Monday, September 28, 2009

Why Is Everything An Argument With You?

When most students hear the word “argument,” they think of angry people yelling at one another. When you tell them that academic writing is about making an argument, they picture those uncomfortable moments with family and friends where they fought with one another. No wonder students have so little enthusiasm for “making an argument” in their classes.

An academic argument isn’t an angry fight, though. When you hear the term “argument” in an academic context think about two people having a reasonable conversation. Envision two people who aren’t emotionally attached to the subject. Instead, these two people are actually curious about what the answers to a question might be. As each proposes a possible answer, the other gently tests the proposition with questions and offers new facts to be discussed.

Even given this slightly less combative vision of arguing, students are bound to ask, “Why do I have to argue at all? What’s the point?” It’s a good question.

The point of arguing is to help us better understand something. Anyone can have an opinion. In fact, opinions are among the most common things around. But what is the value of those opinions? Many opinions only have real value to the person who holds them. Typically, these are opinions based on an emotional response to something. For example, I can say, “The Oakland Raiders are my favorite team.” That statement reflects my opinion, and it is factual. But so what? It isn’t really an arguable statement, in part because it has no real value outside of my own personal preference. It doesn’t matter to anyone but me. The fact that I like the Raiders doesn’t preclude you from liking another team.

But what if I claim, “The Oakland Raiders are the best team in the NFL.” That statement is also an opinion. Furthermore, it might matter to you (if you care about football) because if I am right, then your favorite team isn’t the best team in football and maybe you think they are. We don’t have to fight about it, though, because my opinion is arguable and, therefore, potentially provable in a meaningful way. We can actually establish criteria for evaluation, look at data, gather the informed opinions of experts, and evaluate the facts to make a reasonable assessment about which team actually is the best team in football.

We can have a heated argument – the personal kind – about whether the Raiders are my favorite team, but why would we? It doesn’t matter. We can also have an academic argument – though it need not be heated – about whether the Raiders are the best team in football. That argument, though, actually has a good possibility of yielding a factual conclusion. We might not discover who the best team really is, but we are sure to discover that, in fact, the Raiders are not the best team in football (actually, over the past several years, they are one of the worst teams – if not the worst team – in football).

For an opinion to have broader value, for us to have a chance to establish it as fact or truth, we have to take a more intellectual, critical approach. The process of challenging assumptions or opinions; of asking critical questions; of looking for data, facts, expert opinion; and analyzing a subject is a process that can lead us to the truth or at least a better understanding of the subject. It can lead us to better answers about all sorts of things like what you can do about global warming, who you should vote for to be President, even what kind of car you should buy.

Argument – even internal argument – is how we come to understand the world around us. It is a form of critical thinking, one of the most valuable skills you can possess. And academic writing is one of the surest ways to learn that skill.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Start Me Up

I had the pleasure of talking to some freshmen in their UVC classes last week. I asked them what they wanted to know about college writing. During our conversation, a theme emerged. Most of the students I spoke with told me that the hardest part about writing was getting started.

There are a number of techniques for getting started. Experts recommend doing some brainstorming, free-writing, creating a web, or making an outline. All of these techniques have value, and I concur with the experts: try one or more of these techniques and see what works best for you. But as the conversation with these students unfolded, I was struck by a thought that I’d like to explore.

Almost every creation story I’ve ever seen emphasizes that creation came from the organization of chaos. The Creator in these stories always brings order to the chaos. This same story is fundamentally true of “small c” creators as well and, thus, it is true for writers (and Writers).

When we write, we rarely know exactly what we want to write until we write it. We must work hard to shape our formless thoughts into a point, something sharp and focused. This shaping often takes place on the page itself, but it just as often takes place in our heads. In fact, there is a definite back and forth relationship between what appears in our head (the image of our creation) and what ends up on the paper (the final form of the creation). In short, writers make order out of the chaos of their thoughts.

My point is that the very act of thinking “Where do I start?” is, in fact, a start. We have begun the process of creating order out of the chaos of our thoughts. Is it difficult? Yes, often times. But it is also clearly the beginning of writing.

This is the point I’d like for those students among you to take: don’t confine your definition of writing to the act of putting pen to paper or fingertips to keyboard. The page is merely a container for your thoughts. Typing merely propels your words to the page. Thinking is part of the writing process. In fact, it is the real essence of writing. To continue the creation analogy, it is the spirit that inhabits and energizes the flesh.

Thinking is the work of writing. The rest is just packaging. This fact is why writing has such a critical role in education. It is the primary reason (of two reasons) why writing is so important: college is about learning how to think. Not what to think, but how to think, the process of thinking. (The second reason that writing is important is that it is still the best way to communicate complex ideas to a large number of people over an extended period of time so, it is critical that you learn how to communicate clearly in writing.)

The kind of deep thinking you are learning to do in college can’t be rushed. It takes patience. Because writing is thinking, the same is true of writing: it can’t be rushed, and it takes patience. If you’ve started grappling with the chaos of your thoughts, you’ve started to write. Does that make it any easier or more fun? Probably not, but at least we’ve now accurately located the real problem, and that’s the first step toward solving it.

Monday, September 14, 2009

There is a reason (learn, learn, learn)

Starting college is a heady feeling. New school, new people, newfound freedoms, all of these things make starting college an exciting time. One of the first shocks most students receive is how much writing is required in college. If you haven’t seen this reflected on your course syllabuses or heard it from your instructors yet, you will before the first year is over.

The nature of college writing is vastly different than you may have experienced in high school. It is certainly different from the types of communication you see on a daily basis. In college, you will be required to make a claim or statement (called a thesis statement) and defend it with logic, facts, and expert opinion. It is unlikely that you had to do this, or do it as thoroughly, in your high school English classes.

Much writing in high school involves your personal response to other people’s writing and opinions. Similarly, most public communication strives to appear reasonable and well-supported, but it often falls short. We’re bombarded by advertising claims that seem to offer a supported argument (“Is gas mileage important to you? Our car gets 24 miles per gallon on the highway. You should buy our car.”), but those appeals to our pocketbooks are far more shallow and narrow than the types of writing and issues you will be asked to consider throughout your college career.

Why is there so much emphasis on writing in college? There are two primary reasons. The first is that writing is a great way to demonstrate your understanding of a topic. The slow, in-depth nature of the process gives you time to develop a clear, coherent response to an issue or topic. The second reason is that writing is a way of learning. Writing is far more than just putting words on paper. In college, when we speak of writing, we’re talking about the entire process from researching a topic and working to understand it to developing a clear, well-supported response to the issues involved in that topic.

Helping you navigate the requirements of writing in college and understand the value of writing beyond school is one of the main purposes of this blog. In the coming weeks, we’ll address some of the issues that make college writing such a challenge and such a rewarding experience. We’ll investigate what academic writing is, why everything seems to be an argument, and why this isn’t such a bad thing after all. We’ll look at how to evaluate sources and discuss some of the differences between what you are being taught about writing and arguing in college and how things happen in “the real world.”

Future posts aren’t written yet, so feel free to use the comments section of this blog to ask questions and propose ideas for discussion. Being engaged in the conversation is another exciting and important aspect of being in college.