Decolonisation

There are many issues currently under debate in the South African Higher Educations sector; free education, the reinstatement of students expelled for their actions during prior protests, the security presence on campus, the questionable decisions made by university management and decolonisation. All of these issues are relevant and must be critically discussed and debated. While I certainly do not have all the answers, I would like to add something to the discussion of decolonisation.

Decolonisation is defined as the process of undoing colonial power, where a nation establishes and maintains its domination over dependent territories. This term has been appropriated by the South African student movement, in reference to tertiary education. Here it is being used to refer to the dismantling of the dominant European discourses that are still pervasive in our curriculum and many institutional structures. Afrocentrisim is another, perhaps more appropriate, term being used to refer to the change desired of our system.

Since the notion of decolonised education really came to the fore, almost two years ago, it has been a regular topic for discussion among many educators, and yet little has been done to move towards this goal. Due to curriculum content, some disciplines have made greater visible progress than others, but in particular the sciences have shifted very little if at all. I can’t speak for others, but for myself it has taken me some time to understand what decolonisation means and, beyond that, how it is to be achieved. This fundamental issue of achievement has been for many, I believe, the bottle neck in the process of transformation.

Currently, we are in a student initiated university shut-down until the student’s minimum demands are met. These demands appear to be something of a moving target and different messages are being received from different student groups. Today I attended a silent protest in support of reopening the university. For the protest we were asked to bring along an academic paper to read as a symbol of our desire to continue the work of the university. During the protest a group from the student movement arrived and made some statements which made it clear that unless free decolonised education is guaranteed, they will not allow the university to reopen.

As I listened to the student movement and simultaneously tried to read my paper I was struck by the application of what I was reading to the pressing issue of decolonisation. The paper, by Jewitt et al., (2001), was discussing the co-creation of knowledge, as a learning process, within the classroom. Jewitt et al., (2001) describe how we should be moving away from the unidirectional transfer of knowledge from teacher to student. Rather, students take what they are given by their teachers and then reshape the meaning using the resources available to them. Those resources critically include the students lived experiences, interests and primary Discourses. Jewitt et al., (2001) argue that the onus then lies with educators to examine what students produce as meaningful and representative of the choices they have made with the resources relevant to them. This pedagogy is not new, but perhaps its application to the process of decolonisation is.

I think this approach to decolonisation – the co-creation of knowledge for the transformation of knowledge – is fundamental to its success. What I, as a white, female academic can achieve in terms of decolonising what I teach, is limited. Not because I don’t desire transformation, but because I can accept that my lived experiences, my experience of the Africa I grew up in, cannot be representative of all of my students. As such, what are evident to me as the artefacts of colonialism will not be exhaustive and I alone cannot speak for all.  However, it would also be erroneous to simply assume that if I were black I could speak for my students. No two lived experiences are the same, no one person, regardless of colour, can or should speak for all. The decolonisation process must be a partnership.

I therefore appeal to students, we as educators cannot provide you with decolonised education, without your engagement. Engagement, not at yet another forum or meeting or protest but, on a day-to-day level in the classroom. Decolonised education cannot, as an entity, be demanded. It is not a fixed or finite ‘thing’ which we, as educators, can ‘give’ you. What we can give you, is a commitment to open dialogue within our classrooms, to a serious acknowledgement of your contributions to knowledge, both verbal and written, in classrooms and through assessment. On a departmental, faculty and even institutional level we should also commit to the regular re-examination of the transformed knowledge we are co-creating in our classrooms, so that transformed knowledge can be shared. I believe that these engagements should be formalised and enforced – decolonisation is the work of all.  But again I say, decolonial education is not something that can be delivered against a set of demands on a particular date. You, as students, must take decolonisation into your own hands, through respectful discussion, challenge and open debate with your educators and peers.

I will close with an acknowledgement that mistakes have been made by both educators and students, perhaps best described by an analogy. Imagine that we are in a kitchen and you are shouting at me, telling me that you are hungry and demanding that I make you a sandwich. I very much want to meet your needs, but I have no idea what kind of sandwich you want and so I have been wringing my hands and talking about the sandwich for too long now while you become more and more hungry. Therefore, the turning point must be when we both realise that I can only make the kind of sandwich you want if I ask you to help me and if you are willing to help me and if I listen to you and act accordingly. Shouting longer and louder or keeping us out of the kitchen will not get the sandwich made. Just so, decolonialism cannot be achieved unless we work together, which we cannot do if the university is closed. Should this process have begun many years ago? Certainly. Should we continue to quibble over the fact that it didn’t? No. Let us act together now #OpenUCT.

Looking Back

This post forms the first in a series, and comes out of my continued attempts to critically ‘think through writing’ about my role and the role of a writing centre within an academic institution, particularly within the current climate of transformation. My perspective is grounded in the South African context and my experience is based solely on the University of Cape Town’s writing centres, which I have been involved with for the past 6 years.  

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Last week, in a meeting with a respected academic from a well-known South African university, I was surprised to hear her say that her university doesn’t have a writing centre. However, my surprise turned to shock as she went on to say that not only do they not have a writing centre, but that she and her colleagues continue to advocate against a writing centre.

Who could possibly be against a writing centre?

As she continued to speak, I learned something about the history of South African writing centres, something I am ashamed of. While this past is not true for all Writing Centres, it was the lived experience for some and as such, I think it needs to be acknowledged in order for us to move forward.

It seems that writing centres were not always the supportive, empowering spaces that many of them are today. Writing centres have a dark past of shadowy damp basements where students were sent to be punished for plagiarism, where struggling students were sent to be “fixed”, where black students were sent to learn “proper English”, where spelling, grammar and referencing were the gospel and where the university held all the power.

It’s enough to give you cold shivers.

These spaces are rightly remembered as demeaning, punitive and remedial and apparently, for some universities, this remembrance has forever tainted their perception of what a writing centre can be.  It is also this past that has prompted certain institutions, such as UCT, to take a rather different approach to writing centres.

This idea, of what a writing centre can be, is something I have been percolating over for some time now. With transformation being the watchcry of the year, knowing where we are now, where we aim to be and how we’re going to get there has become of immediate importance.

Like hungry children, students have grown tired of asking and are now demanding to be fed. And, like the guilty parents we are, we can no longer placate them with 2 minute noodles. We need to roll up our sleeves, peel the vegetables and put in the effort required to produce a nutritious and satisfying meal.

