VOL. 22, NO. 1 (2024): WRITING CENTER PRACTICES IN TIMES OF FLUX
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS COLUMNS
Editors’ Introduction: Writing Center Practices in Times of Flux
Alexandra Gunnells and Samantha Turner
A Writing Center of One’s Own: An Examination of Space in Online Writing Center Consultations
Hannah Sunshine Johnson
How the Lack of Cohesion in University AI Policy Poses Challenges to Writing Consultants
Meredith Perkins, Ally Britton-Heitz, and Kylie Mullis
FOCUS ARTICLES
The Language of Writing Center Antiracist and Linguistic Justice Statements
Sarah Kugler and Faith Thompson
“We Need a Tissue Budget”: Trauma-Informed Practice in University Writing Centers
Kate Hargreaves and Lindsey Jaber
Re-examining Familiar Work: Intentionality in Writing Center Online Impression Management
Carey Smitherman Clark, Erin George, Haydyn Hadnell, Madison Symonette, Eliza Ball, Sarah Brackett, and Will McDonald
Developing Consultants’ Multimodal Literacy Through ePortfolios
Christopher Basgier, Layli Miron, and Richard Jake Gebhardt
BOOK REVIEWS
Review of Beyond Productivity: Embodied, Situated, and (Un)Balanced Faculty Writing Processes
Jeff Fields McCormack
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Hannah Sunshine Johnson is the Assistant Director at the University of Texas at Tyler's writing center. She earned her BA in English from the University of Texas at Austin in 2022 and is currently an English MA student with research interests in ecofeminism, 20th century American literature, and writing pedagogy.
Meredith Perkins is an undergraduate student studying diplomacy and global politics and creative writing at Miami University. She has been a consultant at Miami University's Howe Writing Center for two years.
Ally Britton-Heitz is a graduate student studying business analytics at Miami University. She has been a consultant with Miami University's Howe Writing Center and the Howe Center for Business Writing for two years.
Kylie Mullis is an undergraduate student studying English literature, professional writing, and creative writing at Miami University. She has been a consultant at Miami University's Howe Writing Center for two years.
Sarah Kugler is a doctoral candidate in Rhetoric and Composition at the University of Kansas. She studies sociolinguistics and writing center theory and pedagogy, with a focus on the ways in which graduate students talk about and understand audience, power, identity, and language ideologies in writing center spaces.
Faith Thompson is a doctoral student in literacy studies at Salisbury University. She is a former graduate writing center tutor and current administrative intern at her University Writing Center. Her research centers antiracist practices at writing centers and in writing instruction, particularly linguistic justice pedagogy. Her research and commentaries have been published in Praxis, English Journal, The Peer Review, and Journal of Response to Writing.
Kate Hargreaves is a PhD student and the Employee Mental Health Coordinator at the University of Windsor in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. She holds both a Master of Education and a Master of Arts in English Literature and Creative Writing and formerly worked as a writing center tutor. Her research centers trauma-informed practices in higher education, particularly creative and academic writing pedagogy, through a critical disability lens. She is the author of four books of poetry and fiction, and her creative writing has been published in journals across Canada, the US, and the UK. Her creative work is available at CorusKate.com.
Lindsey Jaber, PhD, C.Psych., is the Associate Dean of Teacher Education and an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Education at the University of Windsor. She is a registered School, Clinical, and Counselling Psychologist with the College of Psychologists of Ontario. With a research background in mental health and extensive practical experience in providing clinical, counselling, and school psychology services to children, adolescents, and adults, she operates through an innovative scientist-practitioner-educator framework which informs her research, work with clients, clinical and research supervision, and teaching in an iterative and integrated cycle. She passionately advocates for the mental health and wellness of everyone students, educators, staff, leadership across K-12 and post-secondary settings.
Carey Smitherman Clark is an Associate Professor of Writing, Rhetoric, and Information Design at the University of Central Arkansas. She also serves as Director of the UCA Center for Writing & Communication.
Erin George is a senior Psychology (pre-med concentration) major at the University of Central Arkansas, where they also work as an undergraduate tutor in the UCA Center for Writing & Communication.
Haydyn Hudnall is an Education Abroad and National Student Exchange Advisor at the University of Central Arkansas. She is a former undergraduate tutor in the UCA Center for Writing & Communication.
Madison Symonette is a graduate student in Speech-Language Pathology at Vanderbilt University, where she also works as a Writing Studio consultant. Previously, she was employed as an undergraduate tutor in the University of Central Arkansas Center for Writing & Communication.
Eliza Ball is a student at The University of Tennessee Health Science Center: College of Dentistry. She is a former undergraduate tutor in the University of Central Arkansas Center for Writing & Communication.
Sarah Brackett is a graduate assistant in the University of Central Arkansas Center for Writing & Communication. She is currently finishing her MA in English.
Will McDonald is a Writing, Rhetoric, and Information Design major at the University of Central Arkansas, where he also works as an undergraduate tutor in the UCA Center for Writing & Communication.
Layli Miron works for Indiana University’s Center for Innovative Teaching and Learning. After earning her Ph.D. at Penn State, she enjoyed four years working at Auburn University with Chris, Jake, and other University Writing and Miller Writing Center teammates. You can peruse her ePortfolio at layli.net.
Christopher Basgier directs University Writing at Auburn University. He holds a Ph.D. from Indiana University. He has extensive experience working with faculty on teaching with writing, and he has consulted with departments about integrating writing throughout undergraduate and graduate curricula, particularly in support of high-impact practices like ePortfolios.
Richard Jake Gebhardt has worked for University Writing at Auburn University since 2021. He received his M.A. in English from Sam Houston State University, and his research interest focuses on digital literacies. Jake has worked in writing centers and connected student support services for over ten years.
Jeff Fields McCormack is a Ph.D. student and Graduate Assistant Teacher of Record (GAToR) at East Texas A&M University. He received a Bachelor of Arts in English from East Texas Baptist University in 2020 and a Master of Arts in English from Texas A&M University – Commerce (now East Texas A&M University) in 2021. His research interests include Gothic literature, horror studies, popular culture, composition studies, and Writing Center studies.
EDITORS’ INTRODUCTION: WRITING CENTER PRACTICES IN TIMES OF FLUX
Alexandra Gunnells University of Texas – Austin praxisuwc@gmail.com
In times of technological and political upheaval, how do writing center practitioners sustain their commitments to collaboration and care? How might reflecting upon our intentions around these practices offer routes forward for WCs across contexts? Although the topics in this issue vary widely, the authors demonstrate a shared commitment to addressing these questions. We are excited to share with you a collection of rigorously researched focus articles and thoughtprovoking findings related to tutor training, generative AI, and approaches to antiracist, wellness, and traumainformed practices.
In this issue’s first column essay, Hannah Johnson addresses the importance of space in writing consultations. By placing writing center scholarship about online writing consultations alongside Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, Johnson questions how online writing consultations differ from in-person consultations. In doing so, Johnson urges writing center practitioners to consider their intentions when offering online consultations. In other words, how might writing center practitioners approach online writing consultations from a different pedagogical perspective?
The issue’s second column essay reflects upon and extends conversations that took place at ECWCA 2024 in a roundtable hosted by peer tutors Meredith Perkins, Ally Britton-Heitz, and Kylie Mullis. The authors investigate institutional responses to generative AI and articulate the challenges that discretionary AIuse policies pose for tutors. This essay moves beyond pro- or anti-AI conversations to consider the fluctuating roles and expectations of WCs and consultants in a rapidly shifting educational landscape.
In this issue’s first focus article, Sarah Kugler and Faith Thompson perform critical discourse analysis to identify the linguistic features of writing center antiracist and linguistic justice statements. Kugler and Thompson remind us that even the most wellintentioned language may “inadvertently hedge [WCs’] commitments to racial justice,” and, ultimately, present a compelling study that articulates the importance of aligning language and action in writing center antiracist and linguistic justice statements.
Next up, Kate Hargreaves and Lindsey Jaber argue that trauma-informed practices in the WC can improve student and staff well-being. This multiinstitutional study works from the understanding that
Samantha Turner
University of Texas – Austin praxisuwc@gmail.com
trauma is ubiquitous in educational spaces and employs an equity-centered trauma-informed framework to explore how writing tutors across universities perceive and narrate their engagement with student trauma, extending conversations about labor and precarity in the WC towards the pedagogical implications of TI practices for tutors.
In the next focus article, Carey Smitherman Clark et al. seek to understand how writing centers employ impression management strategies to appeal to a variety of stakeholders. The authors pay particular attention to how writing centers manage stakeholder impressions online, arguing that many WCs demonstrate an intentional approach to impression management that prioritizes perceptions of attractiveness and competence.
In the issue’s final focus article, Christopher Basgier, Layli Miron, and Richard Jake Gebhardt offer a detailed reflection on their center’s experience implementing an ePortfolio professional development curriculum for their tutors. The authors build upon the field’s calls for evidence-based tutor training and contribute a replicable, aggregable, data-supported (RAD) study on the effects of ePortfolio training on consultant’s ability to support multimodal projects.
This issue concludes with Jeff Fields McCormack’s review of Beyond Productivity: Embodied, Situated, and (Un)Balanced Faculty Writing Processes. McCormack praises the collection, edited by Kim Hensley Owens and Derek Van Ittersum, noting that it offers a crucial account–and questioning–of the unrelenting pressure to publish that pervades academia. McCormack highlights how Beyond Productivity can help academics rethink pre-COVID academic policies and how these policies might be reshaped.
We here at Praxis remain deeply grateful to the reviewers, authors, and copy-editors who helped make this issue a reality. Turns out putting together an issue during the fall semester is more difficult than doing so in the summer, and we were lucky to work with two brilliant undergraduate tutors–Sydney Patterson and Audrey Fife–to prepare this issue for publication. We wish a restful holiday break to all of our authors, reviewers, and readers, and look forward to returning to Praxis in the new year.
A WRITING
CENTER OF ONE’S OWN: AN EXAMINATION OF SPACE IN ONLINE WRITING CONSULTATIONS
Hannah Sunshine Johnson
The University of Texas at Tyler
hjohnson32@patriots.uttyler.edu
Since the decline of the COVID-19 pandemic and the gradual return to normal operations across university campuses, a survey of writing center websites indicates that university writing centers continue to offer both in-person and virtual appointments. Wisniewski et al. cites that even before the pandemic, “Of the 132 institutions indicating they had online services in the 2016–17 WCRP (Purdue Online Writing Lab, 2020), 55% reported offering asynchronous online tutoring, 39% reported using text-based real-time tutoring, and 33% reported using voice-based synchronous tutoring” (262). While the continued online accessibility of writing center services is extremely valuable given that it increases accessibility for all student populations, there is a question of whether writing center directors and administrators should view the function of online appointments as the same as in-person appointments. When contemplating this question, I believe taking into consideration Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own may offer some illumination, namely due to her considerations of the role of physical space when it comes to writing. When thinking about the role of space in writing according to Woolf’s claims, it might suggest that virtual consulting cannot replace in-person consultations, nor can it be argued as existing in the same functional capacity as in-person consultations. In this case, studies that evaluate the quality of student work performed inside and outside of the writing center ought to be considered. Additionally, ways to adapt Woolf’s ideas about the function of space in writing might provide a way to continue to assuage concerns about the effectiveness of virtual versus face-to-face tutoring.
Since before the pandemic, concerns regarding the effectiveness of virtual tutoring versus in-person tutoring have been voiced. Wisniewski et al. summarizes some of these concerns in their literature review:
Early OWT [online writing tutorials] scholarship was guided by the expectation that online tutorials should follow face-to-face pedagogies but cautioned that the “inherent disadvantages” ( Jackson, 2000, p. 2) of online tutorials would result in a loss of the dynamic give-and-take of writing center dialogue and a lack of rapport (Harris, 1998; Jackson, 2000; Raign, 2013; Spooner, 1994), less ability to
enact the Burkean-parlor model common to face-to-face sessions (Breuch, 2005), and a greater likelihood of focusing on grammar, spelling, and mechanics as the “product” takes center stage (Breuch, 2005; Buck, 2008; Raign, 2013; Spooner, 1994). Despite these concerns, proponents of OWTs have described technologies that allow writing centers to better reach and engage their constituencies (Coogan, 1998; English, 2000; Harris, 1998; Shewmake & Lambert, 2000; Thurber, 2000), and the growth of online postsecondary education has only increased the need to provide equitable writing support to all of our students (Prince, Willard, Zamarripa, & Sharkey-Smith, 2018). (264)
As this review suggests, questions about mode have existed within scholarship since the late 90s and early 2000s. In response to these questions and concerns, often dealing with how or whether pedagogy and technique transfer from in-person consultations to virtual ones, at least two studies have been conducted. These include Wisniewski et al.’s “comparative study of face-to-face and synchronous audio-video online tutorials that collected data from writing tutorials, writers’ postsession surveys, and interviews with writers” (261). Prior to this was Wolfe and Griffin’s “Comparing Technologies for Online Writing Conferences: Effects of Medium on Conversation," which compares face-to-face with audio- and desktopsharing technologies. Both of these studies conclude that in terms of pedagogy and best practices, the mode of the consultant did not affect the session. Building off of Wolfe and Griffin’s study, Wisniewski et al. claims to have achieved their goal of adopting “effective services that maximize the same approach we use in our face-toface sessions” (283). However, these studies merely compare the technique of consultants and the satisfaction of students, meaning that student writing itself was not evaluated, and that the role of physical space in writing when it comes to virtual sessions has yet to be considered.
By contrast, in her 1928 essay collection A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf demonstrates the vital role that physical space plays in writing and may suggest that while online consultations are valuable as an alternative resort, they do not compare to the experience of an in-
person consultation. Throughout A Room of One’s Own, Woolf offers examples of how the lack of space dedicated to writing interferes with the practice of writing. First, she describes a situation in which the ideas she had hoped to put to paper, symbolized in her speech by a little fish, escaped her entirely due to an interruption she suffered: “...he was a Beadle; I was a woman. This was the turf; there was the path…in protection of their turf, which has been rolled for 300 years in succession, they had sent my little fish into hiding” (6). In this situation, Woolf had been walking around on campus because she did not possess a space she could appropriate for her own literary uses. As a result, her thoughts about what she wants to write are not only interrupted but eternally lost. Later, a similar situation takes place at a cafe: “But these contributions to the dangerous and fascinating subject of the psychology of the other sex…were interrupted by the necessity of paying the bill” (36). In both cases, Woolf demonstrates how attempting to be productive in a space not dedicated to productivity is fruitless. In a third scenario, she illustrates how this specifically affects writing when she reads a novel written by a woman: “So I tried a sentence or two on my tongue. Soon it was obvious that something was not quite in order. The smooth gliding of sentence after sentence was interrupted. Something tore, something scratched” (79). While it is an assumption, Woolf attributes the interruptions in the woman’s prose to the fact that the author would not have had a space dedicated to the pursuit of writing, meaning that the novel must have been written in a kitchen, or among children, lending the pursuit to interruption on account of the space she inhabited when she wrote. Through these three examples, Woolf clearly demonstrates not only the necessity of space for effective writing, but also how writing in an inferior space negatively affects the writing that one produces. The idea for which Virginia Woolf argues, that the space one inhabits when she writes affects her writing, is a key reason why writing center design is a major topic and point of debate within writing center scholarship. This is exemplified in Hadfield et al.’s “An Ideal Writing Center: Re-Imagining Space and Design,” which seeks to physically create the ideal writing center, as well as in McKinney’s “Leaving Home Sweet Home: Towards Critical Readings of Writing Center Spaces,” which rebuts Hadfield et al.’s values, but nonetheless argues the influential role of space on writing. In his article “The Idea of a Writing Center,” Stephen North further explains exactly why the space of a writing center is so important through his definition of what a writing center is: “...in the ‘new’ center the teaching takes place as much as possible during writing, during the activity
being learned, and tends to focus on the activity itself” (North 439). North emphasizes space in terms of what the space invites to take place, demonstrating how space is a crucial element to writing. If this is the case, then what we are encouraged to understand is that the writing center is not strictly a service to be utilized by students. Rather, the services of the tutors are just one aspect of the writing center. In addition to this aspect, the writing center is also a physical place one visits, because if the ultimate goal of the writing center is to encourage the physical act of writing, either through its design or its pedagogical practices, then the writing center must be a physical entity on a campus. By tracing Virginia Woolf’s argument that space is vital for effective writing, as well as how writing in an inferior space negatively affects the writing that one produces, we can see how this thread is present in conversations surrounding the physical aspects of the writing center. In this case, there is a question of how online writing consultations, which do not take place within the specific space of the writing center, fit into these ideas.
If online writing consultations do not adhere to the ideas about space and its impact on writing outlined by Woolf and modern writing centers scholars, then we are invited to question whether or how they are in pursuit of the goals of writing centers based on those ideas about writing spaces. First, if we consider Stephen North’s definition of the writing center, which is a place where writing takes place as much as possible, then already the online session falls short, because it takes place outside of the space. While the tutor may attend the session online from the writing center, the student is not there, so already, by virtue of the student’s absence from the physical space, the writing center does not meet its goal of being a place where writing takes place, because if the student is not present, then writing is not taking place within the center.
Instead, more often than not, the students logging on to online appointments do so from a space that is not designated for writing – a kitchen, a coffee shop, a bedroom, or another public space, or work. In her essays, Woolf insists that writing in a space prone to distraction will negatively impact one’s writing. When students join their online appointments in a public space such as a coffee shop or a common area on campus, their writing taking place outside of the writing center, thus arguably defeating the purpose of the writing center as a space. What is more, there is a question of whether students who attend appointments while outside of the writing center space are producing inferior work to those who attend sessions in-person. While studies conducted by Wolfe and Griffin and Wisniewski et al. argue that tutoring technique and student satisfaction is
Praxis: A Writing Center Journal • Vol. 22, No. 1 (2024) www.praxisuwc.com
not at stake, the quality of student work is not evaluated. As such, Woolf’s ideas about how physical space impacts writing suggests the possibility that student writing does in fact suffer, thus inviting attention to be paid to the physical writing habits of students and the quality of their work when they attend tutoring appointments online.
It is not as though online options do not have their place. As already stated, online options at the writing center make the tutors’ knowledge and help accessible to students who, without an online option, would not benefit in any way from the writing center’s services. This kind of accessibility is crucial for pursuing the goals of a writing center, which are to support a writer’s process by giving them the tools to write. However, it would be a mistake to assume that the online option is just as valuable or functional as inperson meetings, in the same way it is a mistake to act as if the knowledge and help of tutors is the only service offered by a writing center. The physical space dedicated to writing that writing centers offer is a major part of the service that the writing center boasts. Being cognizant of this fact is crucial for not only understanding how to support a writer’s process but also considering the future of writing centers and where and how they exist. If the main goal of a writing center is to be a place where writing takes place, or at least, a service that encourages and empowers writers to write, then according to Virginia Woolf, a writing center must be first and foremost a physical space on campus.
Based on this analysis of Woolf’s claims about physical space and writing, it might be worth it for others to consider how Woolf's arguments could be adapted to virtual spaces for future study. While pedagogical success and student satisfaction have been compared, the quality of student work has not. As such, we cannot currently know, based on the studies that exist, whether student work is better or inferior based on where it is produced. Instead, we have Virginia Woolf’s arguments that physical space can negatively or positively impact one’s writing, and that dedicated space is essential for writing success.
Works Cited
Hadfield, Leslie, et al. “An Ideal Writing Center: ReImagining Space and Design.” The Center Will Hold, edited by Michael A. Pemberton and Joyce Kinkead, University Press of Colorado, 2003, pp. 166–76.
McKinney, Jackie Grutsch. “Leaving Home Sweet Home: Towards Critical Readings of Writing
Center Spaces.” The Writing Center Journal, vol. 25, no. 2, 2005, pp. 6–20.
North, Stephen M. “The Idea of a Writing Center.” College English, vol. 46, no. 5, 1984, pp. 433–46.
Wisniewski, Carolyn, et al. “Questioning Assumptions About Online Tutoring: A Mixed-Method Study of Face-to-Face and Synchronous Online Writing Center Tutorials.” The Writing Center Journal, vol. 38, no. 1/2, 2020, pp. 261–96.
Wolfe, Joanna, and Jo Ann Griffin. “Comparing Technologies for Online Writing Conferences:
Effects of Medium on Conversation.” The Writing Center Journal, vol. 32, no. 2, 2012, pp. 60–92.
Woolf, Virginia. A Room of One's Own: With an Introductory Essay "Professions for Women."
United States, Read Books Limited, 2017.
HOW THE LACK OF COHESION IN UNIVERSITY AI POLICY POSES CHALLENGES TO WRITING CONSULTANTS
Meredith Perkins Miami University perkin16@miamioh.edu
Ally Britton-Heitz Miami University brittoam@miamioh.edu
Generative AI writing tools are here and here to stay. Yet, as undergraduate writing consultants, we have observed that many students and faculty in the writing center space are hesitant to accept or adapt to this reality. Instead, “technostress” has led many educators to completely disavow any AI usage, effectively withdrawing from valuable opportunities to demonstrate ethical AI use to students (Kohnke, Lucas, et al. 306). While we personally relate to feelings of “technostress,” we also believe that the emergence of AI has given writing centers a profound responsibility to become hubs of ethical AI education and experimentation at our university campuses. Kohnke, Lucas, et. al. conclude that one of the most effective ways to resolve technostress among English educators is to create “centralized resources and guidelines” and “collaborative communities of practice” (313). To help begin this conversation within our East Central Writing Center Association, we decided to host a roundtable during the spring 2024 ECWCA Conference that would spark greater conversation about what consultants need in this time of rapid change.
We spent the first part of our roundtable describing the types of generative AI tools students are using. Several of the consultants and directors in attendance had never used AI before, so we felt it was important to begin any conversation about AI by offering examples of what it looked like, what it can do, and most importantly what it cannot do. To delineate the differences between what writing consultants and AI writing tools can each provide a student, we then presented the results of a small qualitative study we conducted which compared and contrasted ChatGPT-3.5 feedback against consultantgenerated feedback in an asynchronous consultation. The most important conversation we hoped our roundtable would spark was about the obstacles university-wide AI policies pose to consultants. At our own institution, Miami University, our academic integrity policy leaves it up to the discretion of the individual professor to authorize or not authorize AI usage in the classroom (“Academic Integrity: Policy Library”). Through researching policies at peer institutions in Ohio, we concluded that AI policies that give professors autonomy over AI usage in their
Kylie Mullis Miami University mulliskm@miamioh.edu
classroom appears to be the most popular institutional response. We also observed that most policies were created by bureaucratic arms of the university rather than in collaboration with writing centers, which raises questions about how informed administrators are about how these policies can affect writing centers. While we agree having flexible policies on paper is preferable to a policy that outright bans AI, or a lack of policy at all, we are concerned that discretionary AI policies have created confusing and incongruous conditions marked by a lack of cohesion with how AI is regulated across university departments.
