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The writing studio as co-requisite remediation: a relational ethnography of academic discourse and social capital
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The writing studio as co-requisite remediation: a relational ethnography of academic discourse and social capital
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THE WRITING STUDIO AS CO-REQUISITE REMEDIATION: A RELATIONAL ETHNOGRAPHY OF ACADEMIC DISCOURSE AND SOCIAL CAPITAL by Michael Lanford A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (EDUCATION) August 2017 Copyright 2017 Michael Lanford i Table of Contents Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................................ iii Abstract ........................................................................................................................................... v List of Figures ................................................................................................................................ vi List of Tables ................................................................................................................................ vii Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................... 1 The Significance of Developmental Education in Higher Education Policy .............................. 1 The Emergence of Mainstreaming as a Reform Measure ........................................................... 2 Problem Statement ...................................................................................................................... 3 A Brief History of Developmental Education ............................................................................ 7 The Contemporary Debate Over Developmental Education .................................................... 10 Literature Review...................................................................................................................... 11 Organization of the Dissertation ............................................................................................... 34 Chapter 2: Theoretical Frameworks.............................................................................................. 37 Chapter Overview ..................................................................................................................... 37 Theories on Writing .................................................................................................................. 38 Social Capital Theory ............................................................................................................... 51 Chapter 3: Methodology ............................................................................................................... 59 Research Setting........................................................................................................................ 59 Research Design........................................................................................................................ 67 ii Research Process ....................................................................................................................... 71 Data Collection and Analysis.................................................................................................... 76 Chapter 4: The Writing Studio as Co-Requisite Remediation - A Chapter in Two Acts ............. 84 Chapter Overview ..................................................................................................................... 84 Act 1: Foundational Skills for First-Year Writing .................................................................... 85 Act 2: Scaffolding the Writing Process .................................................................................. 122 Chapter 5: Findings and Implications ......................................................................................... 157 The Disorienting Space of the First-Year Writing Classroom................................................ 157 A Study Synopsis .................................................................................................................... 160 Limitations .............................................................................................................................. 165 Findings................................................................................................................................... 171 Implications............................................................................................................................. 191 Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 201 References ................................................................................................................................... 203 Appendix A: Interview Questions for Students .......................................................................... 234 Appendix B: Interview Questions for Faculty ............................................................................ 236 Appendix C: Interview Questions for Academic Support Staff ................................................. 238 Appendix D: Observational Protocol Guidelines ....................................................................... 240 Appendix E: Information Sheet for Participants ......................................................................... 241 iii Acknowledgements Over the past four years, Bill Tierney has been an unending source of inspiration, a tireless proofreader, and a peerless advisor. When I first arrived at the University of Southern California in 2013, I never imagined the innumerable opportunities he would procure so that I could grow as a researcher and teacher. He has stimulated my imagination and pushed me to achieve much more than I thought possible. Through his example, I have come to understand what professionalism within a university setting truly means. I am also indebted to the other two members of my dissertation committee, Darnell Cole and Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo. Both individuals embody an infectious optimism and gentle spirit that has served as an inspiration for my work. This dissertation is much stronger as a result of their incisive feedback. The Pullias Center for Higher Education at the University of Southern California is a special environment, populated by that rare type of individual who is singularly committed, yet collegial. At various points, Julia Duncheon, Suneal Kolluri, Tattiya Maruco, Amanda Ochsner, Antar Tichavakunda, and James Ward each offered useful critiques on the literature review, theoretical framework, and methodology of this dissertation. Zoe Corwin was an important sounding board as I struggled to define the parameters of this study. Moreover, during my time at USC, Diane Flores, Monica Raad, and Laura Romero each worked magic to ensure that rooms were reserved, meetings were scheduled, forms were properly completed, and my lapses were smoothed over. My journey in the field of higher education research started years ago at the University of Hong Kong, and I am extremely fortunate to count Anatoly Oleksiyenko and Gerry Postiglione iv as valuable mentors and friends. Without their support, I would not have had the opportunity to study at USC. I look forward to seeing them at many academic conferences in the future. One of the lessons of this dissertation is that the activity of writing requires not only ceaseless revision, but critical feedback from multiple people. Throughout my life, several instructors altruistically gave their time and energy so that I could develop the academic writing skills necessary to produce a viable document of this length and breadth. David Haas at the University of Georgia was responsible for one of my first “lightbulb” writing moments, as he deconstructed my fledgling attempts at academic prose and helped me produce my first workable abstract. Todd Decker at Washington University in St. Louis further refined my writing by pushing me to be more concise and precise with language. At various points, Marietta Cheng, Patricia Faircloth, and Dorothea Link each impacted my life by sharing their writing expertise and/or giving me much-needed encouragement. I owe a tremendous debt to Ralph Zitterbart, whose compassion and selflessness enabled me to pursue a liberal arts education. Words cannot express the gratitude I have for the administrators, teachers, and staff at Orange State College, as well as the students who openly shared their day-to-day experiences. Although I cannot name each of them and specify their individual contributions to this dissertation, I treasure the relationships we cultivated over the past year. The Doan family - Alex, Hung, Ian, and Marissa - supported me in ways too numerous to list here. I thank them deeply for their patience and encouragement. My dear friend Sarah Gregory Morgan has always kept me grounded. Lastly, my parents, Ernest and Sandra, have been pillars of support for my entire life, even when I changed career paths or embarked on new adventures around the world. Through their example, I developed a passion for research and an appreciation for the constructive role higher education can play in human development. v Abstract In recent years, a growing number of researchers and policymakers have advocated for the elimination of developmental coursework in favor of “mainstreaming,” an educational treatment in which remedial students enroll directly into credit-bearing, college-level classes. This dissertation details a nine-month ethnographic study of writing studios as co-requisite remediation at a Florida state college where mainstreaming was mandated by state policy. The ethnographic approach of the dissertation is informed by Desmond’s (2014) concept of relational ethnography, where a comprehensive field, processes, and cultural conflicts are each explored in lieu of a single site or a unified culture. The goals of this dissertation are threefold: 1) to clarify the challenges students face in first-year writing; 2) to explore the impact of writing studios as sites of social capital; and 3) to deepen our theoretical understanding of how mainstreaming functions with regards to student development. Semi-structured interviews (n=90) were conducted with students, studio facilitators, writing instructors, administrators, and academic support staff. Additionally, observations of writing studios and first-year writing classes were conducted throughout the academic year, along with 21 focus groups consisting of 183 students. This study finds that students lack four foundational skills necessary for success in first-year undergraduate writing classes: 1) conducting research; 2) engaging with source materials; 3) organization and paper length; and 4) digital literacy. Three aspects of the writing process also present challenges for first-year students: 1) understanding the assignment and conceptualizing a response; 2) meeting deadlines; and 3) interpreting feedback and revising. From a social capital perspective, both the bounded solidary and the information potential of the writing studio ameliorate these deficiencies. Writing studios also enable networking opportunities for students, facilitate institutional feedback channels, and provide support for students’ non-cognitive needs. vi List of Figures Figure 1: Syllabus for the Writing Studio at Orange State College ...............................................63 Figure 2: Advising Grid for Student Placement in Writing at Orange State College ....................64 vii List of Tables Table 1: Student Enrollment at Orange State College, Fall 2014 to Spring 2016 .........................66 Table 2: Student Success Rates at Orange State College, Fall 2014 to Spring 2016 ....................67 Table 3: Timeframe for Research Study ........................................................................................77 Table 4: Roster of Student Participants .........................................................................................80 Table 5: Roster of Studio Facilitators ............................................................................................81 Table 6: Roster of Instructors ........................................................................................................81 Table 7: Comparison of High School and College Foundational Writing Skills ........................173 Table 8: Comparison of High School and College Writing Processes ........................................178 Chapter 1: Introduction The Significance of Developmental Education in Higher Education Policy Developmental education - also known as “remedial education” or “basic skills education” - refers to a segment of the U.S. higher education sector that equips underprepared students with the skills necessary for college-level coursework. Most developmental classes do not provide college-level credit, and instruction is generally offered in one of three distinct areas: English language writing, English language reading, or mathematics. Each year, between 40% and 50% of the students in the United States entering two-year colleges, as well as 20% of those entering four-year institutions, enroll in developmental coursework (Aud et al., 2011; Complete College America, 2012). The delivery of developmental education varies considerably between these institutions. Many two-year institutions and regional universities offer a substantial number of developmental classes each semester to accommodate the varied schedules of their diverse student populations. Meanwhile, many research universities and liberal arts colleges consolidate developmental skills through summer bridge programs so that incoming first-year students with perceived deficiencies can ostensibly enter at a similar level to their peers (Goldrick-Rab, 2007; Rutschow & Schneider, 2011; Sablan, 2014). Over the past ten years, developmental education has received increased scrutiny from policymakers and researchers focused on improving degree completion rates in American colleges and universities. The attainment of an undergraduate bachelor’s degree is preferable, but even attending community college is correlated with significant private earning gains over the course of a lifetime (Belfield & Bailey, 2011). Thus, higher education remains a crucial social elevator in the face of increased income inequality since the mid-1970’s (Piketty, 2014). Not everyone will need a bachelor’s degree, but the United States, like many other nations, 2 theoretically needs more postsecondary graduates with a diverse range of credentials, including certificates and shortened postsecondary degrees. According to Carnevale, Smith, and Strohl (2010), 63% of all jobs in the United States by 2018 will require at least some postsecondary education. The Lumina Foundation (2014) has arrived at similar conclusions, estimating that, by 2025, 60% of U.S. citizens will need a postsecondary degree to be competitive in the job market. These appraisals have been influential on national educational policy. For example, U.S. President Barack Obama has set targets for each state to have 60% of their populations holding postsecondary degrees by the end of the decade (U.S. Department of Education, 2011). As of 2011, however, only 27.9% of the U.S. population aged 25 years and above held a bachelor’s degree or higher (Ogunwole, Drewery, & Rios-Vargas, 2012). Therefore, from a national policy perspective, research that contributes to our understanding of developmental education is vital. The Emergence of Mainstreaming as a Reform Measure As I will demonstrate in the forthcoming literature review, the most popular line of inquiry has involved quantitative studies of student outcomes in developmental math. Utilizing state and national datasets, this body of research has consistently called into question the effectiveness of developmental education (Bailey, Jaggars, & Scott-Clayton, 2013). In recent years, a growing number of researchers have also advocated for the elimination of developmental coursework in favor of “mainstreaming,” an educational treatment in which students enroll directly into credit-bearing, college-level classes while receiving academic support, usually in the form of co-requisite coursework, modularization, or contextualization. 1 Even though many states, such as Florida and Tennessee, have adopted mainstreaming as a comprehensive reform measure (Bailey & Jaggars, 2016), the effectiveness of mainstreaming 1 These different approaches will be further discussed in the Chapter 1 “Literature Review” and the Chapter 3 “Research Setting” sections. 3 remains a subject of considerable debate among researchers. Research on mainstreaming that indicates a positive effect on student outcomes is often based on murky theoretical justifications. This is perhaps due to the prevailing focus on math outcomes. In such studies, researchers have implicitly presumed that learning is solely a cognitive process. Hence, when explaining their findings, researchers have consistently speculated that mainstreaming improves individual student motivation. According to this theoretical line of reasoning, a motivated student who is able to avoid non-credit-bearing classes will cognitively develop academic skills more rapidly and demonstrate measurable improvement (Hodara & Xu, 2016; Logue, Watanabe-Rose, & Douglas, 2016). Problem Statement For a study of how mainstreaming impacts developmental writing, however, theories involving cognition and student motivation may not adequately explain student development and success. As I will discuss more fully in the theoretical framework chapter, I contend that writing is not simply a cognitive process; it is also a sociocultural process, deeply informed by a writer’s initiation and continued exposure to identifiable discourse communities. When mainstreaming is implemented for writing coursework, the forms of academic support generally take on a different character from that of math. Students are encouraged, if not compelled, to schedule one-on-one tutoring sessions, attend seminars that focus on the conventions of academic writing, and share writing samples during peer review conferences. Each of these social activities are generally located in - and organized by - the college or university writing center. As such, college writing centers can be viewed as important sites of academic support for introducing students to the conventions of academic discourse. In this study, I focus on one writing center initiative: the 4 writing studio. Writing studios are a form of co-requisite remediation that meet once a week, are led by a studio facilitator, and enroll between four to twelve students. I contend that writing studios can be viewed as locations where vital resources are held and disseminated. For this reason, social capital theory can offer a useful lens for interrogating the resources that are provided by academic support services. A resource may be defined as any symbolic or material good that is beneficial to an individual (Lin, 1999, 2001; Small, 2006). These resources may include information, a service, or a tangible item of some value (Bourdieu, 1986; Coleman, 1988; Portes, 1998). Research Purpose Therefore, the purpose of this dissertation is to explore the impact of writing studios as sites of social capital for mainstreamed first-year writing classes. As part of the analysis, three types of relationships will be examined: 1) the relationships between writing studio facilitators and students; 2) the relationships between writing studio facilitators and first-year writing instructors; and 3) the relationships formed among students who regularly work in the writing center and utilize writing center resources. Aligned with the activities of data collection and data analysis, this dissertation is motivated by three primary goals. The first goal is to offer greater clarity about the challenges that students face in first-year writing coursework. To explore these challenges, I employ sociocultural theories on writing, focusing on a writer’s initiation and continued exposure to identifiable discourse communities. Although one could identify numerous discourse communities for the purposes of comparison, I focus on the differences between two specific academic discourse communities: high school writing classes and first-year college writing classes. 5 The second goal is to deepen our understanding of how writing studios, as sites where social capital is potentially held and conferred, impact first-year student development at the college level. Two forms of social capital are explored in this study: the “bounded solidarity” and “information potential” of the writing studio as a form of remediation. The third goal is to deepen our theoretical understanding of how both mainstreaming and co-requisite remediation function with regards to writing, student development, and persistence. Research from the proposed dissertation will also address two substantive gaps in our knowledge about developmental education and college-level writing. First, we have little firsthand knowledge about student perspectives on developmental education, the resources that are essential for student success in mainstreamed classes, or the instructional practices that students find most helpful. Ethnography is a valuable research method for uncovering in-depth, firsthand knowledge (O’Reilly, 2005). Although ethnographies of faculty life at community colleges have been published (Burton, 2007; Weis, 1985), virtually no ethnographies have focused specifically on students or, for that matter, the support systems that provide remediation at the college level. Second, the majority of research on outcomes in developmental education has focused on mathematics, not writing. As argued by Perin (2013), the relatively small body of research on developmental writing that does exist lacks rigor, is not related to current reading and writing theory, and has limited transferability due to small sample sizes and/or methodological flaws. Moreover, both the research and the theoretical perspectives that have achieved canonical status in the field of rhetoric and composition studies have generally not informed higher education policy (Relles & Tierney, 2013a). Like many aspects of faculty instruction in developmental 6 education, the topic of remedial writing is largely a black box that is worthy of concentrated attention. Research Questions For these reasons, I undertook a nine-month ethnographic study of writing studios and first-year writing classes at a single higher education institution. The institutional setting was a four-year Florida state college where mainstreaming was mandated by state policy in 2013, yet internal institutional data reveals that approximately 25% of enrolled students in 2014 were assessed as needing remediation. The nature of my ethnographic work was informed by Desmond’s (2014) concept of relational ethnography. At least three implications result from such a perspective. First, the researcher considers the comprehensive field of study, rather than a single site. Although much of this study’s focus is concerns the writing studio model, pertinent experiences that shape the perspectives of the study’s participants occur in spaces outside of the writing studio, as well as the institution under study. Hence, I document broader interactions that occur both in physical space (e.g., beyond the college campus) and virtual space (e.g., through discussion boards and emails). Second, the researcher focuses attention on processes that inform the daily lives of students and impact student development in an effort to better understand the factors that may affect student completion of coursework. Third, the researcher studies cultural conflict in lieu of an emphasis on group culture. Rather than viewing the individuals involved with developmental education as being indicative of a solitary, homogenous culture, I perceive the environment surrounding college writing classes as embodying “bundles of communications, relations, and transactions” (Emirbayer, 1997, p. 300). Through such a prism, these bundles become valuable data for understanding the difficulties faced by students in college writing. 7 Three sets of research questions anchor this study: • What forms of discourse are familiar to students? How do students become acclimated to the challenges of academic discourse? • What are the specific resources that help students overcome deficiencies and achieve success in mainstreamed writing classes? • What types of relationships are formed among mainstreamed students and academic staff? How does the resulting social capital - accessible through these relationships - help or not help students? By chronicling the basic values and assumptions about academic discourse that instructors emphasize through their classes, I offer greater clarity about the challenges students face in first-year writing coursework. By the depicting the relationships that students cultivate during the study’s nine-month time frame, I shed light on the social environment that enables mainstreamed students to ameliorate perceived deficiencies in their writing. Finally, by identifying the resources that students utilize and find most helpful, I provide actionable information about academic support systems and pedagogical approaches that may be transferable to other educational contexts. In general, I also offer greater depth, through firsthand testimony, about the effects of mainstreaming on writing instructors, academic support staff, and students. A Brief History of Developmental Education Before the commencement of the literature review, a brief history affords context for the evolution of developmental coursework as a fixture of American higher education and as a research area. Although developmental education is often viewed as a recent phenomenon in higher education, American colleges and universities have provided various forms of 8 “remediation” throughout their history. Upon the founding of Harvard College in 1636, faculty expressed considerable dismay about “the need for remediation” in Latin studies for students who wished to study for the clergy (Boylan & White, 1987, p. 4). Shortly after the University of Wisconsin’s first day of classes in 1849, a college preparatory program was established because individual tutoring was not adequately serving the needs of newly-admitted students (Brier, 1984). As many as 290 of the 311 enrolled university students took one or more of the college preparatory program’s remedial classes in math, reading, and writing (Brubacher & Rudy, 1976). Even though the program eventually became a casualty of university politics in 1880, other institutions found it necessary to inaugurate preparatory programs of their own. As early as 1870, a variety of municipal colleges (e.g., City College of New York) and land grant institutions (e.g., Rutgers University) offered pre-college coursework in an effort to improve dismal enrollment and retention figures. In a few select subjects, like writing, instruction was stretched over the span of multiple years, rather than condensed within a single semester, so that students could meet the faculty’s established college-level standards (Soliday, 2002). Wellesley College is frequently credited with expanding the purview of developmental education in 1894 by designing a class to improve students’ study habits and organizational abilities, thereby hoping to “remedy academic deficiencies” (Cross, 1976; Lunsford, 1987, p. 248). Soon afterward, in 1899, Harvard University responded to criticisms by business leaders that students had “not learned to write” (Russell, 2002, p. 6) by eliminating upper-level composition and explicitly establishing three remedial classes in writing. These remedial sections were specifically reserved for students who faced difficulties in “English A” during their first semester of enrollment (p. 56). During the first decades of the twentieth century, a significant proportion of American colleges and universities followed the example of Wellesley 9 and Harvard, providing reading and learning skills classes on a non-credit basis to students who exhibited academic deficiencies through substandard test scores, high school transcripts, or previous college-level work (Kulik, Kulik, & Shwalb, 1983). After World War II, the swift expansion of American higher education compelled colleges and universities to systematically develop support services that could effectively serve their increasingly-diverse student populations (Gumport, Iannozzi, Shaman, & Zemsky, 1997). The establishment of developmental education programs that not only provided coursework in basic math, English, and reading skills, but also delivered tutoring and academic advising to first-generation students, became one important legacy of massification. By the 1960’s and 1970’s, developmental classes were formalized as an essential part of institutional curricula, particularly at community colleges and other open-access institutions (Roueche & Snow, 1977). To this day, community colleges deliver the majority of developmental education