James L. Dunn
Basic Writing Theory & Pedagogy
Professor Barbara Gleason
November 28, 2014
Literacy Narrative
Butchering
the Language
Until
now, I have never really put much thought into my experiences with literacy,
whether it be reading or writing.
Admittedly, it is a challenge to look back at one single event that has
shaped my relationship with literacy.
There have been so many. Yet,
one thing I know for sure is that words have always been a living breathing
part of my life—a powerful force that not only gave me an opportunity to “name
the world,” but also to prosper in it.
It’s
hard to believe, but twenty years ago, I was a graduate student in Journalism
and Public Affairs at American University in northwest Washington, D.C. In addition, I was working full-time as an
Assistant Editor for that venerable Washington publication, Congressional Quarterly—often dubbed the
“bible” on Congress because of its inside coverage on politics and public
policy. So it should come to no surprise
that in my professional and academic life, I was totally submerged in
language.
Nothing
symbolized this immersion into language and words more than my Advanced
Copywriting course taught by Professor Roseanne Robertson—a hard-nosed
journalist who had worked for twenty years at The Associated Press’ Washington
Bureau. She was someone who would
gloatingly tell the class stories about how she would be so overrun at the news
desk that she would not even have time to go the bathroom. Her “war stories” would set the tone for her
class and deeply affect how I viewed the use of language in our public
discourse. I will never forget her or
her serious refrain: “We butcher the language.”
I must admit that at times I felt guilty when
she would make this accusation to my class, for none of us maliciously set out
to destroy the English language. Yet, with
every misplaced modifier or fragment that I wrote, I couldn’t help but feel like
I had committed a serious crime. My
errors certainly did not rise to the level of plagiarism, but it sure felt like
they did.
To
say that the three and a half months that I spent in Professor Robertson’s
class was stressful is an understatement. It was a very humbling
experience. Before I took her class, I
thought that my mastery of grammar, style and usage was superior. Obviously, it was not. After all, I was working in the field of
journalism; I had always done well in my composition courses.
Yet,
I was knocked down a peg or two. I
remember during one class, Professor Robertson passed out copies of three
newspaper articles—one from The New York
Times, The Washington Post and The Los Angeles Times. Each article dealt with the same topic. Our assignment was to read all three articles
and combine them into a single news article, while at the same time, correcting
all errors in grammar, style and usage, and rewriting the lede. Although these tasks were not particularly difficult,
she only gave us twenty minutes to complete them—hardly enough time, in my
opinion, to complete the tasks thoroughly.
It took me a few tries before I would hit my stride. I felt like a race
horse chomping at the bit. I was trying
to come from behind and make it to the finish line.
During
these drills (It felt like a boot camp), my professor would sit at her desk,
and she would edit several newspapers.
Red ink would drip from the margins of the newspapers that she
edited. There was something about the
sight of red ink that served as a visual metaphor for her insistence that I and
my classmates slaughter the language—that we treat it cruelly and
disrespectfully. Along the same lines,
there was a mercurial quality to this course because of its emphasis on
deadlines, production, speed and accuracy.
Even our textbook, When Words
Collide, (I still have it) suggested a kind of erratic and combative tone
to the subject matter. The implication,
here, is that language is a never ending battle—a struggle for me to follow the
conventions of standard American English and professional writing.
In
hindsight, Professor Robertson was teaching me—no matter how painful at
times—the craft of journalism—those
essential editorial skills and values that journalists use to write, broadcast
and edit news and feature stories. A lot
of her push for editorial excellence had to do with credibility—the notion that
if I wanted to be taken seriously by my audience that my copy should be as
error-free and accurate as possible.
Ultimately, I learned that I am responsible for the final product that
will contain my byline.
At
my age, I have had several bouts with the transformational power of language
and literacy. Yet, if I had to choose
one event that still has a profound effect on me, it would be my experiences in
Professor Robertson’s class. First, she really taught me how to look at texts
or compositions holistically. In other
words, I learned not only to focus on content but on the mechanics of writing
as well. Basically, she taught me not to
make any distinctions between Higher Order Concerns and Lower Order Concerns
and that my construction of language is a powerful act that directs my life and
connects me to others. In a nutshell, I
came to realize that in order to communicate clear and precisely, I must be
fully understood and use language that is based on shared, logical
understandings and common conventions.
Secondly,
she instilled in me the importance of audience—the people who actually use their
time and money to read my stories. As
professional writers, my professor taught my class that we are guardians of the
language and that how we craft our messages can have profound effects on our
readers and viewers, especially when communicating with masses of people at
once.
Finally,
Professor Robertson showed us how we use language to establish relationships,
conduct business, exchange information and express emotions. Although, I do not totally agree with her
pedagogical approach (I think it was sometimes abusive and fear-based), she
taught me to always be cognizant of what I say and how I say it. The truth is that most of us, intentionally
or unintentionally, butcher the English language at some point in our
lives. The problem that I had with
Professor Robertson’s approach is that she seemed to imply that there was
something inherently wrong with us because of it.
Now,
I feel like I have come full circle. I
am still surrounded by words in my daily life but in a different capacity that
has a language and tradition of its own.
As a graduate student in the Language and Literacy Program at The City
College of New York, and as a writing instructor, I see firsthand the many
challenges that New Yorkers face with literacy.
Recently, I was riding the D train home.
Beside me sat two young Hispanic women who were doing their English
homework. They were completing grammar
and usage exercises in their workbooks.
One of the women looked over at me and asked me if I would help
her. So for several train stops, I
helped her with her homework. She was
studying subject verb agreement and pronoun reference.
This
incident brings to mind the reading and studying of Paulo Freire’s The Pedagogy of the Oppressed—so far one
of the highlights of my graduate program at City College. His emphasis on praxis or reflection and
action as paramount for personal transformation is so powerful. It should be required reading for anyone who
desires a more equitable and just world.
My only regret is that I had not read it sooner.
I
am not Freire, but I can do what I can to make America a better place. So right now I try to inspire students and to
help them transform their lives through the power of language. It is a long road, but there is no more
important work than this task, for our nation’s economic survival rests on our
ability to develop a literate and engaged populace among non-traditional and
forgotten constituencies.