For consultants, a discretionary AI policy opens the door for a situation in which every new student that enters the writing center has a different set of AI parameters to follow: one student’s professor may permit Grammarly but ban other types of AI, another student’s professor may ban all AI usage, and another student may have a writing assignment where AI usage is not only encouraged but required. Similar to how writing consultants must be educated to understand and teach different citation styles, writing consultants must learn and understand how to consult with and without AI-generated writing. Our universities’ students need writing centers to help them approach writing in both AI-permissive and AI-intolerant contexts.
In our experience, conversations at universities about AI and writing tend to end with the vague notion that we should use AI “ethically,” thus avoiding “unethical” practices. However, “ethical” usage is seldom defined or demonstrated, as AI is something that not even its creators fully understand (Heikkilä). As consultants, we believe it is important that writing centers do not shy away from this complicated question. If directors do not take the initiative to teach consultants to consult for assignments with AI, consultants will feel unsupported and insecure in their ability to continue to support writers. Vague conversations about “ethical AI” aren’t helpful walking through case studies, developing scripts, and having a written writing centerlevel AI protocol is.
Our roundtable was the first time we were able to discuss our questions and ideas about consulting with AI in a larger community of consultants. As part of our presentation, we created three case studies: one where a
student has clearly used AI on an assignment they aren’t allowed to, one where a student is asking how to credit AI on an assignment where they are permitted to use AI, and one where a student is permitted to use AI for brainstorming project ideas, if they send their professor screenshots. Consultants spoke openly about the concerns they would have in each scenario and shared plans for how they would navigate each conversation. As a group, we brainstormed best practices for navigating consultations with AI. We agreed that, in general, it is not the consultant’s role to memorize every professor’s AI policy or act as policers of AI use on behalf of their institutions. At the same time, for writing centers to continue being a community of practice for student writers, peer consultants need to be prepared to help all student writers including those curious about incorporating AI tools in writing along university and professor guidelines.
As consultants, we are trained to use a variety of tools to assist writers (i.e. the Purdue OWL, in-house writing center handouts, and graphic design programs [Canva, Adobe, etc.]). From our perspective, AI is simply another writing tool that we can help students learn with. Artificial intelligence cannot replace the experience of meeting in-person with a peer consultant, but as it improves, students will have new ways to more efficiently research archives, compute large data sets, and brainstorm. We believe writing centers are uniquely positioned to both help model ethical AI usage and educate students on the inherent biases and privacy concerns that limit the effectiveness of AI. The transition to online writing centers thirty years ago was a time of great technostress, but embracing the internet has allowed writing centers to become more accessible and more widely used. If writing centers take charge in academia’s transition to a post-AI era, our communities can help create a culture where AI in writing stays ethical.
What does taking charge look like? At our writing center, all consultants are actively completing small-scale, semester-long research projects. For six weeks, consultants examine high level issues, exploring different writing topics related to AI, to improve overall understanding of writing center applications. While our center has long prioritized consultant-led research, encouraging consultants to take the lead on exploring the limitations and opportunities within the new field of AI has helped destigmatize conversations about AI within our center. As consultants who were trained before the creation of ChatGPT, we strongly advocate preparing students to consult with AI by defining AI best practices in consultant training or professional development sessions. Center directors should help
consultants create scripts, run through case studies, and gain a general understanding of AI tools, which can go a long way in improving consultants’ confidence. Not every consultant needs to be an AI researcher, but every consultant should be prepared to help a student with an AI writing assignment simply because assignments will increasingly feature AI use and requirements.
At the Howe Writing Center, one of our core principles is that new and unfamiliar writing tasks impact a writer’s performance. AI is unfamiliar to students and consultants alike, and the lack of cohesive policy at the institutional level only further obfuscates productive conversations about the future of our field. Academic integrity policies that permit AI greatly expand the scope of a consultant’s role, and while these policies need more clarification, writing centers cannot wait until policies are perfect before taking a leadership role within AI education. A writing center’s importance on campus is drastically increasing, as students seek help from consultants who could serve as mediators of new technology in a time of intense technostress. To properly heed this call to action, centers should create communities of practice where all consultants can find support as we navigate both learning and teaching in an era of complex AI academic integrity policies.
Heikkilä, Melissa. “Nobody Knows How AI Works.” MIT Technology Review, MIT Technology Review, 6 Mar. 2024, www.technologyreview.com/2024/03/05/108 9449/nobody-knows-how-ai-works/.
Kohnke, Lucas, et al. “Technostress and English Language Teaching in the Age of Generative AI.” Educational Technology & Society, vol. 27, no. 2, 2024, pp. 306–20. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/48766177.
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THE LANGUAGE OF WRITING CENTER ANTIRACIST AND LINGUISTIC JUSTICE STATEMENTS
Sarah Kugler University of Kansas sarah_kugler@ku.edu
Abstract
Writing center antiracist and linguistic justice statements, like mission statements, articulate the values and beliefs of an organization, and can be powerful tools for social and institutional change. However, they can also be ineffectual or meaningless if their calls are not actualized or they do not have buy-in from writing center staff. This study explores the linguistic features of antiracist and linguistic justice statements posted on the websites of R1 university writing centers in the United States. Grounded in Critical Discourse Analysis, a theoretical and methodological approach which centers the political and powerful impacts of language, we analyzed the pronouns, verbs, and diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) language among these statements. This analysis revealed that such statements use we/our language referring to writing centers and they/them language referring to students/writers; use writing center-relevant action verbs, such as help, develop, and support; and use modal verbs such as will, connoting future, and potentially present, actions. We also observed a discourse orientation towards DEI efforts rather than specifically centering racial justice. Taken together, these findings present a model of the linguistic choices of antiracist and linguistic justice statements which other writing center professionals could consider when writing their own statements; however, we also argue that writing center staff and researchers must be aware of the ways in which their well-intentioned language may inadvertently hedge their commitments to racial justice.
Introduction
Following the police murder of George Floyd and the racial justice protests of 2020, many in higher education, and specifically in writing center studies, began to discuss the roles we play in perpetuating racist systems of oppression (Haltiwanger Morrison and Evans Garriott 1). While similar discussions have been ongoing for decades in writing center scholarship, more writing center scholars and staff members across positionalities and institutions began to take up calls for antiracist writing pedagogy and praxis. For some institutions and writing centers, this took the form of crafting antiracist and linguistic justice statements which articulated their philosophical dedication to equitable and inclusive language practices. Writing centers have the potential to support students in challenging institutional norms (Sabatino 103), and by heeding the call for linguistic justice, writing centers can help break down barriers to academia for students of color and speakers of marginalized languages. Adjusting to
Faith Thompson Salisbury University fsears1@salisbury.edu
standardized English and academic language expectations can create a dissonance for marginalized language users, where they feel their own languaging practices are unwelcome within academia. Linguistic justice seeks to dismantle the hierarchy of standardized English and challenge the linguistic racism that accompanies it.
In this article, we identify common rhetorical moves and word choices of antiracist and linguistic justice statements issued by the writing centers of R1 universities across the United States. We ask:
● What linguistic features constitute linguistic justice and antiracist statements?
● What values, beliefs, and assumptions are communicated through the language of these statements?
● What, if any, antiracist actions are generated from these statements?
Aligned with Cirrilo-McCarthy, et al., we believe “examining the ways writing centers position their practices rhetorically for students and other stakeholders has the potential to make evident the narratives with which writing centers identify” (65).
This study involved continued consultations between the authors to discuss data, coding, findings, and analysis. We began by examining the writing center websites of the R1 universities (146 in total, as per the Carnegie Classification of Institutions of Higher Education, 2021) across the United States. If the website included a statement featuring a discussion of language diversity, Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI), or race and racism, we flagged the statement for further analysis. We arrived at 12 statements from Washington State University, University of Nevada Las Vegas, University of Connecticut, University of Buffalo, Michigan State University, Johns Hopkins University, Indiana University, Emory University, Drexel University, Colorado State University, University of California San Diego, and Columbia University. Then, using the computer program AntConc, we analyzed the language of each statement, looking for patterns among them. Lastly, we applied Kiang and Tsai’s framework to determine which of the statements actually fit the
emerging genre of antiracist and linguistic justice statements (116-117). This framework is a criterion of eight elements that antiracist statements should have, including:
● explicitly naming racism;
● terms connoting active support;
● reference to negative sequelae resulting from racism;
● use of hopeful language;
● use of victim’s names;
● reference to Black people;
● reference to the police; and
● specifying the act (i.e. murder, suffocating).
The first four elements–explicitly naming racism, terms connoting active support, reference to negative sequelae resulting from racism, use of hopeful language–serve as the foundation for this article’s analysis of what constitutes an antiracist statement and were used in our evaluation of the statements we found by looking at R1 writing centers’ websites. Through this process, we discovered linguistic and lexical patterns among the statements’ use of modal verbs, first and third-person pronouns, and DEI language, looking at both what was said and how it was said within these statements. We argue that these patterns reveal a commitment to future (though perhaps not present) actions toward antiracism; however, some of the statements also demonstrate raceevasiveness, and some lack evidence of implementing their commitments to antiracist pedagogy. We conclude this article with concrete suggestions writing centers could make toward writing and implementing antiracist statements, while acknowledging that hard work may be happening behind the scenes which writing centers cannot publish on their websites in the current educational climate.
Literature Review
In this section, we draw from varying fields such as business and marketing research to establish what is known about the genres of mission statements, antiracist statements, and linguistic justice statements. We identify linguistic justice statements as more targeted forms of antiracist statements, which are usually made to clarify the existing mission and vision statements of writing centers and related institutions during times of racial unrest and which serve as extensions of mission statements. Linguistic justice statements, which outline an organization’s dedication to not only antiracist practice broadly, but to justice at the level of language, can also be considered as extensions of mission statements.
Mission Statements
Mission statements are a crucial part of institutions’ public reputations. These often short statements are designed to promote an institution (Appleton-Pine and Moroski-Rigney; Aib and Shehzad 2) by establishing its purpose for existence and how it will achieve that purpose (Condon 23). Mission statements also “serve as means by which an institution or institutional site can hold itself accountable or be held accountable to the constituencies it seeks to serve” (Condon 23). We can turn to studies of higher education institutions and corporations that have developed a genre model for public mission statements.
In a discourse analysis of 118 company mission statements, Mengqi et al. found that such statements contain mostly commissive sentences conveying promises and assertives establishing institutional “truths” (84). In terms of grammatical and syntactical features, they also found that mission statements use personification, imperative and parallel sentences, and various combinations of verb-nouns, such as “interrogating.” Aib and Shehzad further developed the genre by analyzing 100 university mission statements (5). They found that mission statements most commonly leverage promotional discourse rhetorical moves such as “'targeting the market,' 'justifying the service,' and 'detailing the service''” (18) and that “headlines” “establishing credentials” and endorsement from scholars and students strengthened such statements (Aib and Shehzad). Ultimately, a mission statement conveys who an organization is and what it can do for people.
A few scholars have touched on the importance of mission statements within writing center studies as well. Namely, Cirrillo-McCarthy et al. discuss how mission statements can either reproduce or challenge deficit mindsets towards student writers. In particular, they discuss the messages about language and language use that writing center mission statements can send. They identify mission statements and mission statement revision as a starting point for writing centers to disrupt deficit narratives towards marginalized languaging practices from predominantly students of color. As extensions of mission statements, antiracist and linguistic justice statements in particular can be powerful markers of the values and writing pedagogy of a center.
Antiracist Statements
Occasionally, institutions will provide statements that offer more clarification about their purpose and mission, or that respond to specific
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circumstances. This is a way to center an organization’s public values (Appleton Pine and MoroskiRigney). These statements leverage many of the same strategies as mission statements, conveying promises and asserting institutional truths. In their article exploring the genre of antiracist statements released by hospitals in the wake of the police killing of George Floyd, Kiang and Tsai developed their criterion of eight elements, including explicitly naming racism, terms connoting active support, reference to negative sequelae resulting from racism, and use of hopeful language (116117). We focus specifically on these four criteria as the other four specifically address George Floyd’s murder, and we believe statements that take a broader starting point can still qualify as antiracist statements.
While antiracist statements can assert an institution’s commitment to social justice, they can also run the risk of being viewed as meaningless (Fields 178). Kiang and Tsai also found that most hospital antiracist statements only included two of their features: terms connoting active support and the use of hopeful language (117). Similarly, Casellas-Connors and McCoy found that the antiracist statements issued by universities tended to be color-evasive, failed to address systematic racism, and rarely, if at all, named specific races (602-603). After conducting a critical discourse analysis, they concluded that such statements served only to advance the institutions’ image but not genuine, systematic change. Brown et al. further found in a critical discourse analysis of 45 statements from academic medical institutions that such statements not only ignore race but minimized institutional responsibility (867). Lastly, Rockhill et al. found in their study of “the mission, vision, and diversity, equity, and inclusion statements of Power 5 athletic departments” that, while these statements speak to seeking racial equity, the actions of an organization, especially their hiring practices, do not necessarily or even often reflect these convictions (398). Ultimately, such statements are, in fact, not neutral and/or meaningless, and do more harm than good (Coley and Holly 2) if they reproduce the status quo (Brown et al. 867) by masking and evading discussion of systematic racism. In conclusion, scholarship in multiple disciplines, including sports communication (Rockhill et al.), epidemiology (Kiang and Tsai), and engineering (Coley and Holly) shows that antiracist statements have been found to only project a reputation for social justice advocacy for rather than promote action. Writing center statements are not immune to this; as Fields notes, antiracist statements often do not place enough focus on how writing centers themselves can address racism (187).
Linguistic Justice Statements
Around the time of George Floyd’s murder, April Baker-Bell’s book Linguistic Justice: Black Language, Literacy, Identity, and Pedagogy was published, guiding writing centers and the discipline of rhetoric and composition more broadly to understand the ways writing and language instruction contributes to systemic racism. Baker-Bell defines linguistic justice as “an antiracist approach to language and literacy education. It is about dismantling Anti Black Linguistic Racism and white linguistic hegemony and supremacy in classrooms and in the world” (7). Baker-Bell’s call, and more particularly the term linguistic justice, has been enthusiastically taken up in rhetoric and composition. Notably, linguistic justice was at the center of the 2020 CCCC Special Committee on Composing a CCCC Statement on Anti-Black Racism and Black Linguistic Justice, Or, Why We Cain’t Breathe! call to action “This Ain’t Another Statement! This is a DEMAND for Black Linguistic Justice!”. The authors enumerate demands such as ceasing to teach Black students to code-switch from African American English outside of school to standard English exclusively in school and, instead, teaching them about white linguistic supremacy, and calling on teachers to “stop using academic language and standard English as the accepted communicative norm, which reflects White Mainstream English!” (Baker-Bell et al.). Additionally, program chair Perryman-Clark’s call for proposals for CCCC 2022, “The Promises and Perils of Higher Education: Our Discipline’s Commitment to Diversity, Equity, and Linguistic Justice,” draws specifically on Baker-Bell’s definition of linguistic justice and resulted in numerous presentations centering linguistic justice at that convention.
Writing center studies, however, has not taken up the term linguistic justice to the same degree, despite it playing an important role in the writing development of students. Based on a search of the conference program, only three sessions at the 2022 International Writing Center Association Annual Conference (IWCA) engage the term “linguistic justice” in their titles (International Writing Center Association, 2022). Additionally, based on our search of past issues in 2023, no articles in The Writing Center Journal or Praxis: A Writing Center Journal have used the phrase in their title. However, a few individual articles in Praxis and Axis: The Praxis Blog have centered on linguistic justice, including a special issue of Axis on Imagining the Decolonizing Writing Center (Fall/Winter 2021), which mentions linguistic justice in its call for proposals. Two articles in that series–“Shifting Theory and Practice: Professional Development on Linguistic Antiracism” by
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Kern and Raynor and “Training Writing Tutors about Language and Identity” by Daut and Rebe–discuss linguistic justice. Relatedly, Thompson centers the idea of linguistic justice as antiracist practice in writing center tutoring. The Peer Review has featured articles that address linguistic justice directly, such as Aguilar-Smith et al.’s article, “Departing for a Better Writing Center: Advancing Language Justice Through Staff Professional Development”, presenting a history of the concept in writing center studies (i.e. Grimm; Boquet; Greenfield and Rowan) to foreground their argument for focusing on linguistic justice in writing center staff professional development. Further, The Peer Review released a special issue on linguistic justice in 2024. The edited collection Linguistic Justice on Campus: Pedagogy and Advocacy for Multilingual Students specifically addresses “Advocacy in the Writing Center,” with four chapters by Krishnamurthy et al., Basta, Brooks-Gillies, and Perry and Rawlins, which as a whole, show that changing from assimilation, difference-as-deficit perspectives (i.e. ‘improving’ student writing to meet a ‘standard’) to antiracist, decolonial approaches require writing centers to do work across various institutional contexts such as engaging with campus stakeholders, centering reflexive, critical approaches in consultant training and providing support for writing instructors. (Lee et al. 10)
Despite this growing area of scholarship, we could not find any research on linguistic justice statements in particular–a gap that this article seeks to address. Overall, scholarship on mission, antiracist, and linguistic justice statements demonstrates the strengths and challenges of these documents; they have the potential to outline institutional beliefs and values, but they can also deflect responsibility and do not necessarily connote real-world actions.
Methodology
Positionalities
It is our hope that articulating our positionalities allow us to both be transparent with our readers about the viewpoints from which we write, and to allow us to be self-reflective and critical of ourselves as scholars. The authors of this article are both white women scholars and, at the time of writing, graduate students at predominantly white R1 institutions examining the role of race and racism in writing program administration. We both serve as instructors of record for freshman composition courses at our individual
institutions and are involved with campus writing centers. We acknowledge the privilege that our positionalities, particularly our race and gender, grant us, especially because of the historic and current prevalence of white women working in and publishing about writing centers (Condon “Dear Sister”; Faison and Treviño; Haltiwanger Morrison and Nanton 8; Lockett). We hope that this article contributes to the growing body of work critiquing the white gaze in writing center studies (Faison and Treviño; Barron and Grimm 72) and helps other writing center practitioners, particularly white women writing or considering writing antiracist statements, to critically reflect on their own positionalities.
Additionally, our positionalities shape our data collection and analysis methods. As graduate students, instructors of record, and writing center employees at large state universities at the time, we found collecting data on antiracist statements at those institutions to be a natural place to start this project. However, this framing is a limitation of this study because it excludes the incisive work being done at other institutions such as community colleges, R2s, and small liberal arts colleges (SLACs), as well as work being done in other countries. Furthermore, this project has been shaped by the tools and analysis methods we have learned from coursework in graduate school, such as AntConc and Critical Discourse Analysis.
Critical Discourse Analysis
Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) is a methodological and theoretical approach which focuses on the ways in which discrimination, power, authority, and social structures are mediated and perpetuated through language. While there are many approaches to CDA, overall, “CDA approaches are characterized by the common interests in deconstructing ideologies and power through the systematic and retroductable investigation of semiotic data (written, spoken, or visual)” (Wodak and Meyer 4). Because CDA seeks to expose and solve social problems, practitioners emphasize the importance of interdisciplinary approaches which utilize multiple methodological or theoretical frameworks in order to triangulate data. Additionally, “researchers also attempt to make their own positionings and interests explicit while retaining their respective scientific methodologies and remaining self-reflective about their own research process” (Wodak and Meyer 4).
There have been multiple calls for expanding the role of CDA research in rhetoric and composition and writing center studies (Babcock and Thonus;
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Huckin et al.; Mackiewicz and Babcock), but there are still few examples of published scholarship employing CDA methodology. The most detailed and nuanced examples are from unpublished doctoral dissertations (Levin; Ritter) as well as two articles (Pigliacelli; Bazaldua et al.) and one book (Monty). In part, this study seeks to join the conversation about CDA in writing center studies and rhetoric and composition, and to demonstrate the importance and applicability of this methodology for writing scholars.
We find CDA to be an appropriate and useful methodological and theoretical framework for this project for four reasons. First, we took a critical orientation to power from the outset of the project, seeking to analyze how institutional statements resist and perpetuate hegemonic power. Second, this project is multidisciplinary, bringing together theories and literature from our backgrounds in writing center studies, rhetoric and composition, education, and applied linguistics; additionally, we employ both quantitative and qualitative methods to analyze our data. Third, we framed our own identities and positionalities from the outset of the project, articulating how those identities shape our research as part of our efforts to employ CDA. Finally, this project seeks not only to reveal discourse patterns among linguistic justice and antiracist statements, but to articulate actionable steps writing centers can take to write such statements; we aim to not only learn about language, but to formulate a theory of how writing center practitioners can use language to seek linguistic justice.
Methods of Analysis
We searched 146 R1 university writing centers’ websites for antiracist or linguistic justice statements. We identified 12 results as antiracist or linguistic statements. The universities whose statements we reviewed are:
● Washington State University
● University of Nevada Las Vegas
● University of Connecticut
● University of Buffalo
● Michigan State University
● Johns Hopkins University
● Indiana University
● Emory University
● Drexel University
● Colorado State University
● University of California San Diego
● Columbia University.
Once we had our final data set, we engaged in both quantitative and qualitative analysis methods. For our
quantitative data, we entered the statements into AntConc software, collecting data on the number of times specific keywords such as “antiracist,” “Black,” “white,” “English,” “oppression,” “culture,” “translingual,” and “justice” appeared. Having qualitatively observed various action verbs, we quantitatively searched via AntConc for such words as “plan,” “read,” “work,” “talk,” and “hope.” Simultaneously, we each analyzed the statements qualitatively for patterns, rhetorical moves, actions, values, beliefs, and assumptions. We met regularly to compare and norm our notes for interrater reliability before quantitatively coding through AntConc again based on our qualitative findings (e.g. we looked for pronouns such as “our” and “we” after noticing the community building efforts present in these statements).
We also analyzed the statements according to a modified version of Kiang and Tsai’s criteria for antiracist statements. We looked for ways that the statements explicitly named racism, used terms connoting active support of racial minorities, referenced negative sequelae resulting from racism, and used hopeful language. This analysis provided insight into whether these linguistic justice and diversity statements actually serve as antiracist statements as well. We chose not to include Kiang and Tsai’s other four criteria–uses victim’s names; reference to Black people; reference to the police; specifies the act (i.e. murder, suffocating)–because none of the statements included those features, except for the University of Buffalo, which specifically named the murder of George Floyd. Perhaps this is because some of the statements were crafted before 2020; however, as shown in the table below, most of the statements were released post-2020.
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Table 1
Background information on selected statements1
Institution Year Crafted Crafted By
Washington State University 2016 Committee of tutors
University of Nevada Las Vegas 2021 Committee of tutors & administrators
University of Connecticut 20182019 Graduate student assistant directors, committee of tutors & faculty
University of Buffalo 20202021 Director, graduate student tutors
Michigan State University
Johns Hopkins University 2022 Director
Indiana University 2022 Director, graduate student tutors
Emory University
Drexel University 2017 Tutors & Administrators
Colorado State University
Columbia University 2023 Committee of tutors & administrators
University of California San Diego
Linguistic Features
Personal Pronouns
In this study, we found that we and our, referring to the writing center, were the personal pronouns that occurred with greatest frequency, followed by they, them,
and their, referring to writers and students. Eleven out of the 12 linguistic justice statements (Washington State University, University of Nevada Las Vegas, Colorado State University, Indiana University at Bloomington, Emory University, UC San Diego, Johns Hopkins University, Drexel University, University of Connecticut, Michigan State University, and University of Buffalo) begin by introducing or explicitly naming the organization writing the statement. For example, the Colorado State University Writing Center writes: “At the CSU Writing Center, we work with students not only from all disciplines and fields of study, but from diverse backgrounds.” This is a key linguistic move because the statements go on to express the centrality of linguistic justice to their writing center work–by defining who they are, writing centers can then dive more deeply into their beliefs and perspectives.