classes, although institutions across the spectrum of Carnegie classifications have a vested interest in empowering underprepared students to succeed with college-level coursework. Despite the continued presence of developmental coursework in higher education, research on the topic was negligible until the past thirty-six years. During the 1970’s, organizations such as the National Association for Developmental Education (founded by professors from Chicago State University and Northern Illinois University) and the National Center for Developmental Education (housed at Appalachian State University) were formed to support research and establish best practices for the instruction and support of developmental education (Boylan, 2002; McCabe & Day, 1998). As a result of this focus on “best practices,” many early (and some recent) articles involved case studies of “exemplary institutions” that purportedly achieved success through the implementation and tweaking of a few select program 10 components. In these papers, descriptive statistics and narratives of “student success” were regularly employed as proof of a given program’s accomplishments. The Contemporary Debate Over Developmental Education These studies would later be subject to criticism as researchers increasingly recognized the difficulties inherent in the wholesale transfer of a given “best practice” between culturally- different institutions. Hence, a number of researchers have called for increased methodological rigor by encouraging longitudinal studies, randomized controlled trials, mixed-methods studies, and the use of national datasets (Attewell, Lavin, Domina, & Levey, 2006; Levin & Calcagno, 2008). As described in the opening of this dissertation, a postsecondary credential has become important for competitiveness in today’s job market. Nevertheless, research studies repeatedly demonstrate that students who enroll in developmental classes are less likely to complete a degree or a credential than students who initially enroll in credit-bearing college coursework (Bailey, Jenkins, & Leibach, 2005; Clotfelter, Ladd, Muschkin, & Vigdor, 2015). Furthermore, recent estimates concerning the annual costs of developmental education vary from $3 billion (Complete College America, 2012) to $7 billion (Scott-Clayton, Crosta, & Belfield, 2012). Therefore, contemporary critics contend that developmental education not only fails to equip students with the skills that are necessary for college-level coursework, but it is far too expensive. In their view, the aforementioned student outcomes and costs are untenable, particularly since higher education budgets across the country are already stressed due to decreased levels of funding by state governments (Oliff, Palacios, Johnson, & Leachman, 2013). Some critics presently argue that if developmental education presents one of the greatest hurdles to degree completion, then it should either be reformed or eliminated altogether (Complete College America, 2012). Indeed, over a dozen states have moved to eliminate funding at four- 11 year institutions for developmental education, relegating students who demonstrate a need for remediation to community colleges (Clotfelter, Ladd, Muschkin, & Vigdor, 2015). Advocates for developmental education counter that developmental education is important for social equity in higher education, ensuring access to millions of students who might not otherwise have a clear path to a postsecondary credential (Bettinger, Boatman, & Long 2013). They further contend that the social and economic consequences of disenfranchising such a sizeable proportion of postsecondary students would outstrip the efficiencies gained by the wholesale elimination of developmental education (Merisotis & Phipps, 2000; Phipps, 1998). While acknowledging the difficulties that students face in completing developmental coursework, advocates also point out that developmental education has not been shown to have a causal negative effect on student retention or completion (Bettinger & Long, 2005; Calcagno & Long, 2008; Moss & Yeaton, 2006). In fact, students in developmental education may be more likely to persist than similar students who are able to circumvent developmental coursework (Bettinger & Long, 2009). Moreover, the students who typically enroll in developmental education are demographically different from their peers in credit-bearing classes. They are more likely to have attended an urban high school, more likely to self-identify as part of a minority group, and more frequently fit the criteria of a “non-traditional” student in terms of age and previous educational experiences (Attewell, Lavin, Domina, & Levey, 2006; McCabe 2000). Literature Review In this literature review, I appraise four bodies of research on developmental education that situate this dissertation. The first body of research involves efficiency and student outcomes, an area of inquiry that has been particularly influential on contemporary discourse concerning developmental education. Before 2000, only two high-profile articles raised 12 questions about the effectiveness of developmental education. Since 2000, however, a number of research studies, primarily using quasi-experimental quantitative models to probe state and national datasets, have endeavored to offer clarity concerning the effectiveness and efficiency of developmental education. These studies have produced mixed results. The findings from these studies on efficiency and student outcomes are separated into two distinct sections: 1) findings in favor of developmental education and 2) criticisms of developmental education. The second body of research summarizes findings about three educational treatments commonly associated with student success in developmental education: a) advising and monitoring; b) supplemental instruction; and c) mainstreaming. Mainstreaming, in particular, is currently being promoted as a mechanism to reform perceived deficiencies in the student outcomes and efficiency of developmental education. This proposed research study is situated in an institutional environment that has implemented the treatment of mainstreaming, in conjunction with purposeful advising and supplemental instruction through writing studios, to reform developmental education. Hence, the combination of these bodies of literature is essential for a full contextual understanding of this study’s research questions and the intended research design. The third and fourth bodies of research are shorter than the previous two, as they have received less attention from researchers. These third and fourth research areas involve the following: 1) faculty and instruction and 2) testing and placement. The review of literature on faculty and instruction focuses on the topics of online learning and the pedagogical training of faculty for developmental and first-year education. The literature on testing and placement will cover three topics: a) the impact of high-stakes assessments on student placement; b) students’ understanding of college placement exams; and c) critical perspectives that argue for more 13 holistic forms of assessment. Although this study’s research questions did not purposefully interrogate faculty and instruction or testing and placement, the methodological approach of relational ethnography - with its emphasis on field comprehensiveness, processes, and cultural conflict - revealed the importance of these topics in providing a contextual understanding of student challenges in first-year writing. Hence, the sections in Chapter 5 pertaining to this study’s findings and implications will return to these two bodies of literature. Efficiency and Student Outcomes A. Findings in favor of developmental education. The earliest large-scale quantitative study on student outcomes in developmental education was based on a sample of 852 students from the National Center on Postsecondary Learning and Assessment. Employing a multiple regression approach, Hagedorn et al. (1999) found that students in developmental math were less likely to come from families with high income levels or high educational achievement, receive encouragement to attend college, or study collaboratively in college. While Hagedorn et al.’s findings were not exceptionally surprising to people who were teaching developmental education classes or had been studying the sector for some time (Boylan & Trawick, 2015), they did provide ammunition to those who argue that institutional programs cannot overcome environmental factors that prevent student achievement. For their part, Hagedorn et al. (1999) maintained that new policy was necessary to upgrade instruction and help students in low socioeconomic sections of the country. Their work has also been influential in encouraging subsequent quantitative research on student outcomes in developmental math - a subject that is ostensibly easier to study from a quantitative perspective than writing. 14 In a series of published articles, Bettinger and Long (2004, 2005, 2009) followed Hagedorn et al.’s research by interrogating other data sets. From a sample of approximately 8,000 first-year college students in Ohio, Bettinger and Long (2004) discovered that placement in math remediation increases the possibility that a student will drop out or transfer to a less- selective institution. Those students who persist through developmental coursework generally complete their degree or credential at rates similar to those who are not remediated. However, students who were in developmental education are more likely to take longer to finish their intended degree. A follow-up study in 2005 by Bettinger and Long that incorporated developmental English had similar results. Nevertheless, Bettinger and Long were careful to point out that developmental coursework did not seem to have a negative effect on students who shared similar academic backgrounds and levels of preparedness with students in credit-bearing coursework. To test this latter observation, Bettinger and Long (2009) conducted a larger quantitative study of more than 28,000 students using an instrumental variables strategy that attempted to account for variations in institutional placement policies. Tracking their sample over six years, Bettinger and Long established that students who enrolled in developmental education were more likely to persist in college, less likely to transfer, and more likely to compete a four-year degree than their peers with similar test scores and academic backgrounds who passed out of developmental coursework. Other quantitative studies of developmental math (Waycaster, 2001) and developmental English programs (Moss & Yeaton, 2006) from the time period confirmed Bettinger and Long’s findings. In a quantitative study examining 167,982 first-year students in California, Bahr (2010) revealed that developmental education could be “highly efficacious” (p. 199) in 15 remediating moderate to severe skill deficiencies and helping such students achieve two-year credentials or transfer to four-year institutions. Two exceptions were noted in Bahr’s study, however. First, students needing developmental reading classes were less likely than their colleagues in credit-bearing classes to complete a credential. Second, students who successfully complete the developmental math sequence were less likely to attain a vocational credential at the associate’s level. To probe the efficiency of developmental education in greater detail, Melguizo, Hagedorn, and Cypers (2008) attempted to estimate the monetary costs of developmental education for individuals who wished to transfer to a four-year institution. Examining a sample of 5,011 students from the Los Angeles Community College District, Melguizo, Hagedorn, and Cypers found that students in developmental education not only paid, on average, approximately $3,000 more than students who started with college-level classes, they also enrolled in more than 40 additional credits. The researchers also found that community colleges “yield significant financial advantages for many students” (p. 426) who pass their classes and complete degrees in a timely fashion. While conceding that community colleges cannot be expected to ameliorate deficiencies in a limited time frame, Melguizo, Hagedorn, and Cypers also called on institutions to devise new long-term strategies to help students avoid the temporal and financial penalties associated with remediation. B. Criticisms of developmental education. The first high-profile criticism of developmental education can be traced to an article published by the American Journal of Education in 1994. In the AJE article, Grubb and Kalman reviewed statistics from various developmental education programs (e.g., Miami-Dade Community College), the financial allocations targeted at developmental education in different 16 states (e.g., California), and the pedagogical approaches typically utilized by instructors. Labelling developmental education a “systematic failure,” they presented four conclusions that would resonate in developmental scholarship for the next twenty years: 1) students were referred to developmental coursework in an arbitrary fashion; 2) once enrolled, students were not provided satisfactory guidance or monitoring; 3) most instruction, based on a “skills and drills” approach, was inadequately matched to the needs of the target student population; and 4) the effectiveness of developmental education, as a whole, was insufficient to meet the future demands of the American workforce. Since 2005, a growing number of studies - largely produced by researchers affiliated with the Community College Research Center (CCRC) at Columbia University - have cast additional doubt about the purported efficiency of developmental education and its net positive influence on student outcomes. Thomas Bailey has been particularly active in questioning the effectiveness of developmental programs, arguing that existing research is far too dependent on single-site studies, non-random comparisons of different groups of students, and is subject to questionable quality-control. Moreover, Bailey and his colleagues have asserted that what constitutes college readiness is unclear, assessments are inconsistently deployed between institutions, and educational reforms to the sector are necessary (Bailey, 2009; Bailey & Alfonso, 2005; Bailey & Cho, 2010; Bailey, Jaggars, & Scott-Clayton, 2013; Belfield & Bailey, 2011). Using a regression discontinuity design that attempted to capture similarly-achieving groups of students from developmental and non-developmental cohorts in Florida (n≈100,000), Calcagno and Long (2008) claimed that math and reading developmental classes confer mixed rewards. Students in such classes may demonstrate increased persistence during their early coursework; however, they did not continue their persistence after the second year, nor did they 17 complete degrees in higher numbers. Martorell and McFarlin (2011) utilized a similar regression discontinuity design to study the implementation of developmental education in Texas. Like Calcagno and Long, they determined that developmental education had no discernable positive effect on students’ abilities to pass college-level math, complete a postsecondary credential, or transfer to a four-year college. Additional CCRC research has complemented these initial studies questioning the effectiveness of developmental education and its efficiency as a method to help students complete their postsecondary educations. For example, a study of 57 “Achieving the Dream” community colleges with 256,672 first-time credential-seeking students indicates less than half of the students referred to developmental education ultimately complete the developmental course sequence (Bailey, Jeong, & Cho, 2010). Intriguingly, it was also discovered that approximately 30% of the students who were advised to register for developmental coursework never enrolled, and only around 60% of the students in the developmental course to which they were referred (Bailey, Jeong, & Cho, 2010). Such results mirror findings by Roksa et al. (2009), who discovered during an analysis of the Virginia Community College System that a mere 50% to 60% of the students referred to developmental education ultimately enrolled in their recommended classes. In 2012, Scott-Clayton and Rodriguez reported that data on approximately 100,000 students in an undisclosed urban community college system reveals no discernable benefits in terms of retention or degree completion for students enrolled in developmental education. As described by the authors, “our results most closely fit the ‘diversion’ model of remediation. The primary, most consistent pattern of effects we find relate to the specific courses that students take 18 while they are enrolled: instead of taking college-level courses in the relevant subject, students take remedial courses” (p. 28). Independent studies of student outcomes in developmental education have also raised questions about effectiveness and efficiency. Like Bettinger and Long (2009), Clotfelter, Ladd, Muschkin, and Vigdor (2015) tracked cohorts of students over multiple years. The analytic sample, drawn from administrative data on North Carolina high schools, colleges, and universities, involved more than 17,000 students. The conclusion of Clotfelter and colleagues is similar to that of Scott-Clayton and Rodriguez; since students in their sample did not achieve higher results in college-level coursework or attain college degrees at a higher rate, Clotfelter and colleagues view the main effect of developmental education as “diversionary.” Crisp and Delgado (2014) used data on 23,090 students from the Beginning Postsecondary Students Longitudinal Study to determine that developmental education did not impact student persistence. They also found that developmental students were less likely to transfer to a four- year institution. Summarizing a growing attitude amongst many researchers and policymakers, Crisp and Delgado state that combination of these findings “call into question whether the enormous costs to students, community colleges, and states are justifiable” (p. 113). It is important to note that none of the researchers involved in the CCRC studies or other recent critiques have called for the elimination of developmental education. Indeed, they have stated in no uncertain terms that developmental education should be reformed, not discarded: Our research does conclude that the current system of developmental education does not work very well for many students, we do not advocate - nor do we believe that the results of our research support - the elimination of developmental education, the placing of all 19 students into college courses, or the wholesale conversion of developmental education into a co-requisite mode (Bailey, Jaggars, & Scott-Clayton, 2013, p. 2). Rather, CCRC researchers state that their research provides considerable evidence that the pedagogical strategies, methods of academic support, and structural components associated with developmental education are due for reevaluation and continued experimentation. Despite these entreaties, several nonprofit organizations with an interest in education (e.g., Complete College America, the Education Commission of the States, and Jobs for the Future) have almost exclusively used CCRC research to bolster their position that either mainstreaming, as a minimal reform measure, or the complete elimination of developmental education, as a preferred reform measure, is necessary to improve educational outcomes and workforce-related goals (Barry & Dennenberg, 2016; Zachry, 2008). Complete College America (2011, 2012, 2013, 2015, 2016) has been especially polemical in its criticism of developmental education, publishing annual reports over the past five years with titles like “Time Is the Enemy” and “Remediation: Higher Education’s Bridge to Nowhere.” The Lumina Foundation has also disseminated reports that are critical of developmental education and encourage drastic reform measures (Bailey & Alfonso, 2005; Lumina Foundation, 2009). Although Lumina’s tone is measured in comparison with the aforementioned interest groups, their efforts have been remarkably successful, as several states - including Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Minnesota, Tennessee, and West Virginia - have enacted sweeping reforms of their developmental education programs at both the community college and four-year institutional levels (Smith, 2015). Frequently, each of these groups advocate for the elimination of developmental coursework in conjunction with the adoption of performance-based funding, caps on degree credit 20 requirements, guided pathways that prohibit student electives, and other efficiency measures that can purportedly improve student outcomes while saving state and federal money. Educational Treatments A. Advising and monitoring. Of the three educational treatments covered in this literature review, advising and monitoring received the earliest scholarly attention. Hunter Boylan, a professor of higher education at Appalachian State University who was one of the first published researchers on the topic of developmental education, set the stage for research on advising and monitoring by emphasizing the importance of academic intervention in developmental programs. His theory of intervention - constructed from case studies of individual institutions and questionnaires sent to 160 institutions - argues that student orientations to the institution, consistent monitoring of student progress, and periodic audits are essential for the successful implementation of a developmental education program (Boylan, 1980, 2009; Boylan, Bliss, & Bonham, 1997). From Boylan’s perspective, the most disorienting aspects of higher education for developmental students involve the “academic bureaucracy.” By developing student profiles, ensuring that students regularly met with advisors, and delivering targeted interventions, institutions can theoretically help students navigate this bureaucracy until they gain a better understanding of how their classes match their career goals and they develop a greater sense of self confidence. Through a quantitative study of 7,466 students at a Midwestern community college, Derby and Smith (2004) indeed found that orientation programs can improve student retention and completion rates. Subsequent studies have backed Boylan’s assumption that students in developmental education, in particular, and community colleges, in general, lack important information about their curricula and degree programs. A qualitative study of developmental 21 education at two community colleges, consisting of 184 semi-structured interviews with staff and students, as well as surveys completed by 804 students, found that student information about their coursework and intended degrees was disquietingly low (Deil-Amen & Rosenbaum, 2002). Of greatest concern was the fact that students were unclear as to whether or not their developmental classes were credit-bearing. Arguing that the term “developmental” is simply a euphemism for “remedial,” Deil-Amen and Rosenbaum concluded that the avoidance of stigmas, however well-intended, can cause students to be over-optimistic about their career goals and their ability to persist. A second large-scale, qualitative study of approximately 100 students and 100 administrators spread over seven community colleges found that students in vocationally- oriented programs, where advising is mandatory and class choices are limited, were not only more likely to graduate, but they were also more confident about the likelihood of completing their intended credentials (Person, Rosenbaum, & Deil-Amen, 2006). This finding has been replicated by other researchers. For example, while testing Burton Clark’s (1960, 1980) “cooling out” theory using a quantitative sample of 202,484 California community college students, Bahr (2008) discovered that advising was more beneficial for students enrolled in developmental coursework than for other students enrolled in credit-bearing classes. Other researchers have raised questions about Boylan’s theory, however, noting that our knowledge about the effectiveness of advising and counseling services is still rather limited. In 2001, Grubb observed that there are many conceptual strategies for student advising, and the mere presence of advising and counseling services does not ensure that students will receive useful or actionable advice. Resources can vary considerably from college to college, and many institutions are becoming increasingly decentralized as both undergraduate coursework and 22 advising are delivered through online formats. Unfortunately, while advising and monitoring seem to be important strategies for improving developmental education, much is still unclear about the level of their impact, the most useful strategies for advising developmental students, or the overall feasibility of Boylan’s intervention theory. Since 2010, scholarship on advising and monitoring in developmental education has been largely dormant as researchers have invested their time in other topics, as I will describe further. B. Supplemental instruction and tutoring. Another area of inquiry that received considerable attention from researchers from the 1980’s to the 2000’s, yet has curtailed in recent years, concerns supplemental instruction and tutoring. Early studies indicated that peer tutoring, in particular, could be effective in helping developmental students stay focused on assignments for longer periods of time and persist at higher levels through their coursework (Hock, Deshler, & Schumaker, 1999; Maxwell, 1990; Topping, 1996). Much of the literature on peer tutoring, however, has been dependent upon subjective feedback from students (Levine, 1990). One prominent exception is a study of 136 first-year writing composition students who were separated into three district groups: one section wrote in an interactive fashion and produced a collaborative assignment; one section wrote independently but provided peer feedback; and a third section of students wrote independently and did not share their work (Louth, McAllister & McAllister, 1993). The independent group scored higher than the other two groups during a pre-test, yet they did not exhibit improvement in the post-test. Students from the other two groups who were involved in peer feedback and collaboration not only had improved attitudes towards writing, but demonstrated measurable improvement. 23 Related to tutoring is the concept of supplemental instruction (SI). Originally developed at the University of Missouri-Kansas City in the 1970’s (Bowles, McCoy, & Bates, 2008), supplemental instruction is an academic assistance program that obliges students to attend regular informal review sessions. During these sessions, students share notes, debate readings, and help each other with assignments. A four-year longitudinal study of supplemental instruction at California State University, Long Beach showed that “at-risk students” who were in danger of failing and developmental students were the greatest beneficiaries of the university’s SI program. Retention rates were especially striking; for non-SI users, the retention rate was 51%, whereas the retention rate for participants in the SI program was 70% (Ramirez, 1997). Other quantitative studies of supplemental instruction programs indicate that participation can improve course performance (Ogden, Thompson, Russell, & Simons, 2003), self-esteem (Hodges & White, 2001), overall satisfaction with the college experience (Zhao & Kuh, 2004), and the probability of timely graduation (Bowles, McCoy, & Bates, 2008). At the same time, many students need considerable prompting to attend supplemental instruction meetings (Hodges & White, 2001), and the long-term impact of supplemental instruction on student performance remains uncertain (Odgen, Thompson, Russell, & Simons, 2003). Other caveats concerning peer tutoring and other forms of supplemental instruction are worth mentioning. The quality of peer tutoring can be highly variable, and the process of training students to serve as tutors can consume valuable institutional resources. Also, none of the available studies indicate the degree to which students became independent learners after their supplemental instruction (Barnett & Ceci, 2002). Furthermore, an impressively-large (n≈7,000) independent randomized trial of supplemental instruction learning communities at six community colleges showed a small positive effect on credit accumulation and no discernable 24 effect on persistence (Weiss, Visher, Weissman, & Wathington, 2015). Based on these results, it is reasonable to infer that careful planning is essential if any peer tutoring or supplemental instruction program is to have a particularly strong positive impact on student outcomes (Tinto, 1997). Institutions interested in developing any tutoring or supplemental instruction program also need to ensure long-term “buy-in” from administrators, carefully consider the precise needs of their students, and adapt the program to the specific abilities and strengths of their instructional staff (Schwartz & Jenkins, 2007). C. Mainstreaming as a reform policy. As mentioned previously, the most popular method of reforming developmental education is through “mainstreaming,” 2 in which students enroll directly into credit-bearing, college-level classes while receiving academic support. Depending on the institution and the subject under study, the forms of academic support vary. For instance, many institutions incorporate self-directed learning labs to help students who demonstrate deficiencies in math. Other institutions modularize their math curricula into easily-assessable competencies, allowing students to progress at their own pace. Through such measures, it is hoped that academic services can be improved while the time spent by students in developmental coursework can be either significantly reduced or removed altogether (Girardi & Crew, 2016). Before the strategy of mainstreaming developmental students through accelerated coursework became a topic of widespread interest, Arizona State University’s “Stretch Program,” which was first introduced in the fall of 1994, was the subject of considerable scrutiny from program directors, instructors, and policymakers in the 1990’s and early-2000’s. For years, Arizona State outsourced its developmental writing instruction to a local community college. 