Research
The second “half” of Critical Power Tools delves
into the uses of critical theory, bringing the methodologies, theories, and
pedagogical practices of cultural criticism discourses into the technical
writing classroom. In chapters relating to research, we see the ways in which
cultural-technological discourses can have wide-reaching impacts on our
political and social landscapes, as well as the material consequences of
uncritical engagement with these texts. I found the most striking (and
topical!) applications of this in "The Rhetorical Work of
Institutions" by Elizabeth C. Britt. In discussing the ways in which
meanings are constructed within institutions, and how those meanings ripple
outward to affect cultural practices (and vice versa), Britt focuses on insurance,
writing that, as a technology, it is inherently political due to its function
as a “technology of justice” which assigns merit and blame to certain behaviors
(risks). Britt writes that such assignments of value tacitly ask “To what
extent are individuals responsible for their own misfortunes? What do members
of society owe each other? How are these rights and obligations to be managed
and by whom?” (Location 1919). Later she writes that “While the genre enforces
individual responsibility…it also represents the tension between individual and
collective obligations on which insurance rests” (1953) and that the most
“effective” insurance documents cast the reader not as a passive victim, but as
one who is capable of action.
This seems to have some pretty direct connections
to the current kerfuffle in Washington over “Obamacare” (a term I hate) and the
government shutdown. It occurred to me that perhaps so much of the passion and
vitriol surrounding healthcare reform is tied to this notion of praise and
blame of “risk” for the individual, and these questions of what society owes to
its members. The notion that one needs regulation over healthcare may imply to
some that the individual is not fit to manage his or her own health, which
creates an uncomfortable contradiction with American ideologies of
individualism. To me, this also demonstrates important connections to ideas
presented in "Living Documents: Liability versus the Need to Archive, or,
Why (Sometimes) History Should Be Expunged" by Beverly Sauer, who writes
that technological documents are “living” in that they must continually be
redefined and re-contextualized to serve their function. All “standards”
require critical examination beyond just first-hand experience: “If we valorize
individual observation and experience…we also place the burden of
responsibility on individual actors” to determine “safety” standards (2354).
What constitutes an update to the living document of American health insurance,
in addition to the numerous ways in which politicians frame empirical data
alongside (sometimes strained) metaphors is the subject of an intense
rhetorical situation with immediate and profound material implications. This,
to me, shows that it’s important to find a strong balance between practices, empirical
methodologies, and situated
subjectivities in the classroom (I also plan to use this ongoing controversy as
a “teachable moment”).
Pedagogy
That said, I wonder about of the ideas presented in the
discussion of culturally focused service learning pedagogy as presented by
Katherine V. Wills in “Designing Students: Teaching Technical Writing with
Cultural Studies Approaches” and “Extending Service-Learning’s Critical
Reflection and Action: Contributions of Cultural Studies” by J. Blake Scott. Wills
argues that “As teachers, we need to bring to our pedagogy an awareness of the
anti-intellectualism operating within universities as we try to teach technical
writing with an eye towards the social patterns inherent in the technical
communication event” (3498), which ties into institutional critiques by Scott
that “The logistical demands of a service-learning course, students’ desire for
a practical education, the disciplinary emphasis on uncritical accommodation,
and the institutional and cultural emphasis on preparation for corporate
success all work to maintain a pedagogy that facilitates praxis but not
phronesis” (3249). To provide evidence of the need for an institutionally
critical technical writing pedagogy, Wills goes on to state that “Teachers of
technical writing courses at the undergraduate level are typically adjunct
lecturers or graduate students who have little authentic experience with
workplace writing” (3511). This raised my hackles a bit, both for personal and
theoretical reasons.
Backtracking for a moment, Jim Henry asks in “Writing
Workplace Cultures”, “Can one truly maintain a ‘quality of writing’ when
potential layoff is an ever-present part of one’s writerly sensibilities?”
(2814) and later that “Enduring above all a discourse that positions their
expertise as marginal in the organization’s life, writers yearn for the means
to find other organizations where such is not the case or to somehow change
local views that see writing as a simple act of communicative packaging. As
lone ‘agents’ in a local culture, they stand little chance of doing so,
particularly given their low organizational status” (2839). Here, Salvo is
referring to technical workers who leave the academy and venture from the
critical, postmodern space into a decidedly modern and capitalistic workplace.
However, I can think of a more immediate, local example of this disenfranchised
writer: The humble adjunct. Though Henry mentions, briefly, the plight of part
time instructors, it is framed within the context of an administrative problem
that discourages critical pedagogy. Far from being removed from the “new work
order” that Henry describes, the University, I would argue, is still very much
enmeshed in the devaluing of “service” writers. Replace the verb “writing” with
“teaching” and you have an accurate portrayal of the adjunct’s life.
Wills describes these part time and graduate instructors as
being symptomatic of the larger problem of devaluing technical writing,
however, in doing so she and Scott are guilty of the very sins they rail
against. For example, Wills writes that “Creative teaching takes time and risk.
If a pedagogical goal is to assist students in becoming better readers and
writers of power issues surrounding document production in the workplace, the
reliance on textbooks and formulas will have to take a temporary backseat to
the instructor’s vision and the students’ effectiveness” (3548). This assumes a
great deal about the teacher as author of a classroom: namely that he or she
has the professional security and authority – the institutional currency –
required to take such “time and risks.” For adjuncts, Blake’s logistical
demands are more than just a matter of convenience: lacking job security,
institutional respect, or (often) unions with which to collectively bargain,
part time faculty survive by their ability to strategically navigate the
ever-shifting demands of (often well intentioned) academic policies.
On a side note, every adjunct that I have ever met, myself
included, has a great deal of authentic experience with workplace writing,
often because we must do that very writing on the side to make a living wage.
This isn’t really a question, I suppose, so much as a
problem that I feel needs addressing: How can we claim the moral authority to
teach civic responsibility when, institutionally, academia devalues the very
service labor that sustains so many departments? Shouldn’t we remove the plank
in our own institutional eye before we presume to pluck out the mote in our
students’?
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