The CEA Forum
Winter/Spring 2005: 34.1
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INTEGRATING THE TRAMPS:
A SENIOR ASSESSMENT COURSE ON THE VALUES OF ENGLISH
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When Robert Frost explored his right to the pleasures of wood-splitting in the face of tramps in need of work, he had little doubt about the value of his real vocation. Nor did he doubt that his avocation was essential to the higher life of mind and spirit. But he was an established professional. Sadly, our own English majors struggle daily (if they are thoughtful) with the question of purpose. Not only do they have trouble envisioning their own futures; they sometimes wonder if they've wasted an undergraduate education in choosing a major that is so much fun. By senior year, family demands over Thanksgiving dinner increase the stress: “What will you do when you graduate? Do you think it's too late to apply to an MBA program?”
Surely we owe majors more than a trip to the Career Center and a list of jobs outside of teaching. Our majors need to explore what they have learned, to discuss the implications of their major with fellow learners on both sides of the desk. They need the larger vision our advising has surely suggested. But brief advisement sessions never go deep enough. At Rollins, we've addressed this problem through a capstone seminar in “Senior Assessment,” the ultimate integration of instruction and advisement.
Central to Senior Assessment as we teach it is the Curricular Autobiography, a final paper in which students explore their intellectual and emotional development as readers and writers. Here's Susan examining the choice she made:
The irony is unmistakable: all those years of earning a paycheck never once afforded me the feeling of permanence or rightness I now experience as an English major. This new life – what it looks and feels like – emerges from the extraordinary encounters in learning I have had as an English major. This paper captures those crystallized moments of connection and expansion I found.
Even though I am sometimes wistful about my former life as a producer, a survivor in a taupe suit , the moment does not last. My merry paydays stopped a long time ago. I would not trade the sense of achievement my work with the written word gives me. Not any more and not for anything .
A more traditional student, Natalie also found her choice compelling:
Before English, I began majors in biology, mathematics, and almost physics. While I enjoyed indulging myself in modern scientific abstractions, the theoretical facts and rigid standards of thought denied my creative side. So I took a chance simply because I enjoyed reading, writing, and the freedom English allowed for evolution of my opinions and tastes.
Being an English major and doing what I love the most – reading and writing –has made me the happiest I have ever been.
Looking at work they have produced in the major, students also come to an understanding of what they've learned. Wrote Becky:
When I read novels and poetry, I get caught up in language. A phrase or an image can stick with me for years because of how the writer has put the words on the page, and I attempt to create similar complexity. I bounce off the walls when someone notices and offers praise. Pure ego.
Heather focused more on her reading:
My own pursuit of wisdom – by way of reading, writing, and preparing to teach – has brought me to numerous arches of experience through which gleam an understanding of foreign concepts and revelations of diverse cultures. Like Ulysses, I don't want to stop.
How they've matured as thinkers and problem-solvers is a tough question students also grapple with. Cindi considered the larger knowledge she had found:
I might forget the details of Moby Dick, but I will never lose the ability to see God in a whale. Only vaguely recalling Tim O'Brien, I will always grasp the relationship between “story truth” and reality. Never again will the world bore me; everything is enriched through the making of meaning.
And Chad went further, mulling over the wider implications of our field:
Furthermore, the discipline of English is perhaps the best means by which one may become a world citizen. English extends beyond the literary classroom; it is interdisciplinary, touching every field of thought from politics to psychology, history to science. It leads one to think responsibly from all angles, questioning established norms and usual interpretations. And it extends into minds, feeling around for hearts, for people . It allows those like myself, who enter a culture confused and disheveled, to emerge with the knowledge to recognize confusion as well as the ability to work toward understanding. My English major has fostered my growth, my discovery of me as part of something more.
In the end, students assess themselves as readers and writers, defining their own skills. Like many of the majors, Maggie envisioned her skills in both private and public ways:
The English major allows me to escape reality, even while forcing me to connect with it. Through literature and writing I have made incredible connections to the world, my mentors, and an unknown audience. I have become an academic; I love to learn, and this type of love never ends.
In this paper I have exposed my thoughts to the blind reading of professors I have come to trust. I have shed my skin to show you how the English major has helped me become a strong, independent, and learned woman. The words on these pages constitute a story that only I could tell, and after all, I love telling stories just as much as I love reading them.
But most importantly, in their papers students begin to identify the ways in which the English major will sustain them as avocation. Here's Allie, getting to the heart of a passion many English majors insist they have found in their work:
Surely the most valuable lesson I learned as an English major is the answer to Dr. Carson's September 11 question, “ What insights does literature offer for alleviating despair? ” For me, literature offers magnificent language and rich invention that consoles me on all levels of sadness. It identifies my pain and tells me that I am not alone in my sufferings. It provides solutions to problems and answers to questions. It makes me laugh and it makes me cry – two healthy, therapeutic processes. It teaches me about other people, and it teaches me about myself. It inspires and enlightens. My English education is one of my most treasured resources.
Of course, the term-long examination of this resource gives students ample opportunity to reflect on what to include in a resume and how to market the distinctive skills the English major fosters. Shaping class discussion around these issues offers another opportunity for advisement in the context of the seniors' shared experiences. Central too are texts like those listed on the syllabus, conversations on public issues of the discipline (criticism and theory, teaching of writing, assessment), and discussions of the private pleasures of lifelong readers and writers.
Because the paper will be blind-graded by teams of English professors, seniors see it as the capstone opportunity to make meaning of all their work. (I should note as well that in saving these papers we've created a valuable file for accreditation assessment, even as reading them has shown the strengths and weaknesses of the English major.)
