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ENGL567A: Short Paper #6: Complicating Conferences
by Edmond Chang
Written for |
Though Laurel Johnson Black’s essay “Conversation, Teaching, and Points in Between” is subtitled “The Confusion of Conferencing,” her genealogy and subsequent critique of teacher-student conferencing practices identifies not so much confusion but a time-honored (time-worn) conventionality, a constructedness, perhaps a competing complexness of said practices. She sets forth a developmental model, a generational model of conferencing in the service of teaching (specifically writing) that creates an uncomfortable either-or choice between conferences (described as teacher-oriented, task-oriented, often directive) and conversation (which in contrast is more natural, peer-to-peer, reciprocal, democratic). She argues that a more conversational, sociolinguistic, Bakhtinian model of conferencing is desirable if not necessary though provides only a basic sketch of what such a model would entail. Unfortunately, the material, economic, social, temporal, and psychic realities of encouraging conferencing of depth, breadth, and duration may be out of reach of the average composition teacher (and student). However, Black’s call to recognize the contexts of conferencing (social, academic, pedagogical, environmental), the relationships within conferencing (in terms of power, professionalism, personal friendship), and the generic conventions of conferencing are ways to evolve and enact strategies and practices to make these experiences more illuminating, effective, exploratory, even pleasurable. I agree with Black in her assessment that conferencing is often doubly purposed, purposes that are often at odds, even contradictory. Because, as she says, “[c]onferencing is an asymmetrical language interaction, drawing its rules from both the discourse of the classroom and form casual conversation” (12), both teacher and student may bring mixed expectations and ideas to the table. Conferencing as a social act, a speech act is often also doubly imagined in terms of tone, setting, formality, an imaginary that attempts to be simultaneously formal, coherent, helpful and conversational, spontaneous, and personal. What is crucially on target in Black’s essay is her desire that the act, the space, the genre of a conference be articulated, exposed to both student and teacher, and agreed upon equally by both parties. She quotes Donald Murray, who says, “Students need to know the dynamics of the conference” (15). Though, Black argues there is no such thing as the conference but a possibility of practices that must be made apparent. Ultimately, she adds that conferencing must be rehearsed and repeated: “Like their teachers, they [students] like the concept of conferencing. It is the practice that frustrates both teachers and students. For conferencing is not a genre of speech that we are familiar with; it is something that must be learned” (28). I would argue, however, that conferencing is a speech genre that teachers and students are familiar with--a genre produced from teacher-student assumptions and expectations that conflate Black’s genealogy of first generation (directive) and second generation (non-directive) models. In observing two conferences of two fellow 131 teachers, Andrea B. and Andrew R., it became all too apparent to me that both teacher and student already knew or have intuited what a conference entails. In particular, since both teachers provided preparatory work that the students needed to have before meeting, the conferences began with certain pedagogical expectations. Even if a student failed to produce the required pre-work, they came to the conference armed with questions they knew would be apropos to the meeting. For example, Andrea’s conference was held the Burke Museum café on campus. She and her student sat across a small table (designed for two), and both seemed relaxed with open body language. Even in the unconventional setting (though I would argue that university mythology already imagines this scene as conventionally cool, Bohemian, liberal, personable), the conference proceeded remarkably formally. Voices, questions, tones, gestures, exchanges were relaxed but punctuated by language from the classroom, from the assignment. Andrea did a remarkable job of attempting to listen to her student, to restate what she thought he was saying or asking, and to make suggestions rather than prescriptions. However, it was clear that the student expected (perhaps wanted) directives with questions like: “What do you think?” or “Do you have any ideas?” or “What do you suggest?” The conference did not stray too far away from the academics at hand--Andrea skillfully made reference to the student’s previous work and located the conference in the history of the class--but to an outsider the interaction looked and felt very much conversational. What are we to make of this phenomenon? I would argue, then, that there is not a hard line between conferencing and conversation and that the two can be and should be mutually constitutive, embracing. In fact, in the case of Andrew’s meeting, he and his student slipped in and out of formal, directive, question-and-answer modalities into informal, storytelling, what’s-going-on-with-you modes with relative ease. Andrew revealed that he had met with the student a number of times over the course of the quarter and their ease comes directly out of familiarity, rapport, and trust built over time. Andrew’s conference began ceremonially, digressed into the student telling a story about helping another student during peer-review, circled back to the portfolio assignment, revisited a past conversation about the student’s struggle with being sick, and then wrapped up with a final, few, formal questions. (In fact, as Andrew was walking the student down the hall to the exit, their conversation continued in the realm of the day-to-day, which I would say is still part of the time and zone of the conference.) Clearly, both teacher and student recognize the complexity of the conference space, and in this case, both took advantage of pedagogical and personal opportunities to speak, listen, ask, and respond. This delightful interaction is undoubtedly the product of time and involvement that may be ultimately impractical and impossible to do with twenty, thirty, or more students a term. Black and like-minded compositionists are spot on when they critique issues of power, class, race, gender, sexuality, convention, and responsibility in the classroom. However, I continue to question whether all asymmetrical relations of power, all first- and second-generation (and subsequent generation) conference conventions, all rituals and traditions, and all teacher or student expectations are inherently problematic or without use. Black says, “Real conversation demands partnership, and the benefits of real conversation may be radical and frightening...We become responsible for each other’s revelations and stories, and that fosters an attitude that makes us responsible for each other’s learning” (37). I quarrel with her definition of what constitutes a “real conversation” and why it must thereby be opposed to (unreal?) conferencing. Given the limitations of the quarter and of the resources of both student and teacher, we all must work to realize that the gap between conferencing and conversation is not as wide as we might think. Black is right when she says we must learn how to recognize what we do well and what we can collaboratively do better and what works well for a given teacher, a given student, a given assignment, and a given moment.
Works Cited
Black, Laurel Johnson. "Conversation, Teaching, and Points in Between." Between
Talk and Teaching. Logan, UT: Utah State University Press, 1998. 11-37.
© 2005 EYC.
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