Peer Review and IM

Jin, Li, and Wei Zhu. “Dynamic Motives in ESL Computer-Mediated Peer Response.” Computers and Composition 27.4 (2010): 284-303. Print.

Often, technology’s pedagogical effectiveness is examined in terms of the products students create (e.g., see my posting on Garrison’s article). Jin and Zhu are more interested in the process for this study. Their study explores how a tool like instant messaging (IM) affects L2 students’ participation in and their motives during and across three peer review sessions. L2 students and their interactions in peer review have received plenty of scholarly attention, but as Jin and Zhu note, these studies often focus on face-to-face interactions instead of computer-mediate ones. Their study attempts to examine both how L2 students interact in peer review activities mediated by IM and how these interactions and the mediating technology affect their motives and participation.

They relied on a case study design mediated by activity theory. Activity theory “provides a cultural historical view of human behaviors that result from socially and historically constructed forms of mediation through mediational artifacts in all human activities” (286). It is a means to explore how and why humans act as they do in a certain context or system and how certain tools/artifacts affect their actions and is quite well suited to explore how IM affects students’ actions in a peer review context. Jin and Zhu chose two students for their case studies who worked together on two of the three peer review tasks and whose technology skills represented two ends of a continuum: Anton, who had considerable computer and IM experience, and Iron, whose experiences with technology were somewhat limited. Jin and Zhu relied on multiple streams of data to collect their information: Web cams to capture their facial expressions and off-screen activities, transcripts of IM exchanges, observation, screen capture software, click-tracking software, and extensive interviews with the participants. Through these data, the authors discovered that the students both came in with the desire to improve their English skills, but these motives changed because of their first interaction. For example, Iron’s poor typing skills frustrated Anton. For the second session, Iron hoped to improve those skills, while Anton, who wanted to have fun in the IM sessions, became condescending and rude. In short, the artifact (IM) became a determining factor in how the students worked (or did not work) together.

Discovering and examining human motives is a complicated task, as the authors note. Utilizing a case study approach with its multiple streams of data and the researchers’ triangulation of that data to attempt to discover what the students’ motives might have been seems to be a sensible way to approach this issue. However, the limits of the approach are also apparent in terms of possible conclusions the researchers can suggest. Since they only addressed the experiences of two students, they are left with suggestions of what issues instructors might consider in terms of computer-mediated peer review. At the same time, this study does provide a number of variables for future researchers to consider, such as computer experience/skills. This in itself is a valuable element of this case study, despite the limited conclusions we can draw from it directly.

Text-to-Speech as a Revision Tool? Well, Kind Of

Garrison, Kevin. “An Empirical Analysis of Using Text-to-Speech Software to Revise First-Year College Students’ Essays.” Computers and Composition 26.4 (2009): 288-301. Print.

In this article, Garrison explores the computerized version of reading essays aloud as part of the revision process. He says that text-to-speech (TTS) programs may provide some new possibilities in this regard. However, such technology had been underutilized and under-researched previously because of cost, ease of access, technological inadequacies (particularly the quality of the computerized voices), despite improvements in all three of these areas. Furthermore, most of the previous studies of TTS programs in written communication contexts focused on younger students (K-5) or students with disabilities and addressed how TTS programs helped these students address proofreading errors. Garrison’s study seeks to fill these gaps in experimental research on the effectiveness of TTS programs for global and local revisions of college-age students without disabilities.

His study employs a quasi-experimental design. He began with a pilot test with six students from one of his classes. After revisions, the study expanded to 52 students (again from his classes). The students were assigned to either a control or a test group. Those in the control group simply used Microsoft Word to revise while the test group used a TTS program. Once the test was over, he coded the data, comparing original and revised drafts. The results showed that the control group and the test group made about the same number of positive proofreading changes, but the control group made more positive global and local changes. The control group did make more neutral changes, suggesting the TTS program added some efficiency, but since the control group did better in terms of positive changes, the limited efficiency added by TTS programs seems to me a small reason to incorporate them (unless, of course, it meets a specific need of the students). But Garrison clearly notes that, based on his results, we cannot assume TTS programs to be a sort of revision magic wand. For TTS programs to be successful, they must be made a clear part of the pedagogy and their benefits/uses clearly explained to students before they are adopted.

