II Megan Swets II
At my university’s writing center, a small double-sided plaque rests on each table: one side enumerates the expected behaviors for writers, and the other, the expected behaviors for consultants (University of South Dakota Writing Center). This placard validates the idea that both writers and consultants have basic rights in appointments; still, the balance of control between writer and consultant can become blurred when struggling to address problematic content. This essay will first explain the experience that prompted me to reflect on the role of collaboration in responding to controversial writing and relate the questions raised by this reflection. Following, I will argue that the appropriate response to those situations is for consultants to engage with writers about problematic content and suggest concrete approaches for handling difficult subject matter. With empathy and self-reflection as core elements of education, a writing center (manifested as consultants) must foster these characteristics by collaborating with writers to build understanding of complex issues in both consultant and writer.
In a recent appointment, a writer’s work compared the experiences of Asian-Americans and African-Americans before drawing practical implications relating these experiences to elementary education practices. The writer referenced specific stereotypes about the academic and classroom performances of non-white children, emphasizing the behavior difficulties she would have with African-American students and the potential for high pressure for success on Asian-American students. The writer concluded that she would treat non-white students significantly differently than white students on account of their race, and suggested organizing a meeting with only the white students to discuss the treatment of non-white students. This writer was theorizing ways to integrate non-white students into a classroom, but her proposed division has serious racially-charged flaws. Initially, I wondered whether opening conversation about the problematic aspects of her argument would be beneficial and encourage self-reflection, or detrimental and involve excessive content feedback. Before I had decided whether or how to bring up my concerns, the writer indicated that in a first draft, her professor had commented that her implications were encouraging stereotypes. Since she was confused about this comment and asked for clarification, we discussed that all children, regardless of race, vary widely in cultural experiences and behaviors. In the course of our conversation, she realized that her intent to be inclusive had backfired. She then decided to amend that section, focusing on adapting to each student’s individual needs and cultural background, rather than treating them according to their race.
If this writer had not invited the conversation, I do not know if I would have engaged with her about the topic out of fear of overstepping my position or compromising the ideal of radical openness. In this instance, the writer was not espousing hateful or aggressive rhetoric, but her unawareness about race relations resulted in cringeworthy writing. In the moments before she brought it up, I questioned my duty as a consultant: was I to draw her attention to this potential pitfall in her writing, or avoid it in the name of staying radically open to her perspective? Rather than exploring and critiquing her problematic content, should I focus on giving feedback on the organization and grammar of her draft? Where is the line between being radically open to the writer’s ideas and sanctioning disrespectful writing? There may not be clear answers to these questions, but I explore some potential responses and strategies for handling these situations. A vital part of education is building self-reflection, tolerance, and empathy, and writing centers play a role in higher education’s fostering of competent and inclusive individuals. A writing center, as this haven of radical openness, encourages consultants to expand their understanding of the world through their peers’ papers. However, this openness ought to apply not only to consultants, but also to writers. Though confronting someone about the problems occurring in their writing can be challenging and uncomfortable, these actions create a necessary space for discussing problems in writing and the world.
Rather than permitting intolerance to pass through writing centers uncontested, consultants should have the prerogative to raise questions about offensive content, while approaching these cases with an open mind and attempting to understand the writer’s intentions. As Andrea Lunsford notes, a center that masquerades as collaborative while reinstituting the status quo of hierarchical power is only detrimental to writers and their understandings of collaboration (74). However, Lunsford also observes that in addition to encouraging critical thinking, collaboration “[leads] to deeper understanding of others” (73, original emphasis). With such a weighty power in collaboration, consultants must find how to guide the writer to a more thorough understanding without leaning too closely toward forcing the writer to change their work or toward allowing the problem to persist. As Stephen North argues, texts do not change in appointments–writers do (53). Drawing from Lunsford and North’s assertions, consultants must cautiously develop improvements in writers who bring up problematic writing without grasping control of the writer’s work. Instead, both the writer and the consultant must approach the situation seeking to comprehend one another’s meaning, as well as remaining open to a new awareness of the subject.
Open collaboration will likely reveal that the writer is either ignorant of the particular issue with which they are engaging, holds contentious views, or has failed to convey their intended message. In any of these situations, a consultant can first inform the writer of how the problematic passage could be interpreted, which may prompt the writer to suggest revisions that can be worked through collaboratively. As asserted by Paula Gillespie and Neal Lerner, a consultant contributes to the writer’s understanding, but must also “respect writers’ need to discover–with [their] help–the information they need” (28). With controversial writing, consultants may guide the writer to resources that will uncover a deeper knowledge, perhaps suggesting specific avenues through which to consider their topic. This option can be helpful for a consultant anxious to avoid excessive content input. In all situations, a consultant should carefully stay open to the writer’s point of view and consider that, since no consultant can have perfect understanding, their own perceptions and perspective may be flawed.
This engagement will realistically help both the writer and consultant more carefully consider the issue they are discussing, since collaboration fosters awareness of sensitive issues. However, as Gillespie and Lerner point out, a writer must have “a voice in determining how a session is run,” which may mean bracketing a contentious claim in favor of addressing other concerns (53). Particularly considering the limited timeframe of appointments, consultants must strategically allow the writer to manage the amount of self-reflection in the conversation. With the writer I discussed previously, her openness to self-reflection and goal of implementing her professor’s comments meant we were able to address the problematic content in a few minutes, and simultaneously attend to her writing concerns. In the event that the writer expresses greater concern for other areas or resistance to changing their piece, suggesting that they consider alternative perspectives or resources is an adequate and appropriate step that allows the writer to maintain power over the trajectory of their appointment and writing.
By engaging in a collaborative conversation with writers about potentially problematic content, a consultant furthers essential elements of education in both the writer and themselves. Relating my experiences, reflections, and suggestions, I argue that a writing center ought to be a platform for introducing open and non-judgemental discourse about sensitive topics that frequently cause discomfort. Addressing potentially offensive content is a challenging endeavor but contributes vitally to the writer’s prerogative to have an honest and helpful session, as well as to the consultant’s right to comfortably advise a writer. By engaging in a collaborative effort to practice radical openness, writers and consultants jointly engage in discourse and earn greater appreciation for diverse perspectives.
Works Cited
Gillespie, Paula, and Neal Lerner. The Longman Guide to Peer Tutoring, 2nd ed., Pearson Education, 2008.
Lunsford, Andrea. “Collaboration, Control, and the Idea of a Writing Center.” The St. Martin’s Sourcebook for Writing Tutors, 4th ed., edited by Christina Murphy and Steve Sherwood, Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2011, pp. 70-77.
North, Stephen. “The Idea of a Writing Center.” The St. Martin’s Sourcebook for Writing Tutors, 4th ed., edited by Christina Murphy and Steve Sherwood, Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2011, pp. 44-58.
University of South Dakota Writing Center. USD Writing Center Behavioral Guidelines, 2017.