by Allyson Loy

Before training for the Writing Intensive Program, I served as a laboratory assistant in an upper-level STEM laboratory course for four semesters. While this course is not writing intensive, writing is an integral part of the course; many of the exam questions are in short answer form, and students turn in several reports on the experiments they complete in the laboratory. Therefore, as a result of my responsibilities, I spent a lot of time reading and thinking about my student’s writing. Through this process, I became frustrated both by the quality of student writing and their errors in discipline-specific norms. However, my experience as a WIP program trainee—talking about experiences with other graduate students and reading about evidence-based teaching strategies—taught me that these frustrations were misguided.

One way participating in WIP training alleviated my frustration came about by talking to other graduate trainees from a variety of different disciplines. These discussions illuminated how many unique forms of writing exist on campus, and how expectations of a single student can differ from course to course. I had been frustrated with my students’ missteps in applying the discipline-specific norms they had learned in a prerequisite, but I had failed to recognize how many distinct discipline-specific norms a student could be taught across campus. It makes sense that with so many different expectations, college students can view the writing they do for each course as atomized, more about rubrics than overarching themes. However, there are times where we’d like our students to apply writing concepts that they learned in another class (a process known as transfer). With these musings in mind, I now think it is important for instructors to intentionally draw connections between the courses. Make it clear to students that the type of writing they are about to do is a norm of the discipline, and not just a requirement for the course.

It makes sense that with so many different expectations, college students can view the writing they do for each course as atomized, more about rubrics than overarching themes.

Still, I suspect that even the clearest of explanations will not immediately improve every student’s writing. During these frustrating times, it is tempting to blame the student’s previous instructors. I now feel that instructors should instead assume that it is their responsibility to help your students improve their writing. I think that most academics would agree that writing is a skill. If this is true, it is important to allow our students the space needed to improve.

If you were to be taught how to kick a soccer ball into a goal, your coach could explain the part of your shoe that should contact the ball, the amount of force that is necessary, the angle at which to hold your body, how to account for a cross wind, etc. However, even equipped with this new knowledge, kicking a soccer ball with reliability and accuracy would take a lot of practice and repetition. Just because students have been given information about how to write, doesn’t mean they will immediately be able to incorporate all of the elements. Especially if the nature of the assignment itself is challenging.

Writing is hard and writing is important. If we want our students to be effective written communicators when they graduate, this will take intentional reinforcement, scaffolding, and practice. And a healthy dose of understanding and patience from the instructor.