Writing with Authoritative Academic Power

The idea of “voice” has been widely discussed in English and Composition Studies. In evaluating the vast body of work that has been written on “voice” it becomes clear that there is no single definition of “authentic voice,” just as there is no single way for students to attain it. When it comes to authentic voice in academic writing there seems to be a continual struggle between writing in a proper, widely accepted intellectual voice and writing in what one would consider his or her own real voice. It is my thought that these two voices can eventually merge to produce a single powerful voice, one that is inclusive of the intelligent, academic scholar as well as the inspired individual. This paper analyzes the use of “academic voice” versus the use of “authentic voice,” and includes discussions on: “Standard English” and Making the Grade; Othering, Fear, and Academic Voice; Academic Discourse and “False Authority”; The Mystery and Danger of Authentic Voice; and Producing Effects and “Embracing Contraries.” The thoughts of critics and writers such as Peter Elbow, Monique Wittig, David Bartholomae, and Audre Lord are also included.

Writing with Authoritative Academic Power: Authentic Voice vs. Academic Voice

I feel as though I am on shaky ground as I write this paper. It has been a while since I have been in the “academic scene,” and I feel I have lost the ability to write in a proper, academic tone. I sit in front of my computer “speechless” – unable to write for fear that what I write will not be accepted and well received by my fellow academics. How do I communicate my thoughts and ideas in an academically acceptable manner while allowing my own voice to come through to the reader? Is it even possible to write in an academic tone while maintaining my real voice? What exactly is “authentic voice” and “academic voice” and can they be combined? How do I write with power? These are the questions I ponder while preparing to write this essay and these are the questions no doubt asked by many of my fellow scholars.

The idea of “voice” has been widely discussed in English and Composition Studies. In evaluating the vast body of work that has been written on “voice” it becomes clear that there is no single definition of “authentic voice,” just as there is no single way for students to attain it. When it comes to authentic voice in academic writing there seems to be a continual struggle between writing in a proper, widely accepted intellectual voice and writing in what one would consider his or her own real voice. It is my thought that these two voices can eventually merge to produce a single powerful voice, one that is inclusive of the intelligent, academic scholar as well as the inspired individual. One must work to merge these two voices, however, writing often and continuously growing as a writer.

“Standard English” and Making the Grade

Academic voice is thrust upon students beginning early in their academic careers. From junior high school forward “writing well” is taught to mean following the “rules” of scholarly writing. These conventions prohibit writing in first and second person or using conversational tone, and advocate the use of standard grammar and style. The idea seems to be that if the voice in a paper sounds academic the information therein must be more trustworthy, and the author more intelligent than that of a paper written in a more personal voice. Carl Leggo, in his article “Questions I Need to Ask before I Advise My Students to Write in Their Own Voices” posits that “[a]s a young academic eager to be published […] I am tempted to write essays that […] croak in somebody’s notion of a scholarly, academic voice, that huff and puff with braggadocio, whimper and whine with sibilant sycophancy, and pontificate with proclamations for progress” (144). Indeed, many students and academics writing in a “scholarly, academic voice” feel their original voice being stifled by the “huff and puff” of academic prose.

After being taught (forced) to write in academic prose, many students may find that their authentic voice has been completely obliterated. There seems to be much more of a focus upon academic voice in junior high and high school classes leading up to college, and unless a student dabbles in creative writing throughout their educational career there could in fact be no value placed upon individual voice. Peter Elbow notes that real voice is even discouraged in children. He states that “[m]ost children have real voice but then lose it” and also notes that “much of what we say with real voice is difficult for those around us to deal with […] [w]hen we are hushed up from those expressions, we lose real voice” (“How,” 65). If what we say in true voice is “hushed up” from the adults surrounding us as children, imagine what “hushing up” goes on in later years as we grow from children into adolescents and enter junior high and high school, institutions where conforming to the “rules” of academic writing is pertinent in order to make the grade.

