Argument as An Introduction to Academic Discourse

As I read the articles by Kastely and Kroll, I kept returning to the reading for last week in the Allyn and Bacon Guide. Both Kastely and Kroll point to a weakness that is symptomatic in argumentative as well as synthesis essays. That is, the reluctance of undergraduate writers to stray from what has been presented to them for years as the "right" way to write a thesis statement. A thesis is "supposed" to present a distinct, original idea that will be supported throughout the rest of the paper. If dissenting opinions are present, they are only included to be refuted and thus make the thesis statement stronger. Kastely's description of this tendency is rather philosophical (considering the other side will "attack a narcissism that we all possess"), (237) while Kroll's is more practical ("In the first unit, one of the core ideas... was the notion that a writer could begin an argument with a respectful summary of the opponent's viewpoint") (41). Both of these descriptions, though, indicate a tendency that I have seen in several undergraduate papers at the Writing Center.

Addressing dissenting opinions in either an argumentative essay or a synthesis essay is stressful to students because it leads necessarily to a more complicated thesis, one that will be harder to support. I think that it is important to address this anxiety for two reasons. First, complicated theses are necessary when introducing subtlety into writing. I found Kroll's essay very helpful in this respect. The conciliatory, integrative, and deliberative methods are all really just ways of refining arguments, or of making writing more subtle. A thesis statement (drawing from class) that reads, "Although some opponents of marijuana legalization point to addiction as a reason for its continued status as a prohibited drug, there are medical benefits that may outweigh the risk of addiction in certain cases," is more interesting than one that reads, "Marijuana should be legalized." The second reason is related. I once read an undergraduate argumentative essay in which the student had to read three articles about a topic and explain which article was the most convincing. The student said that the first two articles' arguments were "ludicrous" and that the only one "with enough brains to figure out a solution" was the author of the third. Hopefully, if this student had been exposed to Kroll's ideas about adversarial arguments, he would recognize that this language is alienating to an audience that may be sympathetic to other viewpoints. Both of these aspects - subtlety of argument and respect for dissenting opinions - are important to academic writing, where the purpose is not to put forth an original opinion and stick to it, but to participate in an ongoing dialogue with other writers and scholars. Introducing aspects of Kroll's work into my own classroom will, I think, aid me in guiding students toward this sort of academic discourse and away from adversarial arguments.

Beyond Form: Thought and the Writing Process

As I continue to consider how I want to teach my composition students, I keep returning to the idea of writing as a process as well as a product. Though we pay a lot of lip-service to the “writing process,” the ultimate goal of many—if not most—writing assignments seems to emphasize the creation of a written product. Does it have a clear thesis? Does the evidence support the initial claim? Is the evidence properly cited?

Don’t get me wrong; these questions are important, and the written product is a critical component not just of composition classes but of every class. What I appreciate about Kasteley’s and Kroll’s articles, though, is that they also address the thought processes behind students’ writing. In Arguing Differently, Kasteley challenges his students to evaluate when traditional arguments are most effective and when other forms might serve their purposes better. Though he discusses three broad, alternate approaches to argument—conciliatory, integrative, and deliberative—he seeks “to avoid talking about types or modes or kinds of essays” so his students can discern the most effective strategies to accomplish their writing goals in a given situation rather then merely learning to follow a particular form (42).

This is not to say that forms are “bad.” I’m convinced that forms are often enormously helpful in teaching composition, for they provide useful, tangible models of writing. The danger seems to be rather that forms, if overemphasized, can ultimately limit students’ creativity. Kroll points out that one “dismal consequence” of forcing students to write using the traditional argument form “is that student arguments become rehearsals of unreflectively held positions or repetitions of unexamined banalities” (223). The point, I think, is not to stop at teaching students the form, but to also teach them why and when it’s useful, how to manipulate it in other situations, and how to gauge which writing strategies will work best for a given assignment. I firmly believe that, in order to help my students become better writers, I must also challenge them to become better thinkers; though I’m not sure exactly how to do so, I think Kasteley’s and Kroll’s articles offer some good ideas on where I can start.

Experimenting with Argument

I think both James L. Kastely and Barry M. Kroll encourage the writer to approach disagreements differently; to be more specific, using disagreements as a resource to complicate and expand one’s arguments and opinions. Kastely proposes “conceiving argument as a particular type of inquiry in which disagreement becomes a resource for exploring both personal and political identity” (223). Kroll also shares this sentiment by arguing that the writer can approach disagreements in ways that are “conciliatory, integrative, and deliberative” (54). I do think that their propositions are helpful in a way that they broaden my view of what argument can be. Argument is not simply a game in which one wins or loses, one succeeds in persuading or fails to change the opponent’s mind. It implies negotiation, mediation, recognition (of other’s views), and exploration (of solutions and possibilities).