Given the narrow scope of his study (52 students from his own classes), Garrison is appropriately cautious about his results. He neither rejects nor whole-heartedly endorses TTS programs. He was also careful in his methodology in many ways: for example, he conducted a pilot study and tested the reliability of his codes. But his sampling was maybe a little suspect. I wonder how free his students felt to volunteer or not for the study? He also discussed some concerns at the end of the study that he might have considered at the beginning. For instance, when he discusses the use of Microsoft Word for the control group, he explains students’ familiarity with the program to mitigate any concerns unfamiliarity might create. However, he gave the test group only a few minutes’ explanation of the TTS program and noted that their unfamiliarity with the program might have skewed some of the results. Such a variable might have been addressed in the preparation for the study.

Tubing, Theoretically

Carter, Geoffrey V., and Sarah J. Arroyo. “Tubing the Future: Participatory Pedagogy and YouTube U in 2020.” Computers and Composition 28.4 (2011): 292-302. Print.

Carter and Arroyo’s article is from a special edition of Computers and Composition on the future of computer-mediated writing and its pedagogy. In this selection, the authors focus on the participatory nature of online composing and how this may affect instructional methods in the next decade. Their primary exigency is to address what they see as the need for more “theorizing about the participatory practices found in online video culture” (292).

To fill this gap in theorizing, Carter and Arroyo begin by developing their sense of participatory pedagogy. They see participatory pedagogy “as a productive collision of post-critical, postpedagogical, and participatory thought” (293). This collision puts special emphasis on creativity and invention, relying on an emergent rather than a fixed pedagogy. They add to this a discussion of Ulmer’s notion of “electracy,” or electronic literacy. Electracy is open-ended, flexible, and exploratory—precisely the kinds of participatory elements promoted by online spaces like YouTube. To explore how online video culture expands participation and its potential significance for composition pedagogy, the authors next address the development and alterations of memes. Memes are “viral content that is interactive and re-purposed” whose “goal is to create more content to with which other users will connect and invest time in re-purposing, thus participating in spreading ideas and making them more complex” (296). Memes, then, represent the possibility for an individual to take already existing content and alter it in ways that make it meaningful to her while still maintaining some of its original content so that others can recognize it as an extension/recreation of the original. For Carter and Arroyo, though, to be effective pedagogically, participatory pedagogy based on online video culture cannot stop at simply performance; it must also have an element of critique. They claim that memes have the ability to “raise awareness, and elicit massive cultural participation that expands in a malleable network” (297). By adding critique to the performative nature of memes, Carter and Arroyo add the possibility for stronger intellectual work than what some might see in simply creating memes or participating in online video activities “for fun.” In short, participatory pedagogy that relies on online video culture for its framework can serve academic, even civic purposes.

Since this study is a prediction (but not a predictive study) of possible directions for composition pedagogy in the future, I think the authors do well to devote their research to constructing a theoretical framework for “tubing” (i.e., the participatory actions associated with online video culture). They establish quite clearly what this pedagogy will entail (open-endedness, critique combined with performance) and how considering issues like the balance of humor with a serious issue can add to the rhetorical awareness of students. However, some of their claims about how educators might enact this or why this is especially necessary for the pedagogy of the future seemed a little hazy. In some ways, they maybe emphasized the theory at the expense of the practice. 

Research Methods and Digital Writing

Few (if any) would be willing to deny that digital technologies are changing writing and writing studies research persistently and significantly. Because of this, we cannot ignore the consequences for research methods and methodologies. (Citing Patricia Sullivan and James Porter, Stuart Blythe describes methods as “procedures, techniques” and methodologies as more epistemological viewpoints [205], a distinction I will maintain here.) Addressing these consequences is precisely the focus of Digital Writing Research: Technologies, Methodologies, and Ethical Issues, edited by Heidi A. McKee and Danielle Nicole DeVoss. What this text emphasizes throughout its chapters are ways by which researchers might build upon and adapt more traditional research methods to work more effectively with digital technologies and sites.

