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!