In order to “make the grade,” the many rules and regulations of academic voice and form must be followed. Many of these rules can be found in the text used by Texas Tech University’s freshman composition class, The St. Martin’s Handbook. This handbook’s contents inform students as to the correct use of MLA style, grammar, sentence style, punctuation, sentence mechanics, and sentence clarity. It becomes apparent after viewing the contents of the handbook that academic writing is much more of a task than just putting ideas on paper. The ideas must be well formed, clear, and follow grammatical and mechanical rules. Although the idea of “voice” does not appear to be addressed specifically, the handbook does devote a chapter to the topic of “Effective Language,” under which falls the subcategory “Language Variety.” In this section, students are “educated” on the “[v]arieties of language in academic writing” and “[s]tandard varieties of English” (Lunsford 519): One variety of English, often referred to as the “standard” or “standard academic,” is taught prescriptively in schools, represented in this and most other textbooks […] and written and spoken widely by those wielding the most social and economic power. As the language used in business and most public institutions, standard English is a variety you will want to be completely familiar with – while recognizing that it is only one of many effective and powerful varieties of our language.

Even standard English is hardly a monolith, however; the standard varies according to purpose and audience, from the very formal style used in academic writing to the informal style characteristic of casual conversation. Thus there is usually more than one “standard” way to say or write something. Nevertheless, recognizable practices and conventions do exist, and they go by the shorthand name of standard English. (Lunsford 519-520) (Italics mine.)
Several things are interesting in this passage. First, the English that is “taught prescriptively in schools, represented in this and most other textbooks […] and written and spoken widely by those wielding the most social and economic power” is called “standard English.” This name implies that any other type of spoken or written English is “substandard.” These “substandard” languages many times include the use of students’ individual voices, as they may not be considered “proper” enough for academic prose. One may wonder who decided that “standard English” would be adopted as part of the “recognizable practices and conventions” in the academic world. One could presume that it is called “standard English” and has been adopted in academia precisely because it is the language and style spoken by the founders of the academic institution – white, economically successful, heterosexual men.

The preceding excerpt also implies that “academic writing” must include a “very formal style.” The handbook’s message in this excerpt is clear – academic voice is formal and prescriptive. The problem with the “educated” advice found in The St. Martin’s Handbook is that many writers do not fit the mold of “academician” early in their writing career and have not acquired the academic vernacular necessary to write academic prose. Also, students’ individual and authentic voices oftentimes clash with what is considered academic voice. Many students who find themselves on the outside of white, middle- to upper-class, heterosexual America may struggle to express real voice in what is considered “standard English.” These writers, not wanting to color outside the lines and appear less “academic” will then attempt to conform their writing to that which they believe to be academic prose. Many of the writers might be successful at mimicking a more formal tone, but at the cost of losing or ignoring their authentic voice.

Othering, Fear, and Academic Voice

The argument can be made that what is today praised as “academic voice” is actually the reinforcement of white, patriarchal, heterosexual institutionalism. As mentioned previously, academic voice demands the formal writing used and made “standard” by the earliest leaders of academic institutions: white, economically privileged, mostly heterosexual males. Those termed as Other in academic institutions may find their true voices subdued by the need to conform to the expectations of academic voice and thought. Beverly J. Moss and Keith Walters discuss the difficulties many academic outsiders may face in presenting their true voice and experience in academic writing: [T]he more that people become educated, the more likely they are to have learned to bleach their speech and writing of markers that reveal their native regional and social dialect, especially if these dialects are considered nonstandard by society at large. Such a common sense observation is, of course, an admission that access to Standard English is related to the issues of social class and social mobility. (Moss and Walters 423)
The “native regional and social dialect[s]” that Moss and Walters mention include a wide range of differences: ethnic backgrounds, races, gender identities, sexual orientations and socioeconomic situations. These axes of difference present different perceptions and voices than that of the “standard” white, middle- to upper-class, heterosexual experience. Many of these Other voices are ignored and silenced, however, in order to obtain the “bleached,” “educated” Standard English which is preferred in scholastic circles. Indeed, a student is much more likely to receive better grades, be published, and become accepted by the academic community if he or she understands that “Standard English is related to the issues of social class and social mobility.” The better a student is at writing in Standard English and using academic voice, the more academic “social mobility” that student is granted.

Academic voice may allow for “social mobility,” but solitary use of academic tone and scholarly language in many cases excludes the expression of personal voice and truth in student writing. Monique Wittig, in The Straight Mind, posits that “[l]anguage casts sheaves of reality upon the social body, stamping it and violently shaping it” (78). Academic voice consists of the language of academia – an institution that has not been defined by personal difference and identity. This language of academia is at times a language of intolerance in its exclusion of different “social bodies.” For academicians, and those who hope to become academicians, this scholarly language is the “reality” of the written word, the inclusion of authentic voice threatens the coherence and acceptance of the academic prose. It is this “reality” of academic voice that allows for the exclusion of authentic voice in student writing.