The titles of the organizations are rarely repeated throughout these statements; rather, the authors assert their presence through the use of pronouns. We is the most common pronoun by far in this data set, presenting in 295 instances, followed by our with 198 instances. This high number of plural personal pronouns suggests introspection and reflection; as we explore later in the section on modal and base lexical verbs, the we in these statements are calling both themselves and others to action (whether or not those actions are actualized in the statements is also explored below). By referring frequently to their writing centers using we and our, these writing centers situate themselves not only as speakers, but as primary, empowered actors within their broader university and academic communities. However, this genre strikes a delicate balance between positioning writing centers themselves as authorities and not representing their ideal as characteristic of their entire universities, as we address next.
Explicitly defining authorship at the beginning of linguistic justice statements also situates who is not speaking. Framing their statements from an explicitly writing center perspective, these statements do not assert endorsement from their universities. As the process of writing these statements is not available to outside observers such as these researchers, it is unclear whether the linguistic justice statements went through an approval process at the university level. The statement of authorship at the beginning of the statements also tacitly suggests that these statements, then, speak only for the writing centers; they do not necessarily represent policies of other departments, student services, or the university as a whole. For example, the Michigan State University Writing Center articulates that: “The Writing Center at MSU operates
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with a broad vision of collaboration in the MSU community; peer-to-peer consultations with students, faculty, and the community allow us to expand ideas of literacy and composing beyond traditional models and geographic boundaries.” This is a powerful and nuanced rhetorical and linguistic move: by defining only the writing center as the we and our, and not representing the policies of the university as a whole, writing centers might be able to publish statements that might otherwise be rejected by the administration. Linguistic justice and antiracist statements, then, are one interstitial way of pushing back against the hegemonic policies of the institution and other areas of academia.
The third most common personal pronoun in this corpus is their (95 instances) followed by they and them (24 and 22 instances respectively). In 112 out of the total 141 instances (79%), they, them, and their refer to writers or students. The most common nouns that their modifies are language (10) and writing (9); however, examining they, them, and their in context reveals that in 72 out of 112 instances (64%), these words are associated with the students/writers doing some sort of communication or languageing. For example, Indiana University Bloomington emphasizes students using “their own plurilingual resources” and the University of Buffalo notes that all writers have “their individual journeys into academic discourse.” In these statements, then, they are not silent observers but active audiences. Students and writers are characterized as having voices, languages, and actions. But do students actually see themselves as acting in these ways–as having the license to write in their own language and with their own voices? Further, do students actually constitute the audience of these statements? While outside the scope of this discourse analysis, this could be a fruitful avenue of future study.
Recent writing center scholarship addresses the propensity of writing centers using we and they language; notably, Marvin (2023) investigates inclusive and exclusive we language in writing centers. Marvin’s essay mentions the role of we positionality in their center’s mission statement and explains that we language can serve oppressive functions: excluding individuals who may not see themselves as members of the writing center community, and creating tension for tutors who feel pressured to choose between their status as a tutor and their personal identity (for instance, an international tutor who does not identify with the writing center we used during a tutor training on working with multilingual writers). Marvin writes, “When ‘we’ language is used to describe the subjective experience of writing center members in contrast with an objective ‘them,’ the ‘them’ group implicitly seems lesser than the
‘we’ group because they are not afforded the same subjectivity of the ‘we.’” This useful insight supports our study’s analysis of we and they language; in these linguistic justice and antiracist statements, students and writers are also separated from the we of the writing center. Is there a way to write writing center linguistic justice and antiracist statements that invites students to see themselves as members of, rather than outsiders to, the writing center community?
Base Lexical and Modal Verbs
What does action, or lack of action, look like in the genre of linguistic justice and antiracist statements? After be (43 instances), the most frequent base lexical verbs in this corpus are support (33), help (25), develop (25), create (23), and find (13). Continue has 30 instances, but 25 of those come from the Emory statement. These verbs reflect many core tenets of writing center pedagogy: a dedication to aiding writers in honing their own voices and to crafting a space where writers are encouraged and challenged. These verbs not only represent what writing centers do, but who they are. Writing center professionals seeking to develop their own linguistic justice and antiracist statements should consider which lexical verbs best represent their practice and center their values.
As noted previously, we is the most common pronoun by far in this data set, presenting in 295 instances, followed by our with 198 instances. We is most commonly followed by the modal verb will, with 61 instances. In second place is are in 19 instances. There is a four-way tie for third place, with believe, can, have, and must each with 8 instances. This a fascinating linguistic pattern because will and must suggest commitment or intention to act but do not necessarily connote concrete actions. In contrast, the University of Buffalo, Washington State, University of Nevada Las Vegas, University of Connecticut, Emory University, Drexel University, and UC San Diego linguistic justice and antiracist statements clearly articulate the material steps that the writing centers have taken toward accomplishing the goals set out in their statements. Additionally, will and must act as a form of hedging, suggesting that writing centers are committed to the claims they make in these statements but are for some reason, at least linguistically, stepping back from those assertions. For instance, the University of Buffalo writes that: “We will strive to remove the narrative of remediation from our practices.” We argue that, while will suggests an ongoing action, it also hedges strive–making striving something that happens in the future, perhaps, rather than something that happens right now.
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Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Focused Language
Although we have positioned these linguistic justice statements as antiracist statements, “race” was not actually said or addressed in most statements. References to specific races were absent, with “white” only being referenced in four statements, and “Black” only mentioned in three statements, mostly in reference to Black language (University of Buffalo and Emory University) or to a resource center on campus (University of California San Diego).
Table 2 N-gram for “rac-” words
antiracist 4 25 7
5 16 4
1 37 8 racial 8 9 6
racist 7 8 6
As seen in the above N-Gram, or measurement of a sequence of words or letters in particular order, racism and racist were also not consistently used words, as they were only stated in seven of the statements. This NGram was created using AntConc. Here, you can see how often a word showed up across all 12 statements (Freq), how many statements it was included in (Range), and in general how often the word was used compared to how often other terms were used (Rank). Antiracism was used in three statements and antiracist in six statements. It is important to note that the data inputted for this N-gram included the titles, and for several statements such as Columbia University, only the title included the word “race” or other words formed from it such as “racism” or “racist.”
As such, these statements were often raceevasive. One way that these statements seemed to talk around race and racism was by focusing on multilingual learners. While issues of linguistic justice certainly pertain to multilingual writers, the emphasis on Black language and racialized discrimination that Baker-Bell places in her conceptualization of linguistic justice cannot be conflated with the experiences of second language writing. Other statements expanded linguistic justice to include oppressive gender exclusive pronouns and other gendered language practices as well. The
University of Buffalo, however, posits that linguistic justice has four pillars: antiracism, translanguaging, gender inclusivity, and disability justice. While such an intersectional perspective may be beneficial, it also results in the hedging or diminishing of race within a specifically antiracist statement. This also shifts away from Baker-Bell’s conceptualization of linguistic justice, in which race and racism play a central role.
This lack of actual emphasis on race and racialized language use is representative of an orientation towards diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts rather than specifically racial justice. Raceevasiveness is also evident in the titles, as some universities such as Indiana University Bloomington shy away from the language of linguistic justice or antiracism, naming their statements "inclusive language statements" or using other broad, general terms. This mirrors a past phenomenon when, after Villianueva’s 2006 speech on racism at writing centers, writing centers failed to “sustain critical and difficult discussions about race,” (Greenfield and Rowan 2). Instead, writing centers’ antiracist theorizing became part of broader equity and anti-oppression efforts, which were often race-neutral (Condon “Beyond the Known”; Inoue). Such dilution is problematic if statements are marketing themselves as explicitly antiracist. In fact, as discussed previously, this does more harm than good because it can perpetuate race-evasiveness and lack of action (see Brown et al.; Coley and Holly; Johnson).
Kiang and Tsai’s Framework
When analyzed for the components of an antiracist statement as outlined by Kiang and Tsai (2020), only four out of the twelve statements actually meet the criteria: University of Connecticut, Washington State University, University of California San Diego, and University of Buffalo. Colorado State University and Michigan State University did not meet any of the criteria. It is important to note that none of these components alone comprise an antiracist statement, but rather a statement becomes antiracist when it is comprised of all the components taken together. Whether or not a linguistic justice statement actually qualifies as antiracist is a crucial consideration, as Baker-Bell put forth linguistic justice as a specifically antiracist language and writing pedagogy.
We identified explicit naming of racism as referents to individual races and discrimination, using the language of racism and antiracism and discussion of oppression in eight of the statements. For example, the statement from University of Connecticut includes “Our institutional position means that we often bear
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witness to ‘everyday racism’ (Geller et al. 2007) in institutional policies or instructor feedback.” However, explicit naming of racism could be as simple as Indiana University Bloomington, whose statement’s only direct mention of racism is “we will continue to educate ourselves, each other, and our students on ways we speak and write about issues of racism, oppression, and bias.” Given that explicit naming of racism ranged widely in terms of attention paid to it, it is clear that naming racism alone cannot make a statement antiracist.
Nine statements included terms connoting active support due to the use of modal verbs as discussed earlier. By using a future tense to define commitments and actions, statements indicated that linguistic justice is an ongoing process and that these actions may not necessarily be taken currently. Some examples of active support include straightforward support such as “The CEW is committed to ongoing action” (The University of Buffalo) and more specific language such as “We must advocate for and enact linguistic justice in our writing center, at UConn, and in the world.” (University of Connecticut). While Colorado State University did articulate “We respect students' native languages, dialects, pronouns, and perspectives,” we did not qualify this as active, antiracist support because their statement did not define or name linguistic racism. However, University of Buffalo, University of Connecticut, Washington State University, University of Nevada Las Vegas, Emory University, University of California San Diego, and Drexel University included concrete action steps in their statements which
showcased the ways in which they have worked to take material antiracist actions in their centers.
Unlike the writing centers that do not name race or racism in discussing linguistic justice, University of Connecticut, Washington State University, University of California San Diego, Columbia University, and University of Buffalo make clear the harmful and negative impact linguistic racism has. University of Connecticut, in particular, takes accountability for that impact through an analysis of their own complicity. Examples of negative sequelae mentioned in these statements include: “segregated students of diverse language backgrounds into remedial tracks” (University of Connecticut) and “the stigmatization and oppression of Black language” (University of Buffalo). However, references to the negative sequelae are limited in comparison to statements articulating active support or hope.
Lastly, use of hopeful language was measured by the inclusion of a discourse of change, dismantled linguistic hierarchies, and future tense action steps. University of Connecticut, for example, expressed the hope of “Making our center a welcoming and accessible environment that offers writers a variety of modalities for tutoring and learning.” The University of Buffalo similarly stated “our goal is to create an inclusive, participatory community that is welcoming to new members, and through deep listening to all members, adjusts its practices to support the empowerment of all community members.” This use of hopeful language is important to antiracism as it imagines a future and a way forward.
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Table 3
Checklist of Kiang and Tsai’s framework as applied to selected statements
Explicit naming of racism
Terms connoting active support of racial minorities
References to negative sequelae of racism
Use of hopeful language
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Conclusion
Patterns in Writing Center Linguistic Justice and Antiracist Statements
In summary, our Critical Discourse Analysis of writing center linguistic justice and antiracist statements revealed a number of common linguistic and thematic patterns. Those writing their own statements might consider these trends or use them to critique and revise a current statement. However, these patterns are not necessarily patterns that should be reproduced. In particular, writing centers might strive to disrupt the discourse pattern of orienting to DEI efforts and instead explicitly engage with issues of race and racism. Linguistic Patterns:
● We/our language referring to writing centers and they/them language referring to students/writers
● Writing center-relevant action verbs, such as help, develop, and support
● Modal verbs such as will, connoting future, and potentially present, action Discourse Patterns:
● Orientation towards diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts rather than specifically racial justice
In addition to linguistic concerns, writing centers might consider shaping the genre of linguistic justice statements in other ways. Having tutors contribute to the writing and revision of such statements could make them particularly salient for the communities the writing center serves at a particular institution and lead to insights professional staff and researchers might miss. Additionally, collaboratively constructing such a statement could lead to greater feelings of inclusion and community among the writing center tutors and staff by not only sharing their mission with the public but clarifying the shared beliefs of the people who work there.
Call to Action
This research illuminates several ways writing centers seeking to address linguistic racism and linguistic justice through public commitments and statements can move forward in their efforts. First, writing centers need to consider their audiences and purposes for such statements. While the audience is not explicitly articulated in these statements, their position on public facing websites indicate that the audience is likely inclusive of the student community. Is the statement designed to contribute to the scholarly discussion
surrounding linguistic justice, or are writing centers aiming to empower and educate students on their right to their own language? If a writing centers’ purpose is the latter, these statements need to be easily digestible and clear for students who may be learning of linguistic justice for the first time. Even the term “linguistic justice” should be defined explicitly for students to benefit from such statements. Or is the statement merely aspirational, aimed at projecting a certain ethos for the writing center? Without clarity for those whom the statement is aimed at, antiracist and linguistic justice statements run the risk of becoming meaningless. Writing centers can make these statements more digestible and approachable for students by including tutor voices (particularly the voices of tutors of color) in the drafting process, as tutors are often students themselves just learning about these concepts for the first time and can provide insight on how best to meaningfully engage students with the goals of writing centers’ antiracist and linguistic justice statements. Further, tutors may be able to provide real-life insights on the impact of a statement that research or staff members cannot. After a draft of a linguistic justice statement is completed, staff might form focus groups or conduct interviews during which students who use writing center services–particularly students of color and students who are speakers of marginalized languages–review the statement. Having both student staff and students using the writing center be involved in the crafting and review of these statements could increase opportunities for real-world impact by attending to the particular needs of an institution’s unique student population.
Secondly, writing centers should be reflective not just of their own community but of their own complicity. While writing centers have always aimed at being inclusive, they too have upheld so-called “academic writing” standards and expectations. Writing centers, therefore, have committed the same epistemic and linguistic violence to students as their broader institutions. Writing centers should acknowledge that role in their antiracist and linguistic justice statements, as well as being explicit about what antiracist writing pedagogy and practices look like.
Third, writing centers need to make statements actionable. Considering that statements studied here favored the use of modal, future verbs rather than present tense, statements should offer commitments writing centers can actually hold themselves accountable to. One such commitment writing centers could make would be to provide tutors with education on linguistic justice during training and ongoing professional
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development. Additional internal work may also be necessary.
Final Thoughts
In this article, we have discussed the linguistic patterns present in linguistic justice and antiracist statements and noted the small data set of such statements which are publicly available. We are not, however, suggesting that all writing centers must write and publicly share linguistic justice statements. In many locations in the United States, this might be impractical or unsafe–or perhaps illegal. Recent legislative attacks on DEI and critical race theory in the United States, such as those in Florida (Senate Bill 266), Texas (Senate Bills 16 and 17), Utah (House Bill 261), and Iowa (House File 616), have demonstrated that this is a dangerous epoch for those working toward social and linguistic justice in higher education and toward antiracism more broadly. Specifically, the pushback on the University of Washington, Tacoma Writing Center’s antiracism and social justice statement in 2017 shows the real-world stakes of these statements for writing centers (for more detail, see Asao Inoue’s blog post “Is Grammar Racist? A Response”).
Instead, writing centers might consider having linguistic justice statements as internal documents–and this may already be the case for many of the schools we explored in this study. Writing centers might also practice linguistic and social justice in their tutor training and pedagogy in ways that are not apparent to outsiders considering only their websites. An anonymized study of the ways in which writing center practitioners are crafting internal documents and praxis toward linguistic justice is one avenue for future study. Additionally, this study only considers R1 universities; expanding the scope to consider community colleges, R2s, and/or SLACs might yield different results. Writing centers are uniquely positioned to take steps toward linguistic justice: not just impacting our individual centers, but the discipline of writing center studies and our institutions more broadly. We see this study as a starting point to help writing centers of all positionalities consider both their public-facing and internal antiracism work from a linguistic justice standpoint.
Notes
1. Information in Table 1 was collected from current directors of these writing centers. We thank them for aiding us in providing this information. Dashes indicate that we did not receive a
response to our emailed request for information.
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“WE NEED A TISSUE BUDGET”: TRAUMA-INFORMED PRACTICE IN UNIVERSITY WRITING CENTERS
Kate Hargreaves University of Windsor hargreak@uwindsor.ca
Abstract
Trauma is ubiquitous, including in post-secondary settings, meaning that trauma-affected individuals are present in every classroom or service setting. While research has investigated the engagement of post-secondary instructors with student trauma disclosures, this work has not extended to cover the unique role of post-secondary writing center staff. Writing tutors may encounter trauma narratives through written assignments or verbal disclosures and often labour under a degree of precarity and lack control over curricular and assignment design, giving them little preparation before encountering emotionally challenging material. As a “helping profession,” writing tutors may be at risk of secondary trauma, retraumatization based on personal trauma histories, or unsustainable levels of emotional labour. Employing a critical disability lens and an equity-centered trauma-informed framework, this project engaged eight university-based writing center staff in Ontario, Canada in semi-structured interviews to explore how they perceive and narrate their engagement with student trauma and how this may relate to trauma-informed pedagogical practices. Based on a Reflexive Thematic Analysis, several themes are explored, including the relationship between writing center structure/labour conditions and trauma-informed practices, types of emotionally challenging interactions, strategies tutors employ to engage with students during trauma-adjacent sessions, and gaps in ability to provide traumainformed service. These themes provide insight into tutors’ experience with student trauma and imply recommendations to improve staff and student well-being through engaging with traumainformed practices in the writing center.
Introduction
Trauma is ubiquitous in higher education, affecting between 66 and 85% of students (Carello and Butler 157). In university writing centers (WCs), students may disclose past and present traumas, express intense emotions, and seek assistance with personal concerns unrelated to their writing. Janice Carello and Lisa Butler explain that trauma, even that which has not been diagnosed as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), can lead to mental health issues, substance use issues, and academic difficulties (157). Further, as Angela Carter explains, trauma is relational, and “the vast majority of potentially traumatizing experiences are rooted in systems of power and oppression” (7) with marginalized people more likely to be trauma-affected (Conley et al. 529). Given how common trauma is, educators must assume that there are trauma-affected students in every course and service setting regardless of disclosures, formal diagnoses, or outward symptoms (Blackburn 49). This aligns with Maxine Harris and
Lindsey Jaber University of Windsor lindsey.jaber@uwindsor.ca
Roger Fallot’s model of trauma-informed (TI) care, which presumes that trauma-affected people are present in any clinical setting, and establishes safety, trustworthiness, choice and control, and collaboration as pillars of TI practice (10). In “Practicing What We Teach,” Carello and Butler emphasize the necessity of TI care in teaching and learning TI pedagogy to remove barriers for trauma-affected students without requiring disclosure (10). TI pedagogies aim to “do no harm,” avoiding retraumatizing or causing secondary trauma from exposure to trauma narratives (Carello and Butler, “Potentially Perilous” 157).
WC staff in their unique and often precarious role with limited control over what material crosses their desks (see for example Nier-Weber, Seahorn and Jones, or Wolcott) may be exposed to trauma triggers. While the WC literature has begun to address emotion and affect (for example Bassett or Brentnell et al.) and even grapple with emotional labour and burnout amongst staff (see Concannon et al., Emmelhainz, or Johnson), the link between trauma and WC work is largely unexplored.
Given the relationship between trauma and disability, with Harris and Fallot modelling TI care after disability-informed practices, a critical disability lens that explicitly considers intersections of power, privilege, and inequity is ideal for examining trauma in the WC. Disability scholar Alison Kafer contrasts her political/relational model of disability with individual and medical models that frame disability as stemming from ‘problematic’ individual bodies or minds that need to be to be ‘cured’; at the same time, she differentiates this model from the social model that tends to center barriers in environments but can overlook the disabling effects of bodies themselves (chronic pain, for example). Borrowing in part from Kafer and applying this model to trauma, Carter argues that systems that are inaccessible to trauma-affected people are indeed the problem, as opposed to locating the issue within individuals and seeking to ‘cure’ those who are traumaaffected (13); at the same time, she does not deny the real physical and emotional pain caused by trauma to individuals. Employing a critical disability lens informed by Kafer’s explicitly political view of disability allows us to acknowledge the intersections of oppression faced by
disabled and trauma-affected students and thus encourages an understanding of trauma as mediated by power and a need for systemic change.
Shannon Davidson cautions that educators may end up triggering their own trauma histories while engaging with student trauma (20). Even when not diagnosed with secondary trauma, educators dealing with trauma narratives may be expected to perform heightened levels of emotional labour, work required of helping professions to regulate emotions (Hochschild qtd. in Driscoll and Wells 24). Rebecca Hayes-Smith et al. frame the work of professors engaging with student trauma as outside their anticipated jobs and thus constituting “role strain” (5). The literature on trauma disclosures in post-secondary education also frequently describes participants’ anxiety around drawing a line between the role of teacher and therapist (see for example Agostinelli et al., Batzer, Bisson, Carello and Butler, Miller, or Weintraub).
Despite exposure to possible disclosures, WC staff often lack sufficient health benefits and labour precariously (Nier-Weber 107). Dani Nier-Weber also frames staff as wanting to “contribute, be of service, and make a difference,” placing them firmly within the realm of helping professions, vulnerable to emotional labour and secondary trauma (112). Still, Dana Driscoll and Jennifer Wells argue that WCs “are uniquely positioned to help promote a holistic approach to education by focusing on tutoring the whole person” (17). In her analysis of WC consultant emotional labour, Christina Rowell explains that staff must be supportive of students but at the same time set boundaries “to keep the session from becoming a counselling appointment” (1). Rowell’s participants discussed working through their breaks, feeling burnt out and drained, hiding frustrations, and experiencing stigma, low pay, and lengthy shifts. While the stress levels may be high, the control WC staff exercise in their work tends to be low: Wolcott calls WC tutors “middlemen” who do not create the assignment structures or curricula, are not familiar with the course or the instructor, and must switch rapidly between disciplines, all while maintaining a polite and professional demeanor (16).
Writing center literature has begun to address emotion and affect, with Camille Bassett suggesting that staff need to be able to engage empathetically with negative emotions and exercise vulnerability (6). Still, other writing on WCs frames emotion as a barrier, such as Tracy Hudson, who writes against “emotionalism” in sessions, arguing that “it makes tutoring almost impossible” (10). Lauren Bisson’s account of reacting empathetically to students crying in session concludes with a caution to look out for students crying
manipulatively for attention, and Agostinelli et al. advise “focus and firmness,” showing empathy while keeping the goal of the session addressing the writing at the forefront. Conversely, Lauren Brentnell et al. recommend “care-based practices,” including empathetic listening and working toward trust, noting that “the [WC]… has often failed survivors in its reticence to address trauma within its walls” (para. 21).