Underwriting much of the chapters by various authors in this text is a general sense of research methods tradition. Given the more humanistic/social sciences approaches discussed throughout, the emphasis here is certainly on qualitative methods. John Creswell describes qualitative research as that which “involves emerging questions and procedures, data typically in the participant’s setting, data analysis inductively building from particulars to general themes, and the researcher making interpretations of the meaning of the data” (4). These methods are at the fore throughout the majority of the articles here, as many authors discuss the importance of engaging in research in the particular context in which text production or interactions occur (e.g., Sapienza 90; Smith 134). In addition, many of the scholars in Digital Writing Research talk discuss their research in digital spaces and on digital texts in terms of traditional qualitative research practices. Perhaps one of the more common practices discussed in the text is ethnography. As Janice Lauer and William Asher explain, “ethnographers observe many facets of writers in their writing environments over long periods of time in order to identify, operationally define, and interrelate variables of the writing act in its context” (39). Beatrice Smith’s chapter, for example, seeks to bring ethnographic practices into a hybrid workplace (where work occurs at a physical office as well as an online space). This chapter, and indeed all of the others, raises the key questions of the text. Rebecca Rickly puts these questions perhaps most succinctly: “Are traditional research methods sufficient to capture the complexity when studying writing/writing scenarios? What happens when we add technology to the mix? Are traditional methods (or our understanding and/or application of them) enough, or do we need new ones” (381)?

The short version is that many of the authors represented here feel that some of the traditional methods as often taught and some of the rigidity prescribed (or implied) in their traditional manifestations indeed are not adequately meeting the needed of researchers exploring digital technologies and writing. In nearly every chapter, the author or authors point to the complexities digital technologies and spaces create relative to traditional methods. In their introduction to the anthology, McKee and DeVoss note the vast changes that have occurred in what constitutes “writing,” how writers and audiences interact, and how collaboration takes place (9-10). As a consequence, researchers must approach traditional practices more critically and reflexively.

One area that requires more careful attention is in ethical considerations. Working in digital spaces creates a number of complications related to treating participants ethically. First, Will Banks and Michelle Eble remind us that though these spaces are virtual, we are still dealing with human participants, and we must consider how our interactions with these participants can have ramifications for them not typical of research conducted in physical environments, especially since online interactions always leave permanent digital traces (31-32, 39). Furthermore, online and digital environments make distinguishing between “published discourse and private discourse” all the more difficult (Sidler 78), and we must wonder if the digital spaces we examine are texts (or products) or sites where people interact (DePew 55). In other words, how we treat the texts we are examining and how we treat the people who produce those texts take on new complications in digital research contexts. The new digital modes of text production also raise ethical concerns in terms of copyright and intellectual property rights. Because of the ease of access to what researchers produce, we must consider ownership in new ways (McIntire-Strasburg 288). Copyright has multiple layers of complexity, and what constitutes fair use and altering to the point of significant difference becomes especially fuzzy (294, 296).

Another area of complexity created by digital technologies and environments is how to address the mercurial nature of these technologies and spaces. As anyone who has saved a link and tried to use it months later or who has relied on a particular tool for something only to have that tool mysteriously go offline can attest, things on the Web change rapidly. Because the technologies are malleable, our methods need to be flexible to adapt to those changes (Rickly 379). Often, this requires a greater commitment to applying multiple methods in our research. Kevin DePew advocates a strategy of triangulation of both the types of data we rely on and the types of methods we employ in our research, which can help researchers avoid the “god trick,” or a biased, one-sided view of the data (53, 54).

In response to such complexities, a number of scholars here suggest the explicit use of theory to guide and frame the work researchers do. Certainly, this is not unique to research in digital writing. Creswell notes that certain worldviews or philosophies guide research (5-10), and Lauer and Asher note that research often uses theory to validate or produce new theories (5). What is most compelling in the discussions of theory in Digital Writing Research is the breadth of the theories employed and their unabashed political nature (which I think is a good thing). Digital technologies are often touted as the great equalizers of knowledge. This has not proven to be the case, and researchers are right to bring critical frameworks to their work, be that the ecofeminism proposed by Julia Romberger, the use of articulation theory that allows critical analysis and re-articulation of digital technologies as discussed by Amy Kimme Hea, or the use of visual and aesthetic theory to analyze digitally produced visuals advocated by Susan Hilligoss and Sean Williams.

These uses and adaptations of some of the traditional methodologies and approaches to the complexities generated by research in digital writing point to a recognition of the value of traditional methods—but that recognition is not an unquestioning devotion. Instead, the chapters in this text point to a discipline that is theory-driven, deeply concerned with ethical considerations (especially as they pertain to the research participants), flexible in response to ever-changing digital technologies, and comfortable with certain levels of indeterminacy. Such an epistemology seems to me well suited to move research methods and methodologies well into the twenty-first century.

