & van Leeuwen*, if the verbal mode of communication is still viewed and honored as the most complete means by which to communicate, and how this affects other modes of communication?

I'm often disheartened when I stop to think about how frequently I've hidden the artist side of my identity...or only let it out in very small, digestible doses particularly in the academy but elsewhere as well. I silence myself for others and try to adapt myself to fit into other modes of doing and meaning making. When I think about my struggle to fit within others ways of doing I'm reminded of Min-zhan Lu's* text From silence to words: Writing as struggle. Even though this work is about her struggle to become a writer in the English language, I can relate to the main idea of feeling unable to communicate in one way but being required to. Overtime I've become bolder with respects to showing my artist identity, but many times I feel that I'm only ever given full permission to bring out that part of me in contexts with other artists. I’m also often left wondering: 1). where do creativity and imagination go when we start thinking about visual literacy as a set of skills one must acquire to understand today’s ever-changing, globalized world; 2). how has applying the term literacy to the visual changed the study of it and in what ways?

* The work I’m referring to here is their 1996 work Reading images: The grammar of visual design.

* Citation for Lu's text: Lu, M. (1987). From silence into words: Writing as struggle. College English, 49(4). 437-448.

Texts as Graphic Marker of Culture

The history of writing has marked the interplay between linguistics, socioeconomics, and the forces of technological change, an interplay that will shape the future of writing. (Schmandt-Besserat & Erard, p. 19)

The above quote acts as a summary of the chapters I read for this blog entry because speaks to the social and cultural forces that shape writing’s purpose and meaning. A couple of things struck me after reading the first three chapters from the Handbook of research on writing. The first thing that I was struck by was how refreshing it was to see a historical perspective, especially from the first two chapters Origins and forms of writing by Schmandt-Besserat & Erard, and History of writing technologies by Gabrial. Constantly being surrounded by lengthy academic prose in graduate school has to some degree skewed my view of writing. If someone was to ask me about writing, I believe I would find myself picturing initially recalling notions of authentic voice, process, audience and context for writing, references, multimodality, etc., but I don’t think I would have initially thought of the ancient cultures of Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica, and China. To read a historical account of writing that stretched all the way back to antiquity was energizing and highlights writing as a labor intensive processes.

The second point that I was stuck by really isn’t a single point rather the whole content from Chapter 3, History of typography. Even though this chapter documents the early inventions of typology, I found it fascinating to read because of my personal experiences with typeface as a visual arts student. One of the amazing things about different fonts is how they create an atmosphere and rhythm. How we choose to present something changes how a viewer interacts with it and typeface is no exception. The individual letters line up side-by-side to create words, then sentences, then paragraphs, and then pages. Even though fonts are small things they are powerful tools that shapes our contemporary global visual culture. One such example can be seen in a documentary I was a number of years ago in 2007 called, Helvetica. Helvetica is typeface that lacks the fancy embellishments of other typefaces. What is amazing about this particular typeface is how prevalent it is in our contemporary world. We can see it all over our visual landscape a few examples include logos from BMW, Lufthansa, Post-it, Staples, and Microsoft.

Check out the following links to learn more about this documentary: Official Helvetica Trailer // Film's Official Website // Short Clips from the Film

Texts are Creative Endeavors

How can we make people more productive and more creative? (p.109)

Writers are products of educational systems. (p. 110)

No one seems to agree on what the goal of good writing is anyway. (p. 111)

I pulled the above quotes from Louis Menand’s article, Show or tell should creative writing be taught, which I found to be rather a compelling discussion about writing, because it offers very thought provoking ideas as well as questions to dialogues surrounding writing.

What was particularly refreshing about this article was reading a piece that touches upon writing as a creative process. For me at least it seems like notions of creativity and imagination are often left out of academic discussions about writing…well at least those I have encounter. By discussions I mean the verbal exchanges I have witnessed and those I have been part of as well as the arguments I read about. Creativity & imagination are seldom, if ever, examined in depth. These concepts seem to be isolated to conversations about creative writing and aren’t brought up in other forms of writing such as academic prose. As products as well as producers of educational systems, how might our perceptions/conceptualization of writing be different writing was taught from the perspective of a creative writing vs. an academic, prose-based perspective? How might practices/skills from creative writing enhance how we approach writing in other settings?

