Sometimes You Need a Fix-It Shop

Samantha Reynolds

 

Sometimes you need a fix-it shop.

This is a difficult pill to swallow, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Ever since Stephen North objected to the term in his 1984 essay “The Idea of a Writing Center,” writing centers everywhere have told incoming writers that “We’re not just a fix-it shop.” But when we say this, what some writers will inevitably understand is, “We can’t help you.” Because, although we may not wish to admit it, many students seek out help at a writing center because they want help with grammar and mechanics—and for good reason.

There are, of course, plenty of times when a writer tells you they want to work on grammar simply because they have no specific idea of what else they might need help with. Or you might work with a writer whose concerns about grammar feel like an obstacle to larger, more central issues in a paper. I get it; I’ve been there. Haven’t we all? You try to talk about a paper-wide issue—say, focusing on the thesis—and the writer you’re working with is really concerned about commas. You start to feel frustrated with the writer. You start to feel frustrated with yourself. After all, grammar isn’t as important as these larger issues.

That may be true. But grammar is important.

We don’t need to be pedants who insist that writers know when to use “Sue and I” versus “Sue and me,” but we also shouldn’t ignore the real concerns of writers who are worried that their lack of grammar knowledge interferes with their ability to communicate effectively.

Allow me to provide an example.

Let’s say that Doug comes into the writing center. He has a paper for an entry-level English class, and he says he wants help with, “You know, grammar and stuff.”

“Okay,” you say, thinking to yourself that you’ll steer the conversation in a more important direction during the session. You know better, after all.

The two of you are reading the paper and there are a few grammar errors—a sentence fragment, maybe, or a comma splice—and then, there, in the first paragraph, is tense confusion.

Is a comma splice really that important?

As long as a reader can reasonably understand the writer’s meaning, then no, one comma splice probably isn’t going to end any lives or destroy any grades.

What about tense confusion?

Although it is likely that a reader would still understand what the writer means, issues of tense confusion invite other judgements. A professor may, for example, decide that the writer is less educated and therefore unintelligent and read the entire rest of the paper with that thought in the back of their mind. Even with a solid thesis and a good argument, a paper riddled with certain grammar mistakes is likely to get a C, if only because the reader will stop looking for the positives in a piece and start seeing only the negatives.

That’s not okay for a lot of reasons. There’s misunderstanding in that exchange, and prejudice, and none of that is fair. But it’s also not likely to change anytime soon.

So what do you do?

Do you pass over the error like the good, open-minded person you are? Or do you pause to correct it quickly, assuming it was just a typing error? Do you stop and break down the concept to explain what tense is correct in that sentence and why?

I’ve thought about this question a lot, and I’m not sure there’s a right answer for every situation. I’ve tried all three with both writers who did and didn’t ask for grammar help, and sometimes what I did seemed like the right choice and sometimes it didn’t. The only advice I can give with confidence is to listen to the writer.

Does Doug think grammar is important? What have others—teachers and peers—said to him about his grammar? Is he confident or self-conscious or does he not really care about grammar?

Doug may volunteer the answers to some of these questions, and other answers we may pick up by observing his behavior or never learn at all. But if we at least keep these questions in the back of our minds, that can give us a place to start.

In my own sessions, I find myself electing to explain the grammar concept more and more often. Maybe this is just my English major coming out, but I think it’s worth keeping in mind that grammar does matter, sometimes. It matters, at least, to the students who come in and ask about it. It matters to readers who make assumptions about writers based on their grammar. It matter to writers who want to have full command over their language. Grammar serves a purpose.

After all, knowledge of grammar, syntax, and the “unimportant” mechanics of writing are what give effective communicators power over language. A strong grasp of grammar gives a writer more tools at their disposal with which to make their point, and helps them feel more confident about their writing. To hoard these tools to ourselves is to fail to set our writers up for their greatest potential of growth and success.

In addition to giving writers power over language, grammar is often used as a gatekeeper for higher learning. Two papers that argue their points equally well may receive very different grades if one is littered with incorrectly punctuated sentences. One day, I hope, our society will have a different relationship with grammar, and a handful of readable run-on sentences won’t hold anyone back in school or in life. For now, though, writing centers may be doing Doug a disservice by insisting we talk only about broad issues and not taking any time to think about the sentence-level ones. Our insistence on open-mindfulness and non-directive tutoring might lead to him getting a lower grade than he would have if we’d stopped to address and explain that tense confusion.

But it’s not my job to help him get a good grade, you say. It’s my job to make him a better writer.

That’s fair. But let me ask you this: if every paper that Doug turns in gets low grades, one after another, how long will it be before he decides that he isn’t a writer at all?

 

References

North, Steven. “The Idea of a Writing Center.” The St. Martin’s Sourcebook for Writing Tutors, by Christina Murphy and Steve Sherwood, Bedford/St. Martins, 2011.

 

Author’s Biography

Samantha Reynolds is an advisor at the Wittenberg Writing Center. When she isn’t working with writers or doing homework, she’s usually reading, writing, or knitting. She plans to graduate in the Spring of 2020 with a major in English and a double minor in Education and French, and looks forward to a career of teaching English at the high school level. Samantha can be found on both Twitter and Instagram as @samanthalaramie.