2 Depending on the source, “mainstreaming” may also be referred to as “acceleration” or “co-requisite remediation.” 25 Dissatisfied with the results of outsourcing, the directors of ASU’s Composition and the Writing across the Curriculum departments decided to pilot a new program that would provide the same level of rigor as the university’s first-year writing sequence, yet allow students in need of remediation an extra semester to develop. Self-reported results indicate that the pass rate for “Stretch” students was 90.15%, a major improvement from the 66.22% pass rate that was reported when developmental writing was outsourced. Additionally, “Stretch” students from historically under-represented groups passed the writing sequence at higher rates than traditional students (Glau, 2007). Notwithstanding the “Stretch” program’s success (and a 2003 “ASU President’s Award for Innovation”), only a handful of institutions (e.g., California State University at Northridge and the University of New Mexico) have instituted similar programs. Also, in recent years, the effectiveness of the ASU program has been diluted by elevated enrollment caps for writing classes and a 20% increase in teaching loads for non-tenure-track writing instructors (Flaherty, 2014). By contrast, scholarly interest in mainstreamed courses has mainly transpired within the past seven years. The Community College of Baltimore County is generally credited as the first institution to experiment with accelerated coursework through mainstreaming. Through their “Accelerated Learning Program” (ALP), eight students who place in developmental writing are mainstreamed in a section of ENGL 101 with twelve students who place in credit-bearing coursework. Outside of ENGL 101, the eight mainstreamed students also meet for three hours a week in their own companion course. Initial descriptive statistics results from the ALP indicated that mainstreamed students passed the credit-bearing writing class at a rate comparable to the students who placed into first-year writing (Adams, Miller, & Roberts, 2009). Regression results controlling for demographic characteristics, student academic background, median household 26 income, and financial aid indicators later showed that ALP students significantly outperformed students enrolled in the traditional developmental classes in terms of coursework completion rate, persistence rate, and credits completed as students progressed through the curriculum (Cho, Kopko, Jenkins, & Jaggars, 2012). Since the broad circulation of the ALP results, studies of similar accelerated programs have proliferated, largely due to interest from researchers at Columbia University. For example, a research study of the FastStart math program at the Community College of Denver found that mainstreamed students were more likely to enroll in and pass credit-bearing classes. Unlike the ALP program, though, students in the FastStart program were not more likely to persist or complete more credits (Edgecombe, Jaggars, Baker, & Bailey, 2013). These findings were replicated, to an extent, by a six-year quantitative study of accelerated English and math classes at six community colleges in the City University of New York system. Starting in 2001, the CUNY system has offered an accelerated developmental class that substitutes for a two-semester sequence of developmental coursework. The CUNY institutions provided an excellent setting to study acceleration on a broad scale, since each institution used the same placement exams and cutoff scores. Hodara and Jaggars (2014) discovered “stronger impacts of acceleration in English than math” (p. 270) in terms of credit accumulation and degree attainment. However, the overall impacts were mild, and long-term results were discouraging. Even though students were able to enroll in credit-bearing classes in greater numbers due to the accelerated sections, they were slightly less likely to pass the credit-bearing class once they were enrolled (Jaggars, Hodara, Cho, & Xu, 2015). Other forms of mainstreaming have also attracted the attention of researchers and policymakers. For instance, Doyle (2009) found that increased academic intensity (defined as 27 enrollment in 12 or more credit hours per semester) increased the probability of transfer from Tennessee community colleges to four-year institutions from 11% to 15%. Chabot College, a community college in California, introduced a one semester accelerated developmental course that concurrently instituted pedagogical and curricular changes to the English program. Faculty were encouraged to integrate reading, writing, critical thinking, and presentations into their classes, as well as information about “performance expectations and cultural norms of the college” (Edgecombe, Jaggars, Xu, & Barragan, 2014, p. 8). Quantitative findings associated the new accelerated class with both short- and long-term improved student outcomes (Jaggars, Edgecombe, & Stacey, 2014). Qualitative data derived from 15 interviews of faculty, administrators, and staff indicated that the accelerated class offered fewer “exit points” for students to drop out while introducing them to the pacing that would be expected in later credit- bearing coursework (Edgecombe, Jaggars, Xu, & Barragan, 2014). Because students self-placed themselves in the accelerated class, however, it is important to note that the findings from Chabot College may be skewed by a group of students who were particularly self-motivated. Recently, Belfield, Jenkins, and Lahr (2016) published early findings for the Community College Research Center on co-requisite remediation in Tennessee. Interestingly, the researchers are primarily focused on answering whether or not co-requisite remediation is cost-effective, while student outcomes are treated as an ancillary issue. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they find that both math and writing co-requisite developmental education classes are 11% more efficient than prerequisite developmental education. Belfield, Jenkins, and Lahr also claim that co-requisite remediation results in higher college-level pass rates, although they also admit that the present results are entirely descriptive and may not be attributable to the implementation of co-requisite remediation. 28 Faculty and Instruction In comparison to the research activity engendered by educational treatments, as well as efficiency and student outcomes, the faculty and instructional sphere of developmental education has received surprisingly little attention. Today, much of the literature on developmental education employs a human capital framework, assuming that the main purpose of instruction is to help students attain a valuable credential and find substantive employment. Hence, it is fascinating that the earliest essays on instruction in developmental education emphasized the importance of active learning to expand critical thinking skills (Chaffee, 1992). As states and policymakers have continued to appeal for more efficient developmental education, however, the discussion of critical thinking skills has been tabled in favor of online delivery. Unfortunately, available research paints a grim picture of faculty aptitude concerning online developmental education. A survey of over 1,500 faculty found that an overwhelming majority had not considered how to effectively implement their face-to-face coursework in an online format, had little experience with educational technology, and had not received professional development. Moreover, part-time faculty tended to be unfamiliar with the support services on their institution’s campus that could provide either academic or technological help to both instructors and students (Schuetz, 2002). Studies involving the impact of online education on developmental math and writing courses are no more sanguine. Zavarella and Ignash (2009) found that students enrolled in developmental math classes utilizing either a computer-based or hybrid format were twice as likely to withdraw from a course as those enrolled in lecture-based classes. A four year study of developmental writing students at an urban, Midwestern community college displayed similar results. Students withdrew from the online classes at much higher rates, even though students in 29 the online sections had statistically-insignificant higher end-of-term scores (Carpenter, Brown, & Hickman, 2004). Much more research is needed to determine if these results can be replicated in other institutional environments. Nonetheless, they do present the intriguing possibility that some of the findings on retention that have been previously discussed are influenced by the delivery method of the class. Another variable that could deeply impact student retention and completion concerns the quality of faculty teaching in developmental education programs. Yet again, there has been surprisingly little research on individual instruction, even though available case studies indicate several disconcerting themes. Faculty teaching developmental education receive meager training about their student populations (Boylan, 2002), are largely hired on a part-time basis (Boyer, Butner, & Smith, 2007), have very little contact with students outside of the classroom (Schuetz, 2002), are subject to minimal oversight or institutional evaluation (Grant, 2000), and are reluctant to adopt new pedagogical methods (Bickerstaff & Cormier, 2015) or participate in professional development (Murray, 2002). Promising findings from 1998 about the positive impact of small-group work on persistence and completion rates in developmental math classes have seemingly not been followed up by further research (Baxter & Smith, 1998; DePree, 1998). Unfortunately, this seems to be indicative of a general indifference concerning research on faculty and instruction (Perin, 2013). Testing and Placement Testing and placement is another under-researched area of developmental education. Studies have shown that the successful completion of college preparatory classes is often no guarantee that students will place out of developmental coursework once they enroll in college (Hoyt & Sorenson, 2001). A common refrain among observers in higher education is that grade 30 inflation and social promotion have diluted the quality of secondary education, resulting in underprepared students (Feldman, 1997; Sandham, 1998). Nevertheless, a growing body of research since 2008 indicates that colleges lack uniform standards for how they determine remediation is necessary (Safran & Visher, 2010). Moreover, higher education institutions generally rely on a single, high-stakes examination for student placement. These assessments have been shown to provide virtually no actionable information that faculty can use for instructional purposes (Safran & Visher, 2010). Thus, researchers have called for the use of multiple measures to increase the chances that students are correctly assigned to coursework at an appropriate level (Ngo & Kwon, 2015). High school transcript information has been endorsed as a tool to mitigate inappropriate assignments to developmental education (Scott-Clayton & Belfield, 2015; Scott-Clayton, Crosta, & Belfield, 2012). Also, a more holistic representation of students’ college readiness involving work samples, previous transcripts, and letters of recommendation might better suit contested academic domains like writing. Belfield and Crosta (2012), using a statewide sample of students from a community college system, found that high school GPAs may be better predictors of college performance than college-administered placement tests. Further, placement tests were discovered to have “severe” error rates involving the placement test cutoffs, leading to student misassignment. For English, the error rate was as disturbingly high as 33%. Research by Scott-Clayton (2012) on a dataset of 42,000 first-time college students similarly found that placement exams for English were less predictive of success than placement exams for math. Another concern is that many students lack a fundamental understanding of the purposes behind their high-stakes placement examinations. Few students prepare for their placement 31 examinations (Venezia, Bracco, & Nodine, 2010), and those who do generally underestimate the amount of preparation needed for math proficiency in particular (Fong & Melguizo, 2015). As a result, they may not perform to the level of their abilities, subsequently feeling confused and frustrated by their placement in developmental education (Venezia, Bracco, & Nodine, 2010). Confusion is also endemic among administrators and faculty, as they frequently champion competing goals, such as “efficient versus effective assessment” or “student promotion versus the enforcement of academic standards” (Jaggars & Hodara, 2011, 2013). Regardless of the methods used, researchers have found that the implementation of any effective assessment and placement system is an extremely complex undertaking (Melguizo, Kosiewicz, Prather, & Bos, 2014; Melguizo et al., 2016). Therefore, some have argued that remediation, as a social construct, is predestined to have a certain degree of fluidity. This concern is particularly apparent in humanistic fields like college writing, where faculty complain that differences in linguistic and cognitive ability are in danger of being represented in “essentialistic and deterministic ways that reduce human variability and adaptability” (Hull, Rose, Fraser, & Castellano, 1991, p. 325). Hopefully, future research will garner more momentum in understanding and reforming this essential feature of the developmental education landscape. A Summary of the Literature - and a Call for Deeper Interrogation Developmental education remains a significant, yet still under-conceptualized and under- researched, segment of the U.S. higher education sector. Literature on efficiency and student outcomes is easily the most contentious aspect of developmental education. Much early research maintained that developmental education was worth continued public and private investment due to positive outcomes relating to student retention and completion. Since 2005, though, numerous 32 studies have called into question the efficacy of developmental education. With the help of outside interest groups, researchers have been able to influence policy and initiate reform. Still, it is worth restating that the identification of a causal relationship between remediation and educational attainment remains a challenge since students are not randomly assigned to developmental education (Levin & Calcagno, 2008). Furthermore, a simple comparison of non-remedial students with remedial students is inherently flawed since precollege differences are likely to influence the final results (Bettinger & Long, 2005; Boatman, 2012; Grubb, 2001). These factors complicate the substantial body of quantitative research that has been accumulated, particularly over the past ten years. Most surprisingly, some researchers seem content in assuming that the statistical findings relating to developmental education are widely generalizable (Edgecombe, Cormier, Bickerstaff, & Barragan, 2013), even though quasi-experimental models pose problems for generalizability (Rutschow & Schneider, 2011). At present, virtually nothing is known about the variability of outcomes between different institutions and different classrooms. Moreover, the lack of research on developmental education from a student perspective is especially conspicuous. This particular gap in our knowledge may explain why the specific resources that help students persist and complete developmental coursework are still unclear. As established by the literature review on educational treatments, disentangling which methods of remediation are most effective remains a challenge (Bahr, 2010). Student advising and supplemental instruction can each point to positive results through case study research, but their success may be dependent upon the individuals teaching and managing such programs. Mainstreaming is, by far, the most popular method of reforming developmental education today. Even though “stretch” programs that lengthen the time spent in the classroom have a longer track 33 record of success, they are seemingly on the decline due to a renewed emphasis on efficiency. In general, the research on mainstreaming is still quite new, and the results may be skewed by a desire to portray specific programs in a positive light. As mentioned previously, the processes that enable successful mainstreaming, in addition to the resources that are necessary for mainstreaming students into writing classes, have not been interrogated by previous research. These processes are worthy of further study for a second reason. Available research consistently demonstrates that students who are successful in mainstreamed first-year classes struggle with subsequent coursework and do not persist or complete their intended degrees at a rate comparable with their peers. One conceivable reason for this finding is that the support systems and resources that are institutionally promulgated and organized for mainstreamed classes are not utilized as frequently by students once they progress to other coursework. More research on faculty and instruction is sorely needed to round out our understanding of developmental education. Researchers seem loathe to criticize faculty instruction at the developmental level, perhaps recognizing that they are frequently under-compensated and over- worked. Qualitative research on the topic, however, might motivate policy changes that could improve faculty conditions and identify the teaching practices that might best help students. Over the past few years, testing and placement has started to receive the attention from researchers that it deserves. A number of studies point out problems with our current evaluative methods, including a lack of consistency in measurement between institutions and an over- reliance on high-stakes exams that may unfairly relegate students to developmental coursework. As demonstrated through this literature review, holistic assessments that provide students and instructors alike with actionable information are a preferable option. At the heart of the debate about testing and placement, though, is a lack of consensus about what constitutes college 34 readiness (Duncheon, 2015). Many researchers and policymakers currently claim that the cutoffs are arbitrary. Therefore, clarification about this important topic in both math and writing domains might go a long way in stimulating the design of more efficient forms of developmental education that target specific skills in need of remediation. Organization of the Dissertation This chapter frames the dissertation through a summary and discussion of the research problem, the study’s purpose, and the research questions. Furthermore, a historical overview of developmental education in the United States, along with a literature review of recent research on developmental education, provides context for the findings and implications of this study. In Chapter 2, I introduce the theoretical framework that this study draws on to investigate mainstreaming in college-level writing classes. The two most commonly-referenced and utilized theoretical perspectives that inform research on college-level writing are the cognitive process and sociocultural frameworks. The cognitive process perspective on writing emphasizes the analysis of discrete mental processes in an attempt to illuminate the individual decisions that generate a work of writing. The sociocultural perspective argues that those individual decisions are not made in a vacuum; rather, they are mediated by the writer’s immediate environment, as well as the social interactions, cultural expectations, and historical contexts that apprise an individual’s development as a writer and as a communicator. I will argue that the sociocultural framework is a better fit for this research study. Nevertheless, both frameworks are useful in identifying the challenges presented by college-level writing. I will also introduce the primary concepts concerning social capital theory. Social capital theory is helpful in that it can provide clarity about the resources that are available within 35 institutional clusters, such as writing centers. It can also delineate the conditions by which students have access to resources and can make use of them. In Chapter 3, I explain how the study’s methodology, involving a relational ethnography of first-year college writing, is tailored to the specific demands of the research questions. This chapter will unfold in five sections. First, I will discuss how Florida state policy and institutional decisions set the stage for research on co-requisite remediation in the form of writing studios. Second, I will address the reasons why qualitative research on writing is needed for a more comprehensive understanding of developmental education. Third, I will detail how a relational ethnography approach can explore relationships, expose processes, and highlight philosophical conflicts that present challenges for students in first-year college writing classes. Fourth, I will describe the data collection and analysis strategies that will result in the results presented in the next chapter. Fifth, I will provide pertinent additional information about the focus of the study, its potential transferability, and my positionality. This information provides important context for the reader to interpret the data, findings, limitations, and implications that are presented in forthcoming chapters. In Chapter 4, I provide data pertinent to a discussion of first-year undergraduate writing and to explore the potential utility of writing studios as one viable form of remediation. The chapter is organized in two acts. Each act pertains to different phenomena that impact student success in first-year writing and is introduced by a student who exemplifies several of the act’s themes. Act 1 focuses on foundational skills for college-level writing and the anxieties engendered by the preparation of a college paper. I will outline four skills - each repeatedly highlighted by the students, faculty, and studio facilitators who participated in this study - that 36 pose significant challenges for students as they either transition from high school to college or enter college after a protracted period away from formal education. These four skills concern the following foundational activities: 1) conducting research; 2) engaging with source materials; 3) organization and paper length; and 4) digital literacy. Act 2 illustrates how first-year college students, reliant on norms established during their secondary school experiences, frequently misinterpret and/or fail to meet the explicit and tacit expectations underlying three writing activities. These activities include the following: 1) understanding the assignment and conceptualizing a response; 2) meeting deadlines; and 3) revising a paper in response to instructor feedback. Each of these three activities has a substantial impact on a student’s success or failure in first-year writing classes, yet they each require a specific understanding of the instructor’s expectations and the conventions of academic discourse in first-year college writing. In Chapter 5, I revisit the study with a synopsis of its theoretical framework, its methodological approach, its presentation of data, and a review of its limitations. Four primary findings are then highlighted and addressed. The first two findings relate to the topic of sociocultural theory and writing remediation. The latter two findings relate to the social capital cultivated in writing studios as a form of remediation. The combination of these findings demonstrate that substantial support is necessary to help mainstreamed students succeed, particularly in the disorienting environment of the first-year writing classroom. The perspectives offered by sociocultural writing theory and social capital theory are found to be useful, if not essential, frameworks for understanding the forms of support that can best assist students with first-year writing. The dissertation then concludes with a discussion of this study’s implications from the standpoints of theory, practice, policy, and further study. 37 Chapter 2: Theoretical Frameworks Chapter Overview In the previous chapter, I provided a summary and discussion of the research problem, the study’s purpose, and the research questions. A historical summary of developmental education in the United States, along with a literature review of recent research on developmental education, afforded context for the findings and implications of this study. In this chapter, I will now turn to the theoretical frameworks that ground this study and provide an analytical foundation for understanding the data that has been collected. Contemporary research on college-level writing is typically conducted from one of two theoretical frameworks: the cognitive process framework and the sociocultural framework. The cognitive process perspective on writing emphasizes the analysis of discrete mental processes in an attempt to illuminate the individual decisions that generate a work of writing. The sociocultural perspective argues that those individual decisions are not made in a vacuum; rather, they are mediated by the writer’s immediate environment, as well as the social interactions, cultural expectations, and historical contexts that apprise an individual’s development as a writer and as a communicator. In what follows, I will first depict the historical development of contemporary writing theory by briefly recounting the expressive theories that dominated academic discourse about writing in the mid-twentieth century. After highlighting the shortcomings of expressive theories, I will then discuss the intellectual antecedents of the cognitive process and the sociocultural frameworks. With this background established, I will outline the primary assumptions of each theory and discuss their strengths and weaknesses to assess their utility as theories for the study of first-year college writing. Even though I will argue that the sociocultural framework is a 38 better fit for this research study, both frameworks are useful in identifying the challenges presented by college-level writing and the instructional practices that help students comprehend and practice the conventions of academic discourse. Beyond theories of writing, an important part of this research study is to identify the resources that enable students to persist and succeed with developmental coursework. Therefore, in the final section of this chapter, I will introduce the two major figures behind the development of social capital theory (Pierre Bourdieu and James Coleman), along with its primary concepts. Social capital theory is helpful in that it can provide clarity about the resources that are available within institutional support services, such as writing centers. It can also delineate the conditions by which students have access to resources and can make use of them. Theories on Writing Expressive Theories For much of the mid-twentieth century, research on composition was dominated by an “expressive” view of writing that was largely derived from nineteenth-century German philosophy, but whose intellectual precursors also can be traced as far back as ancient Greece. This expressive view celebrated Romantic concepts of integrity, spontaneity, and originality (Elbow, 1973; Faigley, 1986; Moffett, 1982). According to early theorists, integrity concerned the sincerity with which an author believed in his or her argument, expressed opinions in a credible manner, and supported ideas with persuasively-formulated rhetoric (Stewart, 1969). To this day, many first-year writing classes at the collegiate level encourage students to investigate the integrity of a text through a rhetorical analysis. The foundation for this analysis involves three concepts - logos, pathos, and ethos - attributed to Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher who famously tutored Alexander the Great and established the ancient Lyceum of Athens. 