WC tutors’ emotional capacity can be diminished by the compounding factors of role strain and labour precarity. WC staff needs “are made to feel secondary to the writers’ needs and desires” according to Brentnell et al. (23), who add that staff “often pretend we’re not on fire” (12). Hohjin Im et al. note that little attention has been paid to this emotional labour as compared to that of professors (204). This “emotionally and mentally laborious” work (Parsons 26) often falls on staff with little training to manage the emotional stress, leading to greater negative effects (Perry 3). The emotional toll on racialized WC staff is even greater as WCs “are overtly unwelcoming and even hostile spaces for certain people,” and simply hiring more Black staff into this toxic environment will not improve the underlying conditions (Haltiwanger Morrison and Nanton).
As the WC literature has moved toward exploring emotion, research discussing strategies to manage this labour has also arisen, such as mindfulness, breath work, and meditation (see Concannon et al., Emmelhainz, or Johnson). However, Genie Giaimo, Yanar Hashlamon, and Shraddha Prabhu and Janice Carello all caution against the neo-liberalization of selfcare that puts the onus on the individual to improve mental health as opposed to ameliorating systemic issues. Prabhu and Carello state that “individual approaches to self-care are incongruent with a [TI], human rights, and equity-focused approach to education” (188).
There is also a move toward training instructors and WC staff to feel more prepared to handle difficult interactions and topics, including training on TI practice (Blackburn), anti-harassment and intervention training (Brentnell et al.), and social justice and critical empathy training (Del Russo). Driscoll and Wells suggest emotional intelligence training, with a focus on active empathetic listening and allowing emotions in tutoring sessions. Noreen Lape also advocates for this type of work, including role-playing scenarios and reflective journals to build confidence with uncomfortable interactions. However, training and self-care cannot remedy the issues WC staff face without addressing the contributing labour practices and working conditions. Driscoll and Wells suggest WCs partner with
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counselling centers for support and that administrators model self-care, including taking time off. Alison Perry suggests providing staff time to recover, reflect, and share with peers following a difficult consultation, flexibility to swap appointments, and a culture of support and care. In order to make further recommendations specific to consultants’ engagement with student trauma and TI practices, it is necessary to address this gap in the literature. This study therefore explores the perspectives and experiences of Ontario university-based WC consultants as related to these issues as well as barriers they face in enacting TI practice.
Methods
Narrative Inquiry
Drawing from Michelle Day’s TI research methodology, this project involved open communication with participants, demonstrating researcher vulnerability, and acknowledging the limits and contributions of researcher positionality. Employing a narrative inquiry, we emphasized the ways in which participants use narrative to express and refigure their experiences, framing the research as a collaborative meaning-making as opposed to a onesided recollection of fact (Clandinin). In addition to addressing participants’ experiences phenomenologically and how these occurrences may relate to one another, narrative inquiry also allows for an analysis of the ways in which these phenomena are narrated (Clandinin). In practice, semi-structured interviews were used to allow participants to lead the process, speak broadly on their experiences and narratives they felt were relevant, and not be limited to a strict set of pre-determined questions or topics.
Sampling
Eight participants from six different WCs across Ontario universities, including seven current writing tutors and one former staff member, participated in the study. Five participants identified as cisgender women, two as cisgender men, and one as genderqueer. The majority also identified as white and Canadian. One participant was a racialized person, and three participants were immigrants to Canada. The ages of participants varied from 20s to 60s, and all participants held at least a bachelor’s degree with most holding a master’s or doctoral degree. Several participants were disabled. Participants had been employed at WCs for durations between four months
and 14 years. To avoid providing identifying information, and given the small sample size, the niche population of the study within Ontario, and concerns for anonymity expressed by participants, the demographic information provided here is a high-level summary only. We received clearance from the University of Windsor Research Ethics Board, and semi-structured interviews were conducted via Microsoft Teams (45 minutes to one hour).
Reflexive Thematic Analysis
Following participant transcript checking, pseudonyms were assigned, and the data were coded using reflexive thematic analysis (TA) (Braun and Clarke). Reflexive TA, as opposed to coding reliability TA and codebook TA, is ideal for this project in that it acknowledges “the researcher’s active role in coding and theme generation” (Braun and Clarke 8). Further, it emphasizes the subjective role of the researchers in the creation of themes from the data as “analytic outputs” as opposed to ideas that passively emerge (Braun and Clarke 9). Reflexive TA is also necessarily steeped in the theoretical lens and underpinnings of the research (Braun and Clarke) in that the critical disability and equity-centered TI lenses of this project are acknowledged to influence the TA process.
Given the small number of interviews and a desire to be more actively immersed in the data, we re-read the interview transcripts after transcript checking several times and coded the data manually. We began by producing high-level codes from each interview and later grouped these codes together or parsed them out as they related to codes from other interviews. Next, we rearranged and grouped the codes from the interviews into larger themes, considering not only the content of the interviews but also the ways in which the participants narrated that content. Following this initial coding and grouping process, we returned to these groupings and the interview transcripts and completed an additional pass through the transcripts and theme groupings in order to establish whether any themes or ideas were missing, over-emphasized, or underreported and adjusted the coding on this basis. Based on our immersion in the transcripts and the thematic coding, including regularly engaging in reflective journalling regarding the interview and coding process, we drafted an ‘analysis’ of the data. As Braun and Clarke note, framing our reflection as “analysis” rather than “results” subverts the assumption of data discovery and undermines the notion of any outcomes or results being final.
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Analysis
The following summarizes the dominant themes we drew from participants’ interviews as they relate to working conditions and trauma in the WC.
Staffing and Structure
Some participants reported that they worked either alone, or with one or two other staff, while others worked alongside upwards of ten colleagues; some worked only a few hours a week during short shifts and others full-time in shifts of seven or eight hours or more. Most WCs required some administrative tasks after each one-on-one session for which a small amount of time was allotted (five to ten minutes). The one-on-one sessions, which made up the majority of each WC’s function, ranged from 25 to 30 minutes to upwards of an hour. WCs were led by a director or administrator with some directors tutoring students and others not involved in the day-to-day work. Participants spoke positively of leaders who were actively involved, while participants with largely hands-off leadership described directors as being out-of-touch and unsympathetic to issues they faced.
Workload
Those employed part-time typically reported that their workload was manageable, while consultants working full-time or 20+ hours per week reported significant issues around understaffing and exhaustion. Participants described staffing as “atrociously poor” with staff “scrambling to keep up,” being “swamped.” The busiest consultants interviewed reported seeing upwards of 40 students a week with sometimes 14 appointments per day. According to Emily, “It’s an intense schedule… we’re very, very booked...you’re supporting the whole university.” Elliott also spoke to the intensity of the work: “ By the end of the week, I’m dead… it feels very overwhelming… I’m just like, tired… Sometimes… my voice is out… my brain is dead.”
Training
Lack of training was another commonly cited issue. The majority of participants described being hired on the basis of their experience as writers or teachers and being expected to know what to do. For those who received any training, a mentorship or job shadowing model was common with encouragement to reach out to colleagues or supervisors with questions. Emily described her experience: “I started on a Monday and
started taking appointments on the Wednesday... I would not say that there was any sort of training, except ‘here is a computer, let’s get you keys.’” It follows that staff also reported minimal to no training regarding mental health concerns or trauma. Nora cited feeling unprepared to support Indigenous students around educational trauma: “When students first began disclosing things to me, I was not prepared. It took me a few encounters to understand that the historical trauma around education was going to come right into their papers, right into their experience of education.” When staff received training around disclosures or other issues, it often centered how to refer students to mental health services.
Encountering Student Trauma
In discussing student trauma encounters, many shared stories of individual students with demonstrable empathy, emphasizing the ‘helping’ nature of WC work as a profession. For example, Nora discussed her memories of specific students: “I feel like there’s a panorama of faces in front of me of students… I'm thinking about particular students and particular stories.” A frequent refrain was the need for tissues in the WC due to students, and sometimes staff, crying. As Emily put it, “We need a tissue budget in our in our office so that we don't have to keep supplying them.”
Types of Emotionally Challenging Sessions
Students experiencing anxiety was cited as the most common emotional challenge in the WC. Several participants discussed students being overwhelmed by their programs and disclosing this to WC staff, sometimes in tears, with intersecting issues impacting their level of anxiety. When discussing disclosures of trauma or mental health issues outside of school-related anxiety, multiple participants cited the one-on-one and repeat nature of WC consultations as being a factor in building rapport and receiving disclosures. Nora explained, “Students weather a lot of trauma of many, many different kinds: from family trauma to being in domestic violence situations themselves, to having been refugees. My sense is that they’ve mostly held that in and held it down in order to succeed in school… but a oneto-one appointment with a trusted person, it just pours out sometimes, and… I’m always honoured to be that trusted person… I’m not… a social worker. I’m not a psychologist… At the same time, I can’t say, ‘Oh no, no, don’t tell me,’ because that would be damaging.”
Participants discussed consultations that began with writing-related conversations but quickly pivoted
to becoming trauma disclosures. Some of the disclosures made to participants were characterized as describing “horrific” experiences. Emily described an interaction with a student: “Anything that has gone on in [the student’s] life… a lot of domestic violence, sexual violence… I didn’t know what to do, and so I just sort of stayed there and listened to her, and we came to the end of the appointment she stayed longer than her appointment, which is fine. We never covered the assignment, which I felt bad about.”
Multiple interviewees acknowledged that certain types of papers seem to bring up more emotions, including personal reflective papers and social sciences/humanities papers. However, other participants noted that the discipline was immaterial and that students became emotional when stressed over large or complicated assignments. Nora described the way in which student trauma history rather than specific discipline seemed to have a strong effect on the ways that trauma arose in student papers she saw at the WC: “Say they’re a nursing student, and they’re having to write up a case which is similar to a case they’ve dealt with in their own family. Or say they are an Indigenous student, and they’re having to write about the Truth and Reconciliation report, and it is anguishing to them.” Gus also spoke to the different types of trauma he has encountered: “[I’ve seen] stories of students being… sexually assaulted by police officers… the time students were raped, stories of parental abuse, psychological abuse pertaining to weight, appearance, or gender… These all come through the papers, and it’s often quite difficult to work with students through their trauma, which is what they’re doing. It’s when they are asked to write about these things… they’ll often confess why the particular disorder or case study… and it winds up getting quite personal quite often.”
Political topics, specifically those related to gender issues, such as abortion, were also described as being difficult subjects for student papers, either for the student or the advisor.
Participants also noted that trauma manifested more often in papers from international students with refugee backgrounds. One participant spoke to the importance of acknowledging the role of stigma in mental health and help-seeking behaviors, and how this may affect students from racialized, immigrant, and working-class backgrounds. A participant also suggested that students facing trauma may be more likely to seek WC help as they may face academic difficulties due to the impact of trauma on their schoolwork.
Consultants Experiences of Student Trauma
Across all participants’ narratives on addressing trauma was a strong focus on the well-being of the student, sometimes at the cost of the staff member’s own. Several participants described becoming emotional either during meetings with students or afterwards, including crying at work. Emily explained her reaction to emotional sessions as “closing the door and crying in my office, and five or ten minutes later, bring in the next student.” Regarding a specific case of a disclosure, she described her lingering emotional distress: “I was absolutely devastated for the next two days. I cancelled my appointments for the rest of the day. It was not great… I can’t be distraught for two days after meeting with a student.”
Tutors emphasized that they did their best to not make their own distress obvious and would wait until afterwards to process emotions. However, given the lack of time between appointments, this was difficult. As Elliott explained, “If I had an appointment that was like, just emotionally… breaking to me, I better hope it’s lunch or the end of the day.”
Role Strain and Boundaries
Despite the emotional intensity that can come with the job, several interviewees made a point of emphasizing that they love their jobs, demonstrating the difficult balance between the fulfillment of ‘helping’ professions and maintaining personal well-being Multiple participants spoke of worry about where the ‘line’ is between providing support to students and overstepping into a counseling role, including Amanda who noted: “As a tutor, I’m only allowed to provide so much support… Because of that natural empathy and compassion, [I feel] like I’m still not doing enough … I’m not able to cross a certain boundary with this student even though I want to be able to comfort them and… make them feel better and… listen to them.” She went on to explain that “Navigating [emotional] appointments is very, very stressful because there’s all these lines you’re trying not to cross. But then you’re also trying to provide the adequate amount of support that the student feels… heard and doesn’t feel like their emotions and things are just being swept under the rug because they feel comfortable sharing with a peer tutor for a reason. I’m not just a student, I’m also staff, so… toeing that line and figuring out sort of what’s appropriate is so difficult sometimes.”
The theme of guilt recurred regarding interactions with students during which staff felt they did not do “enough.” In some cases, this guilt related to not having enough time to assist with an assignment, particularly when the consultation was derailed by a
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more pressing emotional concern. Interviewees also expressed guilt around the need to cancel appointments, including to tend to their own well-being.
Personal Trauma Triggers
While a minority of participants noted that they had faced issues with personal triggers related to student work, this was nonetheless an issue for some. Amanda explained that “Reading something that even… was adjacent to something I’ve been through… it doesn’t necessarily trigger me like to a point where… I feel too overwhelmed by it. But it’s definitely… connecting more personally to the writing than I normally would. And kind of that taking a bit of my mental load away from being able to show up fully for the student where it’s just kind of like my mind is occupied… like my own experience is coming up while I’m in the actual appointment.”
Two participants pointed to distressing content related to children as being a particular issue as parents, as well as medical papers that resonated with personal or familial trauma.
Consultant Strategies
The predominant strategy participants cited for working with students experiencing trauma was referrals to mental health and other student services. Participants emphasized the importance of trained professionals assisting students as opposed to students seeking a counseling relationship with WC staff. Emily noted, “They should be seeing a counselor. They shouldn’t be talking to me… I don’t have that kind of training.” However, she also spoke about referrals as fraught, as one student reacted negatively to being referred to a campus mental health service due to feeling “shut down.” Nora too noted issues with referrals, including both problems with access and stigma related to helpseeking. Emily described WC staff as being more accessible to students than counselors, suggesting that this may lead to disclosures in the WC. Further, several interviewees highlighted that they were not trained on referrals and had to seek out mental health first aid training.
Several participants noted that if they felt unsure about whether a student was struggling or in danger, they could approach a manager or colleague for advice. However, Gus noted that in attempting to reach out to campus services to assist students, he has had difficulty receiving timely and adequate responses, even in crises, which complicates the notion of collaboration amongst departments as a strategy for support.
Before a referral can be made, active and empathetic listening strategies were cited by several participants as a key part of WC work. Nick framed the act of being a receptive listener as a means to avoid harm: “Sometimes it might be, ‘we’re not going to get to discuss your essay, but we’re gonna sit here, and… you’re gonna tell me what your problems are, and… I can at least… be a good listener.’ I think if it goes nowhere, if… that’s as far as it gets, then at least it’s gotten to a better place for that student than it was… 45 minutes or an hour before when they came in.”
Nora also used active and empathetic listening to prompt the student to explore options for support outside of the WC: “I mostly listen. I ask them if they want to tell me more about it. I ask them… how is it affecting them when they try to write or try to do academic work. I ask them what kind of support they’ve got, either… counselling or family or friends and so on. I ask them how they could access that support. Soon… Can they talk to their family members? When will they see them next? Could they call? I mostly try to be a good listener and a supportive presence and help them identify what sources of support they have.”
Several tutoring strategies were cited in relation to WC pedagogy, including avoiding discussing the paper’s content, focusing on structure and grammar, and not reading the paper out loud Some tutors noted that they made a point to be gentler in their critiques, such as not using red pen or avoiding harsh criticism. In dealing with particularly difficult material, several interviewees spoke of the need to compartmentalize their own reactions and push back against their own emotions in order to continue with the appointment. Amanda explained her feelings around masking in the WC: “There is a certain level of… putting on a mask… a very professional confident persona in a way even if I’m not feeling professional and confident that day, and that’s kind of part of what I mean when I say… showing up for the students… I’m no longer fully me existing… I have now taken… a leadership role, a teaching role, and education role… I have to show up that way.”
Participants also discussed how they manage the impact of their work on their own well-being. Several participants noted that following a difficult session, they would turn to their phone for a brief distraction. Multiple also noted the importance of physical movement and being outdoors to ground themselves. Nora described how before engaging in active boundary-setting she found herself overwhelmed by students’ stories: “I would be overwhelmed and overwrought… not in the session with the student… because I’ve got enough self-control… to be sympathetic without making it about my feelings… but
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always to support where they were. And so it took me some years really to develop a sense of boundaries where I could listen to their very, very painful stories… it wasn’t that I was unmoved… I was never unmoved. But it’s different to be unmoved than to be really in pain, you know?… I have never stopped being moved by their stories, but over time, I learned not to be overwhelmed by them because I realized I wasn’t effective.”
For multiple participants, part of this boundarysetting came in the form of taking a short break midsession. They described stepping away from the session or allowing the student to focus on a task and taking a moment to center themselves. Part of the boundarysetting involved mental visualization and grounding exercises. Amanda described conducting a brief mental grounding mid-appointment as needed when a student was working on a task with their paper: “When something has come up, I’ve kind of waited until we’ve gotten to a point in the assignment where I can ask the student to work on something for a couple minutes… then I can kind of center myself a little bit, ground myself in any way that I feel necessary. And then when we come back to it, I just feel a little bit less charged. And then I can kind of deal with the whatever is residual after the appointment is over, and I feel like I have the time to really sit with it.”
For Nora, the grounding process was based on a mental visualization strategy to separate the students’ story from her own life: “Even if it hits right where my story hits, right, this is not my story. This is her story. What does she need? And I get out of myself that way and sometimes it’s just visualizing a kind of translucent curtain between the student and myself so that I’m protected from what happened to her.”
Several participants noted that they have pursued professional counseling, not only related to their workplace issues. However, they also cite that therapy can be expensive and may not be covered by insurance. Student WC employees noted that they have access to student counseling services, and one participant had reached out to KeepMeSafe, a student mental health service available via phone, to support her mental health while employed in the WC. Another staff member discussed using a 1-800 mental health hotline. Employee and Family Assistance Programs (EFAPs) were also discussed, with one participant noting that they would not use such a service due to concerns over confidentiality. Outside of professional counseling, many participants discussed the importance of debriefing informally with someone, whether a spouse or partner, colleague, or manager, about their work. Amanda noted that, when concerned about a student,
she felt that she could go to her manager or administrator for assistance and to work through the issue. Gus and Nick also detailed the importance of having strong familial support to discuss feelings about emotional appointments. More than one participant noted issues with communicating with their directors/managers, whether due to management disengagement or overwork, as well as feeling disconnected from their colleagues and lacking lateral communication. Thus, despite the importance of community support, not every participant felt that they had access to a sense of community in the workplace.
Consultant Recommendations
We also prompted participants to discuss what they would like to see change to support them in providing TI. Flexibility of WC cancellation policies was suggested by one participant, as strict cancellation policies can prompt disclosures from students as well as punish them for potentially traumatic incidents through removal of service access. Several participants also discussed a lack of flexibility around their own schedules to rearrange or cancel appointments if sick without negatively impacting service.
A need for increased collaboration was also discussed as a strong priority. As Gus explained, “If there were a fulsome network… of writing advisors where we could collaborate to address issues… in between departments under [student services] if there were a fulsome network… I think that would offer a lot of support… I know it’s not just [WC]…[Other departments] get the students in tears discussing trauma.” Other participants noted that they saw a benefit to having a direct connection to a campus mental health service or professional in allowing them to know that they have an expert on call.
Another resounding theme was the need for better access to mental health services. Many participants noted that they should not become the point people on mental health for students but often do so because students cannot access other services as easily. While some felt that services such as MySSP, a phone service to support students, were a step in the right direction, the overall impression was that these options were not enough. Participants spoke of their own lack of access to mental health services, given the precarity or contract nature of some of their jobs. While several interviewees noted that they could see a counselor at the campus mental health center if they needed to, this was generally not seen as a realistic option. Emily noted, “The reality is… that I have students in and out my door all day long. Which student
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do I say no to? And counseling also is doing the same thing. Are they really going to sit me in there because I feel bad and miss the student who might need suicide prevention? They’re not gonna do that, and they shouldn’t.”
The most commonly cited recommendation was training in responding to disclosures, mental health, and TI practices. Almost all participants noted that they require more training on these topics and have felt, at least at some point, unprepared. As Emily expressed: “I wish that I had had more knowledge of how to handle [student disclosures]. I did seek out resources [afterward], but I had to do that. I had to go and find information and sessions and things to work out what I should be doing.” Nora also noted that, while she has received some training, it was limited to the logistics of how to refer a student. Emily and Amanda echoed Nora’s point by suggesting that training describing what to do and say in the moment is critical. Sophie also noted the major gap in support for the specific needs of racialized and international students.
Regardless of the type of training cited by participants as necessary, the majority of interviewees also noted a need to balance their role as a WC staff member who can assist trauma-affected students with setting boundaries around what that role entails. Nora explained: “I don’t think we should be inviting disclosure, but I think we ought to be prepared for it... I think… really the only responsible thing… is to be as informed as possible about the ways in which trauma of one kind or another can be affecting students work and rather than holding ourselves aloof from it, trying to think of how to get the student to somebody or someplace where they can get support with those issues while we continue working with their writing and their academic work.”
Many interviewees spoke to the need to improve the labour conditions and staffing at their WCs in order to facilitate the implementation of their recommendations. Among the suggestions was ensuring that staff have adequate time between appointments. Advisors also emphasized the need for policies and strong, consistent boundaries so that they can take all their breaks without interruption, being fully able to disconnect. Emily summarized this tension: “I hate that my first thought when a student starts crying in my office is, ‘oh no, how long is this gonna take?’ I have three other students waiting. And [better staffing] would hopefully be top of my list.” Due to their heavy workloads, participants expressed that they also lack the time to enact many self-care or well-being strategies and that they may be encouraged to by management such as
taking adequate breaks, debriefing, or calling an EFAP helpline.
Discussion
It is clear from conversations with WC staff that their workplace experiences support the ubiquity of trauma in post-secondary settings. Staff were overall unconcerned with a diagnostic approach to trauma or mental illness, rather acknowledging the substantive impact that students’ traumatic experiences had and continued to have on those students’ lives, including the effect on their academic pursuits. The consultants’ aim, in keeping with Carello and Butler’s work on TI pedagogy, was indeed to support these students, center their learning, and do no harm in the process of supporting them. The consultants linked students’ trauma and access to appropriate care to a variety of intersectional factors, including intergenerational trauma, racialization, immigration and refugee status, gender, disability, sexuality, and social class. The critical disability lens also resonated with the strategies and recommendations that staff described, as they related to not only supporting students but the impact of power imbalances and their own working conditions on their ability to do just that. The overarching focus was on ameliorating the systems that present barriers to staff and, in turn, to students as opposed to demanding resilience or change from individual people, whatever their role.
