Pure Vibes.

For my first ever tutoring session, I worked with Victoria. Of course, it started a bit awkwardly, but we were transitioning and switching, me from tutee to tutor and her tutor to the tutee, and classically I was having some network connectivity problems. The first thing I did in our session was to read the work that Victoria had brought with her. It was a very structured two paragraphs focusing on how every tutor and tutee will enter the session with their own identity, and how through identity we must promote peerness and inclusivity.

I was very interested in her idea and impressed with the level of professionalism within her writing, so I first praised her work, noting that I did genuinely feel as if this was something straight out of an academic journal. I then began to highlight what I thought were important parts of her thesis and research and took on the role of the reader. In The Oxford Guide for Writing Tutors, Ianetta and Fitzgerald write that “As a living, breathing audience, tutors can show writers that their writing does indeed matter” (59). This was the first thing I did after reading Victoria’s work and praising her writing, I believe. Victoria and I worked a bit on re-structuring her work, as she was looking for some feedback on how it flowed and where to add certain aspects of her thesis. Through acting as a reader, Victoria and I were able to sustain a stimulating conversation on how a reader would interpret her work, and how to best work so the reader could best understand her work. 

I thoroughly enjoyed being a tutor in this instance, because I truly do love being a reader, and being able to read while providing kind, constructive feedback. While I’m not particularly in love with the online tutoring format, it’s good to do practice sessions in order to understand what these sessions will be like in the future. The online sessions are fine, save my horrible, fluctuating WiFi connection. 

I was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to work with the tutee once the session began. I have been most nervous about establishing a connection through tutoring, but this session was great! Victoria and I both knew what she wanted out of this assignment, and we were able to work to achieve these goals, all with an air of comfort. It wasn’t nearly as awkward or uncomfortable as I expected, and there wasn’t really a dull moment. I am very excited to tutor in the future, and this showed me precisely why!

Works Cited:Fitzgerald, Lauren, and Melissa Ianetta. The Oxford Guide for Writing Tutors. Oxford UP, 2016.

Laura Greenfield’s work, “The Standard English Fairytale” argues that the concept of “Standard English” exists solely to disenfranchise people of color. She argues that “Standard English” is a myth that serves to further establish the systematic racism that exists in the United States and other (likely colonizing) English-speaking places. Greenfield brings up the example of Ebonics or AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and notes that this form of language “contrary to popular opinion, is not the uneducated slang of young black rappers, but a sophisticated and rule-based language group with origins in the transatlantic slave trade” (Greenfield 36). Ebonics or AAVE (African American Vernacular English) is a valid form of language with as much importance and rich history as any other form of English. Greenfield makes a note that Ebonics has persisted and existed due to “survival, solidarity, and resistance” (Greenfield 36) as it’s roots are traced back to the transatlantic slave trade in the United States and Britain. AAVE continues to exist because it is a linguistically sound way of communication, and because of how long it has been used by African American and Black people. Greenfield also discusses the ingrained racism that exists to look down upon Hawaiin Creole English, known to locals as “Pidgin English.” This form of the English language was also created out of protection and means of survival, as it was created and commonly spoken among “Asian, Polynesian, and European sugarcane plantation workers in Hawaii” (Greenfield 37). Greenfield notes that while this is often described as broken English, it is a language “highly governed by logical rules” (Greenfield 37).

The main point being made through Greenfield’s work is that language discrimination exists as a thin veil for systems such as racism to persist and prevail in the United States and other English speaking countries. White people set the rules for “Standard English” and thusly are able to take power and credit away from members of marginalized communities, specifically communities of color. 

Similar points are made in Anjali Pattanayak’s piece “There Is One Correct Way of Writing and Speaking.” Pattanayak works to discredit the notion put forward in her title, mostly arguing that the concept of only one correct way of writing and speaking is based entirely on racist ideals. Early on, Pattanayak writes that “the rules for writing shift with the people and the community involved as well as the purpose and type of writing” (Pattanyuk 82). If this idea is true, then there cannot exist a singularly identified “Standard English” because we pick and choose which ways we will communicate with people based on our surroundings. For example, you would probably not speak with the same tone, inflection, and words to your boss at work as you would to your best friend.

Pattanayak also continues to argue that there can’t just exist one “right” way of speaking English and one “wrong” way of speaking English. Pattanayak writes, “The writing most valued in this binary is a type of writing that is situated in middle-class white culture” (Pattanayak 83). This again goes back to the idea that ‘Standard English’ only serves the purpose of disenfranchising and othering marginalized identities, just as in Greenfield’s work. Continuing on this train of thought, Pattanayak makes the point that “… when the languages of white people collectively are called ‘Standard English’ and when ‘Standard English’ is imagined as a tool necessary for participation in mainstream society, people of color are put in the oppressive position not of having to speak a particular language, but of ridding themselves of all linguistic features that may identify them with communities of color” (Pattanayak 46). “Standard English” serves to allow middle-class white people to remain in positions of power while systematically oppressing communities of color. Academia also is often a place used to promote language-insight racism, because middle-class white students are often afforded more opportunity to thrive and learn “standard English” than students of color.   