39 Although logos is often interpreted simply as “logic,” it more specifically refers to the organization and content of a written work. Similarly, ethos is frequently simplified as “trustworthiness,” but it more accurately refers to the elements of a work that either reflect on a writer’s particular character or establish the writer’s credibility as an expert in a given subject. The concept of pathos is more broadly understood; any type of “emotional entreaty,” whether it elicits sadness or humor in the audience, is classified as a “pathetic” rhetorical appeal (Connors, 1979). In simplified terms, logos involves the text, ethos relates to the author, and pathos concerns the effect of a text on the audience. Spontaneity extolled the advantage of composing a text without a final goal in mind. Theorists argued that the writing process is initially marked by false starts, imperfectly-formed thoughts, and roadblocks that eventually coalesce into a polished essay. Therefore, an exposure of these fragmentary ideas could lead to insights about the compositional process and the mechanisms of the imagination (Abrams, 1953). In contemporary writing classes, many instructors espouse the value of spontaneous “free writing” for students who experience “writer’s block” and other forms of writing-related difficulties. According to this theoretical line of reasoning, students who are having difficulties in expressing their ideas are mainly stymied by an obsession with perfect grammar, the search for a specific turn of phrase, or similar concerns. Through “free writing” exercises such as journaling or public introductions, students can not only overcome transcend difficulties related to “writer’s block,” but they can also embark on a process of metadiscourse that reveals the mental obstacles preventing more formalized genres of writing (Elbow, 1989; Macrorie, 1985). Finally, the value of originality in writing was recognized through the virtue of “self- actualization.” From this theoretical position, writing has the potential to benefit students as a 40 creative activity that encourages personal understanding and an exploration of the subconscious (Rohman, 1965). Writing assignments along these lines do not have to be solely creative in nature. In first-year writing classes, instructors often ask students to research their intended professions, investigate data about starting salaries and employment statistics, and argue why their identified fields are indeed viable career paths. The purpose of such assignments is to promote self-reflection and encourage students to consider, at an early stage of their academic trajectory, whether or not their intended majors are appropriate and the related curricula can be reasonably completed within a given time period. For the purposes of this dissertation, each of these theoretical concepts are useful to understand since many college instructors - consciously or unconsciously - employ pedagogies that are derived from expressive theories. Instructors also frequently evaluate writing based on a student’s ability to establish credibility or express original ideas. In particular, the rhetorical modes are commonly introduced as a fundamental part of writing curricula at the undergraduate level. Whereas each of these individual concepts are alluring in their depiction of the writing process, they are also limited in their theoretical purview and pose formidable problems for a rigorous study of writing instruction. Integrity all but ignores the significance of society and culture in regulating an author’s belief systems and setting the standards by which an author’s integrity should be judged (Giroux, 1983). An emphasis on spontaneity may be helpful for authors encountering writer’s block. However, it does not helpfully address the role of planning, organization, and revision in the writing process (Rose, 1985). Accordingly, a theory of writing founded upon originality can lead to tautologies, since people who are psychologically more “self-actualized” would also conceivably be better writers. 41 The Intellectual Antecedents for Contemporary Writing Theories For these reasons, the development of alternative frameworks to explain writing instruction can be seen as a reaction against these “expressive” theoretical views. Several intellectual traditions were explored before the cognitive process theory of writing was developed. These intellectual traditions entered writing discourse as the conceptualization of three linear stages in the writing process (pre-writing, writing, and re-writing) was engendering considerable debate in the 1960’s and 1970’s (Rohman, 1965; Rohman & Wlecke, 1964). Influential critics, such as Janet Emig (1964, 1971), used case studies to demonstrate that high school writers did not progress in a linear fashion and, in fact, did not generally employ outlines or other forms of pre-writing. Hence, researchers instead argued for a “’science consciousness’ in composition research” (Voss, 1983, p. 279) that would draw from psychology and bring the study of writing composition into the mainstream of contemporary educational research (Lauer, 1970). To this end, many researchers in the newly-established field of “composition studies” were initially intrigued by Chomsky’s theory of generative grammar. Originally called “transformational grammar,” the theory of generative grammar contends that a system of logical rules govern how we construct meaningful combinations of words (e.g., sentences). These structural elements constitute the syntax of generative grammar. As argued by Cromsky and subsequent generative linguists, these syntactic rules are shared by the vast majority of languages in the world, even if we perceive them essentially on a subconscious level (Cook & Newson, 2007). For a brief period of time, “applied transformational grammar” captured the attention of a number of theorists and practitioners (Lester, 1970) as it was thought that the analysis of syntax 42 and semantics could offer insights into the compositional progress. However, the task of translating rule formulations from linguistic theory to useful pedagogy proved to be extremely difficult. Thus, applications of the theory were mostly confined to texts on grammar (Celce- Murcia & Larsen-Freeman, 1983). Afterwards, researchers turned to the concept of egocentrism formally elaborated by Piaget (1964). Observing that writers at every level of education suffered from a distinct inability to imagine any audience other than themselves, writing scholars argued that the tendency to use personal narrative in academic writing genres was evidence that writers had not progressed beyond the “egocentric stage” (Lunsford, 1980). Once again, this viewpoint ultimately had limited applicability to the study of writing. And yet, it did encourage an enduring literature on “audience and purpose” that has deeply influenced composition studies. To this day, many argue that one of the most important differences between developmental and accomplished writers is that experienced writers consider their audience early in the writing process (Beaufort, 2007; Sommers, 1980). Cognitive Process Theory Although the generative grammar and “egocentric” lines of inquiry did not progress much further than a handful of initial investigations, they did encourage researchers to scrutinize research in cognitive psychology. In particular, Newell and Simon’s (1972) discussion of problem solving and “feedback loops,” derived from the theory of cybernetics outlined by Weiner (1961), was important in the development of cognitive process theory. Flower and Hayes (1981), the authors who conceptualized cognitive process theory for the field of writing composition, used these concepts to make four assumptions about the way writing functions. First, writing is goal-oriented, and writers consciously organize distinct writing processes 43 (e.g., planning, translating, or reviewing) as they compose. Second, these processes are organized in a hierarchical fashion, such that certain processes can be embedded within others. Third, the writer has a network of goals that guide the thought process. Fourth, writers generate both high-level and low-level goals; these goals may change as a work of writing progresses and the writing process evolves. Given these four points, Flower and Hayes (1981) concluded that “writing is best understood as a set of distinctive thinking processes which writers orchestrate or organize during the act of composing” (p. 366). To operationalize cognitive process theory, a researcher needs to perform two principal tasks: 1) define the processes that constitute the writing process and 2) demonstrate how elements within these processes interact during the writing process. Flower and Hayes discouraged the use of “introspective analysis,” claiming that a writer’s retrospective of “what they did while writing” is prone to inaccuracies and revised information that frame the writer’s decision-making process in a positive light (p. 368). Instead, they claim that a “protocol analysis” is a superior method for analyzing a writer’s cognitive process. Through protocol analysis, the researcher uses a recording device to capture the writer’s verbalizations as they describe as many decisions, false starts, incomplete thoughts, and other commentaries as possible. Afterwards, a transcript of the session is produced, and the researcher’s notes are compared with that transcript and the writer’s emerging manuscript. The implications of cognitive process theory. Over the past thirty-five years, cognitive process theory has been highly influential in pedagogical practices supporting writing instruction (Coker & Lewis, 2008; De La Paz & McCutchen, 2010; Harklau, 2001; Hyland, 2003). Implicitly, cognitive process theory supports the notion that the quality of a given text is directly related to the lucidity with which writers 44 organize their composing processes (Galbraith & Rijlaarsdam, 1999; Zimmerman & Kitsantas, 1999). This higher-level organization, also referred to as “monitoring,” governs the individual processes as the compositional process unfolds (Cresswell, 2000). Researchers identify these processes differently. Some examine writing through the prism of three stages: planning, drafting, and revision (Harris & Graham, 1996). Meanwhile, others claim that a five-stage model - involving prewriting, drafting, editing, revising, and proofreading - is more appropriate for academic writing (Bayat, 2014; Johnson, 2008). Whatever model one espouses, cognitive process theory contends that a strategic implementation of the individual stages help writers coherently present an internal representation of their ideas and their arguments through acceptable prose (Graham, 2006; McCutchen, Covill, Hoyne, & Mildes, 1994). In college writing, if a student does not engage with one of these processes in a meaningful fashion, the product is likely to be a substandard text. As delineated by Kellogg (2008), a student needs “a high degree of cognitive control over the maintenance of multiple representations of the text, as well as planning conceptual content, generating text, and reviewing content and text” (p. 1) to achieve a successful result. Cognitive control is presumed to improve as a writer gains more practice with the writing process (Kellogg & Whiteford, 2009). Theoretically, this cognitive control is apparent when a student can both “monitor” their processes in a systematic manner and engage with each individual process by employing a progressively greater degree of expertise. The implications of cognitive process theory for college readiness also rest on the notion that individual writing processes are not practiced in a discrete fashion. Rather, they are recursive and interdependent (Lavelle & Guarino, 2003). Therefore, a primary establishing link between writing processes concerns the implementation of critical thinking skills (Graham & 45 Perin, 2007). For this reason, revision has been consistently emphasized as a best practice for college-level writers (Graham & Sandmel, 2011). By coaching students to revise papers on their own and develop additional strategies involving metacognitive reflection, researchers have argued that students can develop improved critical thinking skills that will transfer to other domains of knowledge (Bean, 2011; Haswell, 2008). Strengths of cognitive process theory. Cognitive process theory has accrued considerable currency among academics and institutions for three primary reasons. First, cognitive process theory narrows the definition of college readiness with respect to writing. Universal standards for writing have proven elusive, as writing is a multifaceted process that presents countless evaluative complexities (Murray, 2011). By highlighting specific attributes of writing (such as surface-level errors in grammar or sentence-level structural issues) that are considered essential for enrollment in credit-bearing classes, assessments can theoretically predict student success (Lemann, 1999). Second, instructors may find cognitive process theory attractive in that it distills the writing process into specific attributes that can be potentially coached and measured. Instead of grading papers based on a finished product, instructors can grade whether or not students submit thesis statements, outlines, or multiple drafts. While each of these activities may ultimately be useful in the submission of a polished final project, they assume that students have already received the training in writing necessary to successfully produce a thesis statement or an organized outline and understand the specific academic expectations behind such an assignment. Nevertheless, the idea that writing instruction merely necessitates the transmission of a few helpful process-oriented skills may be comforting to many teachers; it is also politically expedient in an educational system focused on efficiency. According to Applebee and Langer 46 (2006), planning, drafting, and revising techniques have indeed become the most common curricular strategies informing high school and college writing instruction. Third, a focus on cognitive processes ultimately places the responsibility for learning on the student (Burke, 2005). While this may seem like an unfair abdication of responsibility, it does relieve the pressures of accountability experienced by educational institutions and writing instructors tasked with justifying poor student outcomes. Weaknesses of cognitive process theory. Limitations associated with cognitive process theory are related to the strengths outlined above. First, critics argue that, by placing the responsibility for learning largely in the hands of students, cognitive process theory disempowers instructors, placing them essentially on the sidelines while students intrinsically (perhaps even heroically) endeavor to develop their own writing skills (Cope & Kalantzis, 1993). As stated by Hyland (2003), “process represents writing as a decontextualized skill by foregrounding the writer as an isolated individual struggling to express personal meanings” (p. 18). Through this mysterious inductive approach to composition, students are expected to discover the writing processes that are most helpful on their own (Hasan, 1996). Second, an analysis based on cognitive process theory may offer few insights into student achievement, other than to consider a piece of writing from a student deficit perspective. Bensimon (2005) has critiqued the deficit perspective as “a problem without a solution” (p. 102), since the educational challenges and unequal outcomes experienced by students are often depicted as the result of socioeconomic factors beyond their control. The fact that writing outcomes are stratified by class, gender, and race would ostensibly augur well for a theoretical framework that embraces culture and society, not the decontextualization of writing (Strayhorn, 47 2011). It would also place into question the notion that student development, as it pertains to writing, is solely the result of formalized instruction (Coker & Lewis, 2008). Third, cognitive process theory is blind to the cultural and social processes that may have informed students’ conception of literacy (Hagood, 2000). Street (2003), in fact, has argued that the cognitive perspective is flawed due to its presumption that “literacy can be given neutrally and then its social effects only experienced afterwards” (p. 78). In general, these critiques have only grown stronger as researchers have become more familiar with the difficulties faced by ESL students in developmental coursework (Ferris & Hedgcock, 2005). For this reason, cognitive process theory has been criticized not simply on ideological and theoretical grounds, but also from an ethical perspective (Atkinson, 2003; Delpit, 1988; Hyland, 2003). Sociocultural Theory Sociocultural theory has emerged as a viable response to these perceived weaknesses of cognitive process theory. Two different intellectual strands have stimulated interest in sociocultural theory among composition scholars. The first concerns poststructuralist theories of language (Faigley, 1986). According to the precepts of poststructuralist thought, there are multiple constructions of reality and meaning, as represented by the mutability of language (Scott, 1988). Hence, all texts can be subject to multiple interpretations, and interpretation is dependent upon the reader’s educational and disciplinary training, culturally-derived expectations, social orientation to a given community, and a host of other factors associated with context and background (Donald, 2002; Laws, 2004). The work of Vygotsky (1934/1986) contributed a second intellectual strand to the development of a sociocultural theory of writing. Although Vygotsky’s research was primarily with children, his interest in language development as a cultural and historical process proved 48 tremendously influential on emerging scholarship in the field of composition and rhetoric during the 1980’s. As a way to make sense of the constructed nature of language and literacy, researchers were influenced by Vygotsky to examine how students’ internal cognitive processes might be mediated by external social and cultural factors. This line of inquiry led researchers to the concept of discourse communities and how they might impact student writing. The implications of sociocultural theory. Gee (2015) defines discourses as “ways of behaving, interacting, valuing, thinking, believing, speaking, and (often) reading and writing that are accepted as instantiations of particular identities by specific groups” (p. 4). Thus, a discourse community is a group of individuals who share a set of values and assumptions, as well as preferred methods for communicating their ideas (Swales, 1990). From a sociocultural perspective, then, writing is deeply informed by the writer’s initiation and continued exposure to these discourse communities. Moreover, a sociocultural perspective contends that this context is of paramount importance in understanding the factors that affect student performance in college-level writing. As argued by Ivanic (1998), educational institutions privilege specific forms of writing that may not be commonly employed in other social domains. Awareness and knowledge of these communities and their accepted forms of discourse, then, is vital for a deeper understanding of the challenges students face in developmental writing courses (Heath, 1982; Lee & Anderson, 2009; Perry 2012). Strengths of sociocultural theory. Sociocultural theory presents a useful alternative to many of the perceived weaknesses of cognitive process theory. First, it offers a more nuanced view of writing that focuses on the interactions between students, their instructors, and their environments. This perspective is 49 useful in grounding studies of literacy that attempt to account for the challenges students face, given their educational backgrounds and community-oriented experiences. Given that the writing expectations between different levels of schooling (e.g., secondary and tertiary) can be quite different (Addison & McGee, 2015; Fanetti, Bushrow, & DeWeese, 2010), a sociocultural perspective can also provide actionable insights into why students struggle to match the demands of college writing. Second, sociocultural theory does not approach literacy from a deficit perspective. Instead, it acknowledges that multiple literacy practices exist, and nontraditional students in particular may use different literacy practices with different discourse communities (Rose, 1985, 1989). Students who are not familiar with the expectations of the academic discourse community are more likely to face difficulties in writing classes (Conley, 2007). Third, sociocultural theory does not postulate that writers engage in a single procedural method in order to express their ideas. This is important because instructors and researchers have been searching for new pedagogical techniques to serve an increasingly diverse student population (Au, 1998). A sociocultural perspective can help educators understand, for instance, cultural differences in the way international students present evidence in research papers (Amsberry, 2009; Currie 1998) or the linguistic difficulties faced by ESL students (Ferris & Hedgcock, 2005). In sum, sociocultural theory has the potential to instill, in undergraduate writers, a sensitivity to academic conventions, a consideration of the appropriate modes of discourse for different communities, and an awareness that evidence marshalled in support of an author’s arguments needs to be recognized as valid by the intended audience (Ramage, Bean, & Johnson, 2015). 50 Weaknesses of sociocultural theory. The limitations of sociocultural theory are most apparent from the perspective of assessment. Sociocultural theory does not treat the individual processes of writing as discrete elements that can be easily measured and evaluated. Hence, its application to a study of college writing may seem too unwieldy for those who prefer a simplified view of writing that clearly articulates specific skills students should master in order to achieve a given level of competency. Other concerns about the applicability of sociocultural theory have also been expressed by scholars and educators. Perry (2012), for example, has maintained that an awareness of discourse communities could stifle greater understanding between different literacy practices. Also, people have cautioned that a sociocultural framework should not completely displace the value of cognitive processes in writing. Even though college writing instruction has attempted for many years to endorse the notion that writing is a social process (Ede, 1989), many people still experience the writing process in an autonomous fashion (Cooper, 1986). Thus, cognitive process theory may speak to their personal experiences in a more authentic way. Reconciling Theories on Writing In considering the application of theory to a study of developmental writing, both frameworks have the potential to illuminate different aspects of the writing process. Nevertheless, this study is concerned with the cultural factors, as well as the social interactions, that influence student outcomes. If students are being mainstreamed into first-year writing classes where the overriding discourse is completely foreign to their previous experiences, it should be unsurprising that they might struggle with their coursework. For these reasons, sociocultural theory is the primary writing theory that will be employed for the analysis of writing-related data in this study. 51 If the writing center holds resources that help students understand the unique expectations of academic discourse - and these resources allow students to succeed with their writing assignments - mainstreaming might be a workable treatment to reforming developmental education. Social capital theory offers a useful framework for identifying these resources. Social Capital Theory Pierre Bourdieu Although the term “social capital” can be traced to literature as far back as 1920 (Dika & Singh, 2002), Pierre Bourdieu is credited for propagating current scholarship on cultural and social capital. For Bourdieu, both concepts were embedded in a larger theory of social reproduction (1973) that attempted to explain how educational systems perpetuated and legitimized class divisions. According to Bourdieu, “cultural wealth” may be “theoretically offered to everyone,” but it is solely “accumulated and bequeathed” by people who have been exposed to codes that derive from educational experiences “methodically organized by an institution specially equipped for this purpose” (p. 73-79). Only the upper social classes have the financial resources and freedom from daily concerns to pursue such endeavors. Thus, in his critique of higher education, Bourdieu claimed that this elite class is willing to convert economic capital to cultural capital by providing highly-valued educational experiences and ensuring placement for their children in top universities (See also DiMaggio, 1979, p. 1465-1466). Bourdieu expanded upon these concepts in a more comprehensive fashion in a 1986 essay entitled “The Forms of Capital.” Capital is defined as “accumulated labor” which can be appropriated. Each individual possesses capital that defines that person’s space within society, in addition to the social class that he or she is able to inhabit. Of capital’s three defined “guises,” economic capital is at the root; it is “directly convertible into money” and “institutionalized in 52 the forms of property rights” (p. 2). Social capital essentially derives its power from “durable networks” and personal connections that allow for “collectively-owned capital” (p. 7). Relationships facilitate access to social capital, and the quality and quantity of an individual’s relationships determine the overall value of his or her social capital (Dika & Singh, 2002). Stanton-Salazar (1997) has noted that social capital, for Bourdieu, is also “cumulative” and “convertible into tangible resources or other forms of capital” (p. 8). Two further concepts, field and habitus, are central to an understanding of Bourdieu’s writings on social capital. Field refers to the space in which phenomena are bound by rules. In a given field, a relative capital value is assigned to objects and skills, and an individual learns how to develop and manage capital as he or she becomes more familiar with the field. Habitus is probably the most ambiguous idea introduced by Bourdieu. In its most extensive treatment, Bourdieu states that it is “a system of lasting, transposable dispositions which, integrating past experiences, functions at every moment as a matrix of perceptions, appreciations, and actions and makes possible the achievement of infinitely diversified tasks” (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 83). Hence, habitus is shaped both by instilled behaviors from early childhood and by subsequent experiences. Even though individuals’ perspectives might change over time, their habitus will shape how they interact with the objective structures that attempt to structure individuals within society. Each class has a “characteristic habitus” (DiMaggio, 1979, p. 1464) that “[regulates] individual and collective practice” (Musoba & Baez, 2009, p. 159) and places restrictions on individual agency. Nevertheless, the field is the “arena of conflict,” since individuals fight against the limitations that social structures impose. When an individual manages to slip through the cracks of social structure by adapting their habitus and developing skills to be effective in a given field, they can theoretically acquire capital and achieve a higher status. Yet, Bourdieu 53 would likely argue that the relative infrequency with which these cases of upward social mobility occur validates the presence and ubiquity of the intangible systems he depicts. Strengths of Bourdieu’s theory of social capital. Portes (1998) observed that the “positive consequences for the individual and the community” of “involvement and participation in groups” is not a new idea, dating it to Durkheim and Marx (p. 2). Thus, the most exceptional contributions of Bourdieu and Coleman to social capital theory are their emphases on the “positive consequences of sociability while putting aside less attractive features” and the “nonmonetary forms” of capital that carry “power and influence” (p. 2). Through this prism, three additional basic functions of social capital can be identified: 1) as a source of social control; 2) as a source of family support; and 3) as a source of benefits through extrafamilial networks. These extrafamilial networks take shape as enclaves, “dense concentrations of immigrant or ethnic firms that employ a significant proportion of their co-ethnic labor force,” and as ethnic niches, when a “group is able to colonize a particular sector of employment in such a way that members have privileged access