Speak for Yourself , livre ebook

National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) - Susanne Rubenstein

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96 pages

English

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Susanne Rubenstein shows how to focus on voice in the teaching of writing to help students take ownership of their work, enjoy what they’re writing, and produce writing that shows depth of thought and originality of expression.

As writing instruction becomes more standardized and structured, student voices grow silent. Speak for Yourself: Writing with Voice places a new emphasis on voice in the teaching of writing. Armed with the philosophy and concrete teaching ideas offered in this book, teachers can find the courage to speak up in order to create writing classrooms where students take ownership of their work, enjoy what they’re writing, and produce writing that shows depth of thought and originality of expression. This book acknowledges the pressures English teachers face in today’s educational climate, but challenges teachers to rally their expertise and enthusiasm so that student writers develop voice and speak for themselves.

Sujets

Writting

Disciplines

Language Arts

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Publié par	National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE)
Date de parution	22 octobre 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780814100431
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,1250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

S PEAK FOR Y OURSELF
NCTE Editorial Board

Steven Bickmore
Catherine Compton-Lilly
Deborah Dean
Antero Garcia
Bruce McComiskey
Jennifer Ochoa
Staci M. Perryman-Clark
Anne Elrod Whitney
Vivian Yenika-Agbaw
Kurt Austin, Chair, ex officio
Emily Kirkpatrick, ex officio

Lines from “Hazel Tells Laverne” by Katharyn Howd Machan reprinted by permission of the author.
Staff Editor: Bonny Graham
Manuscript Editor: The Charlesworth Group
Interior Design: Jenny Jensen Greenleaf
Cover Design: Dever Designs
Cover Image: iStockphoto.com/proxima
NCTE Stock Number: 46149; eStock Number: 46156
ISBN 978-0-8141-4614-9; eISBN 978-0-8141-4615-6
©2018 by the National Council of Teachers of English.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the copyright holder. Printed in the United States of America.
It is the policy of NCTE in its journals and other publications to provide a forum for the open discussion of ideas concerning the content and the teaching of English and the language arts. Publicity accorded to any particular point of view does not imply endorsement by the Executive Committee, the Board of Directors, or the membership at large, except in announcements of policy, where such endorsement is clearly specified.
NCTE provides equal employment opportunity (EEO) to all staff members and applicants for employment without regard to race, color, religion, sex, national origin, age, physical, mental or perceived handicap/disability, sexual orientation including gender identity or expression, ancestry, genetic information, marital status, military status, unfavorable discharge from military service, pregnancy, citizenship status, personal appearance, matriculation or political affiliation, or any other protected status under applicable federal, state, and local laws.
Every effort has been made to provide current URLs and email addresses, but because of the rapidly changing nature of the Web, some sites and addresses may no longer be accessible.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Rubenstein, Susanne, 1954- author.
Title: Speak for yourself : writing with voice / Susanne Rubenstein.
Description: Urbana, Illinois : National Council of Teachers of English, [2018] | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018028673 (print) | LCCN 2018055767 (ebook) | ISBN 9780814146156 (ebook) | ISBN 9780814146149 (pbk.) | ISBN 9780814146156 (ebk.)
Subjects: LCSH: Creative writing (Secondary education) | English language —Composition and exercises—Study and teaching (Secondary)
Classification: LCC LB1631 (ebook) | LCC LB1631 .R833 2018 (print) | DDC 808/.0420712–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018028673
Writing is the painting of the voice. —Voltaire
Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1 That Elusive Thing Called “Voice”
CHAPTER 2 “I Openers”
CHAPTER 3 “Who Taught You Not to Write Like That?”
CHAPTER 4 “Who Taught You to Write Like This?”
CHAPTER 5 The Magic of Memoir
CHAPTER 6 Making a Case for It
CHAPTER 7 But What's It Worth?

