And the parallel tracks of my classes, graduate and otherwise, continue to thicken.  I’m currently grading students’ first paper; the timing is morbidly ironic really. After coming across this little gem, “…I believe…for us to assume that we generally get the papers we deserve” I started yelling at the book (153).

First—a step back.  One of his claims seems to address lofty, stylistic vocabulary concerns—I’m more a practical, concise E.B. White kind of girl anyways—so yes we’re in agreement there.  And if I may digress to point out a keen observation:  during several moments it seems he’s pulling high-minded literature instructors, or should I say the pre-American authors with healthcare, down a peg (re: unknowingly promoting sanctimonious, complex vocabulary; looking to hear themselves in students paper, etc.). (Silent cheer!)

Still, back to the chapter, I disagree we should turn our nose up at “papers made of prefabricated parts” or asking a student to write “a formal academic paper is an assignment to make themselves stupid” (153, 157).  Now, to be fair, no I don’t think every paper, every student writes should come in a nice five-paragraph package.  My outlook is more, to step out of the box, students must know a. the box exists and b. what’s exactly in it.  So with that, yes I do believe students should write their fair share of “conventional topos” (153).  And really, as a composition instructor, it would be nice to know our time and effort spent on the ‘blueprint basics,’ structure, organization, logical flow, etc. is being supported by our literature colleagues—not collapsed and reworked.

There are plenty of opportunities to write creatively in a compare and contrast paper—you don’t need to chuck the whole framework.  Put another way, structure does not inform content.  Just because I handed my students an outline to complete, does not make their prose any less restrictive.  How they develop, tease out, and choose the proper resources to support their points is entirely unique.  So, yes, by all means throw out the dull, prescriptive prompts, but don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater (re: five-paragraph essay showing how Hamlet was indecisive p. 154).

Nevertheless, was the outline an organization and focus tool? You betcha! Do they need it? Absolutely!  As mentioned above, before students step out of the conventional box, I better make sure there is some sort of reliable floor beneath them—or they’ll drown in the creative, no-rules abyss.

Now, back to my deserving pile of ‘C’s’ and ‘D’s’.  Do I, personally, deserve them?  No!  Do I, as an instructor of first-year composition and stakeholder in the English pedagogy, past, present, and future deserve them? Yes.  That is to say, we are forever tied to our unknowing, ghost colleagues academic successes and failures—and our small, humanities niche needs every bit of reminder and representation of that.