Works Cited

Banks, Will, and Michelle Eble. “Digital Spaces, Online Environments, and Human Participant Research: Interfacing with Institutional Review Boards.” McKee and DeVoss 27-47. Print.

Blythe, Stuart. “Coding Digital Texts and Multimedia.” McKee and DeVoss 203-27. Print.

Creswell, John W. Research Design: Qualitative, Quantitative, and Mixed Methods Approaches. 3^rd ed. Los Angeles: Sage, 2009. Print.

DePew, Kevin Eric. “Through the Eyes of Researchers, Rhetors, and Audiences: Triangulating Data from the Digital Writing Situation.” McKee and DeVoss 49-69. Print.

Hilligoss, Susan, and Sean Williams. “Composition Meets Visual Communication: New Research Questions.” McKee and DeVoss 229-47. Print.

Kimme Hea, Amy. “Riding the Wave: Articulating a Critical Methodology for Web Research Practices.” McKee and DeVoss 269-86. Print.

Lauer, Janice M., and J. William Asher. Composition Research: Empirical Designs. New York: Oxford UP, 1988. Print.

McIntire-Strasburg, Janice. “Multimedia Research: Difficult Questions with Indefinite Answers.” McKee and DeVoss 287-300. Print.

McKee, Heidi A., and Danielle Nicole DeVoss, eds. Digital Writing Research: Technologies, Methodologies, and Ethical Issues. New Dimensions in Computers and Composition. Ed. Gail E. Hawisher and Cynthia Selfe. Creskill: Hampton, 2007. Print.

McKee, Heidi A., and Danielle Nicole DeVoss. Introduction. McKee and DeVoss 1-24. Print.

Rickly, Rebecca. “Messy Contexts: Research as a Rhetorical Situation.” McKee and DeVoss 377-97. Print.

Romberger, Julia E. “An Ecofeminist Methodology: Studying the Ecological Dimensions of the Digital Environment.”

Sapienza, Fil. “Ethos and Researcher Positionality in Studies of Virtual Communities.” McKee and DeVoss 89-106. Print.

Sidler, Michelle. “Playing Scavenger and Gazer with Scientific Discourse: Opportunities and Ethics for Online Research.” McKee and DeVoss 71-86. Print.

Smith, Beatrice. “Researching Hybrid Literacies: Methodological Explorations of ‘Ethnography’ and the Practices of the Cybertariat.” McKee and DeVoss 127-49. Print.

Second Creswell Posting

Creswell, John W. Research Design: Qualitative, Quantitative, and Mixed Methods Approaches. 3^rd ed. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2009. Print.

(Blog entry based on 129-226.)

I appreciated the pragmatic approach of this book. Creswell’s suggestions and plans for the different research designs made research seem all the more approachable and possible, though he was often quick to point out the amount labor involved. Furthermore, I found the discussions here quite generative. I began thinking ahead to what I want to accomplish with my dissertation and which research designs may help in this.

Research Questions and Hypotheses

As I want to emphasize the procedures for research designs, I only will raise two questions on this chapter. Creswell is seems rather adamant about what to use (research questions or hypotheses) in what types of studies. In his discussion of qualitative studies, he only addresses the use of research questions, stating that hypotheses are not to be used (129). I understand that qualitative studies are exploratory in nature, but does making some assumptions about possible outcomes necessarily constrain the study and limit its ability to be exploratory? Quantitative studies, he says, can use both research questions and hypotheses but only if the hypotheses build from the research questions (133). What strikes me here is that I understood hypotheses as natural outgrowths of a study’s research questions. Are there instances in which the hypotheses are not extensions of the research questions?

Quantitative Procedures

I was glad to see half of the chapter on quantitative procedures dedicated to advice on survey methods. I have been considering a survey for my dissertation, so learning about some issues to consider prompted me to begin considering the forms and questions my survey(s) may take. In terms of population samples, Creswell suggests that random sampling yields more generalizable data (148), but I think I might be more likely to use the purposeful selection common in qualitative studies (178). This will allow me to craft targeted questions/prompts and receive some richer data. As my survey develops, I will undoubtedly be returning to Creswell’s discussions on validity (the possibility to draw reasonable inferences from the data) and reliability (the consistency of the results) of my instruments. At this point, I’m not entirely sure what validity and reliability issues I will have to address, but this section will be a useful reference point for me.