Many students may feel vulnerable and threatened by the regulations and discourse of academic prose. It seems as though the only way to overcome this apprehension is to continue writing and to continue learning the “tricks” of academia. Continuing past this fear is more difficult for some students, however, because “[some groups] have been socialized to respect fear more than [their] own needs for language and definition” (Lord 44). Indeed, defining and relating the experience of Others in academia is not always accepted and well received. For example, a middle-aged, African-American, upper-class, heterosexual female student may have a much different opinion of Marxist-feminist theory than a younger, white, lower-class, lesbian female student. Both students, however, may feel apprehensive of writing in the university setting; the former student because of her race, age, and/or gender and the latter student because of her class and sexual orientation. Because of their label as Other due to their race, sexual orientation or other differences, these two students may, as Lord mentions, “respect” their fear of further separation more than their need for expression and power through writing. The problem with this Othering of student experiences and voices in academia is that “while [Othered students] wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke [them]” (Lord 44).

Academic Discourse and “False Authority”

People are not born academicians; there must be learning and training processes in order for an individual to be considered a scholar. This notion is interesting to note considering that many professors and teachers seem to expect students to know the “rules” and expectations of academia without being taught just what these “rules” and expectations include. David Bartholomae, in his article “Inventing the University,” observes of a student in academia:
He has to learn to speak our language, to speak as we do, to try on the peculiar ways of knowing, selecting, evaluating, reporting, concluding, and arguing that define the discourse of our community. (382) These skills, as Bartholomae states, are not inherent. In order to write in academic tone a student must first learn the “discourse” of the university, among other things. It has been my experience that this “discourse” is not taught in classes leading up to college, and it is not taught in most courses taken during as an undergraduate student. Certainly, writing in what is considered a scholarly manner is difficult enough for some students; it could be considered especially difficult if these students are not trained or educated in the ways of academic discourse.

Perhaps many students are not taught the “rules” of academic writing because they are inscrutable, even to professors themselves. Bartholomae notes that “the rules governing the presentation of examples or the development of an argument are both distinct and, even to a professional, mysterious” (382). Indeed, it seems from Bartholomae’s statement that many professors and teachers may teach and expect academic voice without knowing completely why they do so, or what it really means to write in academic prose. Students and teachers know that in order for a student to receive a decent grade the paper must adhere to certain rules and grammatical conventions, but do all professors and teachers know why they expect this adherence to academic form and grammar? Patricia A. Dunn and Kenneth Lindblom are of the opinion that “perhaps the greatest motivating factor behind some English teachers’ desire to teach grammar is that they harbor a secret fear: if they don’t grade grammar, they don’t know what else to do with student writing” (47). Dunn and Lindblom’s hypothesis is an interesting one, and their topic is being debated in Composition and English studies. Apart from the literary discussion of grammatical and formal academic rules, however, many English professors and teachers still value academic voice and form over writing that is reflective of students’ authentic voices and experiences.

In the analysis of a student paper, David Bartholomae notes that one of the most “characteristic slips of [a] basic writer” is to “slip […] into the more immediately available and realizable voice of authority, the voice of a teacher giving a lesson or the voice of a parent lecturing at the dinner table” (384). Bartholomae theorizes that the student makes this “slip” because he “has lost himself in the discourse of his readers” (385). It is implied in this example that the “voice of authority” used by the student is in essence a false voice of authority. The student identified as a “basic writer” is not fluent in the discourse of academia and lacks academic authority in his writing, so he depends upon the types of authority with which he is familiar. The problem with this “false authority,” and to a large extent “academic authority,” is that it at times “excludes ordinary readers and often makes us sound like an insecure or guarded person showing off” (Elbow, “Reflections” 148). If the “false” voice of authority is compared to “a teacher giving a lesson,” as Bartholomae argues, then how does a student write with a true sense of academic authority? From the literature presented above, it is conceivable that in order to write with “true authority” in academia, a writer must combine his or her authentic voice with academic voice.

The Mystery and Danger of Authentic Voice

If some see academic voice as full of “braggadocio” and pretense, then what constitutes “authentic voice”? Real voice contains a power and authority that for the most part cannot be found in academic voice alone. In order to write with this power and authority, one must find the meaning that is hidden in authentic voice. Elbow states that “[r]eal voice is not the sound of an individual personality redolent with vibes, it is the sound of a meaning resonating because the individual consciousness of the writer is somehow fully behind or in tune with or in participation with that meaning” (“How,” 65). Many writers may think that writing in “real voice” means boisterously inserting personality, flash, and flair into their writing. Elbow explains that it is not the “personality” in the words that make for true voice, but the “meaning” of the words to the author that communicate the author’s real voice.

