A Simply Complicated World
I find it ironic—many students could simplify the writing process by simply complicating their thesis. “Simply Complicate.” Could this be the next Writing Center slogan? A student sits down for a session and I say, “Let’s make this complicated for you.” Ha. Most would probably run screaming, yet complicating is precisely what we need to do if they are going to be able to make a successful argument.
It seems that there’s been a wave of argumentative papers (and students, eh Whitby?) in the WC lately. My favorite technique is to play devil’s advocate via the “potential reader.” Like all of you, I ask questions in an attempt to help the students find their argument, its weaknesses, and parameters. They usually don’t get angry with me because it’s the reader we’re arguing with. It’s very interesting to watch thought processes—and sometimes the lack thereof. A few favorites from this week: Water Pollution is Bad; This Novel Contains Humor; Teacher Salaries Are Low.
A certain student who shall not be named here (a WC regular) wanted to write about teacher salaries (see above). I was asking questions, trying to guide him toward a thesis statement that someone might actually want to argue against. “Oh! I get it!” he said. His new thesis: Pay Higher Teacher Salaries Damn It.
OK, we don’t always win. On to the slacker portion of this prompt.
I have a complaint.
Several weeks ago, WSU placed one of those radar-speed limit signs at the bottom of the hill by the visual arts building. You know the type—it flashes your speed as you drive by, so that in theory you will obey the posted limit. As I walked by it on that first day, it lit up. Apparently I was walking 10 m.p.h. I looked around, thinking maybe it had tagged a passing car. Nothing on the road but me. I felt pretty good about myself. The next day I matched my time. On the third, I surpassed it. Fourteen mph. On the fourth, I outwalked two guys and a slow-moving WSU bus. Amazing. But then my world was shattered. Like a student who got all A’s in English 1010 and then hit reality in 2010, I figured out that there was no possible way that I could be walking 14 miles an hour, even if it were downhill. Whitby—who was clocked walking at 10 mph herself—pointed out that I would have to be really hoofing it to reach those numbers. And then suddenly the sign, and my fun, was gone. Was this a cruel joke? Was WSU trying to scare me into walking slower? Am I on camera somewhere, elbowing my way past two students and a slow-moving bus?
Things are rarely what they appear to be. Life is so complicated. At any rate, I’m going to be ready for that sign if it ever reappears. Watch out, Bob. I’m in training.
It seems that there’s been a wave of argumentative papers (and students, eh Whitby?) in the WC lately. My favorite technique is to play devil’s advocate via the “potential reader.” Like all of you, I ask questions in an attempt to help the students find their argument, its weaknesses, and parameters. They usually don’t get angry with me because it’s the reader we’re arguing with. It’s very interesting to watch thought processes—and sometimes the lack thereof. A few favorites from this week: Water Pollution is Bad; This Novel Contains Humor; Teacher Salaries Are Low.
A certain student who shall not be named here (a WC regular) wanted to write about teacher salaries (see above). I was asking questions, trying to guide him toward a thesis statement that someone might actually want to argue against. “Oh! I get it!” he said. His new thesis: Pay Higher Teacher Salaries Damn It.
OK, we don’t always win. On to the slacker portion of this prompt.
I have a complaint.
Several weeks ago, WSU placed one of those radar-speed limit signs at the bottom of the hill by the visual arts building. You know the type—it flashes your speed as you drive by, so that in theory you will obey the posted limit. As I walked by it on that first day, it lit up. Apparently I was walking 10 m.p.h. I looked around, thinking maybe it had tagged a passing car. Nothing on the road but me. I felt pretty good about myself. The next day I matched my time. On the third, I surpassed it. Fourteen mph. On the fourth, I outwalked two guys and a slow-moving WSU bus. Amazing. But then my world was shattered. Like a student who got all A’s in English 1010 and then hit reality in 2010, I figured out that there was no possible way that I could be walking 14 miles an hour, even if it were downhill. Whitby—who was clocked walking at 10 mph herself—pointed out that I would have to be really hoofing it to reach those numbers. And then suddenly the sign, and my fun, was gone. Was this a cruel joke? Was WSU trying to scare me into walking slower? Am I on camera somewhere, elbowing my way past two students and a slow-moving bus?
Things are rarely what they appear to be. Life is so complicated. At any rate, I’m going to be ready for that sign if it ever reappears. Watch out, Bob. I’m in training.
posted by cheyney at 9:35 PM
1 Comments:
The "whole you" may not be moving at 10 mph, but your legs might be as you take each step.
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