to new job openings” (p. 13). For scholars interested in exposing underlying social structures and the constraints they place on individual mobility, the concept of social capital espoused by Bourdieu can be especially attractive. Weaknesses of Bourdieu’s theory of social capital. However, Bourdieu work presents at least two major problems for researchers. First, the French context in which his work was produced is not necessarily transferrable to the American context without some mediation (Lamont & Lareau, 1998). In fact, Musoba & Baez (2009) claim that Bourdieu’s work requires contextual adaptation (p. 177). Research that attempts to quantify social capital in forms that are more prominent in European society may therefore be 54 not appropriate for the American context (Roscigno & Ainsworth-Darnell, 1999). Secondly, the ambiguous nature of habitus makes it difficult to operationalize in research. For example, researchers have attempted to account for habitus by including a variable for students’ occupational expectations (Dumais, 2002). Nonetheless, a single variable does not seem to adequately account for such a complex concept. James Coleman Coleman’s (1988) view of social capital is more widely-cited in educational literature than Bourdieu’s (Dika & Singh, 2002), possibly because it is less deterministic. Social capital, for Coleman, has two elements: some aspect of social structures and the enablement of individuals and their actions within these structures. Individuals are willing to participate in these structures because of mechanisms that make resources available and generate human capital. These mechanisms include reciprocity expectations and group enforcement of norms (Portes, 1998). Norms are enforced through sufficient ties, otherwise known as “closure,” that engender trust among group participants (Coleman, 1988, p. 318-319). Social capital is nurtured (or destroyed) by the stability (or instability) of the social structure and the ideology that binds individuals together. Primarily, Coleman (1988) was interested in the relationship between social capital, a concept that is “embodied in the relations among persons,” and human capital, a concept that is “embodied in the skills and knowledge acquired by an individual” (p. 304). Theoretically, an individual who is able to build social capital through distinctly American theories of “rational action and individual agency” (Musoba & Baez, 2009, p. 152) will also be able to generate human capital through access to information held by those social structures. This belief has important ramifications for educational research. If students have the ability to acquire social 55 capital and transcend class stratification, it can be argued that institutions play an integral role in securing resources for their students. Since Coleman’s framework for social capital endows individuals with greater agency to improve their life circumstances, it is the framework that informs this study’s discussion of social capital. Forms of social capital. Several potential forms of social capital have been specified by Coleman and subsequent researchers who have been influenced by his work. I will focus on two forms for this study: “information potential” and “bounded solidarity.” Information potential is directly related to the quality of the relationships within an institutional structure and the access those relationships offer to valuable knowledge. For an organization such as a writing center, access to information may occur due to regular visits with a particularly knowledgeable (or helpful) tutor. Access could also be attributable to relationships that develop between peers. Regular visits can result in shared knowledge about writing strategies, an understanding of the norms and values behind different discourses, or specific guidance about an instructor or an assignment. A second form of social capital, bounded solidarity, is expedient for a study of first-year writing. Bounded solidarity, a sense of community established by individuals who can claim shared experiences, has been theorized by recent sociologists who have, in turn, been influenced by the work of James Coleman (Gu, Hung, & Tse, 2008; Light, 2004; Portes & Sensenbrenner, 1993; Wall, Ferrazzi, & Schryer, 1998). Due to the power relations between instructors and students in most educational environments, the capacity of a social group to share knowledge is linked with instrumental social capital, which in the eyes of many (e.g., Portes, 1998) is inefficient and unequal. However, as I will explain in greater detail in chapter three, the environments of the writing studio and the writing center are quite different from that of a typical 56 writing class. Writing studios usually have between four to twelve students, compared with much larger sections of first-year writing classes which usually count more than 25 students. Also, the majority of scheduled sessions in a writing center are conducted on a one-to-one basis over the span of 30 minutes to an hour. Neither writing studio classrooms nor writing center tutorials are lecture-oriented. Instead, facilitators and tutors are trained to ask leading questions that encourage critical thinking, while students are encouraged to actively question and interrogate their assignments, as well as the feedback they receive from their professors. Hence, facilitators, tutors, and students can theoretically develop stronger bonds than in first-year writing classes, and students within a writing studio can develop relationships that result in “bounded solidarity.” According to Portes and Sensenbrener (1993), this bounded solidarity not only enables a more altruistic exchange of capital, but it also facilitates two-way exchanges of knowledge that can be stifled in environments with more hierarchically-oriented relationships. The concept of “bounded solidarity” is therefore a useful framework for exploring social capital in writing studios and writing center sessions. Weaknesses of Coleman’s theory of social capital. Coleman’s work presents problems for educational researchers, as well. The most common criticism is that Coleman’s conception of social capital leads to tautologies, particularly if social capital is equated with the resources that people acquire. As a corrective, Portes (1998) has suggested that a researcher should make clear the differences between possessors and sources of social capital, as well as the resources themselves. Also, a researcher should not attempt to approach a phenomenon by starting with the effect and “working retroactively” to discover the cause (p. 20). An example of this quandary is illustrated in research by Sandefur, Meier, & Campbell (2006). They imply that children who enroll in post-secondary institutions 57 have highly-involved parents who pass on social capital. Yet, this conclusion lacks prescriptive power, since the actual resources that parents transfer to their children are unclear. It is worth noting that some researchers have combined Bourdieu’s and Coleman’s strengths to approach social capital from unique perspectives. By demarcating Bourdieu’s and Coleman’s approaches to social capital, Stanton-Salazar (1997) is able to critique “structural constraints on young people’s access to institutional privileges and resources” while she “[considers] the role of individual and cultural agency” (p. 5-6). This holistic approach, acknowledging structural inequities while avoiding a nihilistic view of individual mobility, proves fruitful in identifying six forms of institutional support that are “key ingredients for social integration and success within the school system” (p. 11). Chapter Summary As chapter one demonstrated, there are substantive gaps in our knowledge of mainstreaming and developmental education. The majority of research on student outcomes in developmental education are in mathematics, nor writing. Moreover, to date, we have little firsthand knowledge about student perspectives on writing coursework, the instructional practices that students find most helpful, or the resources that are essential for student success. In this chapter, I propose that sociocultural theory is the most effective way to examine the challenges students face in producing academic discourse that can help them succeed in first- year writing coursework. I also propose that sociocultural theory is useful for investigating the academic support systems, the pedagogical methods, and the relationships that are most helpful to students who need writing remediation. Meanwhile, Coleman’s social capital framework can identify the specific resources that help students overcome deficiencies and achieve success in mainstreamed writing classes. 58 To reiterate, the study’s goals are threefold: 1) to offer greater clarity about the challenges students face in first-year writing coursework; 2) to explore the impact of writing studios as sites of social capital for mainstreamed first-year writing classes; 3) to deepen our theoretical understanding of how mainstreaming functions with regards to writing and student development. Chapter 3 will elaborate on the methodology that enables the pursuit of these goals. 59 Chapter 3: Methodology Research Setting Developmental Education Reform in the State of Florida The locus of analysis for this study is a single higher education institution within the U.S. state of Florida. In 2013, the state of Florida took unprecedented steps to reform developmental education. Through the passage of State Bill 1720, all recent public high school graduates (and active duty members of the Armed Services) were allowed to opt-out of placement examinations and developmental coursework, thus setting the conditions for default mainstreaming. By 2014, Florida state institutions were also compelled to create and implement innovative academic support programs to help students who may not be prepared for college-level coursework. Four delivery strategies for helping mainstreamed students were approved by the Florida state legislature: 1) modularization, in which specific skill areas are isolated and converted into “sub- unit parts”; 2) compression, in which the length of a developmental class is reduced and the subject is covered in a more concentrated fashion; 3) contextualization, in which course content related to the developmental topic is linked with a specific area of study in which the student intends to major; and 4) co-requisite coursework, in which a lab or study group provides supplemental instruction while the student is enrolled in the related credit-bearing course. These educational reforms are concurrent with the 2015 adoption of a performance-based funding system that either financially rewards or penalizes Florida colleges and universities based on their retention rates, completion rates, and other accountability measures. Although such measures have been viewed, especially by the press, as impetuous and drastic (see, for example, Fain, 2013), they do offer a unique opportunity to study the effects of mainstreaming on two important constituencies: 1) the students who have been diagnosed as 60 needing remediation in writing and 2) the instructors who teach students with presumably different levels of writing proficiency. As several other states (such as Colorado, Indiana, and Virginia) weigh options for reforming their developmental education programs, the experiences of Florida’s colleges during this period of reform may be extremely influential. Research that captures the perspectives of students and instructors, along with the distinctive challenges presented by writing instruction, is both timely and necessary. Sponsored by a sizable grant from the Gates Foundation, researchers from Florida State University have already conducted several preliminary surveys of institutional leaders and administrators, analyzed institutional plans, and held focus group interviews with administrators, faculty, and staff (Hu et al., 2014a, 2014b, 2014c, 2015a, 2015b, 2015c, 2016a, 2016c). In the future, they also plan to assess the effectiveness of SB 1720 through quantitative measures of student retention and persistence. Nevertheless, the day-to-day experiences of students, faculty, and staff in first-year writing classes - after the implementation of SB 1720 - have not been studied. In-depth qualitative research on first-year writing classes from a sociocultural perspective is especially valuable for an understanding of the challenges posed by such sweeping educational reform measures. Furthermore, the literature review indicates that previous qualitative studies on developmental education have usually involved a few brief interviews with a select group of administrators. Students and instructors, in particular, have had little voice in discussions on developmental education. “Orange State College” This research study took place over a nine-month period, covering the fall and spring semesters, at a four-year state college in Florida. The institution under study, referred to in this paper by the pseudonym “Orange State College” (or “Orange State”), annually serves between 61 approximately 25,000 students (at the peak of the 2008 Recession) to 18,000 students (in more recent years) on six campuses, offering over 100 undergraduate degrees and certificates. It is by far the largest higher education institution within a metropolitan area of approximately 500,000 people. The most popular fields of study include bachelor’s degrees in business, education, engineering technology, and nursing. A handful of vocationally-oriented programs that are exempt from college-level first-year writing and math coursework are also offered, such as child care, cosmetology, and plumbing. The main campus also hosts a branch campus of the nearest state-funded research university, offering local students the opportunity to earn bachelor’s degrees in social science fields that are not offered by Orange State College. These disciplines include history, political science, psychology, and sociology. Due to this close relationship with the nearest research university, many Orange State students transfer after completing an Associate of Arts or an Associate of Sciences degree. Nevertheless, Orange State College also faces serious financial challenges due to the recent statewide implementation of Florida’s performance-based funding system. In relationship to its peer institutions (many of which are situated in cities with major research universities and/or a larger, more affluent, population), Orange State is perceived as having a high proportion of students who have a low socioeconomic status and need remediation in one or more subjects. For students who enrolled between 2011 and 2012, Orange State’s retention rates were 51.9% for associate of science degree programs, 62.8% for associate of arts degree programs, and 67.9% for bachelor’s degree programs. 3 Although the retention rate in bachelor’s degree programs is higher than the average for Florida state colleges, the associate degree retention rates lag behind the state averages of 54.4% and 65.6%, respectively. Within the college, the low performance on 3 These statistics were provided to me by the Orange State College Office of Institutional Research. 62 retention rates is widely attributed to the widespread need for student remediation in writing, reading, and math. Writing Studios as Co-Requisite Remediation After the first performance-based funding assessment in 2015, Orange State College placed in the bottom tier of its peer institutions. For this reason, the college has been proactive in developing and implementing academic support for students in need of remediation. In conjunction with Orange State’s School of Humanities and Communication, the college’s writing center developed a plan to provide co-requisite remediation for mainstreamed students in the form of non-credit-bearing “writing studios.” Drawing upon substantial research and practice of a similar model at the University of South Carolina (Grego & Thompson, 2008, 1995) that dates to the early 1990’s, these writing studios are typically led by a full-time “learning specialist” from the writing center. Full-time faculty members from the English Department are also occasionally enticed to teach a writing studio class through promises of extra pay, a reduction in teaching loads, or other benefits. The studio classes meet once a week, have students from different credit-bearing writing classes, and usually enroll between four to twelve students apiece. No formal curriculum has been created for the writing studios. Instead, facilitators are allowed to structure the studios in whatever ways they perceive might be most helpful for a given class. Facilitators organize many activities, including peer review of individual papers, group feedback on a single paper or assignment, or supplemental lessons on specific writing-related topics, such as thesis statements, citations, or rhetorical analyses. A copy of the official syllabus for Orange State College’s writing studio is provided on the next page in Figure 1. 63 Figure 1. Syllabus for the Writing Studio at Orange State College 64 According to Orange State’s writing studio model, academic advisors examine a student’s high school and college (if applicable) transcripts, as well as any available test scores, to determine whether or not they might need remediation. Although SAT and ACT scores can influence an advisor’s counsel, the primary determinant of student placement in math and writing classes in the Florida State College System comes from a computer adaptive exam called the “PERT” (Postsecondary Education Readiness Test). A copy of the “Advising Grid” utilized by advisors at Orange State College for writing placement is provided below in Figure 2. Figure 2. Advising Grid for Student Placement in Writing at Orange State College 65 The PERT assessment is unique to Florida. From 1995 to 2010, Florida used an ACCUPLACER exam (also known as the “CPT”) that was developed by The College Board for adoption in several states to determine a student’s college readiness. First administered during the 2010-11 academic year, the PERT was created by McCann Associates, a private company that specializes in developing “cost effective tools via software” for a variety of sectors, including government, public safety, and human resources. 4 Florida’s main justification for the creation and adoption of the PERT was that the state had developed new K-12 standards for its primary and secondary schools. As a result, the state needed a new, focused assessment that would measure performance according to the new standards. The PERT was designed to serve as both a college-readiness assessment for students who recently graduated from the state’s public high schools and as a student placement tool for the state college system (Burdman, 2011). There are three sections to the PERT: math, reading, and writing. Each section has 30 multiple-choice questions. Twenty-five questions determine the student’s placement score in each section, and five questions are considered to be “field-test items” that help McCann developers adjust the operational test bank. As student take the exam, they are not aware of the difference between “placement items” and “field-test items.” According to McCann, students are allowed to take the PERT twice, with the first assessment provided free of charge. As of August 2016, students are charged $10 for the second assessment. If an advisor determines that a student would normally be placed in developmental writing, they can advise the student to choose between one of two options: 1) enroll in a compressed, non-credit-bearing developmental writing and/or reading class or 2) enroll in the 4 This information comes from the McCann Associates website: http://www.mccanntesting.com/about-us/ 66 credit-bearing college-level writing class in conjunction with a weekly writing studio. The two developmental classes are four non-credit units each, while the writing studio is one non-credit unit. During the 2016-17 academic year, tuition and fees per credit hour at Orange State College were $102.38 for an in-state student and $398.65 for an out-of-state student. Hence, the studio is $307.14 cheaper than one of the four-unit developmental classes for an in-state student and $1,185.08 cheaper for an out-of-state student. Since enrollment in ENC 1101 (the institution’s first-semester writing class) is simultaneous with the writing studio, a student may also be able to complete their studies a semester early. As specified by Florida law, students are not required to follow their advisor’s counsel. If students are aware of their options, 5 they can simply choose to avoid both the developmental coursework and the writing studio, and the institution is powerless to mandate a different track. As the statistics from Table 1 illustrate, a progressively higher number of students at Orange State College have enrolled in the writing studios than the developmental reading or writing classes since 2014. Table 1. Student Enrollment at Orange State College, Fall 2014 to Spring 2016 Course Fall 2014 Spring 2015 Fall 2015 Spring 2016 ENC 1101 (First-Semester Writing) 2763 1369 2655 1209 ENC 0055L (Writing Studio) 354 185 409 205 ENC 0025C (Developmental Writing) 156 78 59 47 REA 0017C (Developmental Reading) 194 91 73 54 A direct comparison of student success rates between students enrolling in the writing studio classes and developmental coursework has unfortunately not been tracked, since students 5 As I learned through interviews and focus groups, the majority of international, out-of-state, private school, and ex- military students are not aware of their options when they meet with their advisors. They are also frequently not aware of the purpose behind the PERT exam when they take it. This issue will be discussed further in Chapter 5. 67 do not concurrently enroll in developmental classes while they take ENC 1101, the first-semester writing class. However, Table 2 shows that the success rates for students concurrently enrolling in writing studios and ENC 1101 are roughly similar to the success rates for students who directly enroll in the first-semester writing coursework without the writing studio. From an institutional standpoint, this is considered a major improvement, as student success levels for students enrolled in developmental coursework hovered between 25% to 40% from 2008 to 2013. Moreover, the students enrolled in writing studio classes are perceived as having writing deficiencies in comparison with the students who are enrolled directly in first-year writing. Table 2. Student Success Rates at Orange State College, Fall 2014 to Spring 2016 Course Fall 2014 Spring 2015 Fall 2015 Spring 2016 ENC 1101 70% 63% 74% 62% ENC 0055L and ENC 1101 62% 63% 67% 64% Research Design Research Questions From the outset, two different bodies of theoretical literature motivated the direction of this study. The first concerns sociocultural theories on writing, with particular attention to the concept of discourse communities elaborated by Gee (2015). To review, a discourse community is a group of individuals who share a set of values and assumptions, as well as preferred methods for communicating their ideas. The second concerns social capital theory. By investigating the relationships forged through writing studio classes that serve as co-requisite remediation, I postulated that I could depict the relationships formed between academic support staff and students. With these relationships established, I could then identify specific resources, available 68 through the resulting social capital, that might otherwise be unavailable. Three sets of research questions thus anchor this study: • What forms of discourse are familiar to students? How do students become acclimated to the challenges of academic discourse? • What types of relationships are formed among mainstreamed students and academic staff? How does the resulting social capital - accessible through these relationships - help or not help students? • What are the specific resources that help students overcome deficiencies and achieve success in mainstreamed writing classes? Premises of Qualitative Research The research questions presented here are premised on the notion that knowledge is socially constructed and multi-layered; they are not hypotheses that are meant to be either verified or rejected (Kezar, 2006). Further, I contend that individuals within institutions can experience and describe the same phenomena in different ways (Weick, 1995). One aim of this study, then, is to accurately depict multiple participants’ points of view, with the complementary goal of adding to our theoretical knowledge and our understanding of the topic in question (Burawoy, 1998). Qualitative research provides the researcher an opportunity to compare and analyze multiple perspectives so that a given phenomenon can be better understood (Denzin & Lincoln, 2005). The qualitative data collection methods used to capture these points of view include the following: 1) classroom observations; 2) writing center interactions between staff and students; 3) semi-structured face-to-face interviews; and 4) focus groups. Through a combination of these collection methods and an analysis of the resulting data, I present findings in chapter four that 69 advance our understanding of three primary issues: 1) the writing-related hurdles that students experience in first-year coursework; 2) the relationships that enable access to valuable social capital; and 3) the resources that enhance writing-related success for students in need of remediation. Additionally, the factors that either augment or limit the feasibility and scalability of co-requisite remediation for first-year writing classes are identified and analyzed. Trustworthiness and Rigor in Qualitative Research To establish trustworthiness and rigor in qualitative research, three criteria have been identified as particularly valuable: confirmability, credibility, dependability, and transferability (Lincoln & Guba, 1985; Tierney & Clemens, 2011). Confirmability is often presumed to be a problem for qualitative researchers hoping to extend the applicability of their findings, since a constructivist perspective presumes that different researchers will bring unique perspectives to the field under study. Therefore, I established confirmability by keeping records of all memos, notes, protocols, and transcripts that were accumulated over the course of the research project. Additionally, in the forthcoming chapter that details the results of this research study, I provide multiple types of evidence - in the form of quotes, written feedback, and other documented interactions - to support each of my assertions. Credibility - the extent to which interpretations of the data seem plausible - can be established through three methods. First, I triangulated multiple forms of data, including primary and secondary source materials from the literature review, transcripts of interviews, personal memos, samples of student writing, and descriptive statistics from the institutions under study (Mathison, 1988). Second, I was fortunate to have prolonged engagement with many of the participants in this study, especially with students, writing studio staff, and writing instructors. Sustained contact with my study participants helped to build trust, so that data from interviews 70 and rich data for analysis. Third, during the final months of the research study, I freely shared my findings, as well as preliminary drafts of my work, with participants. Due to their busy schedules, some participants provided more extensive feedback than others. Regardless, this process of member checking not only ensured that I captured the voices and perspectives of participants in a faithful manner, but it also frequently engendered a considerable degree of self- reflection on the part of participants (Morse et al., 2002). Member checking also encouraged participants to reflect on their previous statements and the topics under study, making follow-up interviews more Dependability is largely reliant on the researcher staying attuned to changes in the research setting. As this project unfolded, a large hurricane caused considerable damage to many participants’ homes and the surrounding metropolitan area. In particular, infrastructure related to technology and online coursework was impacted. Hence, access to technology, already a topic of considerable interest to many of my participants, may have become even more imperative than it otherwise would have. As I detail the results in the following chapter, I acknowledge this environmental change, as it may have affected the perceptions and observations of my participants, as well as the results. By discussing similar developments that impacted the college campus and the local community, other researchers can feel confident that the results and conclusions, while not necessarily replicable by the standards of quantitative research, represent an authentic portrayal of the events that transpired. The supposition that quantitative measures demonstrate broadly generalizable results that can be easily replicated across the entire higher