Authentic voice is sometimes so hard to find in academia that some argue it is nonexistent. One critic has commented that “[b]ecause the whole notion of ‘voice’ is mystical and abstract, the term may have become nothing more than a vague phrase conjured up by English teachers to impress and motivate the masses to write more, confess more, and be happy” (Hashimoto 75-76). Hashimoto seemingly describes the “voice” that is full of personality and feeling, not the “voice” that if full of meaning and power. This description is not uncommon, as many writers think that to write with “voice” means including overwhelming feeling, emotion, and personal experience. As previously mentioned, however, real voice is not necessarily communicated by personal confessions and expostulations, but is communicated by the power behind the meaning of the words. The idea that real voice is not only the communication of feeling and emotion adds to the mysterious, abstract nature of authentic voice. If real voice is the meaning behind the words, this meaning is much harder to attain than simply adding sentimentality to one’s writing, as it seems Hashimoto is suggesting.

In contrast to Hashimoto, Audre Lord believes in the power of “voice,” while at the same time understanding the vulnerability that can result from writing with authenticity. In her book, Sister Outsider, she notes that “the transformation of silence into language and action is an act of self-revelation, and that always seems fraught with danger” (42). Indeed, to transform silence into the written word is “fraught with danger” in academic circles, especially considering the conflict between authentic voice and academic tone. As Lord expresses, writing is a form of “self-revelation.” If writing is an act of personal disclosure, as Lord feels it is, in some manner a writer can never completely avoid the “danger” to which Lord refers. On one hand, there is the danger that the student may be criticized for his or her opinions and thoughts. On the other hand, there is the danger that the student may be criticized for the voice, tone, grammar, or style of the piece. Certainly, putting thoughts and words into material form, as in an article or paper, is a precarious task. Many students may struggle to reveal their thoughts and views in the academic setting without including the “meaning” to which Elbow refers. As stated earlier, however, in order to avoid writing with “false authority,” and in order to write with power, a student must include their authentic voice in academic writing.

Producing Effects and “Embracing Contraries”

Jacques Derrida writes that “no matter what I say, before all else I am seeking to produce effects” (113). For many students, the purpose of writing in academic voice is to impress their professors, teachers, or fellow students. When writing in academic voice alone, however, the effect can be interpreted by the reader as artificial mimicry of authority, as mentioned earlier. Conversely, positive reader response can be achieved by incorporating academic voice with authentic voice. Incorporating authentic voice with academic voice can give the writer a sense of genuine authority, and in turn result in a text that is academically acceptable and powerful.
In order to produce powerful, academic writing students must combine authentic voice and meaning with academic voice and form. In his article “Reconsiderations: Voice in Writing Again: Embracing Contraries,” Elbow argues that when considering the “voice stalemate, […] we need to stop trying to find out which of the competing positions is right – or trying to work out some watered down middle position” (“Reconsiderations” 175). In other words, “[w]e need both [academic voice and authentic voice] because each shows us something about language that the other obscures” (Elbow, “Reconsiderations” 176). Elbow is correct in his assertion. In order to write academically acceptable papers that may be considered for publication we need academic form and voice, while on the other hand, in order for those academically sound papers to have power we need authenticity and real voice.

Elbow provides arguments for and against what is referred to in this paper as “authentic” or “real” voice, two of which I will expand upon to illustrate the necessity of authentic voice and academic voice for powerful, scholarly writing. In his listing of “[r]easons for attending to voice in texts,” Elbow argues that “[w]hen readers hear a voice in a piece of writing, they are often more drawn to read it – and that audible voice often makes the words easier to understand” (Elbow, “Reconsiderations” 177). Perhaps readers are more apt to understand writing that includes authentic voice because it is something to which they can relate. Or, it could possibly be that hearing “a voice” in a text makes the content more powerful because of the importance incorporated in the text by the writer’s own voice. Elbow states that “people can learn to write prose that ‘has a voice’ […] and, interestingly, when they do, their words are more effective at carrying meaning” (“Reconsiderations” 177). Indeed, authentic voice in writing “carries meaning” because of the authority the author may feel when able to express him- or herself through the words chosen.

