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It would be good to hear your evaluation of student writing
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From the issue dated January 3, 2003
Why Johnny Can't Write, Even Though He Went to Princeton
By THOMAS BARTLETT
Ask Clare Gould about her freshman course in writing, and the
bright, pleasantsenior at Princeton University makes no
attempt to hide her disgust. "It was rotten," she says.
She describes a disorganized class taught by a graduate
student who was killing time and his students' enthusiasm. "I
have never heard of anyone who had a good or even passable
experience in their writing course," she says.
Realizing the deep dissatisfaction among students like Ms.
Gould about how writing was taught at the university,
Princeton ditched the program last year and began afresh. It
took writing courses away from inexperienced graduate
students, hired a group of lecturers to take their places, and
created a slew of new, required, topic-based courses. It was a
radical step, but one that many believe was long overdue.
More than a few top colleges have made similar moves in recent
years, or are in the process of doing so. Some, like Princeton
and Duke University, have started over from scratch. Others,
like Columbia University, are proceeding with caution. And
there are those that, like Brown University and Bowdoin
College, know that what they're doing now doesn't work but are
not sure how to proceed. While the situations and solutions
differ, officials at each of these prestigious institutions
have arrived at the same conclusion: Their college has not
been doing a good job of teaching students how to write.
Report after report -- from the one issued in 1998 by the
Boyer Commission on Educating Undergraduates to this year's
National Survey of Student Engagement, an extensive look at
student attitudes -- has emphasized the importance of
undergraduate writing. It's hard to find a college president
or liberal-arts dean who can't give a solemn, impromptu
lecture on the subject. In short, everyone seems to agree.
So why is it that, even at the nation's best colleges, the
teaching of writing has long been treated less like a high
priority and more like an afterthought? And if that neglectful
attitude is beginning to change, as seems to be the case, what
took so long?
One answer is that writing instructors don't get much respect
in academe. "There's this image that it's janitorial cleanup
or service work," says Nancy Sommers, director of expository
writing at Harvard University. Another is that many students
view writing requirements as just one more hoop to jump
through before they can don the cap and gown. Those problems
are not unrelated: Because writing programs are frequently
ignored, their quality suffers. Students then end up stuck in
classes that waste their time and try their patience.
As to what has prompted this recent round of reform, some say
it's Ivy-see, Ivy-do. "When somebody does something, all the
other institutions perk up their ears," says Eric Schneider,
associate director of academic affairs at the University of
Pennsylvania.
Administrators also point to an increase in the number of
complaints from professors. "We've been hearing from faculty
members that students are having trouble with their writing,"
says Paul B. Armstrong, dean of the college at Brown.
What kind of trouble? Professors cite a host of
writing-related shortcomings among students, most often their
inability to construct the sort of lengthy, sophisticated
research papers required in upper-division courses. "Almost
everyone comes in well-trained to gather research in the
library," says Judith A. Swan, a lecturer in Princeton's
writing program. "But almost none of them are capable of
turning that into a real paper with a thesis and an argument."
The trend isn't limited to top-ranked colleges. "I haven't
seen a newly revised curriculum plan that failed to emphasize
writing," says Carol Geary Schneider, president of the
Association of American Colleges and Universities, which
advises colleges on curriculum reform. But the debate over
these issues at elite colleges is instructive, writing experts
say, because these institutions aren't finding easy solutions
despite having top students and bountiful resources, which
several of them are now using to promote reforms.
'A Bunch of Bad Classes'
At Princeton, students called them the "W" courses. Since the
1960s, the university had required undergraduates to take one
course with a "W" after its course number, a designation that
was reserved for writing-intensive offerings. Originally,
those courses were taught only in the English department. That
changed in the late 1980s, when courses outside the English
department became eligible, greatly expanding the number of
options to satisfy the requirement.
While intended to encourage the teaching of writing within a
variety of disciplines -- an approach that many experts favor
-- the effort failed. "Some students got superb instruction,
and some got very little," says Howard N. Dobin, associate
dean of the college. "There was a general acknowledgment that
we were not doing as well in this as we could."
That's putting it too kindly, according to Ms. Gould, the
Princeton senior, who majors in biology. "It has a history of
being limited to a bunch of bad classes," she says. Her
father, James Gould, a professor of biology at Princeton, was
so upset by his daughter's "absolutely terrible" experience
that he volunteered to teach in the new program. "If we want
students to write decent papers or honors theses -- which are
required here -- then it's essential that we teach them to
write well," he says.
As the chorus of complaints grew louder, Princeton responded
by bringing in a group of outside reviewers. They came to the
same conclusion that professors and students had already
reached: the "W" program didn't work.
To fix it, the university last year hired 20 lecturers, who
had some experience teaching writing, on one-year renewable
contracts of up to five years. Princeton also made taking a
topic-based writing course separate from the other 30
requirements that students must meet; until last year, a
writing course could also fulfill other graduation
requirements. And Princeton created dozens of topic-based
courses, like "Bandits in Myth and History" and "Dracula," in
which the subjects are intended to provide fodder for
students' essays. The emphasis in these courses, which are
outside any department, is not on learning the reading
material but on learning to write.
Duke students, too, had been saddled for years with a failed
writing program. Since the mid-1980s, Duke had used a method,
developed by a now-retired English professor, that was based
on peer interaction. In 1999, the university revamped its
requirement. "It was clear to the faculty that it was broken.
It was clear to the students who took it. It was clear to the
parents of those students and their grandparents," says Robert
J. Thompson, dean of the liberal-arts college at Duke.
So if even grandparents knew, why did it take so long to act?
Mr. Thompson chalks up the long delay to "inertia." In that,
Duke is far from unique. Writing programs are notoriously
difficult to remake, and few officials look forward to the
battles that will no doubt ensue once any change is proposed.
