Mike Rose

The Language of Exclusion: Writing Instruction at the University.

These snippets come from University of California and California state legislative memos, reports, and position papers and from documents produced during a recent debate in UCLAs Academic Senate over whether a course in our freshman writing sequence was remedial. Though these quotations-and a half dozen others I. will use in this essay-are local, they represent a kind of institutional language about writing instruction in American higher education. There are five ideas about writing implicit in these comments: Writing ability is judged in terms of the presence of error and can thus be quantified. Writing is a skill or a tool rather than a discipline. A number of our students lack this skill and must be remediated. In fact, some percentage of our students are, for all intents and purposes, illiterate. Our remedial efforts, while currently necessary, can be phased out once the literacy crisis is solved in other segments of the educational system. This kind of thinking and talking is so common that we often fail to notice that it reveals a reductive, fundamentally behaviorist model of the development and use of written language, a problematic definition of writing, and an inaccurate assessment of student ability and need. This way of talking about writing abilities and instruction is woven throughout discussions of program and curriculum development, course credit, instructional evaluation, and resource allocation. And, in various ways, it keeps writing instruction at the periphery of the curriculum. It is certainly true that many faculty and administrators would take issue with one or more of the above notions. And those of us in writing would bring current

Lives on the Boundary. The Struggles and Achievements of America's Underprepared.

Demonstrates the concept of creative literacy instruction in reaching hidden capacities in both children and adults labelled as slow learners.

The Working Life of a Waitress

Through a focus on my mothers working life in family-style restaurants, and with corroborating evidence from interviews with other waitresses and from psychological, sociological, and historical research literature, I characterize the interrelated cognitive, social, emotional, and existential dimensions of the work a waitress does. The article is both an homage to a particular waitress and an argument for the complexity of everyday work and for the multiple disciplinary perspectives and kinds of knowledge needed to appreciate that complexity.