Supporting the paper's preparation is the requirement of a Senior Portfolio, a collection of best work, samples of papers from different years, and a resume or graduate school personal statement. Considering what to include leads invariably to conversation on defining goals. Through a brief introduction, students note weaknesses overcome, point to the evolution of special abilities, and mention how the Portfolio suggests future plans. Here's Brian:
When I was little, acting helped me interpret what I read. Now when I perform, I know the literary history behind the text. As designer, director, or actor, my knowledge and awareness of a world beyond the superficial words on the page enrich my product. To paraphrase Pinter, the truth is between the lines, in the pauses. The papers in this portfolio reveal how reading, writing, and critical thinking have helped me understand performance. My English major has not been extraneous to my theater career; it is essential to my success as a mature artist.
In the six years of requiring this course, we've seen a growing culture of expectation as students are reminded to save their papers for senior year. For some of us, advising sessions have been enhanced as well, as we link vocation and avocation, focusing more on the questions of the discipline the course will eventually examine in detail. I've even had the occasional sophomore or junior I don't know stop by my office, note that I'm teaching E490, and launch into a discussion on resume-building or their desire to talk with other majors about how much they love to read. More and more, students enter the course looking forward to heady conversations on future plans and past experiences, to discussions of the skills they can market and tastes they have fostered for years of continued reading and contemplation. What they like most is talking with each other about what they've learned, how they've changed, how reading and writing have affected their lives.
As Alex put it in one discussion, “I can't believe how naïve I was as a freshman, or how confused I was about meaning. Now I know a dozen critical perspectives, so I can always take a stance. Now I read all kinds of things I used to despise, just because I know how to read deeper. So wherever I work, I'll always have this secret life.”
“I know just what you mean,” said Sarah. “I already have a management job, and I love the work, but it's still just my job. My books, though – they're everywhere. My boyfriend reads my books in the bathroom and looks through them in the car when he's stuck in traffic.”
“And the books are always there, like the computer,” added Raine. “It really comforts me, being alone, to know that my own writing can sustain me, and that libraries are filled with great reads. I can hardly wait for more e-books to hit the market so that my computer will make my reading as accessible as my writing!” (At this, several students groaned.)
Embedded in these rich avocational discussions on literature and writing have been earnest questions on vocation and curious discoveries of work in the field. Naomi, for example, was a model of clarity, articulating her love for travel writing and her delight in the novels of Virginia Woolf, but stumped when it came to a career choice. “I just can't imagine that anyone would pay me for what I know about literature or what I can write for pure pleasure,” she sighed during one conversation. “And I'm just too impatient to be a decent teacher.” Matt concurred, convinced that his quick wit and love of comedy, so greatly appreciated in his English classes, would prove useless on the job market. (After a year now of working, both are applying to graduate schools.)
Of course, there was also Nick, who responded to such talk with disbelief. “It's just a means to the degree,” he insisted. “You guys make it sound so important, like we'll all graduate and start collecting ‘great books'! Now me, you'd have to pay me to read another book once I'm out of here. And the only writing is gonna be checks for employees in my painting business.” But even Nick drafted an interesting paper, reflecting on how the skills he had mastered prepared him for the business world.
Certainly there are problems with the course, like transfer students who lack a shared frame of reference. More troubling are students who save no papers, despite frequent reminders. And students who resist reflection need to be cajoled (or commanded). Most of all, balancing student ownership of this special course with the application of professional standards can be tricky. Fred, for example, argued that editing should not count in Senior Assessment “since we've already proven we can do that.” Leslie countered with a proposal for flexible grading, suggesting that each student could write up an individual scale, counting only areas of strength. “There's way too much writing in this major,” she insisted. “I'm much better at talking, so that's what should count for me. But I've always been penalized because teachers like writing better.”
Even the most earnest students, though, can have difficulty in separating honest reflection on their work in the major from the desire to denigrate or praise certain faculty. All such writing is awkward to respond to, and those of us teaching the course must struggle through the drafting process, urging more discretion and clearer focus on the objectives. In addition to teaching the practices of autobiography, then, I also explain that the curricular autobiography is still essentially an argument, considering the audience for whom it is written. And responding to papers can be troubling. How do we grade a paper so important to our students, particularly if it is not well written? Telling students their autobiographies are poorly conceived or badly edited, confused or improperly structured, inappropriate in focus – this is a difficult task for us. Still, many of the papers are real evidence of avocation, written with fascination by students who have loved their major. So we work to shape honest comments, blending our own appreciation for the effort with the last suggestions and clarifications we will have the chance to provide.
In short, while exploring disciplinary opportunities, vocational possibilities, and avocational implications, students may shape their own futures in which (as Frost suggests) “love and need are one,” linking their internal tramps irretrievably to their inner poets. As Jesse wrote in his course evaluation, “Through E490 I've gotten past the sense of wicked pleasure in taking a useless major. I see now that I am more sophisticated, more employable, more contemplative, more ready for a mingled spiritual and professional life.”
[Note: Names of students in this piece have been changed to protect their privacy.]
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Twila Yates Papay is a Professor of English and Writing at Rollins College (Winter Park, FL). Having administered writing programs since 1973 and served as Rollins' Director of Writing Programs (including Writing Center) for 14 years, she is currently Coordinator of First-Year Writing. She has published and spoken on topics as diverse as travel writing, autobiography, science fiction, composition pedagogy, collaboration, and portfolio assessment. An avid traveler, her sabbaticals have taken her around Asia and (most recently) Africa, where she participated in Writing Center development at the University of the Western Cape and offered workshops for other institutions.
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