Also helpful in my thinking about research design were the steps on data analysis and interpretation, especially when considering response bias. This refers to the bias created because of non-respondents. Creswell suggests using wave analysis to mitigate response bias—i.e., analyzing returns weekly (or at least frequently) to see how the responses are affecting the outcomes and then using this to determine what the non-responses might have contributed (151-52). Prior to reading this, I expected to deal with non-responses, but I hadn’t considered how it might bias the study or how to respond to it.

Questions on Quantitative Procedures

I am still a little fuzzy about some of the terminology and statistical methods used in quantitative procedures, and given Creswell’s goals here, I didn’t expect him to detail these at length. But I am wondering a little bit about the power analysis model (157). How does one establish values for the three elements (alpha, power, effect size)? This may not play into my work, but some more knowledge of these types of determinations may be of use in my own reading.

Qualitative Procedures

These I am a little more comfortable with—at least in terms of documentary studies. Creswell identifies nine characteristics of qualitative studies. I’ll not cover them all here, but some characteristics include a “natural setting” (i.e., not a lab), the researcher as the tool to interpret data, numerous types of data, and inductive analysis (175-76). These fit quite well with my experiences and strengths regarding research. Again, Creswell does well to provide a series of steps one might use to interpret and analyze the data collected. These are clear and valuable to anyone engaging in this process. Most meaning to me is his discussion on coding data. This is a process I have engaged with only in some unsystematic ways (in terms of how I understood approaching the process at least), so his explanation of the coding process (186), will be something that will be of considerable importance as I move ahead in my dissertation work (and it will help me organize my thoughts as I go along).

Question on Qualitative Procedures

This question has less to do with procedures and perhaps more to do with where Creswell locates some discussions. He discusses IRB considerations in the chapter on qualitative procedures but does not mention them in relation to quantitative procedures. Is there any particular reason for this?

Mixed Methods Procedures

As I stated in my previous posting on Creswell, a mixed methods research approach seemed most appealing and sensible to me, and this has not changed after reading more detailed accounts of all three research designs. To me, exploring my dissertation topic through a combination of survey results, interviews, and documentary research seems to be the most probable and most comprehensive approach.

What I have yet to determine is the type of mixed method model this will take. Creswell identifies six types of mixed methods designs:  

• sequential explanatory: a quantitative study followed by a qualitative study that extends the quantitative data; 
• sequential exploratory: a qualitative study followed by a quantitative one that builds on the qualitative data;
• sequential transformative: one type of study followed by another, both framed by a particular theory; 
• concurrent triangulation: both types conducted at once with comparisons between the data sets; 
• concurrent embedded: both types conducted at once but with one method more prominent than the other;
• concurrent transformative: both types conducted at once with a particular theory guiding the data collection and interpretation (211-16).

Here again, I think Creswell explains the possibilities clearly—I just need to begin thinking about which of these might best suit my needs. My hunch at this point is that I will lean more toward a concurrent model because of time constraints that I may experience.

On the First Half of Creswell

Creswell, John W. Research Design: Qualitative, Quantitative, and Mixed Methods Approaches. 3^rd ed. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2009. Print.

(Blog entry based on 1-128.)

Having little experience with research methods, I have been finding that the definitions in this text have been improving my understanding of these different methods. I had often thought of numbers versus words as the key distinction between quantitative and qualitative research, but as Creswell notes, the differences lie more in philosophical/theoretical underpinnings as well as in more complex methodological approaches (e.g., Fig. 1.1, 5). I was particularly interested in the different “philosophical worldviews” Creswell discusses in the first chapter, not so much because I found myself fitting into a particular category more than the others but because the four worldviews he presents—postpositivism, constructivism, advocacy/participatory, and pragmatism—are tools one might use to address different types of research questions. This allowed me to begin viewing research methodologies less as a static set of practices and more as adaptable tools to be applied differently in different contexts.   

In his chapter on literature reviews, Creswell didn’t present any information that I found especially ground-breaking: I am familiar with the uses and purposes of the literature review. However, his discussions of it as a way to explore a topic was a good reminder for me that the literature review is not an end in itself but a component of the larger research process, as a staging process for one’s topic to discover if it should be researched (24). In the past few months, I have been thinking about my dissertation topic in rather broad terms, and the ideas I have on it are all ones that can be researched. But as Creswell reminded me, the topic needs to be one that adds to the existing conversations instead of simply reiterating those conversations. This has forced me to begin looking more deeply into the nuances of my topic in the hopes of finding those angles that will add to the conversations surrounding my topic.