education sector ignores the sheer diversity of institutions, pedagogical styles, and student backgrounds that complicate any research into educational phenomena. It may be attractive to assume that what works in Florida also will 71 readily work in either Idaho or Maine. However, individual states have quite distinctive student demographics, rates of student migration (both within the U.S. and between different countries), and student secondary school experiences. Even within the state of Florida, a comparison of student populations from a Northern Florida city (e.g., Pensacola) with a South Florida city (e.g., Miami) should be conducted with extreme care. For those who might be unfamiliar with the demographics of Florida, cities in North Florida are predominantly White, middle-class, politically-conservative and have students who speak English as their sole language. Cities in South Florida, on the other hand, are generally more ethnically diverse; they often have relatively-high populations of Blacks and Hispanics who hail from comparatively-lower socioeconomic backgrounds and families that are politically liberal. For many young people who live in Central and South Florida, English is a second or third language. Transferability is a key criterion that provides qualitative research with an analogue for the concept of generalizability in quantitative research. The most common way to establish transferability is through the use of “thick description” (Geertz, 1973, 1974). Throughout this study, I endeavor to provide such pertinent detail through my descriptions of participants, their interactions, and developments that influenced the direction of the research. This detail can help readers comprehensively understand the environment of Orange State College and gauge how similar or different its setting is to other institutions where the topics of first-year writing, remediation, and mainstreaming are under review. Research Process Rationale for Study Even though developmental education at the postsecondary level has benefitted from increased researcher attention since 2005, the vast majority of studies have employed 72 quantitative methods. As a result, the educational research community has accumulated a growing body of knowledge about broadly-conceived reform measures (e.g., mainstreaming, co- requisite coursework, and modularization) and the effects of these reforms on blunt measures of student persistence and retention. These studies are undoubtedly valuable in that they encourage innovative thinking in the conceptualization and implementation of developmental coursework. Nevertheless, we have surprisingly little firsthand knowledge about student perspectives on developmental coursework, the instructional practices that students find most helpful, or the resources that are essential for student success. To employ a cooking metaphor, we now have an abundance of useful information about certain pots and pans that may be helpful in the preparation of a given dish. However, we know practically nothing about the vital ingredients, cooking techniques, or recipes that make the dish either detestable, palatable, or delicious. The extent to with a dish is delicious is also highly dependent on individual preferences. Hence, understanding the target population’s preferences and backgrounds is vital for successful presentation and implementation. Additionally, the majority of research to date has focused on outcome-related data from math coursework. Presumably, this concentrated attention is due to the complications (and subjectivity) inherent in assessing student writing proficiency (Rose, 1985). To be sure, data related to math outcomes is extremely important, as many higher education institutions are feeling pressure from state and national policymakers to emphasize STEM-related degrees while documenting the job prospects and first-year salaries of recent postsecondary graduates. In a twenty-first century knowledge economy, though, critical thinking skills and the ability to communicate with different audiences while completing complex technical tasks are also in high demand (Holzer, 2015). In his research concerning workplace automation and its 73 impact on the U.S. labor market, Autor (2015) has compellingly shown that the middle-skill jobs that are likely to avoid displacement combine “routine technical tasks with the set of nonroutine tasks in which workers hold comparative advantage: interpersonal interaction, flexibility, adaptability, and problem solving” (p. 27). As argued by Frey and Osborne (2017), occupations in the transportation and logistics sector, office and administrative support, the service sector, and construction are at a “high risk” of being displaced by technological improvements in robotics, algorithmic sophistication, and processing power. The occupations that are “future proof” to computerization, on the other hand, require a different set of competencies: As technology progresses, creative skills will become more important, meaning that places that have specialized in creative work will most likely be the main beneficiaries of the digital age (Bakhshi, Frey, & Osborne, 2015, p. 21). In short, occupations that are likely to enjoy stable employment prospects require either creativity or social intelligence. Hence, the probability that computer programming, public relations, communication, and education jobs will be computerized is extremely low. While many academic subjects contribute to the cultivation of creativity and social intelligence, writing is a unique skill that promotes dialectic thinking, deep understanding of a given topic, and an understanding of the relationship between communication, cultural expectations, and social values (Bean, 2011). For these reasons, I maintain that rigorous qualitative research on developmental writing is of at least equal importance to quantitative assessments of reforms to developmental math coursework. Ethnography Qualitative research that is based on an abbreviated period of study or episodic engagement with a given group can result in impressionistic findings of questionable utility 74 (Burawoy et al., 1991; Watson-Grego, 1988). One research method that is well-situated to construct a comprehensive picture of a complex, multifaceted topic (such as the intersection of developmental writing and academic support) is ethnography. Prolonged fieldwork, detailed field notes, wide-ranging interviews, and participant observation are the hallmarks of ethnography (Iloh & Tierney, 2014; O’Reilly, 2005). Through such a detailed investigation, the researcher is able to “[produce] a richly written account that respects the irreducibility of human experience” (O’Reilly, 2005, p. 3). By employing “thick description” (Geertz, 1973, 1974), one can lend voice to the students and instructors who have, thus far, been overlooked in discussions about developmental education. Ethnography is particularly suited for the exploration of culture, making the sociocultural and social capital frameworks viable options for theory. My methodological approach reflects the traditions of ethnography in two primary ways. First, I examine the shared patterns, behaviors, and beliefs of the students I encounter, as well as their discourse communities. Second, I examine the linguistic codes which are embedded within these communities (Saville- Troike, 2003). Observational data and field notes provides an etic (outsider) perspective on discourse communities, while focus group and interview data offers an emic (insider) perspective. Relational Ethnography The nature of my ethnographic work is informed by Desmond’s (2014) concept of relational ethnography. According to Desmond, relational ethnography involves the study of “at least two types of actors or agencies occupying different positions within the social space and bound together in a relationship of mutual dependence or struggle” (p. 554). As a result, the researcher is less concerned with “groups” or “places,” as one might in a traditional ethnography. 75 Instead, the researcher focuses on the connections that bind actors together, the influence that actors have on each other, and the networks that are constructed through these relationships. Originally, I intended to limit my focus on two sets of actors that I identified as crucial to a study of writing studios and co-requisite remediation: 1) students and 2) writing studio instructors. By focusing on these two groups, I believed that I could construct a fairly comprehensive narrative of co-requisite remediation at Orange State College. During the first month of the study, however, it became apparent that a more expansive web of actors would offer valuable insights into the challenges faced by students in need of writing remediation. For this reason, I included interviews with three additional groups: 1) instructors in credit-bearing writing classes; 2) other college academic support staff; and 3) writing teachers at the high school level. As I will describe in chapter four, each of these groups are significant, influential actors in a student’s progression through college writing coursework. And yet, each group held a different set of beliefs concerning the writing skills that students should acquire through first- year classes. A fourth group - academic advisors - would have likely had equally germane perspectives that could contribute much to this study. Due to time limitations and institutional concerns that will be elaborated upon in the limitations section of this study, though, I chose to rely on students’ reflections on their advising experiences as the pertinent data for this particular line of inquiry. At least three implications result from a research perspective informed by relational ethnography. First, the researcher considers the comprehensive field of study, rather than a single site. Although much of this study’s focus is on a college writing center, pertinent experiences that shape the perspectives of the study’s participants occur in spaces outside the college. Hence, I document broader interactions that occur both in physical space (e.g., beyond 76 the college campus) and virtual space (e.g., through discussion boards and emails). Second, the researcher focuses attention on processes that inform the daily lives of students and impact student development in an effort to better understand the factors that may affect student completion of coursework. Third, the researcher studies cultural conflict in lieu of an emphasis on group culture. Rather than viewing the individuals involved with developmental education as being indicative of a solitary, homogenous culture, I perceive the environment surrounding college writing classes as embodying “bundles of communications, relations, and transactions” (Emirbayer, 1997, p. 300). Through such a prism, these bundles become valuable data for understanding the difficulties faced by students in college writing. Data Collection and Analysis Data Collection After receiving approval from the University of Southern California IRB department in July 2016, I moved to the research site in August 2016. As shown in Table 3, fieldwork at Orange State College lasted from September 2016 to May 2017. During the first month of research, I conducted a first round of semi-structured interviews with writing studio instructors and other academic support staff who were intimately involved with students enrolled in first- year writing classes. I attempted to get as much information about their experiences with writing coursework before the reforms, since the reforms, and about the institution as possible. Through the information provided in these interviews, I developed a strategic plan to interview students, instructors of credit-bearing writing classes, academic support staff, and department heads from a variety of fields throughout the college. To ensure that my research would not surprise any influential figures at Orange State College, the head of academic support (who was an invaluable 77 source of support for my work) also set up informal discussions so that I could explain my research to key administrators at OSC. Over the next seven months of the fall and spring semesters (October 2016 to April 2017), I obtained access to other participants through snowball sampling (Creswell, 2013). The instructors who are involved with first-year writing classes attended orientation sessions in the writing center, facilitating opportunities for visibility among instructors who were not already familiar with me or my work. Table 3. Timeframe for Research Study Time Period Activity September 2016 Initial Data Collection: 1) Semi-structured interviews with writing studio instructors and academic support staff 2) Discuss parameters of study with key administrators at the institution 3) Ongoing fieldnotes and memo-writing, reflecting on emic and etic perspectives October 2016 to May 2017 Data Collection (Snowball Sampling): 1) Semi-structured interviews with a variety of participants 2) Observations of writing classes and tutoring sessions 3) Participation in tutoring sessions 4) Examples of student writing 5) Ongoing fieldnotes and memo-writing, reflecting on emic and etic perspectives 6) Ongoing analysis and coding of data March 2017 to May 2017 Wrap-Up 1) Final analysis of accumulated data 2) Invite participants to provide feedback 3) Write up of findings 78 I asked questions to instructors, academic support staff, and students through semi- structured interviews. The interview questions are outlined in Appendices A, B, and C. After the writing studio facilitators had an opportunity to build rapport with their students (over the first 4-5 sessions of the semester), I also attended several writing studio sessions during the fall 2016 and spring 2017 semesters on a regular basis. Before my first observation, students were made aware that I was conducting research. Students also had an opportunity to voice concerns or ask me to not document their interactions. During these writing studios, I observed how students in mainstreamed first-year classes interacted with their instructors, provided support and feedback to their fellow students, and engaged with syllabi, rubrics, instructor feedback, and a variety of other documents. The observation protocol for classrooms and tutoring sessions is in Appendix D. At the end of the fall and spring semesters, writing studio facilitators and first-year writing instructors allowed me to conduct focus group interviews with student participants. In the past, Orange State College invited me to conduct seminars on its writing across the curriculum program, research methods, and peer tutoring. Therefore, the director of the writing center let me also occasionally tutor students. Over time, writing studio instructors asked me to contribute feedback, along with the rest of the class. In a couple of instances, I even shared small pieces of writing so that the students could critique me through the process of peer review. These experiences lent greater credibility to my positionality as an ethnographer and as a participant/researcher (Jones, Torres, & Armino, 2006). Over time, students, facilitators, instructors, and administrators recognized me and would engage in informal discussions about a variety of issues concerning writing classes, writing studios, campus life and their personal lives. Most of these discussions were brief, but some lasted as long as two to three hours. If the discussions were germane to my research, I took 79 fieldnotes no later than that evening about the conversation. Conversations with a couple of administrators led to three opportunities where I was invited to be a “guest speaker” about educational opportunities, scholarships, and careers to student success classes. During these classes, I informed students that I was conducting research on campus, but my primary purpose was to share insights and field questions about the lecture topic. These lectures led to additional interviews with students who reflected upon their writing experiences at Orange State College. Documents, whether they are in physical or digital format, can be a valuable source of data for ethnographic inquiry (Denzin, 2009). Demographic data about the institution under study was covered by Florida’s “Sunshine Law” that guarantees public access to records involving any governmental agency (Chance & Locke, 2007). Nevertheless, the writing center was extremely helpful in sharing their internal writing studio data with me. The only documents which were not specifically subject to disclosure were student records, evaluation materials for faculty and staff, internal investigation records, and proprietary research information (University of Florida General Counsel, n.d.). These types of documents were of no interest to my study. When I had the approval of students and instructors, I requested copies of marked (and unmarked) writing samples. Other documents from writing classes, such as syllabi, assignments, and handouts, were also useful. With the permission of participants, I also examined publicly- posted digital documents, including posts on instructional websites and social media platforms. In total, I conducted a total of 90 semi-structured interviews. These included 22 interviews with 11 writing studio facilitators, 38 interviews with students enrolled in the writing studios, 12 interviews with administrators and academic support staff, 13 interviews with instructors from first-year writing classes, and 5 interviews with high school English teachers. In addition, I conducted 21 focus groups in studios and first-year writing classes that involved a 80 total of 183 students. I also logged approximately 150 hours of observations in writing studios and first-year writing classes. Whenever possible, I observed faculty and staff planning meetings, orientation sessions, institutional board meetings, and other college activities. In April 2017, I shared my initial findings with interviewees through the process of member checking. Despite the broad sample size of this qualitative project, I developed strong ties with several instructors, facilitators, and students. Some of these individuals appear frequently in chapter four and are discussed in greater depth in Chapter 4. These individuals, presented below in Tables 4, 5, and 6, have been given pseudonyms to protect their anonymity. To help the reader keep track of names, they are presented in the order they appear in Chapter 4 and identified with a writing-related activity that is discussed in Chapter 5. Table 4. Roster of Student Participants Appearance Activity Pseudonyms Act 1 Act 2 Confidence Research Source Materials Organization and Paper Length Digital Literacy Networking Understanding and Conceptualizing Deadlines Feedback Demetrius Caroline Edgerin Lanzo Brittany Angela Betty Lyla James Ethan Nathan Kordell Rita Alejandra Martin Kristi Tiffany Dawn Felicia 81 Table 5. Roster of Studio Facilitators Appearance Activity Pseudonyms Act 1 Act 2 Source Materials Organization and Paper Length Digital Literacy Understanding and Conceptualizing Joy Sarah Ronald Gabe Feedback Mikayla Table 6. Roster of Instructors Appearance Activity Pseudonyms Throughout Act 1 Organization and Paper Length Digital Literacy Paul Katherine Valerie Nadine Aaron Data Analysis Every interview and focus group was recorded on a Windows tablet that was password protected. Given the limited timeframe and the sizeable number of interviews, 25 particularly long transcriptions of semi-structured interviews were completed by a third party and reviewed by me for accuracy. These transcriptions covered 33 hours of data. I completed transcriptions for the remainder of interview data. In total, approximately 70 hours of semi-structured interviews were transcribed. The method of data analysis was inductive, employing open and axial coding to identify recurring patterns (Corbin & Strauss, 1990). Open coding provides a first level of abstraction that organizes data into concepts and categories. Axial coding analyzes the properties of each category until interdependencies are realized and useful frameworks for understanding data 82 emerge. While data from interviews, observations, and student writing samples was collected, I also engaged in reflective memo-writing (Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 2011). Once written data from field notes and interview notes was coded, themes were progressively revealed through the constant comparative method (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). After a preliminary set of themes had been establishe/d, I listened to each of the recorded class and tutoring sessions, selectively transcribing sections that were appropriate to a given theme. This process was ongoing and continuously evolving throughout the research project. Occasionally, as themes were refined, I returned to previously recorded and transcribed selections in case they elicited new insights. In total, over 200 hours of recorded observations were reviewed. During the data analysis process, representative quotes from the interview transcripts were associated with each of the themes. These quotes, along with samples of writing and feedback, represent a significant portion of the dissertation’s findings. I also asked writing studio instructors to help with peer debriefing as findings emerged and data was being analyzed (Creswell & Miller, 2000; Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Chapter Summary In this chapter, I explained how the study’s methodology, involving a relational ethnography of first-year college writing, was tailored to the specific demands of the research questions. First, I discussed how Florida state policy and institutional decisions set the stage for research on co-requisite remediation in the form of writing studios. Second, I addressed the reasons why qualitative research on writing is needed for greater understanding of developmental education. Third, I detailed how a relational ethnography approach could highlight relationships and shed light on the writing beliefs espoused by different groups in the disorienting arena of first-year college writing. Fourth, I described the data collection and analysis strategies that 83 resulted in the results presented in the next chapter. Fifth, I provided pertinent additional information about the focus of the study, its potential transferability, and my positionality. This information provides important context for the reader to interpret data, findings, and limitations that are presented in the forthcoming chapters. 84 Chapter 4: The Writing Studio as Co-Requisite Remediation - A Chapter in Two Acts Chapter Overview The purpose of this chapter is to provide data pertinent to a discussion of first-year undergraduate writing and to explore the potential utility of writing studios as one viable form of remediation. The chapter is organized in two acts. Each act pertains to different phenomena that impact student success in first-year writing and is introduced by a story concerning an Orange State College student who exemplifies several of the act’s themes. Act 1 focuses on foundational skills for college-level writing and the anxieties engendered by the preparation of a college paper. I will outline four skills - each repeatedly highlighted by the students, faculty, and studio facilitators who participated in this study - that pose significant challenges for students as they either transition from high school to college or enter college after a protracted period away from formal education. These four foundational skills concern the following activities: 1) conducting research; 2) engaging with source materials; 3) organization and paper length; and 4) digital literacy. A story centered around Demetrius’s life history demonstrates how a student’s personal and educational background informs their understanding of college, their ability to succeed in first-year writing classes, and the crisis of confidence that can occur during seemingly mundane writing activities. Act 2 illustrates how first-year college students, reliant on norms established during their secondary school experiences, frequently misinterpret and/or fail to meet the explicit and tacit expectations underlying three writing-related activities. These activities include the following: 1) understanding the assignment and conceptualizing a response; 2) meeting deadlines; and 3) revising a paper in response to instructor feedback. Each of these three activities has a substantial impact on a student’s success or failure in first-year writing classes, yet they each 85 require a specific understanding of the instructor’s expectations and the conventions of academic discourse in first-year undergraduate writing. The utility of the writing studio in helping students with the issues outlined in Act 2 is foregrounded by a narrative about a student named Mason, his desire for networking opportunities, and his writing studio experiences. Both of these acts are united by a common theme: namely that students are entering college without several writing-related skills and the course-specific information necessary to successfully complete a first-year writing class. Each act also emphasizes the importance of an institutional support system so that students who lack confidence in their writing abilities, do not comprehend the expectations of their writing instructors, and/or face additional obstacles due to extracurricular issue can receive assistance congruent with their needs. In Chapter 5, the writing studio’s impact in fostering student development will discussed in greater detail, as these topics will be explored through the conceptual frameworks of social capital theory and sociocultural theories on writing. Act 1: Foundational Skills for First-Year Writing Demetrius’s Story: A Crisis of Confidence Midway through our interview, Demetrius turns in his chair, staring at one of the walls in the conference room: The thing is when you come from a situation where, of course, poverty is rampant - just the whole environment not being a productive environment - you meet a lot of people. You meet really good people that are forced to do some not-so-good things... If you just bagged groceries for the rest of your life - even though you had the ability to be a doctor - I'd feel just as sad for you as the people who just chose to go a different route and aren’t here anymore. 86 Demetrius considered it a “miracle” that he was attending Orange State College at the age of 28. Broad-shouldered, with an infectious grin and long dreadlocks cascading down both sides of his face, Demetrius often radiated a cheerful, Bahamian demeanor that belied his rough background growing up in Miami. Reflecting on the childhood friends who were no longer “here anymore,” Demetrius admitted the following: It hurts. When y’all actually spent intimate times together, times in abandoned houses and – you know what I mean? Just putting money together just to share a burger or stuff like that, when that could’ve been the person that was influencing you to keep your head up. We have a thing in Miami where we put all our friends on T-shirts. They die and we memorialize ‘em by putting ‘em on a shirt. I got a wall full of shirts that go back from middle school, and it’s almost like, even now, I don't even want to call home. Because it's guaranteed that when you come home, you’re gonna hear about somebody that you know died. Teachers recognized Demetrius’s intelligence early. In second grade, he was placed in a gifted program and bussed from Miami to a “rich school” in suburban Aventura, a “whole different zip code.” He doesn’t talk much about that experience. He tosses it aside with a wave of his hand and a quick observation: “you know how brutal kids can be.” Demetrius does talk at length about the influence his father, a Vietnam veteran with a theology degree, had on his life. Even though Demetrius returned to the Miami public school system by third grade, he tells me that he was “in a unique position because [he was] the one black guy who [had] his father in his life”: When my dad was alive, I got my first car at 15 years old. I was the kid in the neighborhood with all of the privilege... Ninth grade, got to high school. I was playing 87 football - did real good. Played on JV and then moved up to varsity in the same season. So I was right in the thick of it. But then [my dad] wound up getting diagnosed with cancer, so that caused me to miss a lot of school. Took care of him until the end. One of the first things I noticed about Demetrius was the laminated picture of a tombstone on the front of his college binder. He catches my eyes glancing towards the binder. “Yes, that’s for him.” He continues: After that, I went homeless in Miami... [my dad] had encouraged me to get back in high school, try to get my diploma. But, you know, real life started and I'm hungry and - what are you gonna wear? My friend's dad owned a crack house, and that's where I began to basically work. I had nowhere else to go. Demetrius’s story, while heartbreaking, is illustrative of the difficult, and often circuitous, paths that many students navigate to attend Orange State College. According to statistics from the college’s institutional research office, approximately seven out of every ten students attending Orange State live at or below the poverty level. Whereas the median student age at Orange State was 20 during the 2006-07 academic year, the median student age for the 2014-15 academic year was 27. Few students today attend Orange State immediately after high school. Those who do generally have vastly different educational experiences, encompassing a broad spectrum of high schools throughout the United States, high schools in other countries, or the attainment of a GED after several years divorced from a formal education. Despite repeated efforts to standardize the Florida primary and secondary curricula through testing and accountability measures, students from Florida are no less likely to have a common high school experience. For instance, Demetrius reflected on his ninth-grade curriculum at his Title 1 school in Miami: 88 Demetrius: I had no math, and we only had English for the second half of the year. Michael: What caused that? Demetrius: We’d come to class, and we’d have a sub every day. And on our progress reports, everybody got a “B” on it, so we were all like, “Cool. We got a free period.” Michael: I see. Demetrius: But they also added an FCAT class to seventh and eighth period that year. I think it was my year that it became mandatory that you had to pass the FCAT to be promoted. 