Composition's culpability
Again, the truth hurts, and I found myself cringing but duly chastised at the way so many of the authors embed their arguments in composition’s own culpability. Haswell says compositionists have always sought ways to be efficient and avoid drudgery. Anticipating objections, he argues well that avoidance of drudgery marks much of composition’s history, and in reviewing the history of teacher-centered tech development, he is unforgiving to compositionists, who “have come late to the analysis of language by computer” (61). He provides a healthy list of early developmental efforts in this arena, yet asks in frustration, “where are they now?” (61). While entrepreneurs raced, Haswell asserts, compositionists were (again) silent. He calls some specific people out, incidentally, in his indictment. He also makes the provocative argument that “our decades-long trust in holistic scoring” means “we have again already bought into machine scoring” (68). (William Condon debates this point later, differentiating holistic scoring from machine scoring on the grounds that machines simply cannot read nor can they form any impression.) Carl Whithaus goes perhaps a step further, critiquing CCCC’s “Position Statement on Teaching, Learning, and Assessing Writing in Digital Environments” (this statement is the subject of some discontent throughout the anthology) as a “discourse of rejection” and pointing out that “software is already reading, responding, and assessing student writing” (166). Protest all you want, Whithaus says, we are already doing it.
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"In a book focused on an academic audience, calling the computer evil smacks of beating a straw man." |
As the above shows, the book avoids the trap of broad-brushing technology, which I appreciated, because humanities-based attacks that depict AI graders as evil seem so natural I almost feel that opponents--however inaccurately and unfairly--dismiss us, saying, “Well, what did you expect a bunch of luddite English profs to say?” In a book focused on an academic audience, calling the computer evil smacks of beating a straw man. But this book is not written by Luddites. Instead, following up on the theme of our culpability, several authors suggest ways we can use these technologies to complement our mission(s). For instance, Anson provides examples of how the computer and its text-mining functions can fuel fascinating compositional studies; those thinking about ways of extending composition’s tools of inquiry will find this part fruitful. Jones, although he games Accuplacer, suggests the software can aid placement as long as we realize it is not actually reading students’ writing. Gail Corso agrees, and finds that Accuplacer in addition to institution-wide portfolios “would seem more purposeful and valid” (163) for placement, although she has concerns about what such systems say about writing. Beth Ann Rothermel closes her critique of MY Access! by saying teachers could use these technologies to help students think about what it means to have computers respond to them (210). We need theories and practices, Whithaus says, “that acknowledge the range of software’s influence as responsive evaluative agents” (167).