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Shifting the Perspective on Writing Instruction

Earlier this fall, I sat in on the English department meeting where there was much discussion around the revised General Education student learning outcomes (SLOs) for the Composition program. At our college, students are required to take English 1010, and depending on their program, possibly English 1020. Departmental leadership recently decided to move our courses into greater alignment with partner institutions, where 1010 is traditionally a basic composition course and 1020 focuses on the information literacy and research aspects of academic writing. This shift is a significant departure from the old sequence of 1010 (academic writing and research) and 1020 (literature and literary analysis). Change is never easy, and these changes (along with other institutional mandates) have necessitated a lot of adaptation in recent years.


And now faculty must also face the existential threat that is Generative AI. I appreciate the work of Marc Watkins at Rhetorica for his candid thoughts on how the pace of development in the AI field is forcing educators to grapple with something few would have requested, as well as his insistence (citing the work of the MLA-CCCC Joint Task Force on Writing and AI) that we remember: "Engaging with AI isn't Adopting AI." While Watkins (and others) are rightly and helpfully doing practical work around AI in the classroom, there is another vital component to the discourse, one that does what great educators have always done: begin with the end in mind.


This framework, championed by Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe in Understanding By Design, suggests that before an educator considers any particular content or assessment strategy, they must first determine what they hope students will know, understand, or be able to do at the end of the course. Then, everything they build is held up to that expected outcome. These ideas are why (at least partially) the department was revising its program SLOs and why our institution has ISLOs -- things we expect all of our graduates to have attained when they complete their program. We can't make a plan if we don't know what we are building.


Before I was a librarian, I was a teacher, and most of my years in the classroom found me teaching first-year composition courses. I have always been a fierce advocate for student voice, and that advocacy has taken on a different urgency as I consider the future of composition programs through the lens of AI. Where once I argued against plagiarism-detection software like Turnitin for the way it devalues student voice (a position I still hold), now I want to help faculty see the threat of AI for what it is: a tool that legitimizes the wholesale elimination of student voice.


For the record, I am not anti-AI. I am intrigued by its history, the potential use-cases that might bear fruit, and by the questions its intrusion into education has wrought. The biggest of these is one we may well need to ask ourselves: What's the point?


In many cases, we teach what and how we do because that's what has always been done. Possibly those original decisions were sound, resulting in curricula that adhere to the backward design framework described above. But those of us who work in the literacies (here, I include traditional literacy -- reading and writing -- as well as information, digital, media, visual, and yes, even AI literacy) must reconsider our purpose. We must reimagine our courses or maybe even our programs, beginning with the end in mind. But what end?


In the past, we have argued that students, even those with no plans for a career in academia or as a writer, must have the ability to read complex texts and write lengthy papers. The world of "Education" has insisted we respond to questions of "career readiness" or "real life application," a stance I've often balked at for two reasons:


  1. It isn't true

  2. It isn't enough.


Of course, without access to AI, employees do need to be able to read and write emails, reports, and other work-related communication. But we all know individuals who are fully successful despite limited skill in this area. Most people in their daily work get by on well less than what is expected in a traditional composition program.


But it's the second argument that is most salient here. If all we have to offer is "you will need this one day, trust us," we should be very concerned. With Generative AI available to read and summarize any text-based communication for us and to create all manner of communication on our behalf, we have no leg to stand on when the business department encourages its students to use AI to write memos or reports. If it's what most are doing in the field, it should be taught. But that doesn't mean composition programs must now be seen as obsolete. There's always been a more important reason for the work we do: developing student voice.


Writing is thinking, and without practice, students will struggle to identify, articulate, and trust their own ideas -- they won't recognize their own voice. We will still have emails and reports and slide presentations, but students won't see themselves in what they create. In fact, they may already feel that way in many of their classes. And writing faculty have always been able to discern the difference between an engaged mind and one that is just checking the rubric boxes. But thus far, we've expected to "see" that engagement in the finished work they produce. The option of Generative AI now forces us to consider what we value most and how we might conceivably measure it. It insists we look closely at the habits of mind we want to develop in students and build courses around those skills and practices.


So, what happens if we distill our courses down to the most essential skills, albeit the ones that are hardest (if not impossible) to assess using standardized metrics? What if we write learning outcomes like these?

At the conclusion of this course, successful students will . . .
  • Demonstrate their growth as curious and creative readers, thinkers, and writers

  • Ask thoughtful questions - of the texts, of classmates, and of themselves

  • Write with a spirit of “having something to say” and do it with confidence

  • Believe in the power of words and of their own voices

  • Cultivate and defend their opinions, recognizing and responding to their own bias and the potential bias of others


I wrote these course objectives years ago, and I would likely revise them now, but I am confident they would remain effective as a guide toward my ultimate goal of developing students -- as people and thinkers. As a librarian, I know that students' research will only be as strong as their investment in the questions they are asking and the ideas they are grappling with. The ACRL Framework for Information Literacy for Higher Education aligns with this perspective, calling, as it does, for students to see "Research as Inquiry" and "Scholarship as Conversation."


Seen through this frame, the shifts in our composition program make perfect sense. For students to participate in the conversation of scholarship, they must first have and trust their own voice. For students to engage with research as inquiry, they must first identify and articulate the questions they actually have. In this way, we can equip our students more fully: English 1010 develops their voice and champions their ideas while English 1020 invites them to bring that empowered voice to the scholarly conversation. And though we may explore ways that Generative AI tools might be useful, a student could never achieve those course outcomes by using Generative AI.


Here, then, are a few practical ideas to consider:

  • Instead of grading papers, offer feedback and assessment on ideas, process, and voice

  • Move more of the "writing process" into the classroom

  • Have students give you an assignment in the first week, and then demonstrate how you work through your process -- from idea-generation to draft. Encourage their critique!

  • Build assignments that celebrate individual voice and view

  • Consider alternatives to the traditional paper -- a podcast or video script involves just as much writing and research as an essay, perhaps more. A photo caption demonstrates voice and identity and encourages discussion around rhetorical modes.

  • Ask your librarian to collaborate. Our job is to connect you to resources and to be your support in making your course as effective as possible!


My thoughts on the subject are necessarily incomplete, of course. The field will continue to evolve, especially as new innovations are introduced, and so will my thinking. But like my course outcomes above, I believe in the power of words and the strength that can only come when someone finds and trusts their own voice.







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