As a white student, I am incredibly lucky to not be subjected to the language discrimination that students of color face every single day. I’m someone who can barely form a coherent sentence on a regular basis, but I am never put down or discriminated against for that. In fact, it’s often just laughed off. The writing center is supposed to exist as a place for any student to go, no matter what, to get creative help on their assignments. Therefore, the writing center should not subscribe to the hateful and racist concept of “Standard English.” Any English as long as it is not particularly harmful to a marginalized group (I say marginalized because it is literally impossible to be racist to white people) is acceptable English. It is truly the thought that always counts.

Greenfield, Lauren. “The ‘Standard English’ Fairy Tale.” Rpt. In Writing Centers and the New Racism.

Pattanayak, Anjali. “There is One Correct Way of Writing and Speaking.” Collected in Bad Ideas About Writing. WVU Libraries. 2017. pp. 82-87

Research Planning Template

Research Question:

How can we work to dissolve pre-disposed notions on gender binaries within the writing center? How does identifying outside of the gender binary or as a queer person in general affect one’s writing? How can we work as a writing center to make our space home to those who exist outside of the cisheteronormative culture? 

What is my goal?

My goal is to study how differences in gender identity affect one’s writing and to make sure that people of all types of gender and queer identities can feel safe and welcomed as they enter the writing center for a session.

What method will I use and why?

I think I will use both empirical and theoretical methods of research in order to pursue my topic. Theoretical through studying more in-depth the concept of queer theory and its implications within the writing center. I will use empirical methods to most likely conduct a survey and/or series of interviews to see how gender identity is reflected within tutoring sessions. Perhaps even observing tutoring sessions to see how gender can contribute to levels of comfort and discomfort, familiarity and unfamiliarity, within the writing center sessions.

What is the best way to share this research?

I believe we will be presenting this research at Undergraduate Research Day.

What are the expectations of the venue in which I’ll share my research?

Physically, I believe Undergraduate Research Day happens in the multipurpose rooms, so I anticipate it will be loud and filled with excited energy. Being surrounded by other undergraduate students presenting research and proud professors/faculty will probably bring another element of excitement as well.

What audiences am I likely to reach in this venue?

I believe other undergraduate students, perhaps some grad students, faculty, and probably some writing center staff members as well.

How can I best present my data?

At this event, we are bringing posters. For my poster, I would, of course, make it super creative and fun to look at. I believe I would incorporate different definitions and explanations of gender identity within the writing center, and perhaps an overview of gender identity and queerness as a whole. The main focus is the research and plans for research projects in the future.

Does my planned research seem reliable?

I think my planned research seems reliable. It feels like a pretty straight-forward project, involving only a little anonymous survey and probably anonymous interview as empirical research gathering.

Does my planned research seem valid?

Yes! Gender identity and queerness within the writing center is something that hasn’t been researched as much as it deserves!

To be entirely honest, the first time I ever really entered the writing center was the day of our first class. If you can recall, we went on an exciting field trip, freeing ourselves from the somewhat dungeon-like structure of the Gallon Wing basement. To also be entirely honest, I had no desire to be a writing tutor until Andrea said “hey, have you considered taking the pedagogy class?” and I said, “no, but I do need to take an extra class, and another job wouldn’t hurt!” Now that I’ve become semi-acquainted with the space, on the most basic of levels (i.e. only attending the center a second time for my observation center), I’ve had time to discover, to explore, and to think on it.

As a queer person, it’s easy to identify when there is a lack of queer people in any space. This tends to be disheartening at best and utterly terrifying at worst because I believe queerness can often provide a sense of comfort. Perhaps this is a long-winded way of me stating that my interest in writing center studies lies with queerness within the writing center.

While most aspects of queerness excite me, I think I am most interested in studying the concept of gender within the writing center. So regularly we find ourselves talking and existing within a stiff gender binary, with little room to breathe. However, the gender binary is, of course, a construct. Gender is a construct, but one that is deeply ingrained in our society. I am interested in how the gender binary exists within the writing center, and how breaking from that binary also exists within the writing center. As someone who identifies outside of that binary (non-binary, they/them pronouns thank you!), I think working to de-construct this harmful and completely made-up concept is how I can be most helpful.

Through Praxis, I found the piece entitled “‘Rainbows in the Past Were Gay’: LGBTQIA in the WC” by Andrew J. Rihn and Jay D. Sloan, which focuses on queerness in a broader sense, but the gender binary does come into play. On Praxis I also found a work called “Preferred Pronouns in the Writing Center Reports” by Justin B. Hawkins of Franklin and Marshall College, which is a write-up of a study conducted in 2016 about a policy regarding students disclosing their preferred gender pronouns. This article also includes a response to the study itself and interviews with a few students.