Can creative writing be taught? This was the second part of Menand’s argument I found intriguing because it parallels my experiences in the visual arts as a student, a teacher, and an artist. Regardless of the area within the arts be it writing, visual, musical, can creativity be taught? I would have to agree with the statement Menand make “you can’t teach inspiration, but you can teach craft” (p. 111). I can teach someone how to: clean a paintbrush, mixed colors and color theory, stretch a canvas, apply paint in different ways, and so on. I can teach about the histories of art, philosophies of art, and critiques of art along with various artists' works, styles, ideas, and theories. But the individual immersed in doing, in creating is the one who has to find the inspiration, creativity, and imagination from whatever source(s) they come. The creative process is a highly personalized venture. The individual must transmute their ideas through their chosen media into an object, which can serves as a lens into view and understand our human experiences.

I think what makes creativity and imagination difficult, if not impossible to teach, is that they are slippery concepts. They don’t possess universal definitions. They are to some degree highly individualized and mean different things to people. They vary across time and space. They don’t have right answers requiring people to live with and navigate through ambiguities.

Texts are Historically Charged Object

The historical accounts from Monaghan and Saul (1987), Myers (1996), and Nystrand, Greene, and Wiemelt (1993) provided a great deal of contextual knowledge with respects to understanding literacy’s development along side the societal growth of the United States both inside and outside of educational settings. For me, these writings illuminated just how significant the interplay between cultural, political, and intellectual factors were and continue to be with respects to literacy studies. Such factors sculpt our perceptions of literacy and how we to one degree or another perpetuate particular attitudes and beliefs about literacy.

One thing that was rather surprising to me was how disturbed I was initially when I finished reading the works by Monaghan and Saul (1987) and Myers (1996). I found myself up in arms about how individuals have historically separated reading and writing into two very distinct literacy practices and more so how writing has always taken a proverbial backseat to reading. While the past may not reflect our current views of writing and reading, we, as practitioners and scholars, should not become so frustrated with the past that we discount it. Rather we should try to understand that what constitutes a literacy practice shifts with a society’s needs, which was clearly a theme from the readings. I find comfort in the fact that more and more people are contemplating the interconnectedness between reading and writing. One such example that comes to mind is the 2001 publication by Belcher & Hirvela, Linking Literacies, which explores the connections between reading and writing in second language learning. Understanding how different modes of human communication interact and enhance one another will certainly broaden how we define literacy. Yet, I’m wary of the bandwagon effect that might happen if we rely solely upon their interconnections. Even though reading, writing, and other forms of communication can be linked, we still need to honor them and see them as separate modes of human communication that do distinct things.

In connection to the readings mentioned in the first paragraph, I find myself wanting to borrow the term “the weight of tradition” from Monaghan and Saul (1987) in relationship to my experiences as a writing tutor (p. 86). My time tutoring allowed me to witness just how many traditional conceptions of and attitudes about writing still persist within in minds of individuals. The individuals I encountered as a writing tutor consisted of students/tutees, graduate assistants, professors, and even the general public. Grammar, spelling, punctuations, thesis statements, topic sentences, and flow were often viewed as important point to “good writing”. From my conversations with people creativity, imagination, and authenticity were rarely, if ever, brought up as points associated with “good writing”. I remember countless times were students asked me to “fix” their paper...as if something was wrong with their work and I had the authority like a doctor to prescribe the right, magical answer(s) to make a good paper.

In recollection of my tutoring experiences, I’m triggered to think again about the long held Process vs. Product debate in the compositions field. Some of the question I’m considering in relationship to this debate are: 1). Who defines “good” writing and “bad” writing?; 2).To what degree (or) how much of writing is a process and how much of writing is product?; 3). How much liberty can a writer actually take with the writing she/he does?; 4). In what ways does the context for writing determine the product that is created?; 5). How might our conceptualizations of writing differ if we began by teaching it as a creativity endeavor verses prose-based, structured artifact?