The role of theory is also something I knew I would need to consider in my dissertation project, but I had not yet considered fully what that role would be. Creswell identifies several different uses of theories in the various research methods. One such use in qualitative work is the generation of theory. Given the nature of my project, I doubt theory will be the end, but it will certainly play a role in understanding the potential roles of a composition-rhetoric generalist in a small English department. In the quantitative context, Creswell defines theory as “an interrelated set of constructs (or variables) formed into propositions, or hypotheses, that specify the relationship among variables (typically in terms of magnitude or direction)” (51). Understanding my own variables—including ones like faculty interests and desire for greater development, student goals and needs, departmental resources and goals—and their interconnectedness will be critical to explore my dissertation topic effectively. And as Creswell notes, qualitative use of theory also addresses relationships among variables and serves as a tool to ground other discussions (61). This sense of theory as a tool to understand and explain phenomena or other ideas fits quite well with my sense of how theory will work in my dissertation. Finally, positioning the theory/ies is something I have not attended much to at this point but will now thanks to Creswell’s discussions—but that is some time down the road.

More immediate, though, will be to make writing and work on my dissertation more habitual. I routinely do a good amount of writing as it is, but I am often guilty of procrastinating, finding it easy to put off some smaller work on research when my schedule gets hectic. I also valued his discussion on ethical matters as a reminder of issues to consider early on. Similar to what Creswell suggests here, I have always had the view that the researcher should approach her or his subjects in a Hippocratic fashion, avoiding doing any harm to my subjects first and foremost, and keeping this in mind early on will allow me to limit ethical issues throughout my research process.

Another general discussion I found useful for my ends was his chapter on the purpose statement. Again, Creswell didn’t offer an abundance of new information to me here about the importance of the purpose statement, but he does distinguish it from other, similar parts of the project, including the research problem and research questions. The research problem is “the problem or issue leading to a need for the study” and the research questions represent “those questions that the data will attempt to answer.” The purpose statement, however, “sets the objectives, the intent, or the major idea of a proposal or a study” (111-12). Having such distinctions in mind will help me draw sharper distinctions between these different parts of the project.

The most meaningful concept I have taken from Creswell at this point is the mixed methods approach. As the name suggests, this approach combines quantitative and qualitative methods, including the philosophical assumptions, strategies of inquiry, and methodologies of both (4). A particular study may emphasize one design over the other, but Creswell notes that such mixing may mitigate particular weaknesses in either quantitative or qualitative approaches (14). Creswell categorizes the combinations of quantitative and qualitative methods as sequential mixed methods (using one method to extend or more fully explore what insights came from the other method), concurrent mixed methods (collecting data using both methods at the same time and applying both methods to the findings), and transformative mixed methods (relying on particular theoretical viewpoints to frame and analyze qualitative and quantitative data) (14-15).  The mixed method approaches seem to be the most promising to my work at this point as they allow for some more openness of viewpoints and methods, which is rather liberating to my thinking at this early point in my dissertation work.

At this point, I feel Creswell’s writing is quite straightforward, he defines and explains the concepts clearly, and his examples illustrate the concepts effectively. I do not having any pressing questions after reading this first half of his text.

State of the Field

Based on my classmates’ blog postings, I think I can comfortably say that the field of second-language writing is in a state of flux. What I see occurring here, based on these discussions, is that the field is pushing and challenging conventional thinking and attempting to further develop its own practical and theoretical soundness. This suggests the field is healthy and growing--and seeking a stronger place for itself in the academy.


One of the first challenges of note to the field’s conventional wisdom is in how the field views students. Aaron’s third blog entry points to the challenge to the native speaker (NS)/non-native speaker (NNS) dichotomy that Canagarajah raises, arguing that the binary’s roots are in monolingualism and that privileging “native” speaking and speakers disadvantages L2 students. In addition Callie’s first blog entry on Song’s article discusses the globalization of English that is occurring and recognizes the loss of diversity signaled by the NS/NNS binary. These highlight discussions in the field concerning its commonplace definitions, challenging us to consider the consequences of the terms we use.

Furthermore, a number of the blogs address articles that ask to reconsider how we assess L2 writing practices. Anna-Liisa’s entire blog covers this quite well, but perhaps her second entry the focuses on the response patterns of teachers is particularly relevant. Based on the discussions in this article, Anna-Liisa asserts that teachers must have a strong sense of their reasons for assessing as they do. She furthers this line of thinking in her third blog entry by examining an article on students’ perceptions of feedback, especially error correction. As she notes, this article stresses the need to consider students’ needs. In sum, as teachers, not only do we need to have theoretical and practical reasons for assessing our students’ work as we do; we also need to consider our students’ need in that feedback.


