To theorize, to frame our experiences or conceptualize our teacher-learner world, as a means of fostering dialogue between dense readings such as those put forth by Dobrin and Weisser, Owens, Drew, and Cooper, and our ongoing teaching experiences is at once a seemingly tall order and a crucial means of creating a more effective and aware environment for our students to compose and become active—and interactive—citizens and writers. And now my sentences and thoughts have become equally complex and jam-packed. I apologize.
Ecocomposition, a field new enough to not be in spellcheck yet, is, as Dobrin and Weisser suggest in Breaking Ground, not ecocriticism (a field of literary criticism with an ecological lens), but instead, “is concerned with textual production and the environments that affect and are affected by the production of discourse” (577). To consider one of our goals as writing composition instructors operating within a theme of sustainability as ecocompositionists seems a logical step to take. And an important one. We must be aware of the environment in which we and our students operate, whether it is natural or manmade, because writing is an act of reflection and relationship. It is directly tied to who our students are, where they come from, and the social and cultural structures in which they travel, in addition to the spaces – be they rolling hills or urban jungles—from which they come and in which they write. In The Politics of Place, Drew recommends an examined consciousness of the various civic arenas in which we all write; to not conceal or forget that students, “do inhabit external, politicized spaces….already engaged in various forms of critical thinking” (61-62). Her term “students-as-travelers” sheds light on the idea of empowering students, not as novices, but as people with backgrounds and dialogic power to exert on and communicate with the world, both in and outside of academia. To assist students in understand “those forces that are working for and against their authorship,” (67) in addition to control over grammar, punctuation, organization and so on may seem marginal, but is integral in making them aware of their place in the rhetorical triangle and as a writer, activist, and human being.
Drew’s attention to the politics of place in regard to pedagogy collides with that of Dobrin and Weisser in Breaking Ground, who after highlighting the importance of incorporating ecology and current environmental crises into the curriculum dig deeper into using inquiry to investigate the relationship between nature and culture, people and places, but also using writing as an action of citizenry. Dobrin and Weisser suggest the role of environmental issues change in the classroom from “subjects that students read and write about, think about, rather than participate in” (579). I think it is crucial that our students are participants in the subjects and spheres they are communicating. If there is anything to write about or in a few centuries down the road, it has to come from a culture that is aware of its role in the destruction of the environment, from students-as-travelers-as-action-oriented-citizen capable of communicating with an audience beyond the classroom. Cooper mirrors this in The Ecology of Writing with her proposal to create a new “ecological model of writing, whose fundamental tenet is that writing is an activity through which a person is continually engaged with a variety of socially constituted systems” (367).
Owens, too, touches on this in Composition and Sustainability. He seems to recommend entirely new curricula built on a firmer understanding of basic natural cycles and ecological relationships so that students are prepared to communicate in a world where environmental crises are actually understood and dealt with. So that down the road, there is still a world in which people, academia, and therefore curricula exist. It makes perfectly good sense. What seemed particularly poignant in his essay, though, was his concern for the real-life, sustainable applicability of what goes on in the composition classroom. We have to understand that are students are graduating in a few years and don’t only need jobs that pay the bills, but jobs that ensure a flourishing relationship between people and the environment. It is the teachers responsibility toward the students to provide them with strategies and guide them toward jobs that “increase the general well-being of humankind through service, a creative invention and ethical philosophy” (32), a quote he actually borrows from Paul Hawken’s The Ecology of Commerce: A Declaration of Sustainability.
Overall, these essays suggested a sense of urgency to inform students about the natural world while allowing for a broad definition of their relationships with place and to provide them with strategies to be in active dialogue with environmental issues and culture. Additionally, defining what sustainability and ecocomposition are and how they relate to pedagogy and the field of composition in academia seemed a key component to each essay. This, I suspect, is also a hurdle we will have in figuring out how to teach-learn our WRIT 101 classes: understanding and communicated complicated themes and fields while keeping in mind the practical application of important skills within appropriate contexts.