Regardless of your feelings towards the student movements of 2015, notably #RhodesMustFall and #FeesMustFall, what is undeniable is that they provided a powerful catalyst for social change - a form of social punctuated-equilibrium. 

Transformation is defined as a marked change in form, nature or appearance. With this in mind, the question becomes, can we ever really transform unless we first take a long hard candid look at where we’ve been?

For me, the first step to moving forward is looking back. This process may feel painful, shameful or frustrating. Yet all of us, regardless of our role and whether we lived the past or have merely inherited it, must take responsibility – this is our mess to clean up, even if we didn’t make it.

As a writing centre, that means acknowledging that our roots come out of a colonialist space, where white was right and English was salvation. It means acknowledging that at their inception, writing centres were about more than just teaching a universal means of communication, but also insidiously about power and control; about privileging and prioritising particular cultures and languages above all others, about using language to control access to knowledge and opportunity, and about reinforcing a particular socio-political ideology.

If we’re honest, writing centres come out of a really ugly place. And, although this is not the end of our story, I think we need to sit with this for a time and reflect.

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As this is an ongoing series, I welcome constructive comments, productive dialogue and diverse perspectives.

Being Powerful

They say lightning doesn't strike twice, but apparently hijackings do.....Yesterday I was hijacked for the second time. The first time was about 9 years ago and at gun point, while yesterday's incident was at the end of a very large knife blade. At least the awfulness of having something this horrible happen to me twice is partially countered by the fact that on both of these occasions I have come out of the incident physically unharmed. I know that there are many others who have not been so lucky. 

As I try to process all the emotions I am dealing with, I have been struck by the fact that my overwhelming sense is one of sadness and disappointment. I feel let-down  - by my county, by the system, by our society, by myself. 

I'm not sure how normal this reaction is to a crime like this, but it has given me some heavy food for thought. There seems to be a common belief that we are born of our country, yet I'm starting to see that this is not so. In fact, our country is born of us. Today I feel like the mother of a delinquent child - a child that I love dearly, but a child that is hurting me, and itself. And, like a parent, I'm left wondering how am I complicit in this incident and what I could have done differently, or better, to prevent it?

As the scientist in me cannot be silenced, I am immediately put in mind of the concept of nature versus nurture. While the relative responsibility of these two forces in shaping the outcome of an individual was once a matter of heated debate, we now know more about how the two play off against one another. As it turns out, our nature, that which we inherit, that which is written into our DNA, is much more malleable than we had previously thought. We now know that it is the nurture, how an individual is treated and the environment within which they develop, that truly directs the shape and boundaries of the final product and can even alter our DNA in small but significant ways, thus slowly transforming what we pass on to future generations.  

Our country, like our bodies, carries with it both the burdens and strengths of our past. It's in our DNA and, just like with our bodies, we cannot control or take responsibility for what we inherit, but we MUST take responsibility for what we pass on. We are the environment, we are the nurturers that are shaping this county. We have the power to consciously create an environment in which our country can become the best version of itself. 

So, despite the fact that I am shaken up and, if I'm being honest, more fearful than I was before, I refuse to let that fear control me. I will continue to assume the best about those I meet, I will still be polite and kind to strangers and I will keep opening my door to beggars. I will be the change I want to see in this county. I may not have had the power to prevent being hijacked, but it is within my power to control how I respond. 

I know there are many who may read this, shake their heads and write me off as hopelessly naive. Perhaps I am. But if the #feesmustfall movement over the last week has taught me anything, it's that we the people DO have the power to make positive change. It has reminded me that injury to one is injury to all and that my actions, small and inconsequential though they may seem, can make an impact. And that in our collective impact, there is real power for change. 

I love this county, this wayward child of ours, and I would have to be dragged from its shores, kicking and screaming, before I ever willingly throw up my hands and abandon it to the wicked few. 

The Cloud

I recently watched an excellent and insightful TED talk by Uri Alon. In his presentation Alon talks about the shared experience that most researchers have at some point on their journey from starting to finishing a project. The experience he is talking about is when everything goes wrong. You start at point A, you have a plan and you move logically in a straight line to point B, end of project. 

Can I have an "Amen" from anyone who's research journey looked like that? ....crickets....

This is exactly Alon's first point - somewhere between beginning a project and completing it, things start to go wrong, nothing works, we get lost, we wonder off into the mist, desperately trying to find a way to move forward. Alon refers to this period in research as 'the cloud'. 

The cloud can be a scary, isolating place. A phase of the journey where it is easy to become dangerously demotivated and depressed. My gut feeling is that most people that abandon their research probably do so when in the cloud. When you're in the cloud all you can do is keep trying new methods or old methods with new approaches, something, anything, until you fianlly find the thing that works, until you make the breakthrough, until you suddenly find yourself back out in the light with the endpoint in sight. Spoiler alert - the endpoint is usually not point B, that we pictured when starting out on the project, but actually point C, somewhere off in left field. 

Which leads us to Alon's second point. Only when you are in the cloud, can true innovation happen, can exciting discoveries be made, can the bounds of our knowledge be nudged out just a little further than they were yesterday. The cloud is where science happens. We need to abandon our fear of the cloud and embrace it for what it is - a fundamental and iterative part of the research process that pushes us to produce truly novel work. 

This concept of the cloud and its implication for research is not unfamiliar - most of us have been through it, but I'll bet you, that just like me, you thought you were the only one. I'll bet, that just like me, you thought that it was because you weren't a good enough researcher, that you weren't smart enough to skip the cloud. But it wasn't just me, and it's not just you, it's all of us. So why on earth didn't anyone tell me that it was normal? Imperative even?

Because, "In science we just learn about the results, not the process." 

The process. So simple yet so profound. 

I think that as academic writers we also have a lot to learn about the process. There seems to be this assumption that if you are a good writer, you simply sit down and produce a great piece of writing, end of story. Sound familiar?  

I remember several years ago being asked about my writing process. I can't recall what I said, but I do remember thinking 'Process? I don't think I have one of those...." The truth is that no writer, not even the great ones, sit down and produce an exceptional text in one go. Everyone has a process, a way of moving from that first rough draft to the published copy. 

If we are ever going to be good (or, one day, hopefully great) academic writers, it is imperative that we acknowledge this and embrace it. 

Hello, my name is Natashia and I have a process. 