While the structures of individual WCs across Ontario vary quite widely, the overall impression the participants provided of WCs in the province is one of an important student service that remains marginalized. As a result of the lack of resources and the “helping” nature of WC work, it is critical to understand participants’ experiences of emotional labour. Again and again, participants framed their narratives of student interactions not around their own feelings or desires but how they could best help students regardless of the emotional impact on themselves. They spoke about their own empathetic natures, compassion, guilt, and negative self-talk when they felt like they did not meet a student’s needs. The emotional labour described by participants aligns with Brentnell et al.’s research, which describes the exhaustion that results from consultants attempting to act like everything is fine for the sake of the student (see also Costello and Im et al.). Relatedly, the notion of burnout also emerged frequently, although typically framed as related to overwork. While often used interchangeably, emotional labour and burnout had different connotations for participants. Those who described burnout referred to the exhaustion of back-
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to-back appointments regardless of content; those who spoke of emotional labour referred more often to the work of regulating their emotional responses to students’ dispositions and needs. As with emotional labour, burnout made it more difficult for WC staff to “show up” for students and be as effective as they would like, demonstrating the impact of institutional labour conditions on individual student/staff interactions. As in Dawn Fels et al.’s work, participants described the emotional impact of putting students’ needs above their own.
Another challenge for WC staff was related to re-traumatization or secondary trauma. While no participant framed their experiences using these terms, several interviewees noted that content had ‘brought up’ experiences from their own lives or pasts and had an impact on their emotional state or ability to tutor. Regardless of the terminology, and because secondary trauma and re-traumatization are not necessarily mutually exclusive, it is clear that the “helping” and empathetic natures of those who seem to choose WC work may leave them vulnerable. As Amanda suggested regarding building conversations around emotional labour into the interview process for WC roles, Eileen Zurbriggen’s work on secondary trauma suggests that providing education to staff in roles where they may be vulnerable to secondary trauma just as crisis line workers receive such training is a duty of employers. Elliott drew the connection between students who may be experiencing academic difficulties due to their experience of trauma and may therefore be referred to the WC or choose to seek out WC support during that time. Their observation aligns with the complexity of the effects of trauma on students’ academic success and suggests that WCs as well as other student services such as academic advising and retention programs need to be particularly prepared to support students with trauma histories. This may involve greater collaboration between WCs and other student services with mental health services as well as disability accommodation services and offices addressing sources of trauma such as sexual misconduct given the relationship between academic challenges, disability and mental health, and navigating trauma.
Across the various WCs represented in this study, a decided lack of formal training, both in basic WC work and in TI practices and responding to disclosures, is evident. Given the intersections of trauma and racialization as well as marginalization more broadly, an intersectional and equity-centered approach to training on student disclosures and trauma is essential. When discussing referrals, it is important to note the potential complications of referring students to
counselling or other services, which may not offer culturally appropriate supports, and the need to explore additional avenues and resources, including advocating for culturally appropriate resources. Relatedly, balancing staff mental health first aid and disclosure training with adequate access to qualified mental health professionals was suggested in line with Day’s advocacy for both departmental training as well as systemic change and support.
Throughout the interviews, participants emphasized their commitment to supporting students as well as their empathy for the difficulties students may face. However, there remained a tension between this vulnerability and the idea that emotion must be quashed to proceed with student services. While the participants in this study did not frame student emotion as a barrier to learning (as in Hudson) and were more likely to make efforts to reduce the impact of their own emotional involvement with a session rather than attempting to diminish the affective engagement of students, the notion of emotion as a barrier persisted; however, this barrier was typically more related to the pressures of understaffing than a negative perception of vulnerability as it relates to pedagogy. In order for the WC to embrace vulnerability in a meaningful way, mechanisms must be in place to support those who may need additional care, as well as reject a paradigm that rushes students in and out of appointments and contributes to burnout of advisors who are struggling to keep up. In these sorts of circumstances, an authentic vulnerability that allows staff to demonstrate empathy, emotion, and understanding is not substantively possible as they may still be wondering when a student begins to cry, “how long is this going to take?” Again, the individual practices of tutors and their ability to be authentically vulnerable and supportive to students are constrained within the systems in which they conduct their labour. Essential to any framework of TI WC practice is thus improving the resourcing and working conditions of staff.
Further to Harris and Fallot’s principles, community and collaboration were at the forefront of many recommendations made by both participants as well as the literature. While some participants spoke of independent strategies for grounding, many acknowledged that none of the mindfulness or grounding work is useful without ameliorating systemic problems and untenable labour conditions that lead to their feelings of overwhelm, exhaustion, or burnout (as in Giaimo). Participants’ suggestions of working within departments and with other student services were based in collaborative models of care that reject individualizing
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responsibility for self-care and instead put the onus back on the system.
Conclusion
This project sought to explore how WC staff perceive and narrate their engagement with student trauma in the context of TI practices. Through in-depth interviews with WC advisors, their commitment to supporting students was striking, even when this empathetic instinct came at a cost to their own wellbeing. Further, the lack of training provided, as well as the inaccessibility of mental health supports for both staff and students, contributed to a reduction in staff’s ability to “show up” and therefore provide the best possible support in a sustainable way. The recommendations provided here reflect the systemic nature of both trauma and TI care: WC consultants need both ongoing and meaningful training and improved labour conditions, flexibility and resourcing, access to community models of care and collaboration, and institution-wide TI practice to support them. If WC advisors on an individual level can only continue to empathize with students who have limited access to mental health supports or who continue to find themselves re-traumatized by lack of choice around triggering materials in class, the WC cannot meaningfully support these students or even its own staff. Buy-in regarding TI practices must come from both top-down and grassroots efforts in order to ensure that the principles of safety, choice, trust, collaboration, and empowerment resonate across the institutional environment, from substantive work to redress oppression and uplift justice on campus to improvements to labour conditions for staff. These are not small issues or boxes to be checked in order to declare a department or even an institution adequately trauma-informed; however, beginning with acknowledging that trauma-affected students and staff are in every service setting could have far-reaching effects in the work toward developing a system-wide culture of care.
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RE-EXAMINING FAMILIAR WORK: INTENTIONALITY IN WRITING CENTER ONLINE IMPRESSION MANAGEMENT
Carey Smitherman Clark University of Central Arkansas cclark@uca.edu
Madison Symonette Vanderbilt University madisonsymonette@gmail.com
Erin George University of Central geoering@gmail.com
Eliza Ball University of Tennessee elizaball25@gmail.com
Will McDonald University of Central Arkansas wmcdonald@cub.uca.edu
Abstract
In the pursuit of conveying their missions and services to a diverse audience, writing centers have long engaged in impression management (IM) strategies. This article presents a novel examination of how writing centers manage impressions, particularly in online contexts. Drawing from impression management theory (Jones and Pittman; Boz and Guan; Terrell and Kwok), this microstudy analyzes the intentional strategies employed by writing centers to shape perceptions among stakeholders. The research, conducted at the University of Central Arkansas, investigates the extent to which writing center staff set goals for managing external impressions, the predominant IM strategies utilized, and the level of audience engagement for each. The findings suggest that audiences respond favorably to IM tactics that enhance perceptions of attractiveness and competence. Through survey analysis and examination of social media platforms, the study reveals prominent IM tactics employed by writing centers, with a focus on ingratiation and organizational promotion. Results also highlight the limited use of intimidation and supplication tactics, suggesting a predominant focus on positive reinforcement and community engagement. Additionally, the study offers practical recommendations for writing centers to systematically assess and improve their impression management efforts, including conducting IM audits and developing action plans aligned with organizational goals. Overall, this research contributes to a deeper understanding of how writing centers strategically navigate online impression management to effectively communicate their value and engage with stakeholders. It underscores the significance of intentional IM efforts in enhancing credibility, attracting new clients, and fostering positive relationships within the academic community.
Introduction
For more than half a century, writing center scholars, administrators, and staff have been concerned with the image we present to the constituents we serve and the stakeholders we depend upon: students, faculty, staff, administrators, and even community members. We spend countless hours brainstorming ways to communicate our mission, the ways in which we work, who we can help, and how we can help those outside
Haydyn Hudnall University of Central Arkansas hhudnall@uca.edu
Sarah Brackett University of Central Arkansas sbrackett1@uca.edu
our centers. From the many publications on these topics to campus presentations, student resource fairs, newsletters, bookmarks, websites, and social media, we iterate and reiterate (and reiterate…) our message in hopes of increasing understanding of the work we do and bringing new clients through our physical and virtual doors. Our goal is often two-fold: fulfilling our mission of helping clients while further grounding the value of the work we believe in. However, we aren’t always aware of the image others hold of our center; even when we are, it may not occur to us to manage these efforts with deeper goals in mind.
In "Coffee’s for Closers!: The Pressures of Marketing a New Writing Center," Bruce Bowles, Jr. draws an analogy between the high-pressure sales tactics depicted in the 1992 film Glengarry Glen Ross and the intense demands faced by writing center directors in promoting their services. Bowles reflects on the immense pressure that administrators especially earlycareer directors experience to attract students and demonstrate the writing center’s value. He also acknowledges that measuring up against these expectations can significantly influence the center’s funding and professional advancement (10). Drawing on previous research on both the importance of promoting writing centers and the labor involved in writing center marketing (Harris, 2010; Lerner, 1997; North, 1984; Ryan and Kane, 2015), Bowles advocates for effective marketing strategies, such as classroom presentations, which show that such interventions can notably increase student engagement (12). Despite the success of these strategies, Bowles underscores the need for more scholarly discourse on the intersection of marketing efforts and writing center efficacy. Further, he addresses the ongoing struggle to balance
administrative demands with intellectual contributions in the field (15-16).
In this article, we offer one potential solution to Bowles’ call in the form of writing center impression management (IM). IM theory provides a lens through which we can reflect on our marketing efforts, giving us greater insight into our individual performance in this area in order to identify strategies that work best for our purposes. With this in mind, we introduce IM theory and share the results of an IRB-approved micro-study conducted at the University of Central Arkansas. We also aim to show how IM taxonomy can be used as a framework for a more intentional analysis of how we manage others’ impressions of our writing centers. We assert that using IM with integrity in marketing efforts can give us greater insight into the impact our impressions have on students and other stakeholders.
Impression Management (IM) Theory
In The Encyclopedia of Industrial and Organizational Psychology, Filip Lievens describes organizational image as “people’s global impressions of an organization [which are] defined as people’s loose structures of knowledge and beliefs about an organization” (2). Writing centers, like many establishments, not only have to be aware of our organizational image but also actively work to create/revise our image to accurately represent who we are. As a discipline with a long history of professionalizing itself, as well as moving away from closet-sized rooms, “fix-it shop” reputations, and feelings of misunderstanding à la Stephen North, we must continue to look towards the future. This involves growing and changing to best serve the needs of our clients. In doing this work, we must pay attention to the shaping of our image that is, ethically and accurately managing the impression others have of us.
For both tutors and writing centers, self- and organizational-presentation are a vital component of successful writing center practices. Jones and Pittman describe these strategic presentation methods as “features of behavior affected by power augmentation motives designed to elicit or shape others’ attributions of the actor’s dispositions” (233). Drawing on the foundational work of Erving Goffman, who first introduced IM theory in 1959 in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life as a dramaturgical model of social life, Boz and Guan argue that IM strategies can involve intentional or unintentional efforts to influence how others perceive one’s image (24). Every feature of daily life, including physical presentations and online appearances, impacts our IM whether we know it or not. IM theory evaluates how people and organizations
implement strategies to shape public perceptions (Terrell and Kwok 3).
Theoretical and Conceptual Considerations
The motives for IM vary depending on the goal of the individual. In their chapter “Toward a General Theory of Strategic Self Presentation,” Jones and Pittman both professors of psychology organize self-presentation tactics into five fundamental categories: exemplification, self-promotion, ingratiation, intimidation, and supplication. Depending on the context of a situation, individuals and organizations might rely more heavily on one tactic than another. For example, employees may use exemplification in the workplace to demonstrate their willingness to do more than what is necessary in order to appear hardworking. Similarly, self-promotion is often used in a professional setting whereby a person might make their talents and qualifications known to others in an effort to solidify their value in the company. In a context where favorable impressions are desired, we might use ingratiation by offering compliments to create a stronger sense of pathos. Intimidation, a tactic which employs the use of aggressive language or behavior, might appear when setting boundaries or standing up for one’s self. Finally, supplication is the advertisement of one’s incompetency or weakness to gain the assistance of others (Jones and Pittman 238-248). Through the use of one or a combination of these tactics, the opinions of others are manipulated to the advantage of the person using IM. With the rise of social media, IM has extended from predominantly face-to-face interactions to include online personas. Virtual platforms, such as websites, Facebook, and Instagram, have pioneered new possibilities for self- and organizational-presentation. As a substitute for in-person interactions, each platform also provides the opportunity to construct a virtual identity through the means of images and captions. The study of IM examines the implications behind each of these online presentations. With a rise in social networking via online platforms, studying IM in virtual spaces becomes more relevant for writing centers as well.
While we can manage the impressions we make as individuals, IM can also translate to organizations as a whole. Bolino et al. assert that, although much of the research in IM has paid more attention to the personal level, IM theory “can also be applied to the macroorganizational level to study how organizations manage their images and impressions” (qtd. in Terrell and Kwok 3). Organizations, whether conscious of it or not, project an image of themselves to their consumers and
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communities based upon how they interact, how they present themselves, and their aesthetics, among other things. Still, it is only in the last several decades that organizational impression management has become a topic of study (Bolino et al. 1081).
While traditional means of organizational IM mediums might include advertising, signage, events covered by media, and printed material such as annual reports (Mohamed et al. 109), organizational IM is increasingly valuable in the era of the internet and social media platforms, with impression data having a significantly further range than in the pre-Internet age. Within this newer age, Mohamed, Gardener, and Paolillo (1999) developed a modern taxonomy, partly building upon the original, individual-based one posited by Jones and Pittman in 1982. Under the Mohamed, Gardener, and Paolillo taxonomy, organizational IM behaviors are as follows: direct and assertive, direct and defensive, indirect and assertive, and indirect and defensive.
Direct and assertive organizational IM tactics are most commonly used by organizations whose goal is to target a specific audience by presenting and promoting “desirable” images to make their organization appear more attractive to the public (Mohamed et al.). Organizations use this behavior to actively uphold an image of competence, power, and success to draw in their target audiences. On the other hand, the authors also explain direct and defensive tactics as those which also promote information directly related to the target audience, but with the purpose of protecting the organization's image (Mohamed et al.). Direct and defensive tactics are likely used in times of organizational crises, or to prevent the effects of a potentially negative incident that could damage an organization's appearance. In other words, the assertive subtype focuses on building an impression while the defensive one aims to retroactively guard one. Mohamed, Gardener, and Paolillo use a definition posed by the American psychologist Cialdini to describe indirect tactics as techniques organizations use to enhance or protect their image by managing information that the organization is, or could be, merely associated with (125). These establishments are concerned with avoiding association with groups/ideas that target audiences find negative or unfavorable (the assertive subtype). Conversely, they also prioritize coupling with groups/ideas that the public enjoys (the defensive subtype). Indirect and assertive tactics therefore focus on manipulating the audience's perception of something that the organization is already associated with to protect or repair their image, whereas indirect and defensive behaviors aim to create a linkage
between the organization and another desirable entity in order to boost their image (Mohamed et al. 125).
While individual and organizational IM strategies have increasingly been applied to global professional organizations over time, few studies have been done to analyze how writing centers have utilized IM strategies (Lala-Sonora 3-5), especially those that consider the writing center as an organization. Therefore, in this study, we examine (a) the extent to which writing center staff members set goals for the impressions others have of their organizations, (b) what organizational IM strategies are used most frequently to craft centers’ identities in order to reach their goals, and (c) the intended audience’s level of engagement based on various strategies.
We chose to utilize the direct and assertive part of the taxonomy to analyze writing center online social media because these tactics align closely with the proactive nature of writing centers in promoting their services and establishing a positive public image. By employing assertive strategies, writing centers can effectively communicate their strengths and successes, thereby attracting a targeted audience of students and faculty. This approach not only facilitates the construction of a compelling organizational identity but also fosters engagement and collaboration within the academic community. In a field where visibility and perception significantly impact service utilization, the emphasis on direct and assertive tactics positions writing centers to project competence and relevance in a competitive educational landscape.
Methods
In accordance with the University of Central Arkansas Institutional Review Board guidelines, we created and distributed a survey via the WCenter listserv to writing centers spanning the globe and received twenty-nine responses. These respondents represented a wide variety of institutional type and location, as well as facility size. Both public and private institutions were represented, as well as two- and four-year institutions. All of the respondents were writing centers located in the United States. The survey questions inquired about the centers’ demographics, goals for creating impressions of their centers, and strategies employed to manage external perceptions. Specifically, some of the questions the survey posed include the following:
● How critically would you say you and your staff think about the overall impression others have of your writing center?
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● What impressions do you try to give the intended audience through your social media accounts (Instagram, Twitter, etc.)?
● What impressions do you try to give the intended audience through your writing center website?
● What impressions do you try to give the intended audience through your online newsletter (if you have one)?
● What impressions do you try to give the intended audience through additional online communication not listed above?
● What overall impression are you hoping to project to students, faculty, and administration about your writing center?
● How well do you think you are managing the impressions others have of your writing center? (Scale 1-5)
● Is there anything else you would like to say about your efforts to manage the impression others have of your writing center?
The survey’s prompts were intended to investigate the manner in which writing centers actively shape and manage the perceptions of various stakeholders including students, faculty, administrators, and community members. By inquiring about the historical impressions held by these groups, as well as what writing centers most want others to know about them, we sought to uncover the alignment (or misalignment) between intended and perceived identities. Additionally, questions regarding the use of online platforms and strategies allowed us to examine the role of digital presence in influencing these perceptions and whether centers found success in increasing engagement and correcting false impressions. This insight is crucial for
identifying effective communication practices and helping writing centers refine their outreach and image management efforts. In determining effective strategies for building a positive image, writing centers can potentially expand their client base, increase appointments, secure additional funding, and enhance their overall visibility and influence. From the responses, we hoped to gain insight into our participants’ efforts to control outside perceptions of their facilities, as well as the success of these endeavors.
To further understand IM tactics and correlated success, we also provided optional survey prompts requesting the centers’ social media handles (any platform), information on how to access their newsletter if they had one established, and the URL of their writing center website. From the survey respondents who provided the optional platform and link information, we analyzed these media for further research. Specifically, we analyzed five centers’ general Instagram pages, dating back to their last fifty posts. We chose Instagram as the platform for our study for two reasons: first, we found that most of these respondents used Instagram as a platform for communicating via social media, and second, a majority of the respondents’ Instagram accounts were connected to other social media, where they replicated their posts on these other platforms. And as explained above, we chose to focus on the “direct and assertive” taxonomy as outlined by Mohamed et al. This framework mirrors Jones and Pittman’s categories of self-presentational tactics (exemplification, selfpromotion, ingratiation, intimidation, and supplication) while translating them to apply to organizations as a whole (see table 1).
Table 1
Direct and Assertive Organizational Impression Management (IM) Tactics
Behavior Definition/Description Examples
Ingratiation Behaviors used by the organizational actors to make the organization appear more attractive to others.
Intimidation Behaviors that present the organization as a powerful and dangerous entity which is able and willing to inflict harm on those that frustrate its efforts and objectives.
Organizational Promotion Behaviors that present the organization as highly competent, effective, and successful.
Exemplification Behaviors that are used by the organization to project images of integrity, social responsibility, and moral worthiness; this tactic may also have a goal of seeking imitation by other entities.
Supplication Behaviors by the organization that portray an image of dependence and vulnerability for the purpose of soliciting assistance from others.
Source: (Mohamed et al. 115)
Promotional campaigns by the armed services which portray their branch of the military as providing attractive career opportunities.
A large manufacturer that threatens a small supplier with a reduction of orders unless it terminates its relationship with one of the firm’s competitors.
An organization that attributes its phenomenal sales of a new product to its savvy marketing campaign.
Fund-raising campaigns by the United Way which highlight the moral worthiness and social benefits that accrue from the charitable causes the organization supports.
Domestic firms that emphasize their vulnerability to foreign competition while lobbying for tariffs and other trade protection.
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In order to determine the types of organizational IM that the respondents were using in their Instagram posts, we coded the data using these five direct and assertive categories. In the process of coding, we also realized that we needed to add a sixth category that allowed for cross-coded posts, or those that exhibited a combination of more than one of the original five categories (see table 1). Each of the last fifty posts from the five Instagram accounts was assigned one of these six codes. Additionally, we analyzed and codified the IM found in each Instagram post to obtain a percentage of each form (e.g. “50% of their posts had examples of promotion”). Finally, we analyzed the level of engagement received on each post within the categories, measured as likes and comments. To further assess engagement as a dependent variable, we looked at the distribution for each writing center individually. We based these levels on the number of likes on each post as a fraction of total likes on that organization’s entire account.
Results
As a result of this study, we found that these writing centers primarily used ingratiation on their social media platforms. Specifically, 50% of the posts were categorized as such (see fig. 1). This is partially because several posts had dual identification under one of the other four methods of IM and ingratiation (as explained in the “Cross-Coded” section later on). Appearing competent, successful, socially responsible, and active within the community all make organizations like writing centers appealing to prospective patrons. Thus, this finding came as little surprise. However, we also noticed several writing center specific subcategories. Perhaps the most frequent of these was that involving the center’s tutors. These posts
included spotlights of each employee, taking the form of a photo and a brief biography. Often, the description included information about the tutor’s field(s) of study at the institution, hobbies, or fun-fact-style interests. These posts were coded as ingratiation because they instill familiarity between the writing center and the audience, making the prospect of receiving tutoring services less daunting. Stated another way, increasing comfortability with the center is another form of making it appear more attractive for a student’s writing and presentation needs.
We also observed ingratiation posts promoting the writing centers’ availability. These often took the form of engaging, colorful graphics tailored to the time of year. For instance, some centers posted Christmasthemed visuals announcing their altered hours of operation for the holiday season. Being transparent about availability in this way shows that the organization cares about giving its audience the most up-to-date information. This is a way of connecting with clientele on a more personal level a hallmark of ingratiation. In addition, we saw many encouragement posts aimed towards the university’s students. One example was a graphic wishing them luck with finals. Encouraging posts like these inspire feelings of academic validation, and they also appeal to students’ emotional desire to be valued by their university. Therefore, posts of encouragement are a way in which writing centers connect with students as a university resource.
Some of the more entertaining examples of ingratiation we observed were memes, references to social media trends, and giveaways. These tended to be visual- rather than caption-based, so it is difficult to linguistically describe an example. However, many posts where one is using a meme or duplicating a popular trend online can be considered forms of ingratiation. These types of media particularly appeal to younger generations; this makes them a useful approach for writing centers, which often serve college students. We were also surprised to see several instances where a writing center hosted social media games in which their followers could compete. One form this took was a Valentine's Day poetry contest, where students could submit their poems to the center and receive an online shoutout and physical prize if they won. These types of posts appeared to be conscious efforts made by writing centers to increase their audience’s engagement with the center’s social media. The prizes given out provided further incentive for the audience to participate and, in turn, to view the center in a positive light. Additionally, the winner of such a contest is attracted to the center in a literal sense too, bridging the gap between digital and physical interaction through claiming the reward.