"Generally, people feel it's a dean's nightmare, because you
have so many constituencies that are unhappy," says Ms.
Sommers of Harvard, who was one of Duke's outside reviewers.
Both Duke and Princeton ended up with programs that resemble
Harvard's. Both chose to put the teaching of freshman writing
in the hands of instructors hired on contract (Harvard calls
them "preceptors"). That takes the courses away from graduate
students, who usually view them as a chore anyway, and gives
them to instructors who have already earned their doctorates
and who have some experience teaching writing. It is an
expensive solution -- Mr. Thompson has dubbed it "the
million-dollar difference" -- and one that most institutions
could not afford.
Duke also requires students to take two writing-intensive
courses in their majors. (Such courses are defined simply as
including a "significant writing component.") The university
took its cue from Cornell's writing program, which emphasizes
writing in the disciplines, meaning that the teaching burden
is shouldered by all departments, not just English. Cornell
has also managed to persuade faculty members to participate by
tying the amount of graduate-student funds a department
receives to the number of freshman writing seminars its
professors teach. It's a strategy that is widely admired, if
not widely imitated, by other colleges.
The verdict is still out on whether the new programs at Duke
and Princeton will transform their students into more lucid,
thoughtful writers. Student reaction at Princeton is mixed.
"It wasn't the greatest class I've taken, but it wasn't a
waste of time either," says Marcus Catsouphes, who took the
course "Vietnam in Fact, Film and Fiction."
Active and Passive
Some competitors are still in the early stages of reform. At
Columbia, back in the early 1990s, a committee of outside
reviewers was convened to evaluate the writing program. The
panel found it sorely lacking and said as much in a report.
The university's response? Do nothing. Then, two years ago, an
internal review committee was formed. It found that almost
everyone strongly disliked the freshman writing requirement,
and that it contained a number of "absurdities," including a
ban on assigned readings. The policy was intended to place the
emphasis on writing, but it backfired: Students didn't have
anything to write about. The committee recommended lifting the
reading ban, hiring a new director, and involving faculty
members rather than leaving the teaching to graduate students.
"We were fully prepared for our report to get filed in the
backroom and gather dust," says Michael Scammell, a professor
of nonfiction creative writing, who led the committee.
But in fact, Columbia has acted on some of the
recommendations. Joseph Bizup, formerly co-director of the
writing program at Yale University, was hired this summer.
While most students are still in the old freshman writing
program, about 20 percent are taking topic-based courses, in
which some reading is assigned. So far, the response has been
favorable. "There was a sense that writing was dislocated from
the rest of the curriculum. We want to integrate it into the
core curriculum," says Mr. Bizup, referring to Columbia's
famously rigorous set of general requirements.
Brown officials, too, are struggling with how to make sure
their students can write well. But Brown is at the other end
of the spectrum in terms of educational philosophy. While
Columbia is known for its general requirements, Brown is known
for allowing students to choose their own curriculums. While
that freedom is part of the university's identity, it makes a
writing requirement impossible.
Until recently, Brown identified incoming freshmen whose
writing needed extra attention by looking at their admissions
essays. But because many students receive help writing those
essays, that turned out to be a poor indicator. So this year
Brown abandoned the practice. The university still gives
professors the option of marking students as "writing
deficient" as part of their grades. Those students are
encouraged, although not required, to sign up for an
expository-writing course. "It seems OK on the books," says
Rhoda L. Flaxman, director of the writing program at Brown.
In practice, however, the strategy is a bust. "Faculty haven't
been using it," says Mr. Armstrong, dean of the college.
Apparently, many professors believe that marking a student
deficient carries an unfair stigma. Josh Gang, a senior
majoring in American literature, thinks that Brown officials
might be more worried that marking a large number of students
deficient would reflect poorly on the university. "It wouldn't
surprise me if they were afraid to deem students as
unqualified," he says.
Whatever the reason, the result is that only a handful of
students receive help with their writing, even though Mr.
Armstrong says faculty members complain to him about it all
the time.
While officials look at alternatives, the dean has sent out
letters encouraging professors to use the "writing deficient"
option when it is called for. "It's not a crisis, but it is a
growing concern," he says.
Concern is also growing at Penn, which has sought a director
for its undergraduate writing program for more than a year.
The trouble is that the university hasn't been able to decide
what kind of program it wants, which makes picking a director
tricky.
For now, students can satisfy the university's writing
requirement in one of two ways -- either by taking a writing
course taught by a graduate student, or by taking two courses
designated as writing-intensive within a department. Most
students choose to take one course instead of two. "I don't
think it's been presented to our students as an intellectually
stimulating and important enterprise. I think they see it as
another requirement they have to fill," says Rebecca Bushnell,
associate dean of Penn's college of arts and letters and
acting director of the writing program. Neither option has
been particularly effective in improving student writing,
according to Penn officials, which has frustrated professors.
Once a permanent director is hired, which officials say will
happen soon, Penn plans to announce an overhaul of its writing
program.
Likewise, officials at Bowdoin say major changes to its
undergraduate writing program will be announced soon. The
college already offers freshman writing seminars, but they are
not required.
As at other institutions, Bowdoin's decision is prompted by
concern among professors that some students lack the skills to
write lengthy, sophisticated research papers. "There is a
sense that we can do better," says Craig A. McEwen, dean for
academic affairs. He adds that the college plans to emphasize
writing in the disciplines, rather than a more general
approach.
Reform-minded college officials share the hope that the
changes they are making will finally give writing the
attention and respect it deserves. "Writing is the edifice on
which the rest of education rests," says Penn's Mr. Schneider.
"If we don't do that well, you have to wonder what we do do
well."
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Copyright 2003 by The Chronicle of Higher Education
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