In his listing of “[r]easons for not attending to voice in texts,” Elbow argues that “[i]gnoring voice is necessary for teaching writing” (“Reconsiderations” 181; “Reconsiderations” 182). For the purposes of this paper, I might add the word “academic” in this statement, which would alter the sentence to read: “ignoring voice is necessary for teaching [academic] writing.” Admittedly, there are varieties of writing in which personal voice is encouraged, but not in what is considered “academic writing”. Excluding authentic voice in the teaching of academic writing is constructive to some degree because it removes the student’s personal experiences and visceral reactions in relation to academic arguments and scholarly research. This removal of authentic voice and firm adherence to “strict meaning and logic alone” may have an initially positive effect in removing unnecessary emotion and opinions in academic arguments, however, straight “academic reporting” can make for reading that is “dead, mechanical, [and] faceless” (Elbow, “Reconsiderations” 182; Elbow, Writing 287). Following the learning of appropriate academic tone and focus, students must then learn the appropriate use of authentic voice in order to add power and meaning to their texts.

The inclusion of authentic voice in scholarly texts allows for textual authority and meaning in student papers. As Professor Jacqueline Jones Royster notes, “Students may find what we do to be alienating and disheartening. Even when our intentions are quite honorable, silence can descend. Their experiences are not seen, and their voices are not heard” (379). Students expected to write strictly in academic voice may feel silenced by the “alienating,” Othering world of academia, and this silencing of voices and experiences will no doubt further distance the students. Also, as has been illustrated, such writing lacks power and meaning, not only to the author, but the reader as well. In order for student writing to be considered vibrant and authoritative, students must be taught not only to write in academic form and tone, but to include their own authoritative voice.

Works Cited

Bartholomae, David. “Inventing the University.” The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 382-96.

Derrida, Jacques. The Post Card: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond. Trans. Alan Bass. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987.

Dunn, Patricia A. and Kenneth Lindblom. “Why Revitalize Grammar?” The English Journal 92.3 (2003): 43-50.

Elbow, Peter. “Reflections on Academic Discourse: How It Relates to Freshmen and Colleagues.” College English 53.2 (1991): 135-55.

---. “How to Get Power through Voice.” Writing with Power: Techniques for Mastering the Writing Process. NY: Oxford UP, 1981. 304-13.

---. Writing with Power: Techniques for Mastering the Writing Process. NY: Oxford UP, 1981.

---. “Reconsiderations: Voice in Writing Again: Embracing Contraries.” College English 70.2 (2007): 168-88.

Hashimoto, I. “Voice as Juice: Some Reservations about Evangelic Composition.” College Composition and Communication 38 (1987): 70-80.

Leggo, Carl. “Questions I Need to Ask before I Advise My Students to Write in Their Own Voices.” Rhetoric Review 10.1 (1991): 143-52.

Lord, Audre. “Transformation of Silence into Language and Action.” Sister Outsider: Essays & Speeches by Audre Lord. Freedom: The Crossing Press, 1984. 40-44.

Lunsford, Andrea A. The St. Martin’s Handbook for Texas Tech University. 6th ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008.

Moss, Beverly J. and Keith Walters. “Rethinking Diversity: Axes of Difference in the Writing Classroom.” The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 417-40.

Royster, Jacqueline Jones. “When the First Voice You Hear Is Not Your Own.” The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 371-81.

Wittig, Monique. “The Mark of Gender.” The Straight Mind and Other Essays. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992. 76-89.

Post-Process Assignments

This semester's 5060 was full of "post-process" assignments. The playing field was pretty much open as far as assignments went this semester. Students could choose to present their information in the form of videos, Powerpoint presentations, term papers or any other means through which information could be presented. Although many of the projects could be considered "finished" products, students are expected to use these smaller projects in a larger final project, the teaching philosophy. I like the idea of "post-process pedagogy" because it allows students to express themselves in assignments that fit their personal preferences and learning styles. The creativity also allows for students to fully realize their creative potential and learn through experiences they might not have had in other environments.

Rough Draft Paragraphs

Here are some paragraphs from my rough draft on "voice." Please feel free to comment on what you see that needs correction, what you would like to see, or what you think I could do without (or anything else you feel the need to say about the draft). Thanks!

