Developing a Community-driven, Neighborly "Writers Block"
A Philosophy for Teaching College Composition & Literature in Face-to-Face and Online Learning Environments
I want my composition and literature students to have writers' block. That’s right, plural possessive, not singular, not the kind of block that first springs to mind. I want them to live every moment of their lives in a perpetual state of writers’ block, like the one shown in the cartoon above, where every student has equal opportunity to learn from other writers and has mastered the skills to read, write, and communicate effectively with fully engaged, vital voices in their neighborhoods, families, social circles, churches, schools, workplaces, political spheres, and personal moments of reflection. I want my students to see writing and reading as a powerful act of community that is open to all, an investment in an ongoing communal conversation, a commitment to a conversation of diverse voices in which each voice brings essential unique perspectives to the conversation and deserves equal respect and consideration. This is not my empty ideal; this is my fleshed-out teaching philosophy.
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Yes, I am a zealot. I have to be. I teach students in first-year composition and literature GE courses, courses that students sign up for not because they are eager to read and write but because they are eager to check off the requirement and be done with reading and writing. At this point, my students don’t see themselves (yet) as vital members of a living, breathing community, and they too often fail to see what relevance writing and reading have to do with “real life.” So, my teaching philosophy and instructional design is tactical, rhetorical, and universal—to persuade, to win over, to impart the vision that I see: that every voice (written, spoken, texted, or Instagramed) matters, and that the future is shaped by the community’s response.
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To move my student writers from novice to expert, I must first help them get over the other kind of block, the one with the power to shut down an individual’s voice— the dreaded singular, isolating writer’s block. What student writer hasn’t suffered writer’s block? And what student reader hasn’t at least occasionally felt excluded from and confounded by the party of voices atwitter in a text or a classroom? Both situations often present themselves in my first-year composition and literature courses, and the skills required of my student writer/readers can seem inaccessible and unattainable. For too many students, the temptation to shut up, disengage, or quit may quash any personal resolve to the contrary. I get this. I have experienced both writer’s and reader’s block myself. But whether a writer is faced with the problem presented by a blank page (and perhaps an attendant blank mind) or a reader is faced with the problem of analyzing a dense text full of complex ideas, pedagogical solutions abound that can unblock, equip, engage, and empower even the most blocked writer. This is where I come in.
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To deconstruct individual writer’s block and construct in its place a thriving and neighborly community of writers, I intentionally design a universal, inclusive, accessible, collaborative learning environment that embraces learners of multiple learning styles, cultures, objectives, and experiences. To begin, I assess the learning needs of my students. My students may have multilingual needs. In the community colleges where I have taught, we have many first language Spanish, Chinese, and Arabic speakers. My certification in Applied Linguistics and English as a Second Language has given me the training and sensitivity to address their unique needs. Some of my students may be non-traditional older adult learners. For example, students in the adult degree completion program and in the RN-to-BSN programs at the community colleges face particular challenges in balancing work, family, and academic schedules. My certification in Teaching Adult Learners has prepared me well for teaching this demographic. Some students come from privileged, disadvantaged, or marginalized classes (i.e. classes identified by socioeconomic status, race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation). These students present the classroom with a wealth of perspectives that enrich the conversation. Some students live with a disability (e.g. visual impairment, autism, ADHD, anxiety, or depression). To meet their learning needs, I work with the Office of Instructional Technologies and with the Center for Teaching and Learning to ensure ADA compliance in online and in-class materials and teaching strategies. Students may be the first in the family to attend college, and we celebrate every step closer to their goals. Once I’ve assessed my learners’ needs and designed the curriculum so as to support those needs, I’m ready to teach.