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Figure 1. Each IM Strategy’s Frequency among All Posts Ingratiation
Organizational Promotion
The results of our study revealed that 27.6% of writing center posts were categorized as organizational promotion (see fig. 1). This encompasses behaviors that present the organization “as being highly competent, effective, or successful” (Mohamed et al. 115). A primary example we observed were posts about writing and communication tips. Specifically, this looked like videos with advice for public speaking and writing professional emails, as well as educational posts about how to format papers in different citation styles. These posts present the writing center as competent because they place it in the role of an informed teacher. Like ingratiation, we also noted several examples of tutor spotlights. The difference with these, however, was that they emphasized how successful the tutor was in a given field of study rather than sharing personable traits. For example, these posts mentioned how many degrees each tutor had, how effective they were at helping students, and accomplishments they had made during their studies.
Organizational promotion also appeared as posts displaying a center’s campus involvement. This is a direct form of promotion because it makes the facility more visible to the university as a whole. Posts like these advocated for use of the writing center’s services and demonstrated how ready and well-equipped the center was to meet students’ needs. Along these lines, another example of promotion we saw was disclosure of the organization’s accreditation. This is a favorable form of IM because it speaks to the standards the writing center has met, as well as how a third party sees value in what it provides. Like certificates and awards of any kind, accreditation makes the facility appear more competent to its followers.
A more inspirational form of this kind of IM was encouragement posts. In these, the center at hand dedicated energy towards uplifting students in their writing pursuits. These posts often ended with a reminder that the center was there should an individual need its help. Again, the center is placed in the role of a competent entity it is not only able to assuage students’ fears with encouraging statements, but also, it is equipped for providing hands-on assistance with students’ projects. We also observed a few instances of writing centers sharing persuasive information with their followers, such as how many sessions they had per semester and a list of reasons why students should visit the facility. These kinds of posts fit under the category of organizational promotion because they showcase the centers’ success and capability.
Exemplification
Out of all Instagram posts analyzed, 16% were categorized as utilizing exemplification, or “behaviors used to project images of integrity, social responsibility, and moral worthiness” (see table 1 and fig. 1). These included the kinds of posts made by professional social media accounts in general. Specifically, exemplification appeared in our data as graphics or captions featuring the following topics: occupational advice, philanthropy, religion, public health, and national holidays. It can be gathered from this list alone that the types of exemplification our participating writing centers utilized spanned a wide array of topics and target demographics.
In the example of podcast advertisements, larger writing centers teamed up with professionals or public figures in distinct academic fields. They used these episodes to interview guests about their experiences, how they arrived at their chosen career, and advice they could provide for students with similar interests or goals. Some specific figures mentioned included a businessman working abroad, a mortician, and a state representative. These podcasts exemplify the writing center’s integrity by associating it with respected professionals. Further, they exhibit social responsibility, in that the center shows active interest in and care for students’ academic pursuits. This is notable because the podcast episodes often did not focus on topics explicitly related to writing or presentation. Thus, the centers who utilized IM like this went beyond the scope of their own specialty, looking after the general needs of the university in which they were housed.
Exemplification also appeared in our data as posts involving community engagement, public health, national holidays, and religion. Specifically, community engagement looked like displays of writing centers’ philanthropic contributions and celebrations of major university milestones (e.g., the university’s first female president). Posts related to public health, more typically dated back to the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. However, an example of this was centers letting their followers know that they were housing face masks, making them available for the public. Both social responsibility and public health relate back to exemplification in that they illustrate a center’s integrity within and concern for the community at large. Similarly, posts about holidays demonstrate that the writing center is aware of its followers' connections with communities outside of the university. Some specific examples of holiday-related posts were well-wishes for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, background information on Veteran’s Day, and hopes
for a happy Thanksgiving. It was initially difficult to determine which form of IM these posts fell into, but we felt exemplification best encapsulated them. These kinds of engagement speak to the writing centers’ social responsibility as a community-aimed resource. In other words, acknowledging events that are important to different groups of students and clients shows that the center both recognizes and values its diverse demographic. For instance, posting about MLK Day can signify a belief in racial equity, thereby welcoming Black clients and other students of color. Infographics on Veteran’s Day could be especially meaningful to clients who are, themselves, in the armed forces, or to veterans who are now benefitting from the writing center as non-traditional students. Holiday-focused posts like these are therefore a subtle means of both relaying a center’s specific values and welcoming clients who have an array of experiences and backgrounds.
Posts relating to religion likely serve the same purpose in the context of IM. In our study, these primarily appeared as Bible scriptures. This could speak to the common conflation of religiosity with morality, since demonstrating “moral worthiness” is a component of exemplification (Mohamed et al. 115). However, posts with Christian signifiers could also be more akin to exemplification’s social responsibility aspect. Especially within the context of the Bible Belt where many of the centers we studied are located content like this can be a way of acknowledging the regional culture, thereby drawing in more local clients and a wider population of students. This resembles the tactics of ingratiation, but a key difference is that the center’s social media behavior is using the specific strategies that fall under exemplification. Although it may result in being more attractive as an organization, the surface goal of these posts is to demonstrate the center’s values and concern for the public which it aims to serve
It is important, though, to note that religious media as with other forms of exemplification is likely sometimes shared more so as a reflection of the center itself (or even just the staff member who runs its media account), rather than as a conscious outreach towards the organization’s audience. The post can serve to endear or alienate, depending on the specific entity or individual who is consuming it and the particular values and background they hold. In other words, exemplification is both wide in scope and specific in context; it can take many categorical shapes, but its intended impact can be narrow given how it’s aimed at communities with often diverse viewpoints and principles. This form of IM perhaps even occurred so much in our data due to this wide variety. However, when measuring engagement (explained soon below),
posts falling under exemplification received increased likes at centers with more followers compared to those with fewer ones (see fig. 3). This was a trend not observed with the other forms of IM we studied, which may further illustrate the tactic’s complications when applied to a smaller audience.
Intimidation and Supplication
Intimidation, or the portrayal of the organization as “powerful or dangerous,” only accounted for 0.4% of all posts we assessed (see table 1 and fig. 1). The way in which this was observed was in the presence of one post alone a joking threat that the director at one writing center would leave selfies on any unattended phone. However, we may have seen more instances of this form of IM if we had also observed online media like scheduling systems or websites. Platforms like these sometimes include things like notices that a student will be unable to make an appointment after a certain number of uncommunicated no-shows, or codes of conduct that may not be posted to social media accounts. Even so, the single post of intimidation appeared to receive a level of social media engagement proportional to the percentage of our data that it accounted for (see figs. 2 and 3.3). That is to say, it received a number of likes comparable to a single post falling under even the more popular types of IM. Supplication, or behaviors that exemplify dependence and vulnerability in order to gain assistance, also only accounted for 0.4% of all posts (see table 1 and fig. 1). Again, this was in the form of one post only this time as a job listing. This is an example of supplication because the center is making it known that they need help in the form of more employees. The assistance they are soliciting, then, refers to job applications. As with intimidation, different forms of media may have yielded a higher percentage of supplication within our study. Namely, websites may demonstrate more instances of job postings, since they are more convenient for housing links and providing detailed application information. Different Instagram accounts also may have had posts pleading with students to make appointments, like with a past post from our own Instagram account for the UCA Center for Writing & Communication. We assume instances of this specific example are more rare on social media platforms, though, unless they take the form of comedic appeal.
Cross-Coded
Finally, we found a few instances of crosscoded posts, or those that represented more than one
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category in the taxonomy. These comprised a modest 5.6% of all posts analyzed (see fig. 1). They also specifically appeared as a mix between ingratiation and organizational promotion. For example, we noted tutor introductions that fell into this category. These focused on the tutor’s hobbies and interests, as well as their academic achievements and qualifications as a tutor. This features ingratiation by attempting to make the tutor more relatable to the audience; however, it also falls under organizational promotion, since the tutor’s accomplishments reflect positively on the organization in which they are employed. Another form of cross coding we observed were posts that incorporated jokes or modern references along with educational information. A specific example of this was a post in which the writing center played an April Fool’s joke on its followers while also distinguishing between the different usages of “there,” “their,” and “they’re.” Like with the previous example of tutor introductions, this post falls under the umbrellas of ingratiation and organizational promotion.
Engagement
Our findings indicate that the posts receiving the most engagement for each writing center were those involving ingratiation of some sort. In fact, when combining the number of likes for each writing center
included in our study, posts coded as “ingratiation” accounted for 60% of total engagement (see fig. 2). This was followed by organizational promotion (24%) and exemplification (15.8%), with a tie between supplication and intimidation (each accounting for only 0.1%). Even when taking the engagement levels of most of the writing centers on their own though, the same trend follows: ingratiation resulted in the most number of likes (see figs. 3.1, 3.3, and 3.4). This holds true for all but one out of the five writing centers we studied. For the one outlier, posts coded as exemplification (25.1%) accounted for almost twice as much of the page’s overall engagement as organizational promotion did (12.7%) (see fig. 3.2).
Again, we coded “engagement” as the proportion of likes each category of post received compared to how many total likes the Instagram page itself had accumulated overall. We also, however, evaluated these findings against how large of a following the writing centers had compared to one another. In other words, we organized the data in decreasing order of follower count so that we could take that into consideration when discussing the implications behind our findings (see fig. 3). These numbers ranged from over 1,500 followers to fewer than 200. This variable yielded some more observations of note. For example, the writing center with the highest follower count gained an almost equal amount of engagement with ingratiation as it did with organizational promotion. Both the center with the most followers and the one with the least had the best response with organizational promotion. The two centers with the most followers received noticeably more engagement with exemplification-coded posts than the other organizations did. Finally, the three centers with the most relatively moderate follower counts received a higher level of engagement with ingratiation-coded posts than the two centers at either end of the scale did (see figs. 3.2-3.4).
Fig. 2. Combined Engagement Levels based on IM Strategy
Figs. 3.1 - 3.5. IM Engagement Levels for Each Writing Center (ranked 1-5 from most to least followers)
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Discussion
Overall, the IM strategy the writing centers in our study used on their Instagram accounts was ingratiation, or efforts to appear more attractive as an entity (see table 1). Organizational promotion endeavors that portray the center as competent and capable was also largely employed. Supplication (portrayals of social responsibility) was utilized a fair amount, but not extensively, by most centers. Posts blending ingratiation and organizational promotion were also utilized fairly often on the centers’ accounts. However, ingratiation and supplication efforts involving threats or solicitation were rarely used across the board, if at all (see table 1). These findings align with our observation that the centers gained the most engagement when using ingratiation, followed by organizational promotion. In other words, the writing centers had the most engagement with the types of IM they employed the most often (see figs. 1 and 2).
It does remain unclear, however, whether organizations post more content with these IM tactics because they know it is what people respond most favorably to or if the favorable engagement is due to the heightened prevalence of these kinds of posts. There are a few different interpretations that can be made of this uncertainty. For one, perhaps audiences respond best to what they are already used to seeing on the writing center’s page. Or stated another way, they return consistency with consistency of their own a steady online presence may be key, signaling an integrity that those engaging with the center can appreciate. Another interpretation is that the public may simply respond more favorably to IM tactics that make the organization appear more attractive or capable of meeting their needs. This makes sense in the context of a resource meant to help students and/or the local public clients may feel more confident when engaging with tutors and staff who they feel are likable and will be able to help them in the way they need.
However, both interpretations are reminiscent of the marketing strategies Bowles explains writing centers may be pushed to use (10). Whether audiences are motivating a demonstration of attractiveness and competency, or centers are naturally motivated to do so, the end result seems to be favorable based on the potential rewards of increased funding and awareness that the center exists and is eager to help. When coding our data, we likened follower count to a center’s size, if only in the sense that when discussing online impression management, followers stand for people who are invested in the center and would like to keep up with its events and news. More social media followers could
therefore represent a more prominent online presence. Looking at the engagement data through this lens, our observations may also relate to the different expectations placed on a center with a larger follower count versus those with a smaller one.
For example, the writing center with the most online presence (number of followers) having almost equal levels of engagement with ingratiation as with organizational promotion strengthens the idea that these two forms of IM may provide writing centers the best results (see fig. 3). The finding that the writing centers at either extreme of the follower-count scale had the most engagement with organizational promotion as compared to the other centers can also be extrapolated upon. For instance, this could indicate that both writing centers facing a considerable amount of pressure to maintain a favorable online presence and those facing a low amount of this same pressure have a similarity: a need to illustrate their competence. For the former, this could be due to the need to uphold an alreadyestablished reputation. For the latter, it could contrastingly relate to still having to build up their regard. The finding that the two centers with the largest following had the most exemplification-related engagement may point to an expectation that greater online recognition comes with greater social responsibility. Further, ingratiation yielding the most engagement for the centers with moderate follower counts may correlate to likability arising when a center is considered neither too prominent nor too unobtrusive (see table 3).
It is important to note, however, that ours was a micro-study. This means our findings were limited by a small sample size. Thus, while our research may point to wider trends regarding writing center IM, this ultimately still remains to be seen. To gain a better understanding of how writing centers currently manage their social images, the field at large must notice the IM it already employs and imagine the approaches that could help it grow. This begins with individual centers. As our study hopefully helps illustrate, each organization is using a form of IM whether consciously or not. The key to expanding public knowledge of what writing centers do and can provide may lie in mindful IM strategies.
While some may be initially reluctant to embrace IM due to a fear of manipulation, we argue for an alternative outlook. Namely, IM is the means by which organizations like ours can express their assets (ingratiation), desires for future improvement (supplication), qualifications (organizational promotion), educational beliefs (exemplification), and even humor (intimidation). Doing so consciously and
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ethically allows the organization to grow more attuned to its audience, and therefore, its client base. Not only that, but mindful IM could facilitate a center’s confidence in what it is already excelling in and help clarify what it would like to highlight to other interested parties.
As a result of this study, we believe that writing centers should consider organizational impression management initiatives because the ways we present ourselves to the public and other stakeholders can have a significant impact on our success and reputation. As the study implies, IM can inform a range of our activities if we apply the taxonomy to the work we’re already doing. Initiatives such as developing and maintaining a professional website, creating and disseminating marketing materials, conducting outreach to students and faculty, and providing excellent service to our clients can continue with a more focused perspective on the impact we’re making. By actively managing our organizational impression in an ethical way, we can enhance our credibility, attract new students and faculty, and build positive relationships across our campuses. With these ideas in mind, we would like to offer suggestions for how IM taxonomy can be used as a framework for systematically analyzing and improving the public efforts of writing centers. These include the following:
1. Identifying dimensions of IM that are relevant to the writing center at hand. These include aspects such as physical environment, communication and marketing strategies, and the quality of services provided. By identifying these dimensions, writing centers can focus their efforts on areas that are most important for managing their specific impressions. In other words, it is helpful to evaluate what the center values most about its tutors, directors, tutoring approach, etc. so that it knows which IM tactics already align with its character. Not only this, but the center should also take note of its location in the wider university, its relative size, and the demographics of students and clients it aims to serve. This kind of assessment allows IM to integrate a facility’s style with its audience.
2. Conducting an audit of IM efforts using taxonomies like the ones we’ve shared above as a guide. This involves systematically reviewing each dimension of IM currently being used and assessing how well the center is performing within them. Additionally, the center may want to note which IM strategies it is not presently using and explore why. This
could help clarify things the staff may not have noticed about their existing communication style, as well as what approaches they may be interested in trying versus which ones they do not feel to be applicable. Audits like these can help identify areas for improvement and guide a center in developing a plan to enhance overall IM efforts.
3. Developing an action plan to improve our IM efforts based on the results of the audit. This may involve implementing new strategies, improving existing processes, or enhancing the quality of services provided. Our action plans should be ethical, specific, measurable, and aligned with our overall goals and objectives. This step aligns with a center’s ultimate goal of intentionally expressing its aims and character, as well as its desire to connect with students and expand public knowledge/use of its services.
4. Monitoring progress once an action plan has been implemented. It will be important for each of us to monitor our progress and to evaluate the effectiveness of the changes we make. We can use IM taxonomy to track our progress over time and to identify any areas where further improvements are needed. After all, students’ needs, pedagogical methods, and the writing center field at large are frequently evolving. With this in mind, we as centers can continuously adapt and develop, using IM as an aid in doing so.
By investing time and resources in IM activities, writing centers can improve our effectiveness and impact in supporting students’ writing needs. Moreover, by using organizational IM taxonomy, we can develop a more systematic and strategic approach to managing the impressions of our centers. The above tips serve as a foundation for writing centers to engage in continuous reflection and growth. By systematically applying an impression management framework, centers can not only enhance their visibility and reputation but also foster stronger connections with their communities. This proactive approach encourages centers to adapt to changing student needs, promote our unique offerings, and ultimately create a more welcoming and inclusive environment for all users. Embracing these strategies will enable writing centers to not only articulate their value but also to embody it, ensuring that their impression aligns with their mission.
Works Cited
Bolino, Mark C., et al. “A Multi-Level Review of Impression Management Motives and Behaviors.” Journal of Management, vol. 34, no. 6, 1 Dec. 2008, pp. 1080-1109, https://doi.org/10.1177/0149206308324325
Bowles, Bruce, Jr. “Coffee’s for Closers!: The Pressures of Marketing a New Writing Center.”
WLN: A Journal of Writing Center Scholarship, vol. 43, no. 7-8, 2019, pp. 10-17.
DOI: 10.37514/WLN-J.2019.43.7.03
Boz, Nevfel and Guan, Shu-Sha Angie. “‘Your profile is so Rad’: Self-Presentation Strategies in Turkish Adolescents" Communications, vol. 42, no. 1, 2017, pp. 23-46. https://doi.org/10.1515/commun-2017-0003
Glengarry Glen Ross. Directed by James Foley, performances by Al Pacino, Jack Lemmon, Alec Baldwin. New Line Cinema, 1992. Harris, Muriel. “Making Our Institutional Discourse Sticky: Suggestions for Effective Rhetoric.” The Writing Center Journal, vol. 30, no. 2, 2010, pp. 47-71.
Jones, Edward E., and Thane S. Pittman. “Toward a General Theory of Strategic Self-Presentation.” Psychological Perspectives on the Self , edited by Jerry Suls, vol. 1, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1982, pp. 231-262.
Lala-Sonora, Autumn Marie. Surveying the Field: How Do (And Should) Writing Centers Market and Design 2020. University of Dayton, Master’s Thesis. Lerner, Neal. “Counting Beans and Making Beans Count.” The Writing Lab Newsletter, vol. 22, no. 1, 1997, pp. 1-4.
Mohamed, A. Amin, et al. “A Taxonomy of Organizational Impression Management Tactics.” Advances in Competitiveness Research, vol. 7, no. 1, 1999, pp. 108-130. ProQuest, https://ucark.idm.oclc.org/login?url=https:// www.proquest.com/scholarlyjournals/taxonomy-organizational-impressionmanagement/docview/211366068/se-2 North, Stephen. “The Idea of a Writing Center.” College English, vol. 46, no. 5, 1984, pp. 433-46.
Rogelberg, Steven G., and Filip Lievens. “Organizational Image.” Encyclopedia of Industrial and Organizational Psychology, 2nd ed., SAGE Publications Inc., Thousand Oaks, CA, 2017, pp. 1116-1118.
Ryan, Holly, and Danielle Kane. “Evaluating the Effectiveness of Writing Center Classroom Visits: An Evidence-Based Approach.” The
Writing Center Journal, vol. 34, no. 2, 2015, pp. 145-72.
Spear, Sara. “Impression Management Activity in Vision, Mission, and Values Statements: A Comparison of Commercial and Charitable Organizations.” International Studies of Management & Organization, vol. 47, 3 Mar. 2017, pp. 159-175, https://doi.org/10.1080/00208825.2017.1256 165
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DEVELOPING CONSULTANTS’ MULTIMODAL LITERACY THROUGH EPORTFOLIOS
Christopher Basgier Auburn University crb0085@auburn.edu
Layli Miron Indiana University lamiro@iu.edu
Abstract
Writing center consultant training must account for the multiple media and modes students use as they compose on new digital platforms. While most consultants come to writing center work already confident in traditional literacies, to advise on multimodal projects, they also need to understand how elements such as visual design, navigability, and accessibility play into the rhetorical situation. Starting in 2021, our writing center assigned an ePortfolio-focused professional development curriculum to our consultants, culminating with their creation of websites that integrated and showcased their knowledge, skills, and abilities. The authors studied the consultants’ responses over the first two years of implementation, collecting data from surveys, session observations, and interviews, which we analyzed through inductive and deductive coding. Our results indicate that consultants advanced their understanding of multimodality through their participation in the ePortfolio curriculum and applied their learning in consultations not only about ePortfolios, but also about other visually rich media and application materials. Other writing centers may consider incorporating ePortfolios into their tutor development programs.
Peer consultants today may largely be members of Generation Z, for whom “new media” is the only media, but they do not necessarily enter writing center work with expertise in digital composing or the vocabulary to converse skillfully with clients about multimodal texts. Cheatle’s survey on multimodal support indicates that “training is the best way to improve the confidence of administrators and students working with multimodal composition” (22). If program leaders want their writing center to support multimodal composing, they will need to provide this training to their staff. Several writing center practitioners have shared their own methods of multimodal consultant training, which typically involve hands-on practice with multimedia platforms and reflection on the learning process (e.g., Fishman; Clements; Del Russo and Shapiro; McGinnis and Gray). Yet, the field of writing center studies has a relative paucity of empirical research on effective methods of consultant training in multimodality or multiliteracies.
We contribute a replicable, aggregable, datasupported (RAD) study on the effects of a required ePortfolio on consultants’ knowledge of, and ability to support, multimodal projects in the writing center. As detailed below, we conducted a two-year, mixed-
Richard Jake Gebhardt
Auburn University rjg0043@auburn.edu
methods, IRB-approved study on a consultant education pilot program. We required every peer consultant to create an online, interactive website that showcases their knowledge, skills, and abilities through artifacts and reflection an ePortfolio which is recognized as a high-impact educational practice benefiting student performance, persistence, and graduation (C. Edward Watson et al.). Our curriculum resembles the learning-by-doing training in “multimodal thinking” advocated by Lee, based on the “notion that consultants are producers not just users or readers (they should be able to ‘produce’ the modes they are analyzing)” (5). Yet, our curriculum differs from other training activities in its sustained, intensive nature, with each peer consultant developing an ePortfolio throughout their employment with our writing center. We have only found one other writing center that similarly incorporates ePortfolios into consultant development (Dietz & Derrick).
Learning not only happens via the creation of the artifacts included in an ePortfolio, but also through the creation of the ePortfolio itself, a potential Yancey has called ePortfolio as curriculum. ePortfolio as curriculum “engage[s] students as ePortfolio makers and in the process support[s] them in developing ePortfolio literacy, that is, knowledge about ePortfolios; about reflective practices represented in them; and about ePortfolio makingness, defined as ways to create ePortfolios” (3). By extension, organizing writing center professional development around an ePortfolio as curriculum, we reasoned, could help peer consultants develop multiliteracies in general, and thus support clients who brought in their own multimodal projects. Put differently, we wanted ePortfolio composing to become a catalyst for expanding peer consultants’ understanding of the kinds of projects they could support, the rhetorical dimensions of multimodal composing, and the potential value of well-structured reflection to integrate learning across contexts (e.g., employment in the writing center).
