Such a focus on teaching form can be (is?) justified by considering the outcomes we wish to achieve. The Outcomes Statement adopted by the Council of Writing Program Administrators (WPA) "describes the common knowledge, skills, and attitudes sought by first-year composition programs in American postsecondary education." I'd like to begin by focusing on two of these outcomes:
—>Students' ability to "[u]se a variety of technologies to address a range of audiences."
One way we can assist our students to learn to "use" technologies is to focus on the connections between what our students are already doing (as soon as we can figure out what that may be) and more "traditional" (e.g., academic) forms, encouraging students to seehow all of these forms are determined as a response to a specific rhetorical situation. In other words, by focusing our pedagogy on the ability to critically engage "texts" in a variety of formats, we can help foster a sense of how meaning is constructed that is not dependent on any specific technology. There is no reason, then, to have students turn off the television. Students do have some experience using various technologies already. For example, most of our students know how to open a Web browser, enter a URL, or recognize and click on a hypertext link. If we were teaching only "skills," this would be enough. Of course, we need to help students understand how the hardware, the software, the form, and the content work together to meet the needs of its audience. But is it necessary for students to author content in order to learn to "address a range of audiences" using a "variety of technologies"?
—>Students' ability to "[u]nderstand the collaborative and social aspects of writing processes."
We can help students learn to enter the scholarly conversation by helping them to understand that all writing is inherently collaborative and social. That is, the knowledge bases we rely on to formulate our own so-called original ideas are predicated on the voices of others. Moreover, it is only in response to our conceptions of a reader's possible questions or reactions to our arguments that we can write at all. Technology, of course, can help to facilitate collaboration in (and beyond) the writing classroom. And yet, many of our classrooms are built to work against collaboration: our students may log in to a chat room where they talk to each other through the medium of text in online spaces which have been carefully configured so that only students in the same classroom can interact, while at the same time they sit in nice, neat rows, ensuring that the physical act of "writing" is a solitary experience, and the use of other people's words in their writing projects is strictly controlled.Every semester, our discussion lists turn again and again to the subject of plagiarism. In a recent thread on one of the listservs I subscribe to, however, some people argued for the value of copy-and-paste writing, a form of collaborative writing which appropriates the words and ideas of others. We even have a rhetorical history behind this—the use of copy books, where students meticulously hand-copied the writing of venerables, with the hope that, by so doing, they would not only reinforce their remembering and understanding of these works but would also learn to emulate the rhythms and patterns of writing therein.
Why not teach students to copy-and-paste an essay? Two reasons, of course, spring immediately to mind: