The Epic Battle Between Rules and Self-Expression
By Ashley Hart
Personal voice is an elusive quality for most inexperienced writers. In high school, my sophomore English teacher liked to call it “sparkle” – that element that gives your work a little extra “oomph,” that makes your audience sit up and remember why they are reading your paper. Unfortunately, while personal voice adds much to an otherwise unremarkable paper, its use is discouraged by the very structure of the essays it seeks to improve.
Personal voice is as much about form of expression as it is about expression itself. The way a paper is structured, the way the paragraphs and sentences flow together, says a great deal about the author and can hinder or advance an argument. Here, rigid rules dictate that writers never begin a sentence with a conjunction (a rule that, when broken, can add power to an otherwise unremarkable statement), never use “I” (avoiding this taboo word frequently sounds awkward and weakens an argument more than using it would), and never use long sentences (while a tight, clipped style is often effective, it sounds forced if it is not pleasing to the author’s ear). Writing thus becomes a task with a prescribed execution, rather than an art of personal expression.
Personal voice encompasses a wide range of elements, including opinion and style. In collegiate papers, both are essential, though opinion and argument structure must be mastered before tackling the finer points of form. A paper with little creative structure that is dry and stylistically uninteresting, but has a strong argumentative foundation, will score better than one that has little substantive content but is pleasing to the ear.
Each of my students has discussed with me their previous writing experience, and the overwhelming majority of them have had very little experience with personal voice; as a result, their papers consist mostly of summary, and are dry and uninteresting to read. Their high school teachers seemed more concerned with ensuring that the students learned the material than practiced self-expression, and their essay prompts were formulated accordingly. My students recall that much of their past experience comes from writing fact based papers, such as, “Describe the consequences of the Civil Rights Act,” or “Explain the symbolism in Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale.” Neither example calls for much critical thought, though both of them guarantee that the student must learn the material before answering. Regurgitating the information, rather than engaging with it, seems to have been the major concern. As a result, most of my students are adept at discerning how an author’s words relate to a prompt, but have vastly underdeveloped skills in developing their own words.
Christine, a cheerful, freckled swimmer who bounces exuberantly into each of our meetings, had little confidence inserting her opinion into her papers. She, like many, has been burned by the comments of past teachers, and has been indoctrinated to never use the word “I” in a paper. She took this common rule to its logical conclusion, and avoided any and all personal expression. Despite her outward confidence, she displayed little faith in her abilities as a writer and in the importance of her own opinion. Because of her lack of experience in personal expression in an academic setting, she frequently began our meetings with the loudly voiced, Maryland-accented disclaimer, “It’s SOOO bad – I’m embarrassed to have you see it.” There was nothing fatally wrong with her work but the awkwardness with which she attempted to speak her mind.
I have spent a good deal of my time with Christine coaching her in voicing her opinions. At the beginning of the quarter, I asked her to write a rough draft using the word “I” as often as possible. Though intimidated by the exercise, and definitely a bit uncomfortable breaking such a deeply ingrained rule, her final draft showed a marked improvement as a result of this practice. Because she was not so concerned with restrictive rules, her writing was stronger and less awkward, and her point was much clearer.
In my first meeting with Ivy, a soccer player who comes to each of our meetings burdened with athletic bags, cleats, and backpack, she expressed a desire to make her writing “sound better.” As it turned out, her problems with writing were not language oriented – her grasp of words and their usage was above average, but her preoccupation with rules and what her instructors wanted her to say hindered her self-expression. We spent the majority of the quarter exploring how to break those rules: how to identify an author’s bias and examine how it affects her own writing; how to avoid over-summarizing; how to develop an argument that reflects her own opinion. On several occasions, I asked Ivy to read through an article and identify where the author’s bias was apparent; this technique enabled her to avoid an immediate, unquestioning identification with the author and examine how her own opinions agreed or disagreed with those of the author.