Through The Peer Review, I found a presentation titled “Affirming our Liminality and Writing on the Walls: How We Welcome in Our Writing Center.” This piece covers a wide variety of topics, but one of the sections by Kristina Togafau discusses a pronoun poster with gender-neutral options that hangs in the University of Hawaii’s writing center. The three of these works (and hopefully many more!), will be able to provide a basic understanding of how gender binaries are expressed within the writing center, generally speaking. I believe they will also give me a brief history of the gender binary within the writing center, and what the future of this holds.

Each of these articles also comes with a long list of sources that seem useful as well, and “‘Rainbows in the Past Were Gay’: LGBTQIA in the WC” even includes an annotated bibliography! I believe these sources will be useful in my pursuit of deconstructing gender binaries within the writing center, and I am excited to be able to explore more “gay stuff” this semester!

As I’ve mentioned in most of the writing I’ve done within my two rhetoric classes, I’m queer. I believe this integral part of my identity will lend itself as being a great trait for any writing tutors. People often find comfort in recognition and familiarity, so perhaps when a queer person comes to the writing center, they’d feel more at ease interacting with and receiving help and feedback from a fellow queer person. Using different aspects of one’s individuality is important in a place of work as open and vulnerable as being a writing tutor.

Writing, whether it be creative or for schoolwork, is an innately personal thing. Oftentimes one is divulging personal experiences, thoughts, and opinions within their different writing exercises. Writing is one of the most vulnerable things a person could possibly do, so seeking help is quite a difficult step to take. A writing tutor should be warm, personable, and friendly. They should be someone comfortable and kind. Sometimes people will come to the writing center flustered, confused, and after having a bad day. Sometimes (in addition to some tutoring, of course) a “hey it’s going to be okay” or a “no worries, we’ve got this” can ease even the most high-strung of students.

I think it’s also important to note that being a writing tutor is a great act of vulnerability as well. It’s opening oneself up to critique just as much as being a tutee and preparing to morph the way one thinks and acts depending on whoever walks through the door. Tutors and tutees are on the same playing field with the same exact level of discomfort and unfamiliarity. Tutors just must mask it better than the tutee. This entire thread of thought makes me think of “Trickster at Your Table” and the following quote which states,  “In these ways, Trickster nudges tutors and students from their comfort zones to acknowledge new voices and countervailing forces within texts, arguments, and research findings” (27). 

Being a tutor means not knowing what to expect every day, and not knowing what a day of work may hold, but being prepared to be open and vulnerable regardless. I don’t think being a tutor is an inherently intellectual thing, I have one functioning brain cell at any given time. I think it means being able to make friends at any moment and any place, and wearing a smile the second someone enters the writing center.

Geller, Anne Ellen, et. al. The Everyday Writing Center. Utah State UP, 2006.

Last semester I took Rhetoric 005, titled The History of Rhetoric (Hi, Dr, Efthymiou!), which provided a basic overview of all things rhetoric, so I could continue with my minor now understanding precisely what the minor actually was. As finals began to roll around and assignments were dished out, I feared a structured essay would come from a class literally titled The History of Rhetoric. I agonized for weeks over what I would write about, what words I could use, how I could make myself sound a lot smarter than I actually was.

In Trickster At Your Table, Hunter gives the word “Trickster” approximately one billion different definitions. The one that stuck with me most, however, is as follows, “In some ways, then, they [Tricksters] personify chaos, the disorderly order inherent in all systems” (Hunter 16). This quote immediately made me think of Rhetoric 005’s final. My fears were never realized, as the final came to be a rhetorical study of whatever topic we were passionate about, in whatever medium we figured it could best be realized.

Chaos is perhaps one of the best words I could use in order to describe what my final project came to be. Rather than drown in the confines of a wordy essay, I opted instead to write up a script for a podcast. Of course, I had never made a podcast before, I had listened to a few and loved others. As someone who hates to hear the whiny sound of their own voice, the podcast was one of the last routes I probably should’ve gone.

This is where I experienced my chaotic trickster moment because as Hunter states, “… As with any rupture of the assumed, they may also shove us headlong into learning anew what it means to work responsibly and in more principled ways…” (Hunter 16). Forcing myself out of my comfort zone by creating an hour and a half long podcast about exploring queerness, of all things, made me face my fear of structure and procrastination headlong. Making a podcast is not something one can create in a single night, it takes weeks to secure interviews, to create a script, to actually record, and finally to edit the final project.

However, the entire time I was facing these flaws within myself, I was enjoying it. I was afforded an opportunity to explore my own queerness in a way I never had before, to take a look at myself and say, “Hey, this is who you are and that’s okay.” I also got to learn from my loved ones (I interviewed my aunt and one of my closest friends) about their experiences with queerness and themselves. It brought me closer to them and provided a bond that only we could possibly share with one another.

I am a person who embodies chaos. I am always doing something, my brain (unfortunately) refuses to ever shut off. I am a tornado at any given time, but perhaps if I take a step back every now and then, I’ll be able to learn and play within this chaos, to discover a trickster within me and those around me, and maybe even smile a bit brighter.