The principles informing our ePortfolio professional development derived from a wider
ePortfolio Project that our office has spearheaded since 2012 (described further under “Institutional Context and Writing Center Background”):
1. Critical thinking through reflection focuses on analysis, synthesis, evaluation, and creation within artifacts, arrangement, and reflective writing and across the ePortfolio as a whole.
2. Visual literacy focuses on how the author uses visual elements to provide evidence, construct deeper meaning, and support and enhance the message of the ePortfolio.
3. Technical competency focuses on the application of technical elements that should enhance the way information is conveyed to an audience, differentiating an ePortfolio from other products (social media sites, blogs, commercial websites) to construct identity.
4. Written communication focuses on the message of the overall ePortfolio and the story it conveys, rather than the quality of individual components such as specific artifacts.
5. Accessibility focuses on designing a website that users of all abilities can comprehend.
6. Ethical literacy focuses on intellectual property, citation, and respectful representation of other people.
Each principle was taught through a lesson involving a short lecture and activity; handouts for these lessons can be found on our program’s website (auburn.edu/writing/resources). Consultants were also assigned to write a consulting philosophy and include at least two artifacts related to their work in the writing center. These artifacts needed to demonstrate knowledge and skills, going beyond simple written reflections about the job. We required peer consultants to exchange feedback, seeing the potential for them to learn how to give clients feedback on a range of multimodal genres, especially ones with visual and digital modes.
In this article, we detail our methods for investigating whether the ePortfolio curriculum bolstered peer consultants’ ability to support multimodal projects. Our results indicate that, generally, consultants advanced their understanding of multimodality and the rhetorical situation, albeit with different levels of sophistication. They applied their learning in consultations not only about ePortfolios, but also about other visually rich media and about application materials. Based on these results, we offer recommendations for other writing center professionals interested in integrating ePortfolio curricula into consultant development.
Institutional Context and Writing Center Background
Our writing center is housed in the Office of the Provost of a large, public, R1, land-grant university in the Southeastern United States. The university has especially strong enrollments in agriculture, engineering, and business, as well as smaller but consistent enrollments in fields like fashion merchandising and industrial design, meaning that multimodal communication plays a strong role across much of the institution. Given this context, we strive to serve all writers with all kinds of writing, which we have long defined capaciously to include multimodal genres like scientific posters, laboratory reports, websites, and slide decks.
Furthermore, beginning in 2012, we became the stewards of our institution’s Quality Enhancement Plan (QEP) for accreditation with the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools Commission on Colleges (SACSCOC): the ePortfolio Project, which sought to enhance students’ multimodal communication abilities through the creation of integrative, public-facing websites. During the QEP period, 47 departments or programs participated in the ePortfolio Project, meaning some subset of their faculty had integrated ePortfolios, reflective writing, visual communication, and/or technological literacy into their classrooms. We also offered an ePortfolio Student Workshop Series that helped students develop their ePortfolios, but attendance fell well below sustainable levels during the COVID-19 pandemic. We wanted to ensure students could get feedback on their ePortfolios and other multimodal projects, so we introduced the ePortfolio requirement for peer consultants beginning in fall 2021. This shift in ePortfolio support coincided with the end of the QEP period; by integrating ePortfolios into our day-to-day writing center work, we have been able to retain resources that might have been diverted to other institutional initiatives.
Methods
We designed our study as RAD research of the type called for by writing center scholars such as Driscoll and Perdue. Specifically, following the guidance of those scholars for the purpose of making our study replicable at other writing centers, we define our research question; discuss participant recruitment and backgrounds; share survey, observation, and interview instruments; state our transcription and coding methods; disclose all themes we identified via coding; and acknowledge our study’s limitations.
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Our central research question asked, “How does peer consultant professional development focused on creating ePortfolios impact consultants’ practices?” To answer this question, we conducted a survey, interviews, and observations of ePortfolio appointments.
All peer consultants were asked to take the survey at the end of each term from fall 2021 to spring 2023. At the end of the survey, they could select whether they elected to participate in the research study. The complete survey can be found in Appendix A. It includes Likert-type questions that gauged their skills in supporting clients with ePortfolio outcomes and their professional growth, as well as open-ended questions about their learning and professional development in the curriculum. Taken together, these questions provided us with quantitative and qualitative data to better understand the value of ePortfolios in writing center professional development and the curriculum’s impact on consulting.
To triangulate the survey data, we collected two additional forms of data. The first was a semi-structured interview. We recruited interview participants by emailing peer consultants who had agreed to participate in the study at the end of each term, and we arranged interviews with anyone who responded to the request. Most interviews lasted approximately thirty minutes, and they centered on six questions devoted to the impact on consulting and professional growth. (The questionnaire has been reproduced in Appendix B.) We recorded the interviews via Zoom, and we began with the automatically generated transcript, correcting transcription errors as needed. The second form of data was our observations of appointments focused on ePortfolios, which involved one peer consultant giving feedback to another. All peer consultants participated in such appointments as part of the curriculum. Out of a total of 66 ePortfolio appointments, we observed 18. We used a standardized observation form (Appendix C) to record our observation notes; this form is organized according to our client and consultant learning outcomes.
Once data collection was complete, we cleaned transcripts and organized all data into 368 stable units, typically complete answers to survey or interview questions, or complete observation notes in a given form field. We elected to organize units this way to preserve the context of participants’ thinking across sentences and to provide a stable, rule-based way of segmenting data, focused on the rhetorical context of the unit (see Geisler & Swartz 69). The downside of this approach is that some units are long, up to 250 words, which means we had to allow for double coding of units
that had multiple ideas or themes embedded. We undertook two rounds of coding, one inductive and the other deductive. In the first round, we worked individually, reading survey responses, interview transcripts, and observation notes holistically, identifying patterns, and organizing units into loose buckets; after discussion, we eliminated redundant codes and clarified definitions.
Our final code list follows:
● Rhetorical Awareness: Participant reports or demonstrates helping clients think about audience and/or purpose.
● Visual Literacy: Participant reports or demonstrates helping clients with visual design.
● Technical Competence: Participant reports or demonstrates helping clients with choosing a platform, using a platform (e.g., Wix), or making materials accessible.
● Artifacts: Participant reports or demonstrates helping clients select and arrange artifacts in an ePortfolio.
● Reflective Writing: Participant reports or demonstrates helping clients work on reflective writing.
● Professional Documents: Participant reports or demonstrates helping clients with personal brand or application materials (e.g., résumés or personal statements).
● Reflection on Consulting: Participant explains that the reflections, consulting philosophy statement, or overall learning process helped them with their consulting style and/or increased their feelings of confidence in helping clients with ePortfolios or other projects.
● N/A: No applicable code.
We divvied units among the three of us so that each unit was coded twice, and we used Microsoft Excel to do so. After our first round of coding, our agreement was below the acceptable threshold of 80%, so we adjudicated select units with agreement below 50%. After adjudication, our agreement reached 96%.
Results
We received 60 eligible responses to the survey; several responses represent the same individual participant completing the survey over multiple semesters. Of those, 42% indicated that they had created an ePortfolio before participating in the professional development curriculum. Most responses (39) indicated that they had had between one and four appointments that dealt with digital media, visual design, multimodal
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projects/design, and/or ePortfolios. Table 1 includes the number of responses to Likert-scale questions about the impact of the ePortfolio curriculum on participants’ consulting practices. In general, participants agreed that the curriculum prepared them to grow as peer consultants who could support others in creating ePortfolios and analogous documents. In addition to the survey, we conducted 12 interviews with consultants about their experiences of the curriculum, and we observed 12 ePortfolio appointments. Interview transcripts, observation notes
(collected via the observation form), and open-ended survey responses constituted the qualitative data we coded. Table 2 includes the number and percent of units for each code. Of note, the large number of codes marked N/A is due to a subset of questions about participants’ own ePortfolios, which are outside the scope of this study. In the next section, we discuss each code, analyzing participants’ responses in light of our research question.
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Table 1
Total Responses to Likert-Scale Survey Questions
Question
I feel I am able to connect what I’ve learned through the ePortfolio curriculum about audience and purpose to real world scenarios and practices.
I feel I can help others understand the concept of personal brand and how they can use it effectively with an ePortfolio.
I feel I am able to help others relate and connect with their work by using the skills and practices I have grown and developed through the writing center ePortfolio curriculum.
I feel I am capable of helping someone choose a good platform for an ePortfolio that best fits their needs.
I feel that I am gaining knowledge and skills through the ePortfolio curriculum that will help me develop and grow as a peer consultant.
I feel that I have the necessary knowledge and experience to help someone choose and integrate appropriate artifacts for their ePortfolio.
I feel prepared to teach others about ePortfolios in a peer consulting setting.
Table 2
Results of Coding
Note: because of double coding, the percentage of units coded totals more than 100%.
Discussion
Our data indicate that peer consultants felt they gained valuable knowledge and skills for multimodal appointments via the ePortfolio curriculum. Their surveys and interviews reflected rhetorically informed, multimodal literacy. They said they grew more comfortable experimenting with new technologies. They told us they became more adept at guiding writers in shaping artifacts, reflections, and visual design into a coherent personal and professional narrative for specific audiences and purposes. And we saw indications that they were able to transfer this knowledge to other (nonePortfolio) appointments. However, these positive effects were not ubiquitous. We also share instances in which some of our participants shared surface-level explanations or outright misconceptions of aspects of ePortfolios, such as mere tips and tricks in using technology or a notion of visual design as decoration. Still, despite these underdeveloped ideas about multimodality, peer consultants expressed an overall positive impact on their learning and ability to conduct appointments with new genres and media. In the following analyses, we name respondents using a number and letter indicating the year and order of response.
Rhetorical Awareness
We begin our discussion with rhetorical awareness because it figures prominently in many of the other codes we discuss subsequently. Here, we want to establish the ways in which the ePortfolio curriculum appeared to attune peer consultants to matters of audience and purpose. In several of the sessions we observed, consultants engaged their coworkers-asclients in conversations specifically about the ePortfolio’s potential audience beyond the writing center. For instance, one consultant, 22B, guided their client to discuss their career goals, asking them to share knowledge about their prospective industry, publishing, and potential internships. Another consultant, 22F, similarly engaged their client in a conversation about the fashion industry’s expectations for professional documents like the ePortfolio. According to the observation notes, “They also talked about how this field gave [the writer] more space to talk about herself as a person with the understanding that her future employers would be interested in getting to know her as a [person] outside of her formal professional identity.” Such observation notes indicate that consultants discussed how audience expectations depend on the field, encouraged writers to tailor their websites to
potential employers, and leveraged the wider variety of modes available in an ePortfolio when compared to written mediums.
More expansively, survey and interview participants reported that the ePortfolio curriculum had helped them become more capable of drawing writers’ attention to audience and purpose, whether in ePortfolios or other writing projects, and supervisors noted several instances of this in later observations of ePortfolio sessions. Many of these responses focused on helping writers analyze their audiences and reflect on their goals, typically for application-related documents (CVs, cover letters, and personal statements). As 21H wrote, “I have learned how to help students reflect on what they would like their audience to know about them in order to further develop their writing project.” One interviewee, 23E, commented that, although they had held few ePortfolio-focused sessions, they thought they had transferred ideas about tailoring writing to “future careers” to helping with other genres. They said they now attended more to the rhetorical situation: “asking more about the purpose, and, like, finding out what exactly they want to do and what they’re going to do, because I can help shape kind of the overall idea.”
Visual Literacy
Sometimes, peer consultants’ responses and practices represented visual literacy as a rhetorical means of communication. This mindset could be difficult to see, especially when we coded units that simply mentioned our participants helping peers with their visual design, even when they did not elaborate on the nature of that help. Often these comments briefly mentioned specific aspects of visual design, such as “color palette” (22B, survey), “galleries” (22F, observation), “image selection” (22I, observation), “white space, alignment, relative sizes of content” (21F, observation), “decorative images” (23E, observation), and “aesthetic appeal” (21G, observation).
When our data does go deeper, several significant themes arise. The first is the link between visual design and accessibility, which participants frequently mentioned. For example, in a representative survey comment, participant 23D wrote:
The ePortfolio curriculum has taught me a lot about inclusion and accessibility with visual media. For example, in one lesson, I particularly remember learning about font, sizing, and background colors that can make it easier for readers to view. This lesson made me much more cognizant of how I designed both my ePortfolio and other media, such as
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presentations and visual media, and I have applied this to my tutoring practices in sharing this information with clients and working with them to make their works more accessible to their audiences.
Here, participant 23D connects specific elements of visual design, which were only mentioned offhandedly by others, to accessibility as a crucial literacy practice. This individual also reports sharing these principles with clients, echoing many other participants who said the same thing.
Participant 23D also elucidated how they transferred knowledge of visual design to other genres: I have had people come in with PowerPoints that have, like, a lot of writing on them . . . and they really just wanted to work on the writing. But we ended up working on the PowerPoints themselves and saying, how about we separate this and make the font bigger just so it’s easier to follow, easier to read different fonts and colors against different backgrounds, different things like that.
Likewise, in an interview, participant 22E told us that when peers brought in scientific posters or slide decks, “I was able to show them . . . the layout, the designing, the contrast, and all those things.” These responses illustrate how the ePortfolio curriculum supported visual literacy across genres in the writing center.
A few of our participants began asking sophisticated questions about the relationship between visual design and communication. On the one hand, participant 22A explained that the relationship between image and communication was closely related. In an interview, they said, “I was looking at, I think it was [consultant’s], she did a really minimalist one. And then [consultant] did a really, like, creative looking one, and so we were talking about, like, how much do you want to . . . show yourself, and then how much you try to keep it, like, professional.” In this comment, we see 22A describing the ways visual choices can communicate a more personalized and idiosyncratic self-representation or a more polished and professional one. On the other hand, participant 22B distinguished between design and content, from which we inferred a distinction between design and communication. In an interview, they considered, “how are we balancing you know content with with design.” This balancing act, while understandable, does lead us to ask whether some consultants saw visual design as less communicative than decorative.
Technical Competence
In interviews and survey responses, several participants described their ability to help clients begin a new ePortfolio site, most often in the platform Wix. For example, in an interview, participant 20A reflected, “I’ve had a few ePortfolio appointments, where I was able to be like, oh yeah, I’ve used this technology before, here’s a few tips that I learned through this and such.” Similarly, participant 23A told us, “I’ve been working with Wix for a long time. Now I have found, like, a bunch of little ways to get around certain common problems. It kind of helps with like making the design, like, cohesive.” These responses treat technical competence as a matter of knowing “tips and tricks” about website builders.
In at least one case, however, a participant indicated learning what we understood as transferrable technical know-how. Participant 22A explained that they had recently had a client using the presentation platform Prezi, and although it was unfamiliar, learning Wix helped them navigate the platform: Because I was so used to, like, using Wix . . . I, like, could figure out how to use Prezi, and then there was something she had done, where she added a page and not added, like, a sub-topic. And so it looked a little different, and so I was able to, like, figure it out and fix it because being exposed to this program helped me learn a new program faster.
This response demonstrates how technical competence can be a kind of literacy, rather than an assortment of tips and tricks. Participant 22I demonstrated a similar, deep technological literacy differently during an appointment in which they helped a client find and peruse the Wix help guide, a move we see as scaffolding the client’s independence.
Indeed, during our observations, we witnessed many sophisticated consulting approaches beyond sharing tips and tricks. Our observation notes frequently mention the patience our participants demonstrated towards their clients during technical appointments, many of which involved building new ePortfolio sites from scratch. Several observation notes also reflect our participants’ willingness to experiment. For example, one of us observed, “23E’s patient help with the technical aspects of the platform was exemplary. She didn’t necessarily know how to do everything from the start, but she had a can-do attitude to investigating and exploring.” During these experimental sessions, participants often empowered clients to hold the metaphorical pen by pausing and giving them time to use the site editor to make changes.
In addition to these technologically literate consulting practices, two participants appeared to bring
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a rhetorical mindset to their technically oriented consultations. During an interview, participant 22B described asking clients to toggle between the editing view and the published view so they could get multiple perspectives on the site: “when you’re looking at something from like the editing side of the platform, you know, it can look like XYZ. But then when you change it over and you’re navigating it like someone else would, you’re like, ‘Oh, this does not look right,’ or ‘This isn’t as easy to navigate as I thought it was.’” With this move, 22B invited clients to take on an audience’s perspective, something we saw participant 21F do during an appointment when she asked her client how her target audiences would be viewing the website: on a phone or on a computer. A rhetorical mindset also influenced the technical dimensions of accessibility that reflected our training. For instance, during an appointment, participant 22F suggested that a client revise the text describing hyperlinks to make them accessible to users of screen readers. These rhetorical suggestions influenced how clients utilized the technical affordances of site builders to guide audiences.
Artifacts
Just as peer consultants varied in their technical competence, so, too, did we observe some misrepresentations of what counted as an artifact. Some participants named reflections a kind of artifact, whereas we taught artifacts as evidence of the ideas presented in reflections. In an interview, participant 23C described a student who wanted “help with artifacts”: “So we kind of just went through and kind of talked about what she found important to, like, be presented in a portfolio like this, and we decided that reflections would be very important for her style.” Participant 22C made a similar error when they told us, “An artifact is, like, literally anything you want to put on there. It could be reflections and blurbs.” However, almost immediately after this, 22C added a correct statement about the relationship between artifacts and reflection: “If you can add, like an actual reflection to an artifact . . . that could add so much more like depth to it.”
In our observations, we saw participants discuss artifacts with clients in two different, rhetorically oriented ways: an audience-oriented approach, and a message-oriented approach. In the audience-oriented approach, our participants suggested clients select and organize artifacts, in one manner or another, “for the sake of greater usability,” as one observation note put it. In the message-oriented approach, our participants asked clients to use their artifacts as evidence of their knowledge, skills, abilities, and personal brand, which is
how we taught it in the curriculum. For example, in one appointment, participant 20C noticed a theme of “passion” in the client’s ePortfolio and suggested that they use that theme to tie together various artifacts which otherwise seemed disconnected. The mix of accurate and inaccurate descriptions of the relationship between artifacts and reflections suggests to us a need to further revise the curriculum to clarify peer consultants’ understanding.
Reflective Writing
Despite some confusion around reflection, we did find evidence in observations that consultants were helping their clients (in this case, fellow consultants) think and write critically about their experiences. Both 20G and 22F helped their clients with the “About Me” page, which, as the site visitor’s introduction to the author, requires deep reflection on how to convey a compelling identity and personal brand. Other consultants prompted their clients to think reflectively about certain experiences as a first step toward writing reflections. 22F helped their client brainstorm “some key principles of consulting as a way to begin drafting her consulting philosophy statement.” 22B asked their client about the “key points” they wanted their ePortfolio to focus on, prompting the writer to share “issues or ideas he’s interested in,” which generated bases for reflective writing.
We hoped the consultants would transfer the reflection honed through their ePortfolios to helping writers with various reflection tasks, and we found some evidence that our hope was realized. Interviewee 23E related how a client was seeking assistance with a personal statement for a graduate school application. When 23E reviewed their outline, they noticed it offered only barebones facts, without considering how the experiences affected the applicant. The consultant counseled that every applicant would have “the internships and the grades,” and to stand out, this writer would need to show “why it’s important.” Through their conversation, the writer reflected on their experiences, realizing that they displayed “communicative” and “adaptive” attributes. The consultant recalled telling the writer, “The story, people will remember that much more than just, like, saying, ‘I did this internship,’ and then it also shows all these soft skills.” 23E commented that their approach “definitely comes from, like, the ePortfolio.” Thus, the ePortfolio curriculum enabled this consultant to lead a writer through an effective reflection exercise.
Professional Documents
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As the previous section suggests, some participants told us or demonstrated to us that the ePortfolio curriculum bolstered peer consultants’ ability to support writers’ professional documents. Personal brand, a core identity that unifies a person’s materials, features prominently in our ePortfolio curriculum. By definition, a personal brand should apply to all of one’s application materials, i.e., their professional documents. So, even though the ePortfolio curriculum didn’t provide consultants with direct instruction on professional documents, the concept of personal brand should have helped them approach such consultations and our evidence indicates that it did.
Multiple survey respondents connected their learning from the curriculum to their ability to consult on professional documents, frequently naming résumés, CVs, cover letters, or personal statements. For example, 20C recounted,
I’ve had multiple clients come in with either ePortfolios or similar professional documents. Completing the curriculum (especially the Personal Brand module) has helped me to guide clients with these projects. Specifically, I often help clients create a professional identity around which they can organize their résumé, CV, etc.
Similarly, 23F gave the example of applying their learning by “helping one client who was applying for graduate school decide which parts of her personal and professional identity would allow her to stand out to the admissions board.” Apparently, more than a few consultants recognized that the concept of crafting a professional identity for a given audience applied broadly.
Indeed, several interviewees recounted using their learning about personal brand to help writers develop application statements. One interviewee, 22F, reflected on how the ePortfolio had taught them that, to keep their target audience’s attention, they needed to write concisely. This insight helped them guide an applicant to refine their scholarship statement. Another consultant, 23A, commented that “the module on personal brand, and making our consultant philosophy, that [guidance] helped me a lot on how to write personal statements and help people a lot with their applications.” Specifically, they used their knowledge of personal brand to help several graduate school applicants by posing questions and synthesizing experiences:
What are your career goals? How is what you’re learning now applicable to those goals? What would you like to continue learning? And we
kind of just worked through those steps of how any experience kind of builds towards that knowledge, even if that experience doesn’t seem cohesive with the rest of what you’re learning.
College can feel to students like a jumble of discrete experiences, yet as this anecdote suggests, an ePortfolio mindset encourages students to turn that jumble into a structured narrative of growth not only to stoke their personal sense of achievement, but also to articulate their story to the gatekeepers who will influence their next steps in life.
Reflection on Consulting
Some responses described instances when peer consultants directly applied their new knowledge of ePortfolios in sessions about ePortfolios, thus strengthening their consulting abilities. For example, interviewee 23D recalled,
There was one appointment in particular, where someone actually came in with an ePortfolio, and we were able to look at that, together with those different concepts in mind, and we were able to add descriptions to pictures and make sure that everything, like, we went over like, “Where did you get this picture? Is this […] picture fair use? Did you ask this user?”
In this scenario, the consultant applied concepts from the curriculum’s lesson about representation, fair use, and copyright.
Additionally, some consultants commented that because of the curriculum, they felt more confident helping with a range of projects including ePortfolios, visual media such as PowerPoints, and professional documents that benefit from personal branding. In the words of survey respondent 21F,
I have had a few appointments that were for ePortfolios or Résumés and I feel as though the curriculum for the ePortfolios has greatly helped me in these sessions. Before starting work at the writing center this semester, ePortfolios were the thing that made me the most nervous. I was scared that someone would bring me one in a session and I would have no clue how to help them. That never happened!
The consultant’s trajectory from worrying about their ability to help with ePortfolios to feeling relatively confident is heartening, as it confirms that the ePortfolio curriculum’s most basic learning outcome was accomplished: writers can now get informed help on their multimodal work from our consultants.