I like how you describe writing as “an act of reflection and relationship.” I agree with you on this point, but I am also intrigued with the way that Dobrin and Weisser take this idea further. It seems that they are arguing that language in general (which I am sure includes writing) is a means of forming students’ thoughts and very identity. This idea is introduced in the beginning of the article and expanded in the section titled Growth of the Field” (567). The authors state that “Ecocompositionists have embraced the notion that human thought and conduct are (most likely) always mediated through language, and they identify such mediation as the source for the construction of nature, place, environment, and the conduct and behavior directed a those locations” (570). Here is seems that the authors are asserting that environment (natural or manmade) and words cannot be separated, that humans construct their surrounding through language. As a poet, this is a fascinating idea: that all experience is mediated through language and that we live in a world constructed by words. While I would like to agree whole-heartedly with this thought, I feel it would be at the risk of closing off other modes of understanding. What about ritual, action or meditation as other mediators of human thought and conduct? What about the depth of thought that is inexpressible in language? It seems that Dobrin and Weisser have also considered these mysteries, because they did insert “(most likely)” before their assertion (570). What Dobrin and Weisser do offer is a helpful tool in understanding how humans may construct their understanding of their environment. Words offer powerful ways of understanding the world and our relationship therein. As teachers of ecocompostion, we can empower students to look to language as a means of creating and influencing environments.
ReplyDeleteI really connected with Weisser's classroom suggestions about "hypertexting" assignments. Bringing together ideas has always been the power of the internet, and its great to see examples of how its used in the classroom. The hypertexting activity he describes seems perfect for ecocomposition. If every student participates in the activity of Webbed Writing it literally gets them all on the same page. It forces collaboration and engagement. When that many ideas are brought together an enhanced understanding is a result.
ReplyDeleteI'ved used hypertexting before as a way to approach a difficult piece of post modern literature. It really does work, and using it with Ecocomposition seems like a natural fit for what the discursive practice is trying to accomplish. We need to bring our "semioshperes" together and engage our conversations with a common "bioshpere" that we all share. A classroom is a perfect place build a model for how it can be done.
In the Dobrin and Weisser article, the authors state that, "These two central spheres of human life- the biosphere and the semiosphere- are mutually dependent upon each other" (574). This sentence succinctly summarizes the article's main point; not only is our discourse shaped by our environment (consciously or unconsciously), but it also shapes our environment. Anthropocentric though this may sound, it only makes sense that, as humans, language is our mode of interpreting and therefore creating the physical world in which we live.
ReplyDeleteWhile I agree with Joel’s above comments about the usefulness of bringing this connection to the classroom, I disagree with his assertion that we all share a “common biosphere.” True, we live in the same town as our students and could even live in the same house with them (were it not a conflict of interests!), but I believe that our individual biospheres would still not be “common,” owing to the fact that each person constructs his or her own biosphere through their unique discourse. Perhaps this is an extreme example, but I think it further illustrates the point the author’s make when they quote Herndl and Brown as saying that the environment “is a concept and an associated set of cultural values that we have constructed through the way we use language” (574).
