Literacy Narrative Draft #2

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.