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For many, the takeaways were more indirect, having less to do with specific knowledge and more with mindsets and strategies. Some consultants reflected that the experience of creating an ePortfolio enhanced their compassion for writers struggling to adapt to new genres and disciplinary writing expectations. Frustration at trying to learn how to use a website builder without much technical guidance proved to be a common feeling. This struggle had a revelatory effect, as they realized that many writers feel the same way about their academic assignments. As one interviewee, 22C, explained,
Creating a portfolio is kind of frustrating, and I don’t get a lot of I don’t get like really frustrated with like just straight, like, writing assignments. So, it’s kind of put me in a headspace of like, oh my God, this is gonna kill me. I can’t get this design right or take it. So, it’s kind of made me be like, okay, I can see how some of my clients, you know, might be in that position for some of the writing, if they’re not, like, used to that genre, because you know, the ePortfolio is an incredibly different genre from anything else that I’ve produced. For peer consultants who are often confident writers unfazed by academic writing, being thrust into an unfamiliar type of writing attuned them to clients’ emotions and needs for instance, in the words of survey respondent 22A, the need to “take certain appointments slower and take the time to explain things clearly.”
Another influence on consultants’ mindset is their increased appreciation for the role creativity, individuality, and personal voice play in writing. Our ePortfolio curriculum encouraged expression, pushing our consultants to find a personal brand and to display aspects of their personality. At least one consultant, 22B, said they recommend ePortfolios to their clients as a way of “introducing people to that more creative aspect,” where the site “showcases who I am.” Others reported applying the valuation of individuality in ePortfolios to their consulting mindset more generally. Survey respondent 23E reflected, “every student has a different writing process and way they like to do things. I have begun thinking of this as their own personal brand. So although it may not be my personal brand, I am able to remind myself that everyone has a different process […].” Another respondent, 23B, noted, “I have been able to see how individuality comes through in writing, mainly from how people interpret the assignment of ePortfolios to look and include whatever they think is important. This has helped me notice clients’ voices in writing and work with them to get that individuality
included.” The ePortfolio curriculum’s emphasis on self-expression formed a basis for these consultants as they described a shift in their mindset about writing toward valuing diverse styles.
Limitations
Although we used mixed methods to triangulate our findings, our study still has several limitations that might be addressed by future research. First, different administrators took different approaches to recording observation notes. Despite our use of a standardized form, some administrators’ notes were more detailed than others; those with less detail required us to rely on inference or memory when coding. By recording ePortfolio sessions, ideally with video and audio, researchers could develop more nuanced pictures of multimodal practice in writing center appointments.
Second, nearly all observations were conducted during appointments with two peer consultants, one of whom was a client. This approach was mainly for convenience: since we set up these appointments as part of consultants’ professional development, we could plan observations in advance. Other clients might make an ePortfolio appointment at any time, requiring constant monitoring on our part. Thus, the consultations we observed were conducted amongst coworkers with similar levels of experience with ePortfolio principles. Appointments with completely inexperienced clients might proceed differently, although we anticipate that consultants would likely use many of the same skills.
Third, our results may be skewed because of the opt-in nature of the study. This limitation applies especially to the interviews, which were likely conducted with our most motivated peer consultants. Apathetic or trepidatious consultants may have opted out, potentially resulting in more positive results.
Fourth, to maintain our consultants’ anonymity, we did not collect their ePortfolios as part of this study. Therefore, we do not have an empirical measure of the quality of peer consultants’ multimodal compositions, which may be related to their ability to conduct high-quality multimodal appointments in the writing center. Because our program has a rubric associated with the four outcomes listed above, a quality assessment may be possible in a future study.
Finally, although our study participants regularly discussed how they applied what they had learned about ePortfolios to adjacent genres, such as PowerPoints or personal statements, they rarely mentioned other genres. Future research could explicitly examine the extent to which ePortfolio-rich writing center professional development also builds
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consultants’ knowledge, skills, and self-efficacy with a wider range of genres.
Conclusion
By providing evidence for an effective method of preparing consultants to support students’ multimodal composing, we have aimed to contribute to the conversations on multimedia and digital literacy that have circulated among writing centers for several decades. Using ePortfolios in consultant education stimulates consultants to confront the challenges of a highly visual, digital medium, which reflects the contemporary expectations for successful, engaging communication. The resulting struggle to master an unfamiliar platform is in itself educational, as consultants not only learn some practical digital composing skills but also remember what it feels like to face a daunting writing task, a common feeling among the students we serve. Despite initial frustrations with the learning process, all our consultants eventually produce personal websites.
We believe that having consultants create ePortfolios could produce similarly effective results for other writing centers without huge labor or monetary costs. Our ePortfolio curriculum is available in our unit’s collection of open educational resources (auburn.edu/writing/resources). Along with this freely available curriculum, there are many free website platforms such as Wix, Weebly, and WordPress; our materials on platforms and technology offer some basic information about each of these three popular options. Writing center leaders might feel they need to master website design or pay for a particular platform before implementing the curriculum, but that is not the case. As our experience proves, consultants can figure out the technical aspects of their chosen web platform through independent problem-solving and seeking help from coworkers both important competencies for their professional growth. If using ePortfolios to develop consultants still seems out of reach, components of our curriculum, such as the consultant-to-consultant sessions and the consulting philosophy assignment, can still help consultants refine and reflect on their pedagogy.
For our own part, we plan to continue requiring all our consultants to develop ePortfolios indefinitely, while periodically updating the curriculum. As we found through this study, many of our consultants appear to need more scaffolding to select or develop strong artifacts that demonstrate their skills and knowledge and to write compelling reflections. We envision developing more advanced lessons on these topics that consultants
who already have a full draft of their ePortfolio can use to improve their site. No doubt, as technology evolves, we will need to make further revisions to our training, yet we anticipate that communication will only become more multimodal in coming years our digitally mediated, screen-saturated world seems unlikely to return to its analog roots making the need to train consultants in this regard a permanent priority for writing centers.
Appendix A: Survey Questions
● What is your name?
● Before you began participating in the writing center’s ePortfolio curriculum, had you ever created an ePortfolio? Yes/No
● How many sessions do you estimate that you have conducted at the writing center that have dealt with digital media, visual design, multimodal projects/design, and/or ePortfolios in some way? Please give your best estimate: None (0), A few (1–4), Several (5–9), Many (10+)
Please indicate to what extent you agree with the following statements where 1 indicates strong disagreement and 5 indicates strong agreement. Even if one does not describe your level of agreement exactly, please choose the one that most closely reflects this.
● I feel I am able to connect what I’ve learned through the writing center’s ePortfolio curriculum about audience and purpose to real world scenarios and practices.
● I feel I am able to help others relate and connect with their work by using the skills and practices I have grown and developed through the writing center ePortfolio curriculum.
● I feel I can help others understand the concept of personal brand and how they can use it effectively with an ePortfolio.
● I feel I am capable of helping someone choose a good platform for an ePortfolio that best fits their needs.
● I feel that I am gaining knowledge and skills through the writing center ePortfolio curriculum that will help me develop and grow as a peer consultant.
● I feel that I am gaining knowledge and skills through the writing center ePortfolio curriculum that will help me develop and grow as a future working professional.
Please indicate to what extent you agree with the following statements where 1 indicates strong disagreement and 5 indicates strong agreement. Even if
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one does not describe your level of agreement exactly, please choose the one that most closely reflects this.
● I feel I have ample opportunities to represent my writing center experience through artifacts in my ePortfolio for the writing center.
● I feel that I have the necessary knowledge and experience to help someone choose and integrate appropriate artifacts for their ePortfolio.
● I feel that I have been able to see myself grow as a professional through my reflections done during the ePortfolio curriculum.
● I feel prepared to teach others about ePortfolios in a peer tutoring setting.
● I feel that I am getting something out of the writing center’s ePortfolio curriculum that I am not getting from other sources (e.g., courses, extracurriculars, self-study).
● I plan to continue working on/adding to my ePortfolio after I no longer work for the writing center.
In a few sentences, please respond to the following questions based on your experience and participation in the writing center ePortfolio curriculum.
● How have you applied what you have learned from your work with the writing center ePortfolio curriculum to your tutoring practices?
● How have you applied what you have learned from your work with the writing center ePortfolio curriculum to the ongoing development of your professional identity?
● Is there anything else you’d like to share with us about your experience, perceptions of, and participation in the writing center ePortfolio curriculum?
Currently, your answers will be used internally to assess the effectiveness of the ePortfolio Curriculum and how we can improve it in subsequent semesters. However, we would like to use your answers as part of the study mentioned in the information letter at the beginning of this survey. May we share your de-identified answers with other researchers and learning centers as part of our ongoing ePortfolio Study?
This step is optional and not required as part of your writing center practicum. Your choice to participate in the study will have no weight on your performance as a Miller Writing Center Peer Consultant participating in ongoing professional development. Additionally, we’ll use your name, banner ID, and email to connect individual responses and reach out to participants at various stages of the study. Any published data will have
this information removed to protect your privacy, and we will not keep personally identifiable information longer than necessary.
If you choose to participate in this study, a copy of the information letter will be sent to your email address indicated at the beginning of the survey, and if you have any additional questions about this study, please feel free to contact [administrator].
Consent: Please indicate whether you consent to participating in this study or not:
Yes, I consent and would like to participate in this study.
No, I do not consent and do not wish to participate in this study.
Appendix B: Questionnaire for Interviews
Part 1 – Tutoring
1. During this curriculum, several topics were covered such as artifacts, reflection, accessibility, copyright/fair use, representation, navigation, and design as they relate to ePortfolios. Please walk me through the creation process for your ePortfolio and how these topics influenced your choices during the creation process.
2. What effects do you think creating an ePortfolio has had on your tutoring? Can you think of any specific examples of appointments where you were able to bring in concepts you learned through the ePortfolio curriculum? If so, please describe them.
3. Tell me about your appointment(s) at the writing center in which you got feedback on your ePortfolio from a fellow consultant and your experience in this appointment(s). How did this appointment influence your ePortfolio, if at all?
a. Potential follow-up: How did it impact your own tutoring practices, if at all?
Part 2 – Professional Identity
1. Please reflect on your experience making the ePortfolio in terms of how it helped you build your identity as a member of the writing center community. How has your perception of yourself as a writing center professional changed or developed over the course of this curriculum?
2. What other writing center professional development opportunity most contributed to your knowledge and competence as a peer
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consultant who works with other students on multimodal projects, such as ePortfolios, and why?
3. Thank you for your time. Do you have any last comments you would like to share with us, positive or negative, about your experience with the peer consultant ePortfolio curriculum?
Appendix C: Observation Form
The goal of an observation, in addition to providing your coworker with concrete feedback, is to learn from them. So, this form is designed for you to report abilities related to our client and consultant learning outcomes as you observe them. You do not need to fill in every outcome only the ones you observe. Leave the others blank (i.e., do not write “N/A” or “Not observed”). After your observation, plan to debrief with your coworker, talking through your responses on the form and asking about consulting strategies that you would like to bring into your own sessions with clients. Both you and the person you are observing will receive copies of this completed form.
What behaviors do you notice that reinforce the client learning outcomes? Select each outcome you observed and use the textbox below it to summarize what you observed. How did the consultant help the client...
● Understand the purpose and context of their project
● Articulate and organize their own ideas about a topic effectively
● Revise their writing according to disciplinary conventions and styles (e.g., APA, MLA, Chicago)
● Consider available opportunities to use their voice, dialect(s), or code-meshing (e.g., drawing from their home language, incorporating personal experiences, discussing the relationship between voice and audience expectations)
● Use grammatical patterns that support audience understanding
● Reflect on the writing process and define next steps
● Practice literacy strategies relevant to their project and goals (e.g., thinking through multimodal elements such as images, document design, and sound; finding and evaluating sources; reading difficult texts)
● Understand future opportunities for support, especially additional writing center appointments and programs
What behaviors do you notice that reinforce the consultant learning outcomes? Select each outcome you observed and use the textbox below it to summarize what you observed. How did the consultant help the client...
● Establish a welcoming environment by building rapport, asking honest questions, creating opportunities for practice, and reserving judgment
● Serve writers from various backgrounds and identities using practices grounded in diversity, equity, and inclusion (e.g., sharing pronouns, “calling in” and “calling out,” asking questions about a client’s background and experiences relevant to their project)
● Tailor consulting strategies to the client’s discipline, genre, and point in the writing process (e.g., looking at models, sharing resources, learning with and from clients, modeling application of writing strategies)
● Analyze higher order concerns for potential improvement
● Analyze lower order concerns for potential improvement
● Understand and explain grammatical principles in support of audience understanding
● Aid the client in interpreting feedback and in making decisions in response to feedback, including developing clarifying questions to ask of professors
Describe a strategy that the consultant used that you thought best supported the client in achieving their goals and developing skills to succeed in future writing situations.
Describe a moment when you might have tried a different approach from the consultant. What would you have done differently and why?
Do you have any additional thoughts or comments?
Works Cited
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Clements, Jessica. “The Role of New Media Expertise in Shaping Writing Consultations.” How We Teach Writing Tutors, edited by Karen Gabrielle Johnson and Ted Roggenbuck, WLN Digital Edited Collection, 2019, wac.colostate.edu/docs/wln/dec1/Clements.h tml.
Del Russo, Celeste, and Rachael Shapiro. “Multimodal Tutor Education for a Community in Transition.” WLN Journal, vol. 44, no. 1–2, 2019, pp. 19–26, doi.org/10.37514/WLNJ.2019.44.1.04.
Dietz, Lauri, & Derrick, Kate Flom. “ePortfolios: Collect, Select, Reflect.” Multimodal Composing: Strategies for Twenty-First-Century Writing Consultations, edited by Lindsay A. Sabatino and Brian Fallon, Utah State University Press, 2019, pp. 110–124.
Driscoll, Dana Lynn, and Sherry Wynn Perdue. “RAD Research as a Framework for Writing Center Inquiry: Survey and Interview Data on Writing Center Administrators’ Beliefs about Research and Research Practices.” Writing Center Journal, vol. 34, no. 1, pp. 105–133, jstor.org/stable/43444149.
Fishman, Teddi. “When It Isn’t Even on the Page: Peer Consulting in Multimedia Environments.” Multiliteracy Centers: Writing Center Work, New Media and Multimodal Rhetoric, edited by David M. Sheridan & James A. Inman, Hampton Press, 2010, pp. 59–73.
Geisler, Cheryl, and Jason Swarts. Coding Streams of Language. The WAC Clearinghouse; University Press of Colorado, 2019, doi.org/10.37514/PRA-B.2019.0230.
Lee, Sohui. “‘Multimodal Thinking’ and New Media Tutor Training Practices.” Praxis: A Writing Center Journal, vol. 9, no. 2, 2012, praxisuwc.com/baletser-et-al-92.
McGinnis, Mary F., and Jennifer P. Gray, “Multimodality and the Writing Center’s Role in Restoring Justice for ‘Bad Writers.’” The Peer Review, vol. 4, no. 2, 2020, thepeerreviewiwca.org/issues/issue-4-2/multimodality-andthe-writing-centers-role-in-restoring-justicefor-bad-writers/.
Watson, C. Edward, George D. Kuh, Terrel Rhodes, Tracy Penny Light, and Helen L. Chen. “Editorial: ePortfolios – The Eleventh High Impact Practice.” International Journal of ePortfolio, vol. 6, no. 20, 2016, pp. 65–69.
Yancey, Kathleen Blake, editor. ePortfolio as Curriculum: Models and Practices for Developing Students’ ePortfolio Literacy. Stylus, 2019.
Praxis: A Writing Center Journal • Vol. 22, No. 1 (2024) www.praxisuwc.com
REVIEW OF BEYOND PRODUCTIVITY: EMBODIED, SITUATED, AND (UN)BALANCED FACULTY WRITING PROCESSES
Jeff Fields McCormack East Texas A&M University jfmauthor@gmail.com
Kim Hensley Owens and Derek Van Ittersum, Editors. Beyond Productivity: Embodied, Situated, and (Un)Balanced Faculty Writing Processes. University Press of Colorado, 2023. 251 pages. In Beyond Productivity: Embodied, Situated, and (Un)Balanced Faculty Writing Processes, editors Kim Hensley Owens and Derek Van Ittersum showcase fourteen evocative “personal stories” (16) that address the draining demands of the antiquated “publish or perish” (61) mindset that permeates much of today’s academic landscape. Several of the book’s chapters question the applicability of this emphasis on publication in a post-pandemic world that has left countless scholars struggling to accept the daunting realization that there is “no normal to go back to” (25).
The attention to detail and overall accessibility of Beyond Productivity is nothing short of commendable. Owens and Ittersum unquestionably labored to ensure that the scholarship contained within this collection is both inviting and enjoyable for all readers. For example, in the table of contents, the title of each chapter is followed by the name of its respective author(s) and a brief list of single-word “tags” that summarize the themes of each chapter (vii-viii). These same tags can be found once more on the first page of each chapter. Such considerate additions allow readers and researchers alike to more efficiently locate the chapters that most align with their specific interests.
Beyond Productivity valiantly opposes the traditional reliance upon article publication as the premier metric for measuring an academician’s value as a member of the scholarly community. In the collection’s first chapter, “Situating Scholarly Writing Processes Across Life Contexts,” co-editors Kim Hensley Owens and Derek Van Ittersum boldly call for a foundational restructuring of academia itself. A successful reconstruction, Owens and Van Ittersum argue, would effectively advance the academic community “beyond productivity” (3) toward a more inclusive scholarly society that recognizes the “new demands” and “unstable conditions” of living in a postpandemic world wherein we are incessantly inundated with circumstances that are “wildly beyond our individual control” (6).
Research into post-pandemic society is an emerging avenue of academic investigation following
the widespread attempt to return to the norms of prepandemic life. The revelations provided by such uniquely personal scholarship as that found within Beyond Productivity are paramount to instigating and maintaining the healing processes many scholars find themselves currently navigating. Whether their work takes place online, in person, in a hybrid classroom environment, or in another academic space, new and established scholars alike will undoubtedly benefit from reading the heartfelt accounts that have been preserved within the pages of Beyond Productivity. Each chapter provides notable insights into contemporary academic experiences. However, when the collection’s narratives are considered together, the overarching themes of Beyond Productivity masterfully reaffirm the reality of the traumatic experiences that have plagued the last five years. This collection serves as a powerful reminder that we have all faced unparalleled pain and uncertainty during the period that Hannah J. Rule refers to as “long-2020” (56) in the opening paragraph of the book’s fourth chapter, “Process Not Progress (Or, Not-Progress is Process).” According to Rule, the “unrelenting global pandemic,” “public health disinformation,” wildfires, demands for police and voting rights reform, and more resulted in an overwhelming influx of news reports and constant concerns that only worsened our mounting fears (56). Rule states that the increasing emotional toll of these events made it “just plain hard to write” during the calamities and catastrophes that claimed headline after headline (67)–a sentiment that is readily shared by many of Beyond Productivity’s other contributors.
For example, in the book’s twelfth chapter, “The School Bus Never Came: How Crisis Shapes Writing Time,” co-authors Melissa Dinsman and Heather Robinson comment on the “daily competition for psychic space” and the exhausting “drain on our physical and emotional energies” that resulted from “writing and parenting in a crisis, often at the same time” (194). Throughout this chapter, Dinsman and Robinson consider the scholarly significance of productivity and its connection to “academic identity” (195). This connection between productivity and identity, Dinsman and Robinson argue, was challenged during the pandemic, when the co-authors found themselves “forced to find new ways to balance” their
“identities as parents, partners, academics, teachers, and writers” (195). This was further complicated by the need to discover ways of “managing writing in the pandemic,” a task that required the invention of “dayto-day pandemic routines” that simultaneously promoted academic productivity and reinforced the importance of maintaining psychological health in unquestionably uncertain times (195).
The personal accounts contained within Beyond Productivity also contribute a wealth of scholarship to disability studies–a field of academic research that has experienced a resounding renaissance after the era Rule refers to as “long-2020” (56). One such contribution can be found in the collection’s second chapter, “Sand Creeks and Productivity: A Writer’s Reckoning of Personal and Academic Selves.” In the subsection of this chapter titled, “Bodyless Writing Performances,” Ann N. Amicucci criticizes the academic practice of “leaving the personal off the page and, more specifically, keeping the writer’s multiple identities and embodied experience out of” their scholarship (28). Amicucci continues, stating that embodied writing “shows how the stories we tell and the arguments we make come through the lens of our embodied selves” (28).
Amicucci’s fierce defense of embodied writing reaches its peak a few lines later, wherein a riveting call to action is shared with readers. Here, Amicucci joins “the chorus of composition and rhetoric scholars calling for bodies to be present on the page” by demanding that members of the academic community actively embrace and elevate embodied writing practices as a means by which scholars can effectively “explore our views and experiences from and through the body, despite the risks this choice presents” (28-29).
Amicucci’s powerful prose is followed by Melanie Kill’s “Relearning to Write in Crip Time (On the Tenure Clock).” Near the chapter’s conclusion, Kill calls attention to “the considerable influence of bodies on writing” and displays a profound desire to “push back against ableist ideologies and policies that frame” scholars “with temporally marked, noticeable, and misfit bodies as unfit for academic work” (54). Kill ends the third chapter of Beyond Productivity by stating that the impatience of the academic community should be trained not upon one another, but instead upon the unethical “systems that dehumanize” its members and the “pace of structural change” (54).
In “When Writing Makes You Sick,” the fifth chapter of Beyond Productivity, Tim Laquintano’s commentary mirrors the sentiments present within the aforementioned chapters of Amicucci and Kill, respectively. Laquintano informs the audience that “writing is a physically grueling activity capable of
inducing poor health outcomes,” a fact that is too often forgotten when publications and presentations are valued over personal well-being (75). Much of the chapter’s scholarship comments upon the “physiological consequences of writing” (74). Ultimately, such conversations result in Laquintano’s “adamant” stance that “the glorification of unhealthy practices… in academia needs to stop” (76).
The contributions of Beyond Productivity to broader conversations about “health and wellness” are numerous (76). From calling into question academia’s unwavering adherence to a policy of “publish or perish” (61), to scrutinizing the undue stresses placed upon the “early career researcher” (28) by a system created to benefit the established academic at the expense of those thrust into the tense “pre-tenure probationary period” (46-47), to repeatedly questioning the status of postpandemic academia itself, Beyond Productivity forces the audience to consider not only the world as it is today, but as it could be tomorrow.
The deeply moving accounts contained within Beyond Productivity provide readers with a unique glimpse into academia during and immediately after one of the most tumultuous times in human history. The chapters of this collection offer a foundation upon which generations of researchers will construct their own analyses of the COVID-19 pandemic and its effective eradication of the normative practices of pre-2019 academia. From the collection’s first page to its last, Beyond Productivity simultaneously questions the demands of an antiquated academic system and serves as a haunting reminder that the present will never perfectly mirror that of the pre-COVID-19 world, no matter how strongly we yearn for such a reunion with our prepandemic past.
Praxis: A Writing Center Journal • Vol. 22, No. 1 (2024) www.praxisuwc.com