6 Michael: What did they do in the FCAT class? Demetrius: Just teaching for the test. It was really simple... The science is just all critical thinking. The answer is really in the question. After a few days of tenth grade, Demetrius never returned to high school. The medical bills generated by his father’s illness and subsequent death wiped out whatever money Demetrius could have used to continue his education. He was homeless for a full year and realized that he was “completely on a crash course.” Due to support from his aunt and encouragement from peers, Demetrius eventually “escaped” his hometown, resettling in a different part of the state. The transition was difficult, partly because he went from “having money in his pocket doing the wrong things” to being “dead broke.” Nevertheless, Demetrius earned a GED after a couple of months of intense study in 2010. That same year, he enrolled in his first college writing class: 6 The FCAT is a state-sponsored, standardized exam that has been given to primary and secondary students in Florida since 1998. Tenth grade students must pass their FCAT exam to be eligible for high school graduation. Until the 2015-16 academic year, Florida schools were also assigned grades based on student FCAT scores. 89 The teacher - this old white lady - she was nice. But the very first day, I think we had to write a whole paper - like an “about me” - and it had to be in cursive. I’d never learned how to write in cursive. So I was floored on the first day. It was too much. I didn't even know how to approach my teacher. I was so mad. What could I say? “The only reason I didn't turn this paper in was because, honestly, I never learned.” I’m thinking, “I’m in college now. I’m gonna sound like a complete idiot. I probably look like a complete idiot. I’m outta here.” Demetrius added that the year he was homeless was not necessarily the toughest point in his life because he “was still in a familiar environment.” The year he first filled out FAFSA forms, completed a Pell Grant application, and attended college classes presented an entirely different set of challenges. Having had no experience with financial aid forms or college-level coursework, Demetrius made two assumptions - that the paperwork would always be “too much of a burden” and that his lack of preparation in high school meant that he would always lack the skills necessary for college success. Hence, he avoided college for six years after attending his first writing class in 2010. The feelings of estrangement and inferiority that Demetrius experienced in his first writing class were common among other students enrolled in writing studios at Orange State College. Writing instructors and studio facilitators repeatedly stated in interviews that the single greatest barrier for students in their classes involved “confidence.” During one focus group, a facilitator pointed to the 12-seat, oval conference table around which we were seated, asserting that students at Orange State were dealing with “wounds the size of this table”: They’ve just had so much to deal with in their lives, their classes, and their past toxic - can I say that? - yes, their toxic relationships with past teachers. I’ve had hour-long 90 tutoring sessions where my entire goal was to build [the student’s] confidence enough so that they didn’t completely shut down once I was gone. Paul, an experienced instructor who previously taught writing in two low-performing Florida high schools, a prison facility, and a drug rehabilitation center, spoke at length about the lack of confidence among Orange State students like Demetrius. Despite his background working in several challenging institutions, he told me that was “surprised” when he first started teaching at Orange State. I feel bad saying how unprepared [the students] were. I really learned what a non- traditional student meant... For example, last week I had [a student] in tears who said, “My old instructor told me I didn’t have any thoughts in my writing.” And to her that meant, “I’m stupid. I don’t have any thoughts.” For everything you write, you have thoughts! And I told her, “There are times when your ability to communicate those thoughts can interfere with the mechanics. The thoughts are there.” To tell someone that, and marginalize them, and say, “You don’t have thoughts” - It’s the worst thing you can tell a student. There are at least three takeaways from these accounts and Demetrius’s story. First, even experienced first-year writing instructors may fail to understand the unique challenges and personal histories of their students. Second, the most benign assumptions on the part of a first- year writing teacher can alienate a student who, through no fault of their own, suffers from a lack of confidence due to inadequate educational preparation. Third, the process of sharing a piece of writing is an intimate activity that leaves a writer extremely vulnerable to criticism. A critique of writing can be easily perceived as a deeper critique of the student’s intelligence and capacity to succeed in college. Therefore, an understanding of the factors that cause students to lose 91 confidence and question their scholastic and career intentions is essential for the design and implementation of effective support. In what follows, I specify four foundational challenges, based on data accumulated at Orange State College, that students face in their transition from high school writing to college writing. 1. Research Expectations During the 2013-2014 academic year, Orange State College restructured its two-semester, first-year writing sequence at precisely the same time that developmental education reform was passed in Florida. When I first arrived on campus, I mistakenly assumed the restructuring was attributable to the statewide reforms. Instructors were quick to point out, however, that the Orange State College English Department had been in the process of redesigning its first-year writing sequence for several years. As stated by one instructor, the reason primarily had to do with “students’ lack of research skills”: What we found was that the research paper was always one of the big stumbling blocks for students. Many of them would be going along fine until midway through the semester, when we handed out the assignment for the research paper. When we would tell them that they had to locate their own sources, you could see the look of horror on their faces. Instructors expressed near-unanimous agreement that research skills required amplified scaffolding. Thus, under the restructured curriculum, the first semester writing course at Orange State College now emphasizes different genres of writing, including a summary paper, a rhetorical analysis, a comparison paper, and a causal analysis. For these papers, source material is usually provided to students. The second semester writing class, in turn, integrates research skills and writing so that students have more time to learn how to use library databases, identity 92 different types of sources (e.g., academic journals), and cite materials correctly. Not every professor at Orange State College follows these guidelines, though. Many instructors, especially those hired on an adjunct basis, continue to assign a research paper during the first semester, regardless of departmental policies. A few instructors who primarily taught online were very reluctant to change, as their course materials, assignment guidelines, and videos had already been specifically designed and uploaded for the Orange State College system. Students verified their professors’ belief that they had little training in research. During one focus group, for instance, I asked, “What is the most helpful advice or support a studio facilitator gave you?” One 19-year-old student from a rural county in Florida immediately spoke up, declaring that he “finally learned how to do my sources. I never knew how to do that before.” Michael: So in high school, you never did that? Student: Yeah, you don’t put sources in your paper. Michael: Did you have much writing in high school, in general? Student: Not my senior year of high school. I did a virtual school program, so I did English online. Michael: I would think you do a lot of writing, if the coursework is online. Student: No - it’s more like you just read. That’s pretty much it. And answer multiple choice questions about the reading. In 1997, Florida was the first state to sponsor a K-12 virtual school. Over the past twenty years, enrollment in the school has dramatically expanded. According to statistics from the 2015-2016 academic year, 29,372 unique students completed a total of 477,695 individual courses at the Florida Virtual School. As I will discuss later in this chapter and chapter five, the 93 experiences of these students is one of many factors that have complicated Orange State College’s understanding of its students’ needs. Even students who attended high school in a more traditional, classroom environment told me that they rarely, if ever, conducted their own research for a high school paper. During one interview, a recent graduate of a public high school in the same county as Orange State College shared a serious of discussions she had with her mother: During my last two years of high school, my mom kept wanting to take me to that public library after school - you know, the creepy one by the bay. She was crazy! I kept saying to her, “No, mom! I don’t have to write a paper! Stop!” I guess she had to write like a bunch of them when she was in school, or whatever. I still don’t think she believes me. Some instructors pointed out that Orange State College needed to adapt its curriculum not only to meet the needs of in-state students, but also to help students from other countries. In recent years, students from Caribbean and Central American countries have become a more visible presence on campus. Even though, in the words of one instructor, “it has taken a while to understand their needs,” the college has recognized that it needs to provide greater support for international students if it is to fare well in the state’s performance funding metrics. Edgerin and Lanzo, for instance, were recruited from Jamaica to Orange State by a soccer coach who saw them playing in a tournament in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Since they are on an athletic scholarship and not allowed to work off campus, one of the most difficult aspects of attending Orange State is that they “don’t have spending money.” Their lack of spending money is exacerbated by the fact prices in the United States are so much more expensive than they are in Jamaica. As Lanzo remarks, “One dollar in the US is like 125 Jamaican dollars.” Edgerin adds, “When my family sends money, by the time it gets here, it’s little or nothing.” 94 Edgerin wants to get a Bachelor’s degree in accounting. Lanzo wants to get a Bachelor’s degree in international business. They share that their primary motivation in attending Orange State is not to play soccer, but to have the opportunity to study for a four-year degree at an American university. “Unless,” Edgerin jokes, “we have the option to go professional and live like Ronaldo.” Like many other international students, Edgerin and Lanzo were assessed as needing remediation in writing and math; hence, they were placed in the writing studio. Nonetheless, they told me that their writing classes at Orange State were ultimately less demanding than their high school writing classes in Jamaica, with one major exception: Edgerin: In high school in Jamaica, we can just write anything. We don’t have to worry about where we get the information from. It’s mostly your ideas. You don’t have to get any references to cite. It’s like a topic you get to brainstorm. Lanzo: You could go like, mostly, fictional things. But here, you got to get information to prove that. In Jamaica, we mostly write like stories, about your favorite leader or anything. Here, you’ve got to do “Why are cellphones important?” and things like that. For that, you need information. Edgerin and Lanzo were both quite thankful for the writing studio classes. When they first arrived, they were worried that they wouldn’t be able to afford the “extra expenses of college”: Lanzo: Other athletes - on the tennis, golf, and soccer teams - they pay for tutors to help. Some of [the tutors] basically do the MLA cites and research for 95 them. If we didn’t know about the writing studio, we wouldn’t know about the writing center and the free tutors. Michael: Do you have academic support for athletes? Edgerin: Yes. We do. But only one person, and she’s very busy. Lanzo: I think her strength is math too. Concerning the writing studio, Edgerin explained that “it helped me understand how to think through a paper... It helped me find sources, citations, Word formatting, and so on.” “Plus,” Lanzo added, “I got to meet some students who aren’t on the soccer team. I learned more about American culture in [this studio] than I have in any of my other classes. It felt more like a college class than my other classes.” As I will discuss further in Chapter 5, several students made comments about the studio being more like a “college class” than their other classes. For Edgerin and Lanzo, the reason was simple: Lanzo: We see movies about American colleges back home. The professor is always available and classes are relaxed, small. You learn through making mistakes and talking about things. Edgerin: I would like to get more of that. According to Demetrius, the writing studio moved at a much quicker pace than his regular class. Like many students, he had virtually no previous training in research. When his regular writing instructor introduced different types of resources, the resulting class discussion “put the class behind, so we never really finished.” Demetrius contrasted that experience with the writing studio, saying that “one day [in the studio] takes up two weeks of what we do in the writing class.” 96 The few students who could claim previous research experience generally attended a private high school, and the research was usually not for an English class, as might be typically assumed. One such student, Brittany, declared that she was “mystified” by her placement in the writing studio. As Brittany said, “I had to write a lot in high school, but somehow this test tells me I can’t write? Nuh-uh.” I asked her about the writing she did in high school: Brittany: Well, I had to write a report on a specific decade. It was insanity. Michael: What did you write about? Brittany: The 1960’s. We had to cover - I don’t know - say, like, five different topics. Make sure that you comment on all of those topics, and then find things that represent those topics from websites, journals, or books. And you had to have sources from each of the three. You couldn’t just go off the website. You had to go off of a book and off of a journal, or something like that - a newspaper article. And then you had to cite all of those things at the end. It was crazy. And it was in my U.S. History class! It was only in my U.S. History class, and my English class was a lot easier. Michael: What was your English class like? Brittany: It was one page. And they were more focused on the forming of your sentences, rather than the content of your paragraphs, which is what history was focused on. Michael: So this history teacher must have been known throughout the school. 97 Brittany: She was actually amazing! But she just said, “Do your work.” So I’m not complaining at all. I always loved writing. I haven’t had to do much work in here because of that reason. One of the strange disconnects revealed by this study is that students like Brittany, who was assessed as needing remediation, were actually much better positioned to succeed in first- year college writing than many of their peers who passed the PERT assessment. Due to the high demands of her secondary school history teacher and her experience with gathering research and focusing on the content of her arguments, Brittany was viewed as “a star writer” by her college writing instructor. Brittany’s studio facilitator told me that she “never received anything less than an A in any of her papers.” Her studio facilitator also stated, with sincerity, “I loved having her in the studio. She probably helped the students as much as I did.” I will return to the topic of assessment and placement in Chapter 5. The main takeaway from this section is that research is a skill highly valued by Orange State College instructors - and, one might presume, at many colleges around the country. And yet, if the data from this case study reflects broader trends, it is a skill rarely taught by many public, private, and international high schools, especially in English classes where students purportedly complete most of their writing. The act of conducting research was not the only skill identified as a major stumbling block, though, as the next three sections demonstrate. 2. Engagement with Source Materials Once students have a suitable body of research, the next step is incorporating that research into an argument, with appropriate citations. According to first-year writing instructors and studio facilitators, however, this step afforded an additional set of challenges. Instructors 98 and facilitators were perplexed by their students’ reliance on other authors’ texts, as described by Paul: When we talk about using your sources, they’re like, “Hey! I don’t have to like think now! It’s not about me anymore!” I’ve had several students complain, “I don’t want to think about how I think - or why I think what I think. I just want to research and tell you what someone else thinks.” This attitude is so frustrating because, again, that’s not what we’re teaching them to do. Many instructors at Orange State College expressed little regret that the developmental writing classes largely disappeared from the curriculum, as it was widely believed that they were overly focused on the “skill and drill” elements of grammar. A few instructors even felt that developmental writing classes were detrimental to helping students formulate ideas and communicate their thoughts clearly and effectively. As Paul asserted, “I hate to say it, but all dev ed did [was produce] very successful developmental writing students, but it did very little to produce college-ready students.” However, many instructors were quick to add that the developmental reading classes were sorely missed. Studio facilitators agreed, with one commenting that “a lack of active reading [was causing] a huge deficit across the board - and, to me, that’s pretty crucial to the writing process.” Instructors and studio facilitators felt that developmental reading classes helped students with three skills that were considered essential for source discrimination: 1) understanding vocabulary through contextual information; 2) annotating readings; and 3) identifying and summarizing the author’s main ideas. A writing instructor at Orange State College for over ten years, Katherine is a particularly active part of the Orange State community, leading several institutional initiatives to help faculty with professional development. After completing a Masters degree in rhetoric and composition 99 at a prominent university in one of the largest metropolitan areas of the U.S., Katherine decided to forgo a doctorate degree because she “wanted to work in an open admissions institution - that’s the student population I wanted to reach.” Her philosophy on writing, which has infused the philosophy of the English department as a whole, is that “college-level writing is the ability to have multiple strategies for different rhetorical situations. So - I do not want writing to be devoid of context.” For these reasons, Katherine was well positioned to reflect upon the changes she witnessed in her first-writing class since the implementation of statewide reforms in 2013. During our first interview, Katherine admitted that she was surprised at how little she had to adapt her first-year writing classes after the passage of State Bill 1720. She did, nevertheless, point to one major change in her approach to teaching: We practice annotation now constantly. I mean, just things that I guess ten years ago I would have come in and I would have said, “Here's the reading. Go home and annotate it.” I would have expected that they had some sense of what that is, at least for the majority [of students]. I don’t say things like that now. I make sure that I explain what an annotation is. When I probed why she suspected that students had so little experience with annotations, Katherine hesitated, then reminded me that she knew several high school teachers in the area: This is just my impression, after talking with the teachers I know. Even if [the process of annotation] was taught, I don’t think the students ever have to actually do it. Maybe they’re going, “that sounds familiar,” or they think annotation is highlighting. They know how to highlight a book, but they don’t how to have that conversation with the book or technology. 100 I now go through a whole thing where I give them different ways to annotate their sources because they don’t know what to write. So, I have to break that down for them. I verified Katherine’s impression with the high school teachers I interviewed in the Orange State College school district. Each of the teachers unanimously expressed their frustration concerning their limited time in the classroom and the necessity to teach to standardized exams. One teacher told me she would emphasize active reading and annotations more in her class, but there were barriers involving school resources and homework: In my case, I work at a Title 1 school, so most of my kids are in the free/reduced lunch program. I would really love to do a lot more reading, but it takes too much class time, and it’s problematic to have students take textbooks home. That can be really expensive for the school district. Apart from the ability to annotate and comprehend sources, students also frequently expressed confusion about the activities of quoting, paraphrasing, summarizing, and analyzing information. This confusion was exemplified by one conversation between a student and a facilitator during a writing studio midway through the fall semester: Student: [My teacher] wants this paper sent in through the online - Turnitin - cause she runs it through the plagiarizing thing. If it’s above 15%, you got to redo it. Facilitator: What if you quote from someone else? Student: That’s why I paraphrase. I don’t quote. That way, I don’t have to worry about plagiarism. Facilitator: Do you ever present a quote in a paper and then analyze that quote? Student: Isn’t that what paraphrase is? 101 Some of the most valuable information in writing studios came from discussions about how to paraphrase, quote, summarize, and analyze sources. Often, these discussions were grounded in real life examples that either catered to the students’ interests or had some form of relevance to their lives. For example, a White writing studio facilitator named Joy had the following discussion about summary and analysis with Angela, a Black adult learner who was the mother of two children, ages 6 and 9: Joy: You and I can watch the same movie and get different things from it. You and I have different points of view. Angela: Yes, yes. Joy: What’s the last movie you saw? Angela: Ice Age. Joy: So if I asked you what Ice Age is about, you would say what? Angela: The last one I just watched with my kids - it was about the meteor shower, and they were trying to stop the meteors from coming. And his daughter was getting married, and he was stepping in because he didn’t want to lose her. Joy: Good. You just summarized it. So, if we’re going to analyze it, we have to take into consideration this is a kid’s movie. They’re going to try to entertain you a little bit. But, if you’re watching with your kids, they also want to make them laugh. So [your children] probably laugh at different parts than you laugh at, right? Angela: Yeah, yeah. 102 Joy: So, talking about the different types of humor would be an example of analysis. You said earlier that the storyline for you is about the dad? Angela: Okay, yeah! There was this part where there was soft music in the background and he had this look that made my heart drop. Because he looked at his daughter like, “Oh my goodness. I’m about to give my baby away.” Joy: Great. Your task for today is to take really detailed notes. Then we can meet tomorrow and use those notes to finish the analysis. Angela: Oh, thank you so much. Before this exchange, Angela was almost thoroughly deflated about her professors’ feedback on a first draft of her summary and analysis paper. At the beginning of the semester, Joy devoted a considerable amount of time learning about each of her students’ backgrounds and daily lives. Thus, in the studio sessions I observed, she regularly displayed a talent for contextualizing writing-related concepts in ways that had relevance to her students’ lives. In this instance, she knew how deeply Angela cared for her children - pictures of the children were passed around the studio several times over the semester - and she was able to convey a sense for summary and analysis in a way that “clicked” for Angela. Having a second person explain certain concepts was also important to many of the students I interviewed. Demetrius explained why he felt his studio facilitator, at times, explained material in a manner that made more sense than his instructor: I think that [my studio facilitator] can be a more effective teacher than Dr. Jones, and Dr. Jones is really nice. But Dr. Jones is getting up there in age. And he's not bad; it's just a fact of life. It's just - your style is getting a little dated. 103 Because I think [my facilitator] speaks the students’ language. Simple as that. He speaks the language that the students speak and he knows how - he has a better idea of how we think than someone who may be up there. It's just that simple, because the rules don't change, but the methods do. A final frustration for instructors, students, and studio facilitators alike concerned citations. During interviews, instructors complained that they had to “constantly go over how to cite a book, a journal article, a website - the list goes on and on.” They also told me that they regularly had to reprimand students for plagiarizing from a variety of internet sources. From the students’ perspective, though, the process of citing a source, whether it was in MLA or APA format, was anything but clear. Before attending Orange State College, few students had any experience with citations. Nevertheless, some students lamented that their professors told their classes some version of the following statement: “I do not have time to go over everything in this classroom. You should know this already.” The few students who were required to do citations in high school said that their teachers simply directed them to online tools. One 18-year-old female student said that she “never learned how to source anything. I just used EasyBib. And I knew EasyBib was wrong. But it was better than ‘my bib.’” Her only opportunity for learning about research and citations was during her studio class: “Being in the studio - I actually learned how to source my stuff. So when I look at a website, I can tell, ‘Oh - this is wrong. Delete.’” When it came to deciding which material required citations, students were especially mystified. A couple of students confided to me that comments from their professors had made them “paranoid.” After receiving comments threatening expulsion for plagiarizing, they spent hours on their papers, citing nearly any piece of information that could have come from someone 104 else. Lyla, an 18 year old student who transferred to a state university after one semester at Orange State College, elaborated on her frustrations with citations: I did a paper for [my teacher] on the show Mad Men. And I mentioned the differences between chromosomes for women and men. And, like, that was just knowledge that I knew. But then, my teacher said, “Oh, why didn’t you source this information?” And I was like, “Cause - it’s common sense? That’s just what it is. I - don’t - understand.” And I lost ten points for that! The studio model allows for extended discussions about nuanced topics like citations. However, facilitators told me that such decisions ultimately came down to their knowledge of individual instructors’ preferences. In advising students, they had to “be careful” and “always emphasize that they might cite material in a different manner from their instructor.” For this reason, the most valuable information they could convey to a student was to establish a rapport with the instructor early in the semester so that the student could potentially receive feedback about specific writing- and citation-related questions later. Grading on MLA formatting and citations, across the institution, was also extremely different from one professor to another. Some students reported that their instructor “wasn’t crazy-strict about [citations].” Others had a story similar to Betty, a woman who graduated from high school in 2002 and was hoping to start a career in medical billing and coding. Several weeks into the spring semester, Betty entered the writing studio classroom a few minutes late, frustrated that her instructor “only seemed to care about the MLA page”: Betty: I finally can set up the paper. But the one citation page I did, I didn't title it correctly. He focuses on stuff like that, little stuff. Michael: What happened there? 