It is not only okay, but normal and even beneficial, to lose your way when you write. To grapple with a chapter, to wrestle with your literature review, to spar with a conclusion. These challenges don't make us bad writers, they make for better writing. 

Because everyone's process is unique to them, it is important is to interrogate your own process. What is working? What is not? What could you do differently to make your process more productive? How will you safeguard yourself against demotivation and depression, against giving up or settling for mediocre? 

Establishing your own rituals and routines can be helpful. Favourite comfy jersey? Check. Steaming cup of tea? Check. Einaudi playing softly in the background? Check. Whatever works for you. 

It is also necessary to have a plan around drafting. I remember being told by a lecturer in undergrad that whenever you think you are finished writing an essay, you should put it away for a couple days and then read it again. While this is sage advice that I follow now, at the time I remember wondering how on earth could I do that, given that most assignments were finished at about 3am on the day they were due! But drafting is important, not just for the writing, but also for our thinking through the content we are writing about. In the Writing Lab we know that often when we see bad writing, it is not because the student is a bad writer, but rather because they are confused about what they are writing about. In academia we write about some fairly complex and abstract concepts, and it can be very challenging to think through content and package it in a way that offers a new perspective on old issues. So give yourself the space and time to think and write through multiple iterations of the same piece. Drafting is akin to the cloud, and it is only as we draft that great writing actually begins to take form.

Your process should also include support. Behind every great writer there is an exceptional editor - nobody does it entirely alone. Make use of a Writing Centre or join a Writer's Circle. Be open to other people's impressions and interpretation of your writing. After all, you're not writing for yourself - consider your audience.

Finally, remember that your end product will likely look very different than what you had first envisioned, and that is okay. Embrace the cloud. Only by working through the process can your writing ever evolve from first rough draft to polished prose. 

View from the Top

There are people who have lived in Cape Town for years and never been up Table Mountain. They know it is there, they may even look at it daily, they will marvel at it's beauty and recommend it to tourists, but they have never seen the view from the top. 

Perhaps they are afraid of heights? Maybe they can't afford the cable car? Possibly they are too unfit to hike up? Or they may not see the value in the experience?

The thing is though, once they do go up, once they open themselves to that experience and alter their perspective....it changes everything. 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/24028533@N03/4116276234

I recently had a 'view from the top' experience when I attended a writers circle for the first time. 

I certainly had recommended them to others, I understood the principles of how they functioned and thought I appreciated their value, but I had never pushed past my fear, found the time or made the effort to attend. 

Let us just say that I have now altered my perspective, and it has changed everything. 

As someone that enjoys writing and finds it quite an easy task, it is tempting to become comfortable and arrogant about the quality of my work. I'm ashamed to admit that when I shared my piece I really wasn't expecting much criticism or challenge. The piece in question was extracted from my PhD thesis and is in preparation for journal publication, so I had put this piece through many drafts and it had already passed muster with my supervisors and a panel of examiners. 

I was confident - the writing was good. 

I was wrong - the writing could be so much much better. The writing can always be better. 

I was overwhelmed at the enormous amount of valuable feedback I received that afternoon. The shift in perspective, the fresh eyes on my work, the insightful questions and the thoughtful comments - you just can't buy the kind of interrogation for your work. To have a group of people sit together and read and discuss your ideas, sentences, structure and story...I'm totally hooked. 

I have since reworked my piece based on that feedback and it is so much better, so much stronger - how did I not see that I had put the focus in the wrong place? Why didn't I realise that the story was missing? 

Yes, it is scary to open yourself to that level of criticism, to be vulnerable with your work, but if you do, if you can put on your big-girl pants and push past the fear, it will be so worth the reward. 

UCT Science Writer's Circle

Every Monday from 14:00 - 15:30 in the MCB tea room. 

Contact Karis at karismoxley@gmail.com for more information. 

Setting Goals

"Do you set goals?" my husband asked me this morning as I was getting ready for work.

"Yes, yes I do."

Thinking back, I realise that I have always been a goal-setter. I remember writing my first list of life-goals, more of a bucket list really, when I was about 18. While some goals on that list (I still have it) no longer interest me, when I re-read it every few years, I'm amazed at how much I have already accomplished. 

Around the beginning of each year I often, quite organically, find myself taking stock of where I am - patting myself on the back for achievements and forgiving myself for the failures and short-falls. This mental stocktaking inevitably rolls over into goal-setting for the year ahead. Generally I'll jot down a short list in a notebook and leave it at that. Then over the course of the year I may come across that list and update it, but it's not a task I diarise. Life takes over, January comes around again and I repeat the process. I have at times come across lists that are two or three years old and been surprised at goals I accomplished that I forgot I had set! I find something very satisfying about the act of crossing items off a list!

What has always intrigued me though, was how I was achieving my goals - sometimes without even realising it. Today I read a really useful article on goal-setting that answered my question with simplicity and elegance....

By committing my goals to paper, I had given myself, my subconscious, direction. Of course, Donohue goes on to talk about how we need to do more that write down our goals and forget about them (as I have been doing) and he offers some excellent practical advice on how to go about making the most of this activity. Notably, he talks about setting distinct goals for six key areas in your life; Family & home, finance & career, spiritual & ethical, physical & health, social & cultural, mental & educational. I think it's interesting how we forget that goal-setting really should apply to all areas of life. 

In academia we set goals for each project we do - we call them aims. Most of us wouldn't dream of embarking on a project without a very clear list of aims and objectives. In fact, setting aims and objectives is usually a gate-keeping activity - without them, no research or funding proposal would ever be approved. So, if we know how important they are to the success of a project, why do we struggle to see how important they are to the success of our lives? And, why are we not talking to our students about this?

The more I think about it, the more I realise that setting goals has particular relevance for students. Students are in a very critical phase of development, for the first time they are able to make really diversifying choices about the shape and direction of their lives, yet they often make these choices with very little interrogation. It frustrates me to think that many students (myself included) embark upon a degree with very little thought about what they are going to do when they graduate. At various life stages there are the dreaded questions (When are you handing-in? When are you going to have a baby? When are you going to have another baby?) For many students, I think that dreaded questions is "So, what job are you going to do with that degree?" 

As educators we need to encourage our students to think about their long-term academic and career goals - earlier rather than later. Too many students are pursuing degrees that will not prepare them well for the job they ultimately want - at best leaving them under-prepared for employment and at worst (for those who drop-out) leaving them thousands of rand and several years in debt, without even a piece of paper to show for it. 