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Without a “voice,” human beings lack the very basic means to express that which fills their souls and their minds. When it comes to voice in academic writing, there seems to be a continual struggle between writing in a proper, widely accepted intellectual voice and writing in what one would consider his or her own personal voice. It is my thought that these two voices can eventually to produce a single voice, one that is inclusive of the intelligent, academic scholar as well as the inspired individual. In order for these two very different voices to merge, however, one must write and read often and continue to grow as a writer.

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Academic voice is thrust upon students beginning early in their academic careers. From junior high school forward “writing well” is taught to mean following the “rules” of scholarly writing. These conventions prohibit writing in first and second person or the using conversational tone, and advocate the use of standard grammar and style. The idea seems to be that if the voice in a paper sounds academic, the information therein must be more trustworthy and the author more intelligent than those of a paper written in a more personal voice. Carl Leggo, in his article “Questions I Need to Ask before I Advise My Students to Write in Their Own Voices” posits that “[a]s a young academic eager to be published […] I am tempted to write essays that […] croak in somebody’s notion of a scholarly, academic voice, that huff and puff with braggadocio, whimper and whine with sibilant sycophancy, and pontificate with proclamations for progress” (144). Indeed, many students and academics writing in a “scholarly, academic voice” feel their original voice being stifled by the “huff and puff” necessary in academic prose.

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After being taught (forced) to write in academic prose for years prior to college, many students may find that their true voice has been completely obliterated by the time they enter college. There seems to be much more of a focus upon academic voice in junior high and high school classes leading up to college, and unless a student dabbles in creative writing throughout their educational career there could in fact be no value placed upon individual voice. Peter Elbow notes that real voice is even discouraged in children. He states that “[m]ost children have real voice but then lose it” and also notes that “much of what we say with real voice is difficult for those around us to deal with […] [w]hen we are hushed up from those expressions, we lose real voice” (65). If what we say in true voice is “hushed up” from the adults surrounding us as children, imaging what “hushing up” goes on in later years as we grow from children into adolescents and enter junior high and high school, institutions where conforming to the “rules” of academic writing is pertinent in order to make the grade.

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Finding real voice after having lost it for a number of years can be a daunting task. Many students may not even know what it means to have power through “real voice.” Furthermore, students may no know how to express themselves and their power in writing without using pronouns such as “I,” or without writing in a more conversational tone. Peter Elbow notes that “[i]t is the personal, individualistic, or personality-filled voice that is inappropriate in much organizational writing” but that one can still “write with power in the impersonal, public, and corporate voice” (65). In order to write with this power, one must find the meaning that is hidden in true voice. Elbow states that “[r]eal voice is not the sound of an individual personality redolent with vibes, it is the sound of a meaning resonating because the individual consciousness of the writer is somehow fully behind or in tune with or in participation with that meaning” (65). Many writers may think that writing in “real voice” means boisterously inserting personality, flash, and flair into their writing. Elbow explains that it is not the personality in the words that make for true voice, but the meaning of the words to the author that communicate the author’s real voice. In these terms, one can include real voice in writing that is “impersonal, public, and corporate” by including words and ideas that have meaning to the author.

Rough, Rough Draft Ideas

I have not completed half of my rough draft for 5060. What I have done, is put together a very rough draft of the introduction and a list of works I plan to integrate in to the paper. I will add more as I complete it...so do come back, please!

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To have a voice is to have the ability to communicate. Whether figurative or literal, one must have “voice” in order to share ideas, take a stand or be understood. Without a “voice,” human beings lack the very basic means to express that which fills their souls and their minds. When it comes to voice in academic writing, there seems to be a continual struggle between writing in a proper, widely accepted intellectual voice and writing in what one would consider his or her own personal voice. It is my thought that these two voices can eventually merge to produce a single voice, one that is inclusive of the intelligent, academic scholar as well as the inspired individual. In order for these two very different voices to merge, however, one must write and read often and continue to grow as a writer.

Planned (Partial) Works Cited:

Bartholomae, David. “Inventing the University.” The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 382-396.

Elbow, Peter. “How to Get Power through Voice.” Writing with Power: Techniques for Mastering the Writing Process. NY: Oxford UP, 1981. 304-313.

Harris, Joseph. “Voice.” A Teaching Subject: Composition Since 1966. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall,1997.

Moss, Beverly J. and Keith Walters. “Rethinking Diversity: Axes of Difference in the Writing Classroom.” The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 417-440.

Royster, Jacqueline Jones. “When the First Voice You Hear Is Not Your Own.” The St. Martin’s Guide to Teaching Writing. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 371-381.