EPILOGUE
NOTES
WORKS CITED
INDEX
AUTHOR
Acknowledgments

T his book is for my friend Bette Fauteux. As a teacher, writer, and person in the world, Bette never shied away from an opportunity to speak up, and she did so with intelligence, wit, and passion. I miss her very much, but I believe I will always be able to hear her voice in my ear, and, for that, I am truly grateful.
I want to thank all those who offered me continued patience, support, and encouragement, especially Skip, Michael O'Sullivan, and Bonny Graham at the National Council of Teachers of English. And, of course, I thank my students, whose voices so deserve to be heard.
Introduction
When I pronounce the word Silence, / I destroy it.
—W ISLAWA S ZYMBORSKA , “The Three Oddest Words”
M y students have grown quiet lately. Oh, they still chatter in the halls, and I do have to remind them to quiet down as morning announcements sound over the PA system. They ask questions when I give an assignment, and they gather around my desk before and after class, jockeying for my attention. So they haven't lost the ability to speak aloud, but, on paper, they barely whisper. The words are there, loopy lines across the page or well-ordered blocks of type, so I know they still have language. What they have lost is voice , that which fills silence not with sound or symbol but with self. And when I think about this, I realize that my students have lost their voice in part because their teacher—me—has done the same. This book is an attempt to rectify that.
Years ago, when I was a young teacher, I was drawn to teaching writing because it so quickly and deeply connected me to my students. Shy, often self-conscious teenagers revealed themselves in their written words. The cockiest of adolescent boys exposed his vulnerability when he wrote about the girl who broke his heart. The silent, sullen teenager in the back row played out the drama of divorce on paper, and she made me hear who she was before her world collapsed. Students caused me to laugh with their edgy humor and surprised me with their angry rants. And it wasn't just the content, the truthfulness of experience that made their words so powerful. It was the voice behind their words, the way in which they shaped and shared experience to produce writing that was arresting and original. I knew my students better years ago. I knew them as people because I knew them as writers who spoke in voices loud and blustery, cool and composed, comic or callous, soft or serious, and above all authentic. Through their writing, I heard them, as loud and clear as that cliché I've taught them to avoid proclaims. I always used to tell my students that my goal in any English course was to help them grow as writers, so much so that if, at the end of the semester, I asked each student to write a paper and hand it in typed with the name removed, I would know immediately who the author was because each individual voice would be so strong. That voice, I told them, is like a fingerprint. It is your identity. I'm not sure when I stopped telling my students this. I don't know when it seemed to have become an unattainable goal. But what I do know is that it's not my students’ fault; it's mine, because I too have grown quiet in the face of an educational system that has come to value proficiency and efficiency over artistry and individuality.
This is not a book that rails against a system that places test results above everything else—or maybe it is. It is definitely not a book that envisions a world without testing, or that seeks to defeat the forces that have made assessment the center of the educational universe. That is a political battle, which some of us are game to fight—and I applaud that. But, in the meantime, while we hope for the proverbial pendulum to swing back to student-centered classrooms, our students now are being silenced, and that is a battle each one of us must fight.
This is a book that asks teachers to be honest with themselves when they try to justify what has happened to our writing classrooms. For many of us, the writing classroom was once a space that fostered creativity, a corner free of the absolute rights and wrongs, corrects and incorrects that mark too many high school classrooms and disciplines. I used to liken my writing classroom to the art rooms on the other side of the building. Certainly, there were basic foundations we could build on and techniques that we could master, but we were artists, and, as such, we found our way by expressing and experimenting, and of course struggling. There was no one way to write, no easy approach, no tidy template. Like the visual artist, our job—and our joy—was to create. These days, the distance between my writing classroom and the art classrooms seems infinite. While the art rooms still buzz with energy and the thrill that comes with a creative challenge, the English classrooms grow steadily more quiet as students fixedly follow directions, adhere to rigid rubrics, and silently conform to a writing curriculum that leaves little room for risk-taking. In these classrooms, voice—that almost indefinable something that gives life to language—has been stilled. I suspect few young teachers have ever really heard it, and I fear that even those veteran teachers who can remember the cacophony of voices that once filled not only the classroom but also the papers they carried home to read have almost stopped listening because there is so little left to hear.
I know there are many teachers who lament the changes we've seen in our writing programs in recent years. I hear colleagues talk about projects they used to do, perhaps a memoir or maybe a full-fledged piece of fiction. I hear them talk about publishing opportunities they used to foster through the creation of class literary magazines and the posting of writing contests on the bulletin board. They remember when students had fat writing folders full of work that they loved to pore over. I hear these same colleagues reminisce about students from years ago whose work they still remember and can maybe even quote. For me, that piece belongs to Tawny, whose wrenching narrative began “Daddy gave me roses.” Of course, not all of this strong writing practice has vanished, but I imagine every veteran English teacher would admit to letting a personal narrative, journal assignment, or poetry piece disappear while a practice test prompt, district-wide writing sample, or machine-graded quiz takes its place. None of us means for this to happen, but there's only so much time, and there's always so much pressure.
If the pressure is great on veteran teachers, it is even weightier on those new to the profession. I work with