If we want our students to be successful, not just with a particular assignment or project, but holistically successful, then we need to talk to our students about the importance of setting goals and teach them the skills of setting good aims and objectives. Not only will this encourage students to engage critically with their aspirations and take ownership of their lives, but it will empower them with tools that will help them to determine direction and cement their focus. 

And the best place to start?

Getting Real About Imposter Syndrome

Ever feel like you don't really belong? Like any day now everyone is going to realise that you have no idea what you're doing? Like your colleagues or peers have it all together while you are secretly drowning? Sound familiar? Chances are you have Imposter Syndrome. 

Yes, it's a real thing. 

When I first came across Imposter Syndrome, quite incidentally and in no way related to my work, I can't describe the immense sensation of relief I felt. Why doesn't anyone talk about this? To be able to put a name to what I was feeling, what I had been feeling for years, was such a comfort. Knowing that I was not alone, understanding why I felt that way, slowly coming to accept that maybe it was all in my head. Starting to believe that maybe I wasn't such a fraud, maybe I actually deserve to be where I am. 

Since learning about this syndrome a few years ago, I can report that I have experienced these negative feelings a lot less and, when they do periodically surface, I have developed strategies for coping. But recently I was forced to take a fresh look at what it means to be an imposter. 

Last week I attended an excellent seminar, given by Caroline Kuo, on how to write for publication. At the start of the seminar we did a round of introductions, including sharing our publication record with the group. I could have lied, but I took a deep breath and admitted my shameful truth - I have no publications. I am part of the Language Development Group, I run the FHS Writing Lab, I regularly lecture on academic literacy and yet, I have no publications. How fraudulent is that?  Let me be clear, I'm not unskilled or unqualified for my job. I have written both Masters and PhD theses, I worked as a Writing Centre consultant for years and I certainly understand and can teach the mechanics of academic writing, but no, I have no published journal articles. 

Part of my coping strategy for dealing with feeling like an imposter is to try and take objective stock of where I am and what I have achieved. Often, I'll actually write a list of my accomplishments and hang onto it for a few days, pondering it until my brain gets the message that I have the goods. However, on this occasion it wasn't what was on the list, but what wasn't that really mattered. When you walk around for years feeling like a fraud, the only recourse is to get real, to be real. For those who suffer from Imposter Syndrome the challenge is usually that we can't accept what is real, but when you have grappled with this syndrome and found ways to cope with it, the danger is that we might dismiss shortcoming that are real, as fraudulent feelings that are not. A fine line to navigate. 

So when you identify a real shortcoming, how do you deal with it? The same way you do with fraudulent feelings - get real. Be objective, assess the situation accurately and fairly, make a plan, stay focussed and work towards your goal (I have set aside weekly protected writing time and joined a writer's circle). 

But what about when we recognise this syndrome in our students? What is our role as teachers and mentors? 

Firstly, we need to be aware that some students are more vulnerable than others. High achieving students (those that we tend to worry about the least!) and particular women in the sciences are most at risk, but so are black students that come from disadvantaged backgrounds. Students that have been accepted to the university on the basis of some kind of academic concession or redress are extremely susceptible to feeling as though they are not worthy, as though they do not belong. As teachers, the onus is on us to to be aware of this vulnerability in our students, even when everything may look fine on the outside, and to help them find ways to work through these negative feelings.

Secondly, when our students succeed, praise their skills and abilities, not the grade or award. "Well done on making the Dean's List" is nice, but not as helpful to the student as pointing out to them why they made the Dean's List "You really know how to develop a convincing argument in your written assignments - I wasn't surprised to see your name on the list." Constructive feedback and praise will make it easier for students to identify their strengths and improve their confidence levels. 

Thirdly, I think that it is important to temper our expectations of students. This is somewhat emphasised in the difference in academic paths between faculties. I come from science, where there is a very clear expectation that you will progress directly from Masters to PhD to PostDoc, you will publish extensively and it will be years before you ever see the inside of a lecture theater. So you can imagine my amazement when I discovered that it doesn't have to be that way. In other faculties Masters students are lecturing, PhD's are supervising, publications happen organically over time and senior lecturers in their 50's are grumbling over their own PhD manuscripts. There is more than one way to skin a cat and more than one route to academic success. 

Finally, like the experience I described above, there will be times when students have genuine shortcomings which are undermining their confidence. Again, be constructive in dealing with the problem and help the student become solution orientated. Help the student find objectivity, assess the situation accurately and fairly, make a plan and stay focussed as they work towards their goal. Basically, get real.

The Role of a Consultant.

Within writing centre circles the power dynamics of the consultation is a common theme for discussion. Consultants have a lot of power in their hands. They are the knowledge bearers, the teachers, the empowered...and that's ok. After all, students are coming to us looking for expert guidance. It is not wrong for consultants to have power, but it is wrong for them to hold onto it. I like the image of two people on a see-saw - there needs to be give and take and, as power is transferred, balance can be achieved.

Achieving balance, though, is about more than just transferring all your knowledge to the student. Achieving balance actually begins before the consultation, because it starts with your mind-set. It starts with a conscious choice to be respectful of the student, regardless of appearances. 

Everyone is fighting some kind of battle. This is almost always true - a sick parent, massive student loans, an abusive past, a mental illness, a failing relationship, looming deadlines or a dismal academic record. Usually, our burdens are hidden, but behind the student who was five minutes late with the woefully incomplete draft of their essay, there is a whole lot going on that we know nothing about. It's our job to be mindful of that and remember that a little bit of grace can go a long way. When a student knocks on our door, they are generally not at their best, they are stressed, pressured and worried, but they are also proactive, hopeful and tenacious, and it's also our job to be respectful of that. 

A smile, a kind word, a compliment. 

Who does not feel a little lighter after someone has paid you a genuine compliment? As consultants we use something called the 'sandwich technique'. Start with praise, end with praise. Not useless generic "this is nice" or "I liked that" praise, but constructive, focused praise. "You have done a good job of integrating sources into your text, the way you position yourself in relation to them makes your thoughts really clear." Praise that tells the student what they are doing right. This is important because it builds their confidence and helps them to focus on areas that actually need improvement.