Ivy was so accustomed to writing fact-based papers that left no room for a personal response that she initially had no interaction with controversial topics. As we examined different viewpoints and discussed her reaction to each, she discovered a passion for the subject that lurked just below the surface. Our practiced rule-breaking was an essential catalyst in this process; had we not closely examined (and in many cases, discarded) these rules, Ivy’s writing would not have been able to break free from the constraints that hindered it. By our last meeting, Ivy came prepared with a research paper that examined her own opinions and those of others, and used them effectively to prove a point.
I have worked with several students who have taken (and passed) high-school Advanced Placement classes and exams in English; each of them exhibit the same strict adherence to elementary rules that ultimately damage their writing. These students have been conditioned to write only in the five-paragraph essay structure, which limits both their creative capacity and argumentative development. Like most of my students, they are afraid to differ from this prescribed format, and write only in a manner that they think will earn them a passing grade. Their confidence in their ability is inhibited by the system to which they cling so tightly; it is this unrelenting structure of rules and regulations that keeps these students from passing.
Ben is a prime example of a student discouraged by the traditional system by which writing is taught; he criticizes himself relentlessly for deviating from the expected norm. He is a film student with an ever-changing hair color and more interest in video games than anything else, who laughs loudly and nervously each time I comment on his paper. Though he has already passed the Subject A exam, and in high school received a perfect score on the AP English exam, he deems it necessary to show me each particular instance in which his paper is, in his words, appalling and beyond repair. Interestingly enough, each of these occasions happens to be a moment in which his personal voice has been permitted to sneak past the rigid, formulaic restrictions he has placed upon himself. Ben’s keenly developed sense of humor is stifled in his academic work – his sarcastic comments, while often effective in demonstrating his point, have been consistently disparaged by uptight instructors. Ben’s sarcasm is a practiced technique that accentuates his point: by over-stating the opposing opinion, he is able to render it ridiculous. However, in consistently condemning this “against-the-rules” technique, the public school system has taught Ben to be hesitant in using his own voice. His experiences with the Advanced Placement system, and four years of high school rule-learning, have left him buried in low self-confidence.
Ben and I have developed a good rule: he is not allowed to say that anything in his paper is “bad,” or “worthless,” because to dismiss his work with such destructive language is to reinforce the barriers set in place by his overly stringent education. If he wishes to express displeasure with his work, he must couch it in such terms as “I am dissatisfied with this paragraph,” or, “This paper is not up to my usual standards,” and then be able to explain to me why. By focusing on specific issues, this practice helps him to avoid criticizing his use of humor and unique voice.
Much of my time with my students has been spent forming opinions and developing an argument that progresses logically and addresses key points. As a result, we have spent little energy discussing the other facets of personal voice; their writing still often sounds awkward, with little variation in sentence structure and characterless diction. However, each of my students often attempts to write in an “academic” style, using a thesaurus to supply unfamiliar words, and throwing in at random places “smart” words like “thus,” and “subsequently.” This misguided effort to comply with traditional expectations results in a cluttered and sometimes incomprehensible paper.
Jane, a student with long burgundy hair who is perhaps overly fond of sleep, does just this: her instructor has recognized her tendency to “academicize” her work, and asked her to take a more conversational tone in her writing. She does so begrudgingly, unaware of how using a writing style more in tune with her own voice improves her writing. Jane feels that in order to be worthwhile, her paper must reflect a sophisticated style and an expansive vocabulary that she has not yet developed; by deconstructing this idea, she is able to present her ideas clearly using less chaotic language.
The struggles of the students mentioned above only mirror the difficulties that most students experience. In examining the development of personal voice, I have discovered that my own writing has benefited. I also was taught never to use “I” in a paper – I have learned with my students, however, that this and many other rules are often better off broken. Personal voice depends upon the ability to express oneself; excessive rules and regulations prohibit this process and ultimately turn out bored and boring writers.
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