What is the most difficult thing to teach? And Audience!

To the high school students that I teach, getting started seems to be the biggest challenge. This is particularly a problem in my on-level junior class. The ever present “I don’t know what to write” statement rings in my ears at the end of each essay-writing day. Regardless of the prompt that they are given, they need to me to hold their little hands to write down the first few words through the thesis, then show them what is needed in the body paragraphs.

There are four forms of writing that we typically teach each year, though it varies some: an argument essay, a business letter (proposal, to a state representative or something), a personal narrative, and a literary analysis.  No matter how much we discuss the prompt or “brainstorm” as a class, when the pen goes into their hand, they freeze up. Traditionally, we have given them a template to write from as a jumping off point. Sentence starters help too, but each year that we do this I have a dilemma with whether or not we should be helping them this much. These tools help them some and provide an essential scaffold for my English language learners or my students that struggle with reading/writing disabilities. In a few years, at the college-level, they will most likely not be given this much assistance. But then again, how many of them are realistically going to attend college? And shouldn't they all be given this opportunity anyway?

In “Writing as a Mode of Learning”, I found the differences between writing and talking to be particularly helpful reminders when it comes to teaching a task that is quite unnatural for many. It seems that many English teachers are more “natural” writers than the average person would be, and I am definitely guilty of forgetting that the overwhelming feeling of permanence in an essay must be challenging for students. To the untrained writer, it “tends to be a more responsible and committed act than talking” (Emig 7). Additionally, Vygotsky’s research about learning and writing clarifies the intense connections and duality of the essay-composing and learning processes. For example, if I provide my students with a formulaic word for word template, they are technically writing and simply “plugging in” the right answers rather than metacognitively drawing their own conclusions and compiling their thoughts, even if it doesn’t look very pretty.

When I teach rhetoric to AP juniors, we start with the rhetorical triangle: audience, speaker, and purpose. We look at speeches and letters and identify these three things in writing. We rhetorically analyze throughout the semester and the second semester, they are typically able to formulate fairly well thought out arguments. When analyzing MLK’s Letter from Birmingham Jail, we note the differences in rhetorical strategies used in comparison to his “I Have a Dream” speech. As CT stated, “speaking and writing are, after all, rhetorical acts” and there are “important differences” between the two (Ede and Lunsford 84). Even though we study this extensively, it is difficult for me to help the bright and articulate “untrained” writer to compose an essay reflective of his or her ideas.

Revising is also difficult to teach, mostly because of resistance from the student. It has definitely not proven to be a “powerful stimulus” in the case of most students because they refuse to “accede to the expectations of the audience” (Ede and Lunsford 90). The only way I can consistently get them to rewrite a completed draft is to grade it and hand it back as a chance to revise for a better grade, noting my commentary (as the audience) as a way to improve. Teacher trickery at its finest.