"He who holds the pen, holds the power"

During the consultation, engage the student. If the consultant does all the work, the student leaves with nothing. The first step is to facilitate dialogue, but often students are unsure and reluctant to speak. When this happens the consultant needs to hold the silence for the student. Be quiet, be patient and wait for them to find their words, to find their voice. By being silent, we give the student the opportunity to be heard. The same thing is true for the writing. Give the pencil to the student. Let them make the changes and annotations as you discuss the work. Give them the opportunity to take ownership. 

At the end of the consultation, make sure that you have been understood and that the student has a clear plan of action. Normally, this responsibility lies with the student, "If you don't understand, then ask!", but this is a burden I would urge consultants to carry. Consider it a matter of professional pride and make sure you have been understood.

It should always be our goal for students to walk out of consultations feeling better than when they walked in. The should leave feeling heard, respected, more focused, more confident and empowered. As consultants, we have it within our power to to do really good things, so go on, be a daymaker!

The Role of a Writing Centre

In South Africa we have a unique academic landscape, primarily shaped by our recent history of apartheid. Our student body is multicultural, multiracial, multilingual and spans the socioeconomic spectrum. We have students from affluent backgrounds and the best schools in class with students who come from the townships and schools that had no textbooks.  Yes, apartheid may be over, but it's effects linger still and it's legacy will be with us for many years to come. I recently read a thought-provoking article 'Six things white people have that black people don't' which, if you've never considered how the historical legacy of something you have no control over, such as your skin colour, affects your life is a valuable read. 

Our generation tends to be divided on the subject. For those of us born at the tail end or even after apartheid was officially abolished, the responsibility is not always clear. We didn't start the fire....true, but now we live among the ashes. Is it ok to sit back, survey the damage and rely on the childish refrain "But it wasn't me!" Or, is this the time for us to take responsibility and rise? We need to decide how to shape our landscape moving forward, what type of world we want to live in and where and how to raise our children. 

This responsibility weighs heavily on those in academic institutions. As educated people, as skilled professionals, as the future leaders of this country, as teachers this responsibility is ours. I think the first time that I became truly aware of my responsibility was while working as a writing centre consultant. Why? Because writing centres have a pivotal role to play. Now, running a writing centre, I am constantly pondering the meaning, implications and practicalities of justice, academic access and social redress within a university. These may seem like lofty ideals and pursuits for those of us that play with abc's, but writing centres are places of support, places that are safe, places that can empower students, places where you can watch change as it is actually happening. 

I see the role of the writing centre as someone to hold hands with the student along their journey, to open doors for them, to steady them when they wobble, to help them navigate around, and sometimes out of, potholes, someone to give them a leg up. There are few things as satisfying and rewarding as watching a student have one of those "Ah ha!" moments, and you just know that they get it. That barrier, that door that was blocking their path, their understanding, will never shut them out again. You have given them the key and taught them how to use it, you have facilitated access, you have taken responsibility, you have made a change. Thats why I work at a writing centre. 

Getting It Done

I recently had a few of my favourite ladies round to dinner and talk turned, as it does, to work. We have all worked together at some point over the last few years and so we have an appreciation for the rather looooong to-do lists that can overwhelm your week when juggling research, teaching, students, admin and whatever else you have going on in your life. 

How,  for the love of God HOW to get it all done???

Well despite my long to-do lists, I usually spend a few minutes each morning drinking a cup of tea and reading this fantastic lady's latest offering and you know, I'm glad I do. Often her posts have nothing to do with work (they just make me happy which makes me better at my job) but sometimes she has great posts on productivity. When I shared something I had recently read on her blog with my friends at dinner, they immediately suggested that I blog about it too. The article  she wrote was based on Brian Tracy's book 'Eat That Frog', and this was my favourite piece of advice:

The Productivity Alphabet (aka the ABC method)

This is a really simple system for organising your to-do list to make sure that what needs to get done, gets done! 

Once you have added everything to your list, you need to assign each item a letter.

A - things that ABSOLUTELY must get done and that only you can do

B - things you BETTER get done soon

C - things that CAN wait

D - things you need to DELEGATE

E - things you need to ELIMINATE

The temptation is always to get the easy small tasks off the list first, but really, if we want to get the important things done, then we must acknowledge their importance and attend to them first, so start with your A's and reevaluate your ranking of tasks as often as need be. 

So....now that we know what we have to do, we just need to focus, right? Oh, but my email just pinged and my phone is ringing and I need another cup of tea....all the time-sucking distractions! So in this one-time-only, two-for-the-price-of-one post I will now share my other favourite productivity tool :) 

The Pomodoro Technique

My husband told me about this technique a few years ago and it has been so helpful, particularly with big writing projects (theses, papers etc. etc...). Pomodoro is Italian for tomato. And, as I understand it, the guy who developed this system had a kitchen timer that looked like a tomato. Translate it into Italian and hey-presto! Catchy name! So really you can use any kind of timer you like (mine looks like a chicken - The Pollo Technique), but a timer you must have. 

The Ciao Kitty Technique

The basic approach is that each unit of focused activity time is called a Pomodoro and each Pomodoro lasts 25 minutes, followed by a 5 minute break. After you have completed four  or six Pomodoros you take a longer break, say 30 minutes. Then you start the cycle again. 

There is obviously a lot more to the system and you should wander over to the website if you are interested in finding out more. But the essential message is that once you set the time you should view that time as protected and be focussed, it's only for 25 minutes after all! 

Save quickly grabbing a cup of tea for your five minute break - it will taste better because you did!

Surrender to the Process

The day is warm, the sky is blue and the smell of fresh pencil shavings are in the air. It's the start of another academic year and the anticipation is palpable on campus. Everywhere I look I see people scurrying around, laughing, bumping into old friends and making new friends. The Jammie Shuttles aren't running on time, the Sax Appeal has once again managed to offend a record number of people and there is no parking to be found after 8:30am on campus. Ah yes, everything is just as it should be and at the Writing Lab we are settling down to business. 

Last week we ran training which is for both new and returning consultants. The training programme is fantastic, covering everything from the philosophical pedagogy of the writing centre to basic grammar, with everything from consultation strategies to the booking system in between. Just like cakes, writing centres have layers, and training week is one fat slice. Every time you do the training you come away with a deeper understanding and appreciation for what the writing centre is. 

I really do love training week. Everyone is still fairly fresh-faced and excited about the year ahead. The new consultants are like girls at a high school party - desperate to join in, but oh-so-nervous. The returnees are endearingly earnest, nodding sagely with the weight of experience. But old or new, anxious or eager, we are all united by a passion for writing and a genuine desire to help others write better. By the end of the week, the consultants - like literacy superheros, armed with pens and fighting for social redress - are pumped and raring to go....