“Writing as an action of citizenry,” to use Grace’s words, was an especially important revelation for me in the reading of these articles. I have always regarded the writing of poetry, as well as fiction, creative nonfiction and journalism, as profession bordering on citizen’s responsibility to speak and criticize, and in so doing, act as a catalyst for social change – but somehow that attitude stopped for me just outside the composition classroom. I’m not sure why. Perhaps because I didn’t feel like a writer-citizen in my own freshman composition classroom (I barely even felt like a student-writer). Perhaps because at the end of our teaching orientation, despite all of Kate’s instruction to the contrary, I was utterly overwhelmed by the prospect of “Teaching My Students to Write Well” and “Making Sure Everyone Passes My Class.” Never mind instructing them in the act of writing as, to use Cooper’s term, “social activity” and, to echo Laurel, a means of positively impacting and shaping their environments. And yet, in thinking about how I wanted this class to function, I instinctually turned to media that would make their writing relevant beyond the classroom: the tried and true blogosphere. Primarily, I believed if their writing was public, they would be more purposeful with their words (and perhaps reread before posting), but I am finding that when I move their writing from the classroom to the blog, their assignments lack a certain emptiness caused by the insularity of the classroom or at least the classroom as I conduct it to the best of my abilities right now; their public writing carries more weight for them. Suffice to say that I will be weaving rhetoric from these articles into our class dialogue, as we talk about what writing in the public sphere means and why we do it and how we can transform our WRIT 101 assignments into the works of writer-citizens.
ReplyDeleteI connected with Dobrin and Weisser and their concern with the importance of the environment that produces writing. I agree with Laurel and Nole, that there is a special aspect of writing in terms as you say, “reflection and relationship.” As I’m beginning to understand and grasp entirely exactly what it means to be a writing instructor, it becomes a little easier to think of writing as a product of the classroom. If the classroom is a healthy space where all stories, connections and sets of knowledge that span from urban jungles to the Great Plains, can be celebrated and validated, then the better the connection to their written stories. In short, if we can draw a very real, transparent and supportive tie between class discourse and each student’s relationship and reflection to their own sense of place, then I imagine the better the ‘textual production’ will be? This seems to be what Dobrin and Weisser imply and I hope I can try this as much as I’m able in my own class.
ReplyDeleteI’d also like to offer that is idea transcends more than only writing classes. In terms of ecocomposition and sustainability, it seems the more connection a student has to his or her environment and place, the better their connection and longevity to their specific field of study. Perhaps this is largely dependent upon whether or not the university as an institution, communicates to the student the validity of this connection. I like to think this relationship between the university, a student’s home and place of knowledge and their writing begins in WRIT 101.
Grace,
ReplyDeleteYou’ve done such a good job of connecting the concepts from all three readings. I’m especially interested in your assertion that each article encourages and empowers students to participate in conversations outside of academia. As you said, it’s very important to view our students not only as writers (a word which, for most, conjures the image of a solitary figure scrawling on paper, though these articles would have us envision otherwise), but as active participants in various discourses and environments. Fostering critical thinking and passion, if not full-on activism, should, in my opinion (and apparently Drew’s, who advocates viewing “students-as-travelers”) be a goal of every writing instructor. This links to Owens’ six tenets of sustainable pedagogy—as he suggests, we should arm our students with the ability to deconstruct the assumptions of consumer culture (which is too often eco-UNfriendly).
I also strongly agree with your concluding remark, that we as Writ 101 instructors must decipher and relay “complicated themes and fields” with their “practical application” in mind. As you suggest in your introduction, the essays on ecocompostion, sustainable pedagogy, and ecological writing that we’ve read for 540 are dense and demanding readings—but as teacher-learners we must (and, as a part of this blog post-writing and commenting assignment, already have) boil down the key concepts of each article in order to apply concepts of each to our own teaching. As Dobrin and Weisser assert in their explication of ecocomposition, writing is not a static nor a secluded act, but is situated within an environment of discourse and thus influenced by many other thinkers and writers. I also see teaching in this same light, as a dynamic and ever-evolving act that relates to an environment of pedagogical discourse.
Hi Grace,
ReplyDeleteI am also drawn to the idea of students as both citizens and writers and I love that you explore this idea in your post. I think it is important that our students understand how their environments shapes them as people and why this relationship should be involved in their writing. I have already been asked by several of my students “Why are we writing about sustainability?” This was a question I wanted them to answer for themselves. On the first day of class I asked my students what they thought of when they heard the word sustainability. Most of my students shrugged and said “recycling” when pressed on the subject. Now when the subject is broached in class they have interesting things to add to the discussion because they are realizing that sustainability is both diverse in subject matter and multifaceted in approach. That’s why I really like the emphasis surrounding the idea that they should be both citizens and writers because they should be involved in writing about the places they have been, where they are today, and where they will go next.
