You probably already know what I’m going to say in this
post. More importantly, you know, roughly, how I’m going to say it. It will
open with a bit of hemming and hawing; a semi-informal introduction that outlines
both the content of my post in brief and transitions neatly into the meat of my
response. In the following paragraphs there will be reference to, and brief
discussion of, the salient points from the reading concluding with an attempt
to connect these points to other readings, and to larger issues surrounding my
chosen discipline.
Your ability to
predict, and thus better interact with, my writing, is due to familiarity with
the genre that I am writing in. The semi-formal, online reading response has
its own set of conventions, moves, and rules to guide what can be said and how
I can say it. It is an evolution of the formal academic essay that evolved in
response to technological changes and the interactions between older forms and
newer possibilities. According to Carol Berkenkotter and Thomas Huckin in “Rethinking
Genre from a Sociocognitive Perspective” genres, the “media through which
scholars and scientists communicate with their peers” (284) are “inherently
dynamic rhetorical structures that can be manipulated according to the
conditions of use” (285). Genres, they argue, are not static, inflexible rules,
but rather a set of ever-shifting conventions that locate, define, and redefine
particular modes of communication.
The problem, according to Berkenkotter and Huckin, is that
traditionally, genres have been approached from a limited perspective, focusing
solely on the features of texts rather than the “users” of genre as a
technology. “Although such an approach enables one to make generalizations…it
does not enable us to determine anything about the ways in which genre is
embedded in the communicative activities of the members of a discipline” (284)
Similar to Johnson’s user-centered method of interacting with technological
artifacts, genre (arguably a technology itself) also needs to be studied as an
ongoing, flexible interaction between users and technology in order to examine
how one shapes the other.
Basing their own arguments on Bakhtin and Vygotsky,
Berkenkotter and Huckin define five principles of genre that locate it among
the “situated” or “everyday cognition” of its users (285). These five
principles, dynamism, situatedness, form and content, duality of structure, and
community ownership, essentially all define genre as recurring forms of
communication that develop in response to rhetorical situations (287). “This knowledge, rather than being
explicitly taught, is transmitted through enculturation” of developing participants
in a discourse community (289). Primary genres are “embedded in the milieu in
which they occur” while Secondary genres are “organized cultural communication”
that must be deliberately learned.
To be able to use a genre effectively, learners must have “social
knowledge” of their community, which includes an awareness of what is or is not
appropriate within the rules of their field, and how best to use them to
accomplish specific rhetorical ends.
These conventions typically focus on
wording, structure, and topic, but, I would argue, also include visual rhetoric
and modes of presentation. For instance, Kramer and Bernhardt’s article “Teaching
Text Design” shows how font and spacing can convey certain ideas to certain
audiences: “The threat of [font styles] is that novice designers sometimes end
up producing texts that look like ransom notes. A careful book designer decides
on a specific use of each type style” (259). Similarly, medium can influence
how a genre is perceived, as shown by Lisa Ann Jackson, who describes how
simply transferring the conventions of printed memos to intranet hypertext can
result in “lengthy pages through which to scroll and sometimes even unnecessary
and cumbersome graphic representations of text…when print documents are
merely ‘posted’ to an intranet, there is
no value added to the only document, and often the print document is easier to
use, a fact that compels users to revert to previously learned methods of
performing their work” (270).
Ultimately, Berkenkotter and Huckin argue that a genre is
both dictated by the needs of its community, and shaped by them. They write
that “our use of rhetorical genres is both constitutive of social structure…and
generative as situated, artful practice” (300). Technology, and the features
associated with it, (like, for example, the readability and accessibility of
blogs leading to less formal reading responses) lead to an evolution in the
features of specific genres and subgenres. To demonstrate that one belongs to a
discourse community, an author must both demonstrate awareness of generic conventions,
but also know when to experiment with them to respond to the changing needs of
a rhetorical situation. “To be fully effective…genres must be flexible and
dynamic, capable of modification according to the rhetorical exigencies of the
situation. At the same time, though, they must be stable enough to capture
those aspects of situations that tend to recur” (304).
Regarding classroom practice, this article connects to Aviva
Freedman and Christine Adam’s essay “Learning to Write Professionally”. They write that, in the university, students
are able to learn the conventions of professional genres as “facilitated
performers”, guided by mentors for the purpose of learning the rules in their “pure”
state (322). However, “the workplace operates as a community of practice whose
tasks are focused on material or discursive outcomes” (323). Spinuzzi argues
that we best serve our students when teaching them to “learn how to learn
genres” (346), but given how quickly technology changes, and how quickly genres
and subgenres change to match it, this seems like a difficult task.
My question, then,
relates to the impact of technology on genre: If teachers are unable to work
with every modality that a student will need to engage with when they arrive in
the workplace, how can we effectively teach them to introduce themselves into,
and then follow, the ever-evolving generic landscape that Berkenkotter and
Huckin describe? Is it even possible for us to teach them “how to learn” well
enough that they’ll be able to produce new content as their field demands?
Furthermore, if genre conventions include visual and modal elements, how can
we, as specialists in words, effectively prepare them?
Part way into your first paragraph, I found myself thinking: yes, I do know how you're going to respond largely because I know you and I've see you blog before. Which, then, made me wonder: how much of my expectations are based on genre, and how much on my knowledge of you, and is the former a genre issue? Hmm.
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