...only now at Health Sciences we are sitting around twiddling our proverbial thumbs. One of the challenges of starting a new writing centre is clearly that of making your presence known. As we are still waiting for our official premises to be built (watch this space!) we decided not to make a big song and dance about ourselves yet, but now I'm wondering if that really was the right choice? I suppose it's too early to tell and I'm sure that business will pick up soon, but each morning I log onto the system hoping to see some new bookings and it's hard not to become dejected when there are none. 

But perhaps we must just cling to the principal behind the old writing centre adage that "Writing is a Process" and so too, it seems, is starting a new writing centre. So we will surrender to the process, keep our door open and our pencils sharp and try not to appear frightenly enthusiastic when students start to come knocking. 

Changing Direction

Last year was quite the whirlwind, full of major events, a substantial amount of stress, personal victories and some fairly proficient juggling. Now, as the dust has settled on the other side of New Year, and I sit here writing this, I almost can't believe I made it through. I keep looking around in wonder and pondering how I have been so fortunate to end up in this marvelously serene place in my life. 

Last year began with me having just handed in my PhD, starting a postdoctoral research fellowship and being employed as a part-time lecturer in the Language Development Group. The first half of the year was fraught with the anxiety of waiting to hear back from my examiners (would they rip my stats to shreds? Would they detest my unconventional structure?), the immense pressure of getting a new study off the ground and the disorientation of switching back and forth between 'researcher' and 'lecturer'. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh My. 

Then came the elation. They did not hate my thesis! Actually, they quite liked it in places. Oh the relief, to finally receive validation for five years of investment. I won't lie, I'm still riding high. No plans to come down anytime soon. 

But then the inevitable reality check. My postdoc research was not going well, I felt guilty all the time, neither job was getting my full attention and somewhere in the middle of it all I realised, for the first time, that I was not happy. I had always chalked my unhappiness up to the project - finding samples, trying to get good results, the challenge of writing, the agony of analysis, the stress of waiting. When my PhD is over, then everything will be better, then I'll be happy again. Except, I was never going to get away from those things, not ever. They are all integral the very nature of the scientific endeavour. Ouch. Fourteen years of my life moving me towards a destination I discovered that I don't actually want to live in. But what to do?

And then a job opportunity presented itself in the Language Development Group. A job where I could use all my writing centre, lecturing and science experience. Hurrah! Fourteen years of my life NOT wasted. So I put on my big-girl-pants and made the scary decision to pack my bags (metaphorically), change my direction and go find somewhere else to live. Somewhere I could be happy and fulfilled every day, not just once every five years or so. 

So here I sit. My office is big and airy, I have Bach playing softly in the background and I am happy. I'm thinking, writing, reading, learning, connecting and teaching. I feel challenged, but not in a way that makes me want to crawl under my desk and cry, but rather fuels my enthusiasm, excitement and passion. I'm bringing all my skills to this party and everyone is invited, because it's going to be a good one! 

And if anyone is struggling to connect this all up, or understand why I think what I do is so important, then read this article. I think it highlights the need for scientists to teach scientists how to write quite nicely. 

Assignment 6: Teaching Philosophy Statement

For our final assignment we were asked, rather fittingly, to develop our Teaching Philosophy Statement. Initially I thought this was quite an easy task, but I realised as I worked on my statement that it is anything but easy to write. A TPS is essentially like a brand statement for yourself – this is how I want people to perceive me, this is what kind of teacher I am, this is what I believe. A pretty tall order for a newbie teacher. And, even more intimidating, once you have committed to this statement, people are going to judge you by it. Eeeek!

I have been playing with this in my mind for a couple weeks now, considering philosophies and approaches, not wanting to be either too vague or too specific, I still feel as if there is so much I don’t know…..and while writing I ‘hummed and haa’ed’ over phrasing, wrote and deleted, and carefully considered synonyms, lest my good intentions be misinterpreted….but eventually I got it out my head and onto the page.

I then went back and read through a TPS that I had written a couple of years ago for a job application. The only reason I wrote it then was because the advert had specifically asked for one and, having never heard of a TPS before, I actually had to google it!

I have to say, that when comparing my original statement with the one I have written now, I am pretty happy. My words and phrasing are different – the current one loaded with specific intention rather than attractive prose – but I find my philosophical approach to have remained fairly consistent, which is deeply satisfying. My statement is a genuine reflection of how I feel about teaching, rather than an ill-fitting patchwork coat constructed of all my newly-acquired knowledge. At the core, it is me.

I also came to realise that this statement is an ideal, a best-intention if you will. Sure, there will be days when I’m more exhausted than encouraging, times when I want to scream rather than support. And yes, people will judge me, but so what? Judgement is part of life and this statement will remain my own gold-standard, my own beacon - always reminding me of what I am striving for.

I’m sure that in time the words will change, but I hope I never lose my beliefs or intention. So, without any further ado, my TPS:

I believe that learning can happen in different ways - behaviourally, cognitively and socially, but that true learning only occurs at the intersection of knowing, being and doing. By using a combined and holistic approach to teaching are we able to produce confident, competent, critically-thinking graduates.

 As such, I liken my role of teacher to that of a counter balance - at times a knowledge bearer and at times a student, both an empowerer and a facilitator, a companion and a guide in the process of knowledge making. Students in my class room will be met with open-minded empathy, passion, enthusiasm, sincerity and humility. I aim to make my classroom a space of creative ‘out-of-the-box’ thinking, critical engagement, encouragement and solution-orientated support. I will look for evidence of learning in valid and guided assessment that allows students the opportunity to practice developing, shaping and implementing their learning through a variety of exercises and approaches. I will engage my students, peers and myself in honest, critically reflexive practices that will guide me as I continue to grow and develop as a teacher. 

Assessment Assessed

Assessment. That’s tests and exams, right? Oh, and maybe the occasional essay?

Uhmm, ja...so until about two weeks ago, that was pretty much the sum total of what I knew about assessment practices. Consider my mind blown.

When you really think about it, there are SO MANY different forms of assessment – prac write-ups, oral presentations, projects, posters, tuts, the list goes on. Upon this variety we then layer the nature of the assessment – is it continuous or discrete? Most of us are familiar with continuous assessment, as it seems to be the standard practice in most educational institutions – every mark you get for every test and assignment you do is accumulated towards some final mark for your course. Brilliant, yes? Actually...no.