I agree with Brittany that our students should be “active participants” in their environments and they can accomplish this by writing about their experiences and interactions with the places and people they live around and with. One of the quotes that stuck out to me in the readings was the one you included towards the end of your post by Owens stating that our writers should be aiming to “increase the general well-being of humankind through service, a creative invention and ethical philosophy.” (Owens 32) I agree that the emphasis should be on how an individual relates to a whole and how they can make an impact on both themselves and the world around them by writing in a manner that is both creative and ethical.
I, like Laurel, was both intrigued and bothered by the notion put forth by Dobrin and Weisser that “all reality, including nature, is discursively constructed” (573). I am curious as to how other cultures relate to and therefore create their environments via language. I have observed situations in which this idea has and is being played out with devastating consequences: Palestinians and Israelis, living in proximity, have created lexicons both similar and disparate for the same landscape. Judea and Samaria, the West Bank, Palestine, the Occupied Palestinian Territories, all of these names refer to the same geographic location, but have vastly different connotations. When individuals from the various sides see the ancient hills, the olive trees, the flat-roofed stone buildings, they inevitably bring their own histories and lenses to the interpretation and creation of the landscape. Eretz Israel. Il Ard il Filisteen. Who wins? The person or groups who shout the loudest, who describe their narratives most persuasively to the audience members (in this case the international community)? Or the ones with the biggest guns? If the latter is true, the reality in these places is being created not by words but by power. Perhaps more importantly, how long can the land itself sustain a war of competing discourses and identities (and this is true for the U.S. as well)? How much history and identity can one landscape bear? Violence, through both word and action, is being done to the disputed lands, though the lands are idealized rhetorically, and violence is sustained by violence.
ReplyDeleteDobrin and Weisser seem to address the problem of conflicting discourses in their statement, “whereas a healthy biosphere is one that supports a variety of symbiotic life forms, a healthy semiosphere is one that enables differences to coexist and be articulated. In both a material and a discursive sense, differences are a critical measure of a system's health” (574). As a result of my particular lens, I am aware of the enormous difficulty often involved in changing minds, as well as in existing peacefully with others' differences. Some of the readings express the idea that it is the role of the composition instructor not only to impart writing skills, but also to convert students from mindless consumers to participating citizens aware of their eco-responsibilities. This is a lovely notion, but it strikes me as a bit idealized, and an overwhelming task. I will be pleased if some of my students explore ideas outside of their comfort zones in their writing. I hope to cultivate a space for students to think and write critically about what they believe and how they live their lives, a space with enough room for healthy differences.
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ReplyDeleteGrace
ReplyDeleteI like the idea that you bring in the infancy of Ecocomposition in general. Its tenacity to be multifarious to all extremes in regards to the number of discourses and theories it can filter into render the ability to approach it from a pedagogical standpoint to be...difficult. Many of the social constructs and principles of "space" in general seem contrived to allow Ecocomposition to bleed itself into all compositional disciplines and theories, as if the whole time it has been there right under our nose, which I am hesitant to agree with or disagree with.
I like Beth's idea of the culture of language that Ecocomposition gives rise to and what the implications of that are. I also think that Laurel's statement that "humans construct their surrounding through language," poses a dangerous crossroad as to what is imitating what. Do we attribute the constructs of our identity in regards to place to shape our language of self and space, or do the constructs of the identity that place instills in us shape our language of self and description?
I am constantly having my students look at the language in poems and articles in relation to place, identity, and environment. We have to ask what external factors motivate the language, tone, and voice they are engaging in. With that, students are able to see that language can play a powerful role in relation to how it allows us to define our environment, and how our environment serves to define us.