     I was thinking how I can use their arguments in my class. First, of course, I have to let my students know that one can approach argument in various ways. Challenging my students’ imagination of what argument can be is the first step. Here, I think I can offer some texts and examples that demonstrate the possibility of alternative approaches to argument. In fact, I think there are more forms of arguments than those mentioned in these two authors’ articles. For example, I once read an article which presented powerful and potent argument in a way that is not “critical” but simply “descriptive.” I think I can show my students some paragraphs that make convincing argument without following traditional models (for example, formalist approach).

    Also, allowing students to experiment with their argument is also important. This is not to say that students can randomly write what they want, but they are offered some flexibility. If an instructor emphasizes how important it is to strictly obey the patterns of “classical argument,” then I do not think students would like to take the risk of incorporating or considering disagreements or conflicts. I actually think that exploratory essay or synthesis essay is a good point of departure where students are trained to take different points of view into consideration.

    Even though I think these two authors’ arguments are helpful, there is one point I have to be careful about. When I was reading Kroll’s article, I felt that there was an imposition of “harmony” going on in his argument about arguing differently. Since we are dealing with “controversial” issues, I do not think it is always necessary to come up with some “common interests,” “shared goals” or “compatible values” in integrative or deliberative argument. I think the question of how to avoid this harmonization and at the same time argue differently (not in an attempt to defeat someone) can be a challenging one. 

Busta - this one's for you.

So, Sarah B. has been studying the role of creative writing in the composition course.

Follow my logic.

I was at the American Folklore Society Annual Meeting this past week. Speaking with a fellow Mizzou folklorist about why he's taking creative writing courses - he says that they help ethnography. Ethnography is kind of a genre of creative writing non-fiction. I guess the bridge between creative nonfiction and academic writing.

And then I went to a panel on folklorists teaching first year composition, and there was a paper about including ethnography as assignments in the first year comp classroom. His results, he said, were overwhelmingly successful.

It allowed students to write about their own experiences. It also allowed students to become actively engaged in communities, and to even become advocates for the communities.

More in class.

Deemphasizing Form

Reading Kastely’s “From Formalism to Inquiry” and Kroll’s “Arguing Differently,” I wonder why we continue to call an argument essay an argument essay. What if we simple call it an analytical essay, or a research essay, or a critical essay? The word “argue” suggests that the writer has to refute oppositions and Allen & Bacon Guide especially prescribes counterarguments an inseparable part of the arguing process. But Kastely convincingly points out that argument can be an ineffectual act because it is commonly used as “a means for dominating or silencing an other”(230). In that sense, it seems counter-productive to ask students to write an argument essay and then tell them they should argue differently, as Kroll suggests.

In last Thursday’s class, Rachel explained the difference between a research paper and an argument essay. From what I gathered, a research paper can be used to achieve various goals including argumentation. The three different approaches (conciliatory, integrative, and deliberative) provided by Kroll in a lot of ways are aimed at expanding the narrow scope of what an argument essay can do. So maybe it would be less confusing for the students if we ask them to decide on their own what their goal for a paper is before proceeding to write it. In that case, it might be preferable to call an assignment a research paper than an argument essay.

Another interesting thing about Kroll’s article is that he is hesitant to prescribe any formula to students. “I was eager to avoid labels that suggested an emphasis on forms,” he says, because he worries that the students would “focus on producing texts with a set of defining features” (42). I feel similarly toward formula, but how do we teach students to write academic papers without telling them “a set of defining features?” Despite what Kroll says about formalism, he goes ahead telling the students how to write the opening, middle and closing sections of their paper. Even we all agree that form should be deemphasized, it seems quite unavoidable to teach it.

The duck, duck, goose approach to argument

I appreciate Barry Kroll’s instinct to get away from the he said, she said view of argumentation. Seeing any issue as two-sided robs the subject of its complexity and closes the door on any new revelations or levels of understanding. His image of students sitting in a circle and piecing together a comprehensive argument is exactly the pluralistic set-up that gets us closer to real knowledge.

But parts of Kroll’s approach seem strange. Chiefly, he seems to advocate a writer make concessions to the audience. He writes: "The writer's task is to identify shared interests, compatible goals and common values that can serve as a basis for urging adversaries to cooperate."

Should that really be the writer’s task? Is this writing or a contract negotiation?

Writing ought to be dangerous, risky. Eggs must be broken for the greater human omelet. It ought to be a Denver omelet.

Kroll’s approach seems most applicable in terms of writing the “argument paper” or thinking of argument as a genre. I think that fiction writers make arguments in every piece. We might call them messages. But the idea is similar; we craft prose in such a way that the reader is left with an instinct to agree with us, or at least understand what we’re getting at or engage with our ideas in some way. And that happens without bending our techniques or vision to the whims of the audience.

Our thoughts coincide primarily in the idea of nuance. Successful arguments require it, and sometimes that means incorporating parts of an opposing view. But introducing nuance to freshmen seems a monumental task.

Not much to say, a little to add.

On reading Boice's ideas on 'Consistent Writing', I don't have much to say.

But here's something.

He notes to start writing before we're inspired.

Robert Frost said "I cannot write unless I am inspired, and I see to it that I am inspired by 9AM every morning."

I suggest reading Walt Whitman during Boice's suggested 'pausings'.