The weakness with continuous assessment is that it is summative, and as such the focus of this type of assessment is on the build-up towards some form of certification. The problem with this approach is that it leaves little, or no, room for assessment for the purposes of learning (formative assessment). Formative assessment is really important because it allows students, and lecturers, the opportunity to assess their learning and understanding, without the pressure, stress and fear of failing. Pressure, stress and fear undermine learning, they do not support it. Ask any lecturer on campus and they will tell you that what they taught in first year has to be covered again in second year and again in third year – why is this so? Because students are simply cramming for exams, they are not internalising, they are not REALLY learning. And this brings us to the matter of authenticity.

How authentic are our assessment practices really? If I as a teacher want to produce a competent graduate, is it really enough to simply have them write an exam on the course content? For example, is a theory exam an authentic way to assess a student’s ability to actually play the piano? No. While the theory is important, the theory alone is not enough. Yes, the example of playing the piano is obvious, but what is often forgotten at universities, is that ALL careers are practical – they ALL have a doing component. When we, as lecturers, rely almost exclusively on exam-style assessments, then if we are truly honest with ourselves we will see that these do not provide an authentic assessment of the actual skills that competent graduate need to have.

Our lecturer shared a fantastic graphic from Miller’s 1990 review article, Assessment of Clinical Skills/Competence/Performance, which makes it really clear that the type of assessments most common in universities are simply assessments of cognition – seldom are our assessments a truly authentic reflection of what our students are actually capable of doing.

I’m sure that many would argue that I am woefully naive about the practicalities of running a university and that authentic assessment of thousands of students annually is simply not feasible. Perhaps this is so, but does that justify the continuation of sub-par assessment practices? I would say not. Do I have the answers? No, I don’t. But I do have both eyes wide open now, and from now on I will be doing my best to provide authentic assessment that actually supports real learning with my small piece of the pie!

Accessing Text-Based Activities: Assignment 4 - Working with Texts

Assignment 4 required us to choose a text-based activity we had done with our students and identify the reading and writing challenges they might experience with the activity. We then needed to collate a series of supporting resources for the activity and discuss the rationale for each resource and instructions for using the resource.

The activity that I have chosen to look at is one I did with first-year med students. I gave the students two short articles about smoking; one written about the economic drain on a country due to smoking-related health problems and one on how doctors can encourage patients to stop smoking. During the lecture, students were given the opportunity to read through both articles and begin on their summaries. Their home work was then to write one-page of coherent and cohesive paragraphs on the negative effects of smoking and the role of health professionals in alleviating the problem.

This was a fairly “layered” assignment, requiring them to draw on a wide range of academic literacy skills. As such, there were several potential challenges with this exercise. The first pitfall lies in students not being able to read or fully understand the articles I had given them. For this reason, I specifically did not choose journal articles, but rather “specialist” articles. I would describe these articles as popular science, but written for the specialist. The benefit of this is that the articles are more accessible, both in terms of language usage and then secondly in terms of structure, which is more familiar than that of a journal article. The resource I provided to help the students work through the articles was a glossary I compiled. In the glossary I included not only technical terms, but also more common words that were being used in a disciplinary-specific manner. Because I want this exercise to happen in class, it is important that I provide a glossary, but also, I want the students to get into the habit of looking up things they don’t understand, rather than just glossing over them. During the lecture I had students do a first read-though, instructing them to highlight interesting points and any words or phrases they did not understand. I then had them use the glossary to look up words (and ask me about anything that was still unclear) to clarify understanding. The students then read through the articles a second time. After the second reading, and once I was assured by the students that they understood the readings, we moved onto summarising.

Summarising itself is also a challenging activity. Many students are very unsure about what they can leave out of their summaries, as they don’t feel qualified to assess the relative significance of different bits of information. I don’t know that there is any particular resource which can tell you how to do this, but rather I think that practice and discussion are likely the most useful way to become comfortable with this skill. Therefore, the summarising also happened during the lecture and we did it in ‘bite-sized’ chunks – one paragraph at a time. The exercise was done individually, but the summaries produced were discussed as a group. The students were then able to take these summaries away with them and use them to construct their one-pagers.

Writing the one-pagers is challenging as students need to make choices about how to package the information, in what order to present the information and how to flow from one theme to the next. The resources that I make available for students to draw on for this part of the activity include hand-outs on basic essay structure, coherence and cohesion and phrases in academic writing (Bare in mind that these are all concepts that the students have previously been taught about and have engaged with in other exercises). I think that all these resources are important, because at this stage I am not trying to test how well students have remembered the skills we have previously covered, rather my goal is to have them practice implement these skills. Thus, by providing students with supporting resources, you give them the freedom to put all their focus into producing a good piece of writing. When instructing students in how to use these resources, I first talk to them about making an outline or plan for their essay – what are the three or four main points that they want to make? Ok, then think about constructing one paragraph around each point. I then have them think about what is the most logical order in which to discuss these points. Under each point, what are the key pieces of information you want to talk about? Ok, put down the facts, now look at how each fact relates to the one before and after it. Use the hand-out on cohesion to look for appropriate words to guide your reader through those relationships. Finally, to formalise your writing, make the tone appropriate for your audience and improve clarity, you can draw on the phrases in academic writing. Essentially, I want students to see that these skills and features of academic writing must be woven into the text they produce. As such, I encourage them to use the resources, and revisit the resources, at various points along the journey.

In my opinion, text-based activities are an essential foundation to academic literacy, particularly in the sciences. If a student cannot critically engage with text, if they cannot read, understand and manipulate text, they will never be able to produce good writing within the discipline. 

Peer-Review: Assignment 3 - Approaches to Learning

My choice for assignment 3 required me to design a learning experience for students using one of three approaches to learning; behaviourist, cognitive or social-constructivist. As someone new to teaching, I am only just beginning to unpack the various learning theories that exist (and there are several). So, if anyone else out there is new to this field like I am, let me begin by briefly talking though these three theories and where I feel myself to be most aligned.