More to come…

I told you, I can't do without the cabbage…

Life is an interesting thing. Yesterday I was at the grocery store and there was an incident. I was standing in line, waiting to check out, and a couple started arguing. Not just mildly arguing, I mean yelling and throwing things. As other people averted their eyes, my mouth dropped open and I stared. “Hey,” I thought, “It’s for a school project.” So I stared and watched this couple have it out. Apparently, the man thought they were spending too much money on groceries and had mentioned it. The woman took offense and overreacted by throwing things out of the cart and yelling. Eventually they settled on what they were going to buy and left the store. While I was watching this take place I was thinking several things to myself:

“These people are crazy.”
“I think the woman overreacted even though the guy was a total jackass.”
“I think it’s funny to see people cause scenes in public, if for nothing else just to watch how outsiders respond.”

Then I thought a little deeper:

“I don’t think these people are that crazy. I’ve had fights and disagreements where I yelled and cried. I just try not to have those moments in public…but I think we all have those moments.”
“I have been the ‘woman that overreacted’ several times. I can think of at least three instances right off the top of my head where I have overreacted to something a family member or my partner has said. I could probably learn from this incident…”
“After more deep thought I still think it’s funny to see how people react to such heated emotions when they’re displayed in public. Some stare, some laugh, some turn and run. I think it says a lot about a person depending on how they respond to such scenes.”

So apparently, even though my immediate reaction was one of distancing my behavior from the behavior of the couple on show at the United, I realized I was more like them than originally thought. Ahhh, the humanity.

Pink asks…“Is there anybody out there?”

How can I write in “academic prose” and in my own voice at the same time? That’s a really good question. That’s a question I have been struggling with since I started back to school.

One of the simple questions on this topic is “how is one to express their individual voice in academic prose without using “I,” “me” or “my”? I know it is a simple question, but it is something with which I struggle.

Early in the semester I had my partner read some of my work. I was told that he could not hear my voice through the writing. I thought about it quite a bit, and realized that when I write in what I consider “academic prose” I do not use my true voice. I use the voice I think the reader (scholarly academicians) want to hear. I would love to be able to write as an academic and let my voice shine through at the same time, but I’m not quite sure how to do that.

I am planning on writing my final paper in 5060 over voice, specifically how to write “academic prose” while maintaining a personal flair (after my discussion with Dr. Rickly, of course). A goal for my first year of graduate study is to learn how to communicate with readers in my voice while maintaining some sort of professionalism. As of now, I must admit, I am struggling with it. I think my problem has to do with the immaturity of my writing, and I am hoping to soon “grow out of it” and learn how write as an individual and an academician simultaneously.

I don’t mean to go on a rant here, but…

What is teaching and what makes the “perfect teacher”? Talk about a 5060 conversation starter.

I think more learning happens outside the classroom than inside the classroom. I think a great amount of learning does happen in the classroom, but the lessons I really lean on and think about are the ones that are “real-life applicable.” You know, the big lessons - like knowing yourself, knowing what really turns you on, developing your own theories and thoughts, learning about liberation, exploration and motivation, and learning that as a person, you’ve got what it takes. These are the types of things I have learned about in life, and I find that the really good professors and classes are the ones that push a student to think about these issues not only inside the class, but outside as well.

Sounds crazy…but it’s true (for me). There are connections to make between my intellectual, emotional and psychological growth as a human being and the classes I have taken. For instance, I am taking a class this semester that at first really threw me out of my element. But by working with the professor, reading the readings, working on the assignments and allowing myself the occasional laugh, the class has forced me to grow as a person and has illustrated to me that I have what it takes– which I consider to be two very important lessons.

I think every person on the planet is, can be, or has been a teacher as long as people are looking to learn from everyday experiences. I think about experiences I have had in life where someone I don’t know and will never see again has said something in passing and I think “Wow. That’s worth exploring - I’d never thought about that before.” Or I think to myself (and sometimes aloud) “Wow. What an idiot.” Either way, I’ve learned from the great teachers/professors that life and everyday experiences can be just as rich a canvas as the classroom experience.

All this mumbo jumbo to say: I think the really good teachers are the ones who realize that what is taught in the classroom is not just taught in a vacuum. There’s a real world out there that needs shaking-up, exploring and questioning. The great teachers teach the material, but they also challenge their students to apply that material everywhere. The good teachers show their students how to splash around in the material and take it with them throughout life.