Sharon’s blog also addresses issues of feedback and error correction. She, too, examines the importance of student perceptions. In her third entry, she covered the importance of aligning the goals of the curriculum with the goal of the feedback. As the article noted, curricula often rest on high-order, complex issues; typical feedback, conversely, often focuses on superficial matters. The solution, much as presented by Anna-Liisa, is to discover the individual needs of students and tailor feedback to those needs. But Sharon’s first blog entry points to the problems of simply carrying L1 feedback practices over into L2 contexts. Combining praises with critiques and hedging (common in L1 feedback) may only leave our L2 students wondering what we want of them. Therefore, we must consider in different terms what it is to be clear in our feedback.

While the field is challenging its more traditional views and practices, it is also working toward extending its scope and building upon its foundations. A key part of this is bringing L2 writing and its instruction closer to other disciplines, and perhaps the best place to begin is strengthening the relationship between L1 and L2. As Matsuda notes, a “a division of labor” has long existed between the two, and this division keeps the fields at arm’s length from one another--close but not connected (701). Aaron’s second blog entry notes that even the language used in the respective fields can serve to isolate the disciplines. Abandoning such terms and other separatist practices may better allow these fields to influence and be influenced by each other. In my blog postings, I also attempted to explore the need to unite L2 concepts with other disciplines more fully, particularly in my WAC entries. One example of this is my entry on Phillips, Stewart, and Stewart’s article, which highlighted the role L2 faculty can play in encouraging faculty across the university to approach L2 writing more conscientiously by raising awareness and conducting workshops.


Another area of expansion has been in the use of genre. Genre models of writing instruction have been growing in popularity in writing courses of all stripes, including L2 writing courses. Courses relying on genre models emphasize authentic writing situations and texts with the goal of providing students with meaningful and applicable instruction. As Naing notes in his fourth blog entry, through his discussion of Miller’s article, how texts are constructed has, in the past, received less attention than some of the more superficial matters. His entry examines how shifting the focus to genre and to how texts are constructed may be more beneficial to our students than focusing on the minutiae of sentence-level matters. Callie also examined genre in her fifth blog post. Though she had some concerns with the article, she noted that it did provide some useful discussions on the benefits of the genre approach: creating authentic texts, developing an understanding of discourse, communities, and maintaining the process approach in conjunction with genre.

Finally, the field’s concerns are moving beyond the classroom and into addressing political concerns that can marginalize L2 learners and instructors. The concerns about the politics and power differentials often arose in the contexts of the effects of valuing English as a lingua franca. Damien’s fifth blog entry discussed the influence of English on Spanish writing. As he notes, placing a higher value on a particular language is a political issue, as this threatens other languages. We should remember the political implications of how and why we teach English as this cannot but affect our students. In her fourth blog post, Cathryn addresses this issue in the context of the Polish education system. There, English has a privileged place and it also seems to threaten local languages. However, the article she reviewed here notes that some “Europeanizing” of English was also occurring, demonstrating a more bidirectional interaction of language. The implications here are that, as we consider our own classroom practices, we must consider such political implications if we are to create an equitable environment for our students.


These entries all point to a field that is attempting to negotiate its own position in ways that advance its disciplinary and institutional status. In other words, this highlights a field that is seeking to strengthen its legitimacy. And as it does so, it must work to transport its knowledge throughout the institution, for the students L2 education serves will still encounter linguistic struggles in other classes and disciplines. Thus, preparing faculty in English departments and departments across the university will be essential for ensuring success for L2 students. This has been the focus of my work in the blogs—as it has been for others (for example, Callie’s first blog and Damien’s fourth blog). It is vital for the field to question itself and develop itself theoretically and practically. But it must not do so in isolation if it hopes for this knowledge to be meaningful for L2 students. As I hope my blog entries have suggested, those involved in L2 education must diligently develop the knowledge of their colleagues to change the institutional culture to one that is more conscious of the needs of L2 students.

Work Cited

Matsuda, Paul Kei. “Composition Studies and ESL Writing: A Disciplinary Division of Labor.” CCC 50.4 (1999): 699-721. Print.