The behaviourist approach derives from the research of Edward Thorndike, which B.F. Skinner famously built upon with his theories around operant conditioning. The basic premise of this theory is that learning happens via conditioning and learning can be seen when a shift in behaviour occurs. Generally, conditioning is based on reward, so when the ‘good’ behaviour is performed, a reward is given, the behaviour is reinforced and conditioning occurs. As a scientist, I like this theory. Behavioural conditioning has been observed in the wild and achieved in the laboratory many many times - it is real phenomenon that has been well documented. I also like that this theory is all inclusive. Almost anything can ‘learn’ – cats, rats, dogs, mice, monkeys, marine-animals, children....However, where this theory begins to fall down  is when you realise that this kind of learning happens (or can happen) without cognitive engagement. This is exemplified by the fact that regular reinforcement is important to maintain the behaviour. In other words, the ‘learning’ is not internalised. Problem.

Enter the cognitive approach to learning. This theory posits that learning is internal and takes place in three general phases. The first phase is ‘cognitive’, and corresponds to the time that the students is being taught about something. The second phase is ‘fixative’. During this time, the student practices applying what they have been told, for example performing an experiment in the lab. The final phase is ‘automatic’, and by this point the skill should be so well internalised, or fixed, that the task can be performed with confidence and ease. I think this theory is good, particularly for physical or practical skills and tasks that must be learned. But what happens when the learning we want students to do is more abstract? What happens when there is no formula? Nothing for them to practice doing by themselves? I think this theory starts well, but doesn’t take us far enough.

Finally, there is the theory of Social Constructivism. This theory postulates that learning occurs and is mediated via social interaction. As such, learning needs to be negotiated among various actors and within the culture where the learning is occurring. For example, biology students can learn about the different species concepts in a lecture, but they are far more likely to internalise and understand the concepts through a group discussion. To be honest, when I first heard about this theory I thought it was a bit...fruity? Vague? Diffuse? However, the more I am learning about learning, the more I realise that the way learning happens is rather vague and diffuse - it can seldom be pinned down or attributed to a single approach. Learning happens in different ways at different times and is dependent on so many variables that the scientist in me is getting all twitchy just thinking about it!  However, I now see that the strength of this theory comes from the fact that when social interaction or discussion happens, we are afforded an opportunity to share ideas and understanding, to argue for or against, to reason, to problem-solve, to develop a sense of community. I like this theory, because it feeds directly into the concept of academic literacy, which resonates very strongly with me.

So, despite the fact that I first believed that this was where learning was at, I now think there is little place for the behaviourist approach in an educational environment, and while the cognitive and social constructivist approaches have individual merit, I’m starting to feel quite strongly, that only by combining these two approaches will we truly be able to produce confident, competent, critically-thinking graduates.

With this in mind, the learning experience I will highlight for this assignment is a peer-review workshop, clearly derived from the social constructivist approach. However, this workshop is the final part of a lab report writing intervention I facilitated for a group of first year biology students. The intervention began with them performing a simple prac on enzymes. After the prac they wrote up their reports and submitted them for marking. I then spent a week with them unpacking the nature, structure and function of a journal article, in order to teach them how to construct a good lab report. The students then received their marked reports back and were able to redo them, incorporating what they had been told in the lectures I gave. The reports were then resubmitted for marking. This first part of the intervention is well aligned with the cognitive approach, where the students were first being taught various skills and were then given an opportunity to practice implementing what they had learned. For the final part of the intervention, they received their second marked drafts back and I facilitate a peer-review workshop, after which they were given a third and final opportunity to submit their reports.

I began the peer-review workshop by trying to starting a short discussion with the students about what peer-review means, why it is important and how to give constructive criticism. While some students were happy to suggested ideas when I posed an open question to the class, they were simply responding to my questions and no real discussion was created. Generating a group discussion in a classroom, where students are almost 'conditioned' to sit back and listen to a lecture, is challenging. I realise now, thinking back to my own experiences as a student, that when we had discussions in class the lecturer often shifted the 'structure' of the room in someway, for example coming to perch on a desk amongst us, rather than standing up in the front of the room. This is something I will explore more in future workshops. I could also clearly see that the students were not confident sharing their own thoughts with the group. Either, because they had never thought of peer-review before, or more likely, because they were afraid of getting it 'wrong'. I have seen time and time again now how the fear of getting it wrong does nothing but inhibit learning. Honestly, I don't know how to alleviate this fear for students - even when you tell them explicitly that there are no wrong answers, or that it's ok to get it wrong, the fear still lingers. I doubt this challenge will be overcome anytime soon, but it's certainly something that I am going to ponder.   

After the initial 'discussion', where learning clearly remained within the cognitive approach, we moved on to their lab reports. I talked them through the title and introduction, reminding them of the important features and using anonymous examples from the student’s reports to highlight common challenges. The students then swapped reports with a partner and provided one another with written feedback. Each student then read through the feedback they received and the students were then encouraged to discuss the feedback with one another.Once the reports were swapped, there was an almost tangible shift in the room as the learning moved into the constructivist approach - the students became engaged and there was animated discussion between the pairs. Between the demonstrators and myself we could hardly keep up with the hands in the air.  When I joined a group, I was usually asked a question, something along the lines of "My partner wrote this in her report, is it right?". Normally, I would just have answered the question, but because my focus was on generating discussion I kept serving it back to them "Well, what do you think about what she wrote?" or "Ok, first tell your partner why you are concerned about what she wrote." and then to the partner "Ok, what was your thinking when you wrote that sentence? What were you trying to achieve there?" It really was great fun and very rewarding to draw them into an actual discussion about the work. It was a welcome shift to move from giving answers to giving guidance "Ok, so as the reader you have found that the meaning in this sentence isn't clear. Now it's your job to give your partner suggestions as to how she can write the sentence more clearly."  

This process was repeated for each of the methods, results and discussion sections, however between each section I had to draw the student's focus back to me to talk through the important points to remember for the next section. It was quite a challenge to do this - once the students had shifted into social constructivist learning, they did not easily relinquish their ownership of the space. While this was a logistical challenge, I don't think of it as a weakness. I enjoyed seeing the students take ownership and responsibility for the work. It is my fervent hope that this intervention was sufficient and appropriate and allowed real learning - internalised, understood, fixed - to happen. I doubt that the students are yet at the automatic stage of being about to execute the task with confidence and ease, but that will come in time. For now, I look forward to reading their final submissions and hearing their feedback on the intervention. As always, their feedback is invaluable in helping us design increasingly effective interventions that meet the real needs of real students to allow real learning to happen.