105 Betty: I titled it “work cited” instead of “works cited.” And I missed a couple of periods. And my spaces between paragraphs were uneven. Michael: Oh, that’s tough. I’m sorry. Does he ever talk about the content of your paper? Betty: No. At one point, Betty’s frustration with her writing class reached a point where she seemed to be seriously contemplating leaving college. During one studio session, she confided to the class that she was “tired of the nonsense”: Betty: I have kids at home, and I’m making all these sacrifices to get a better life. But I’m still getting C’s and D’s for silly, silly things. It doesn’t make any sense. Later, I learned that Betty had a difficult experience at another college several years ago that left her several thousand dollars in debt - and without a degree. As the semester progressed, Betty was privately talking with her studio facilitator twice a week, mainly for reassurance that she was on the right path. Several professors required their students to use the online plagiarism detector, Turnitin.com. At the same time, they mandated a certain number of quotes from any number of literary texts, thereby raising the percentage of “plagiarized” material. During a focus group, two students expressed their frustration about this practice: Student 1: I have no idea how that website works. I put all the references where they belonged. But I ended up at 13%, and my teacher was like, “That’s weird. I don’t know what happened.” He said we were in trouble if we had anything over 5%. 106 Student 2: But I thought for academic writing it was 20%. That’s what [my teacher] said. And then everything else is for you... Five students got kicked out of ENC 1101 because theirs is over 50%! They plagiarized, so he just told them all to leave. Student 1: I just get so frustrated. These are all my words - what are you talking about? Student 2: [My professor] wants us - for like when we do MLA - he wants us to have two of the sources we found in each paragraph. Michael: That’s - interesting. Student 2: It is! And I’m sitting here like, “I can’t do this! You’ll say I’m plagiarizing!” For students experiencing similar frustrations, the studio provided much needed support. Students recognized that they were not alone in their struggles to meet the expectations of their professors. Moreover, they had access to an experienced writer who could help them diagnose errors and revise essays so that feedback from a plagiarism detector like Turnitin,com - or a small error on a citation page - would not result in unnecessary penalties. Once students accumulated their research materials and cited them properly, another challenge awaited many of them - organizing the paper to meet the professor’s desired word and/or page count. As I will discuss in the following section, many students at Orange State College were consistently trained in high school to write papers according to a specific formula, with a predetermined number of paragraphs. These papers were frequently written in class and timed, largely as training for Florida’s standardized exams. College, however, required longer, more intricate papers and, in turn, a completely different approach to organization. 107 3. Paper Length and Organization When instructors and facilitators were not pointing to students’ lack of self-confidence or their problems with academic research, they focused on paper length and organization as key concerns. One writing instructor argued that “organization is the biggest issue” for students in his classes: I always let students revise their essays in my class. And they’ll fix things. But what they’ll fix are the little grammatical things that are already marked. If they don’t know how to fix them, they’ll ask a friend or a relative. It’s the higher-order conceptual questions that I put in the margins that [students will] ignore - because they’re really hard and take a lot of time. And it seems like it’s organization that’s the biggest hurdle - coming up with the ideas and making sure that they’re in the order you said you’re going to present them. If [the students’] problems are organizational, I tell them, “You’ve lost the person following you in the car.” Many professors at Orange State College were more than willing to meet with students outside of class to discuss “higher-order” issues like rhetorical analysis and paper organization. During breaks between classes and studio sessions, I spent considerable time in the main hallway of the English Department, observing a boundless parade of students filing in and out of professors’ offices as they discussed the next set of revisions for their evolving papers. The full- time instructors at Orange State College keep much more than “full-time” hours. They have a 5- 5 teaching load in the fall and spring semesters, with additional class assignments every summer. Writing classes “make” at no less than 20 students. A more common load is 25 to 30 students per class. Since writing instructors at Orange State are typically expected to assign 4-5 papers per class, their course load ensures that they will provide feedback to at least 500 papers in a 108 single semester. If an instructor gives students the opportunity to revise their papers for a higher grade, the number of papers receiving feedback could approach 1,000. However, a sizeable number of instructors teaching at Orange State College are not able to meet with students regularly to discuss papers. Approximately 50% of the first-year writing classes at Orange State College are taught by adjunct instructors. Valerie, a former chef who earned Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in English Literature from a nearby private university, had a workload typical of many adjunct instructors. She was hired by two different institutions - Orange State College and a nearby private university - teaching three writing classes per semester at each school. She did not have an office on either campus. Instead, the closest thing to an office she enjoyed was a third part-time job as the office manager at a local synagogue. Valerie expressed to me her “dream” of having a “full-time gig” so she could meet with students outside of class and “meet with students on a one-on-one basis more often.” Her LinkedIn profile attests to this dream, affirming her job title as “Happiest in Higher Education.” Nevertheless, once her class sessions at Orange State ended at 1pm on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Valerie needed to run to her car so she could be on time for her afternoon classes at the private university. After observing a couple of Valerie’s writing classes, I quickly learned that there was a substantial need for additional support; I found myself answering student questions until 3pm as Valerie’s unofficial “stand-in.” For students who had an overworked adjunct instructor like Valerie, the studio classes were, in the words of one student, a “lifesaver.” Students appreciated the extended time to talk about paper-related issues that were unlikely to be resolved during class hours. The first-year writing classes that I observed rarely allotted more than 2 or 3 minutes to student questions. When students had an opportunity to pose a question, it was almost always at the end of the 109 period when students were either too overwhelmed to formulate their thoughts, thinking about their next class, or anxious because they had to run back to their jobs. Students found the lack of in-class interaction, as they thought “college would be different from [high school].” One student summarized his reasons for attending the writing studio in a succinct statement: “It’s just nice to be able to say anything.” Once students became comfortable sharing work in the studio environment, they also liked the fact they could ask questions that otherwise would be “embarrassing in front of 25 other students and the person who grades me.” Many Orange State students who were returning to school after an extended absence told me that they had not written a paper in many years. Thus, they believed that studio time was particularly important. One student who worked for fifteen years as a store manager for a now- defunct office supply chain said that her longest piece of writing was “maybe a letter, or a short email - but nothing substantial.” Another adult learner who was employed in construction jobs for over twenty years vividly stated that writing the first paragraph in class, after being away for so long, “felt like an acid bath.” Adult learners were not the only ones who were rusty, however. Early in my research, I asked an administrator in Orange State’s academic support center who was well-connected in the community about the viability of meeting local high school English teachers. After agreeing to help, she shared one of her “recent discoveries”: One thing we found out is that Florida does not have any type of assessment for writing past the sophomore year of high school. So we met with high school staff. Then, the high schools of [the county] were here two months ago and did a big summit on trying to bridge that gap. And so - I was surprised to learn that there’s no writing assessment past the tenth grade. And I was doubly surprised to learn that the “best” English teachers 110 were being frontloaded to ninth and tenth grade. As you know - if there’s no writing on the standardized test, it doesn’t make its way into the curriculum. High school teachers painted a more complex picture of this story. While they agreed that writing was being emphasized more in the ninth and tenth grade years, they contended that “multiple pressures were causing a new curriculum to be adopted every year.” They also pointed out that students’ experiences in eleventh and twelfth grade were naturally different, especially since some students took AP English Literature classes while others loaded their schedules with “basic coursework.” Nevertheless, countless first-year students at Orange State College who attended Florida high schools verified that they did minimal writing in eleventh and twelfth grade. One student who attended the most prestigious public school in the region said that he was having difficulties adjusting to the expanded length of his college papers: It’s different because there’s now a minimum word count you have to have on stuff [in college]. And in high school it really wasn’t that. It was kind of just, five paragraph essays. It was just introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion. But also, most of my papers in high school were like one page - or two pages max. And in college, it’s a lot more - way past three pages. When I asked students about their biggest adjustment from high school to college, the frequent refrain I heard was “it’s a lot of work.” Everyone agreed that their work for their first- semester writing class easily was the most writing they had ever attempted. An eighteen-year- old student who was not enrolled in the writing studios expressed her opinion about her writing class: “It’s not easy, let me tell you. It’s hard, and I can’t wait until the damn thing is over with.” 111 Conversely, at the end of the fall semester, a student in one of the studios expressed no small degree of pride about successfully completing her writing class: We’ve done so much in my English class. We have a four-page syllabus. Oh my God, this man does so many things. I just realized that I crossed out everything on my syllabus, and I was like, “This is a lot!” Unfortunately, not every student was able to experience similar feelings of accomplishment. A member of the Army reserves, James has a commanding voice and a general willingness to take center stage in a classroom environment. At the same time, he has quickly adapted to the freedom of civilian life. He has purple hair molded into large spikes. A tattoo that spells “Cursed” in Gothic letters is embedded on his right tricep. Like many other decommissioned individuals at Orange State College, James takes full advantage of his GI Bill to spend extra time on campus each day. During one studio session, James was obviously upset and distracted. His writing facilitator, Sarah, had special experience in working with the Orange State College’s veterans center. She knew that James had been upset about an earlier assignment from his writing class in which he was compelled to “write about a traumatic experience in his life.” Thus, Sarah purposefully left James alone until he was willing to share. Eventually, there was a lull in the studio conversation, and James turned to the class, speaking in a measured tone, but shaking a little as he spoke: I got a freaking zero on my last assignment. You know, I tried to ask [my instructor] for help. I went to class and stayed after for an hour. I was going to stay until my next class. I tried to sit down and talk to her. And she’s like, “Well, you should have mastered this skill in high school.” And, she said, “I don’t need to go over this with you.” 112 It’s been six years since I’ve been in high school. And, you know, I need help! And she’s like, “Well, you should have already mastered this.” So I’m not going to ever try to talk to her again. Sarah’s face had a pained expression. “Which skill was she talking about? Do you remember? Like, what was she referring to?” James: Just the ability to write a “well-structured essay.” The first week, when we went over the thesis - that’s the only time she taught us anything. I learned so much more in your class than hers. Sarah: We’ll go over the essay, then. Do you feel, like, if she had given you some pointed feedback as to, “I see what you were trying to do, but really I was looking for something more like this.” Do you think you would feel much better about it all? James: A lot better. Because this whole time she doesn’t explain what she wants from us. She just says, “This is wrong.” She doesn’t explain what is wrong. She said, “Okay, paragraph two, sentence three. That’s a sentence fragment.” That’s one thing, but she also says, “You ramble. You don’t make sense. Your sentence phrasing is bad.” Where? Can you show me? Can you tell me? She doesn’t give me any examples or tell me how to improve. As a studio facilitator, Sarah was in a difficult position. As much as she wanted to vouch for James, she was not in a position to question the grading practices of a faculty member. Also, she was only hearing half of the story. Later, Sarah would tell me that she was both concerned 113 for James’s well-being and upset with the instructor because that particular professor was well- known among the faculty and staff for treating other students in a similarly dismissive fashion. In a situation like this, the information potential of the studio is of limited value, but the bounded solidarity of the studio can offer benefits. Along with three other students, Sarah spent extra time with James after the close of the studio session, reminding him that even though the paper was 20% of his total grade, he could still pass the class. Sarah also persuaded James to write two short letters: a polite email to the instructor that would reiterate his desire to do better on future assignments and a “cathartic” letter in which James expressed his frustrations in “language an enlistee might enjoy.” The cathartic letter was destroyed; the polite email was sent. Unbeknownst to James, Sarah saved a copy of the polite letter in case questions about James’s attitude arose later. By the following week’s studio session, James had decided to at least finish out the academic year. He did not pass the writing class. Regardless, he planned to “show [that professor] what he could do” by retaking the first-semester writing class in the spring. With the help of Sarah, James made sure that he was eligible for the college’s grade forgiveness policy and that his financial aid would not be negatively impacted. He also resolved to “check every instructor’s online rating in the future.” Other students in the studio, sympathetic to James’s plight, were more than willing to share syllabi and insider information about their instructors so that he could find someone who might be a good fit. 4. Digital Literacy Although it is often overlooked in discussions about developmental education, digital literacy has become a necessary condition for student success in first-year writing classes. And yet, every Orange State instructor, facilitator, and member of the academic support staff felt that 114 the digital literacy of students was lacking in three ways: 1) their ability to operate the necessary hardware and software to complete writing assignments; 2) their ability to utilize institutional technology for important class updates and research; and 3) their ability to interface with online coursework. During a focus group session, tutors from the writing center agreed that they spent “around 50% of their time helping students with papers and around 50% their time helping students use a computer.” An employee at Orange State for several years, Anne has worked for the college in a variety of capacities - as a studio facilitator, a writing instructor, and, most recently, as an administrator. Before moving to Florida, she earned her bachelor’s and master’s degrees from a research university in the Midwest U.S. I asked about her first impressions of the students at Orange State, while transitioning from such a different institutional environment. Pausing for a moment, Anne looked at me and said, “You might think I’m terrible.” Then, she seemingly sighed as she spoke: Anne: I thought that they had severe deficits in digital literacy, just absolutely severe. Michael: What kind of deficits? Anne: They didn’t know how to use a USB drive, how to use email. Anne glanced for a few seconds around her office filled with pictures of smiling students, tutors, and facilitators. She continued: One question I received fairly often was “How do I insert a page number?” Another question was “How do I find my information?” Some students complained, “I’m not in an online course! Why do I have to use a discussion board?” 115 You see, it’s even just showing students how to find their assignments and how to submit them digitally. I had a lady come, I think, six times to make an appointment just to get help with her class’s online submission system because she wasn’t confident enough to turn in her own paper. Another student regularly made appointments with me whenever he needed to print a single document. So that was very different. Multiple writing instructors and facilitators stated that past administrations had been blind to the digital literacy needs of Orange State students. In recent years, though, the college experienced significant turnover. This administrative turnover, along with performance funding metrics that based state money on student retention and graduation rates, had “focused attention on the digital literacy problem.” Any solution that did not take the digital literacy needs of the students into account was “simply a no-go,” in the words of one high-ranking official in the college. Another administrator expressed his opinion that the “digital needs of the students were of a higher importance than their writing needs. At the very least, the two are linked.” One 55-year-old student, Ethan, would whole-heartedly agree. For nearly 40 years, Ethan worked as a professional tailor, outfitting some of the top male and female professional athletes in Florida. He loved his work, which he considered an “art.” Unfortunately for Ethan’s career, “people can go on the internet nowadays and order brand new suits from just about anywhere.” For Ethan, the most difficult part of the college transition involved his lack of familiarity with computers: I was shocked by how you have to turn in a lot of your assignments on the computer. For a guy that’s computer illiterate and is trying to do a real crash course on Microsoft Office, it was just one of those humbling moments. I wish I had taken that summer before and 116 just studied computer skills. [I wish] somebody took me by the hand and said, “All right - here’s the stuff you’re definitely going to have to know to be successful.” Because of students like Ethan, the writing studios have become a de facto digital literacy class. During the first couple of weeks in the semester, every studio facilitator leads their students to a computer lab and makes sure the students can access email, navigate the university’s online course system, and locate their class websites. In several cases, I witnessed studio facilitators grabbing a USB drive from a “secret stash” to give to students in need. One staff member working in academic support explained that the stash was necessary so that many students could learn to save their work - and have a way to store future papers. As she described, “We probably have about five heart-wrenching tragedies every semester during the first month where students write an entire paper on a writing center computer. But they fail to save the document, and there’s very little we can do.” Like many peer institutions, Orange State College is understaffed and often overwhelmed by students’ digital literacy needs. Nadine, the staff member most directly linked with technology at Orange State College, agrees with Ethan’s belief that dedicated classes for digital literacy skills would be beneficial. And yet, she is careful to point out that the digital literacy gap is not simply a matter of age: The other issue is the young students coming in. We have very savvy students coming in who really know how to use Facebook - and really know how to use Snapchat - but they don’t know how to search a library database. Logging in, accessing the [college online resources], accessing Office 365, using Word online, using Excel online, using Word on the desktop - you know, really practical workshops would be phenomenal... Liberal arts colleges already integrate these lessons 117 into their curriculum. They are very “cuddly” with their students - and I say that in the most respectful way possible. I needed that at 18. Why we don’t include those opportunities for students who need that help the most is tragic to me. Nadine was not alone in posing this question. One writing instructor named Aaron told me about how he had recently accompanied his teenage daughter, a highly sought-after athlete, to several universities for official campus visits. According to Aaron, the experience was eye- opening: I always knew these universities had great facilities for athletes, but I had no idea the extent of their support. Tutors everywhere! Updated computers. It made me think, “Gosh, if we could only support our students like that here at [Orange State].” This is where it’s most necessary - and it could be really powerful. Why don’t we? Others decried the fact that Orange State always seemed to be “among a group of colleges that received the scraps of state funding.” Orange State’s financial shortcomings meant that any new initiative to help students usually had to start with the personal financial contributions of professors and/or academic staff who understood the difficult daily lives led by many of their students. For example, during the academic year I conducted research at Orange State College, several professors launched an initiative to combat homelessness. One writing studio facilitator named Ronald “became homeless for a period of time” before earning his Bachelor’s degree: I definitely have, I think, my finger on the pulse of students in need. You can see it in their eyes a lot of times. There are just markers and sometimes it’s just strictly intuition where you just kind of sense homelessness or they’re putting off that they’re in distress 118 and it may be academics. More than likely, it’s multiple things that are happening at the same time. These things tend to snowball. I know for me it was. Ronald was more hands-on than a few of the other writing studio facilitators. During the first couple of weeks, he deliberately structured the class to accomplish a specific number of digital literacy goals for his students: I’ll say, “Okay, let’s go take a tour!” I’ll show you the writing center, and then we'll come into the computer lab. I’ll have them submit their [writing class] syllabi directly to my email account. So - I know they’ve gotten their hands on it. I also know that they have at least had one experience with Dropbox. You’d be surprised how many students receive a zero on their first assignment simply because they’re facing a deadline, it’s the weekend, and they can’t get Dropbox to work. If there are any log-in problems, it’s going to happen while I'm here to help, or at least I can send them somewhere to get help. Some might view Ronald’s approach as overkill. A couple of students in his studio were clearly proficient with technology and they finished their tasks within seconds. But then, striding towards me, he surreptitiously pointed out one student who was in her late teens: Ronald: This is her first semester here. She's planning on taking the [teacher certification exams] fairly soon, wants to be a teacher, and has never written an essay before in her life. She also does not know how to use the computer, much less Microsoft Word. Michael: Is she returning to school after a long time away? Ronald: No. Michael: Just straight out of high school? Ronald: Straight out of high school. 119 Michael: From Florida? Ronald: From Florida and never had to write an essay. As I will discuss further in this chapter, the fact that a recent high school graduate had not written an essay before graduating was a surprisingly common occurrence. Considering the accumulated institutional knowledge about student deficiencies in digital literacy, I was surprised by the consistent promotion of online coursework at Orange State College. One education professor asserted that “online [classes have] actually been one of the biggest shifts that I’ve seen, and there are students who don’t have a computer.” I clarified, “In their online class?” The professor continued, “They’re using their phone... I have students who do not have computers, who clearly are trying to do all the work of the course on the weekend with their phones, who are frustrated with me that things open and close.” One morning, while we were waiting for a writing studio to start, I asked Demetrius if he was enrolled in any online classes. Demetrius: Not anymore, but they put me in one for psychology at the beginning of the semester. It was tough to change, too. Michael: How did you get it changed? Demetrius: I just kept showing up at the advising office until they had to take me. And then I told them, “I have no computer, I have no iPad, no nothing. What are you doing to me here?” Michael: Well, good for you. I tend to be shy in situations like that. 120 Demetrius laughed and retrieved his binder. He pulled out his most recent psychology exam; an “A” emblazoned on the top of the paper. Then, he taught me a lesson about the importance of being visible, having confidence, and speaking out: “But I'm leading the pack in all of my classes. You see what I'm saying?” Summary of Act 1 “The difference between me and everybody else is that everybody can get on the elevator, but I have to take the stairs.” -- Demetrius As the data in Act 1 demonstrates, many students at Orange State College are compelled to “take the stairs” in pursuit of a passing grade in first-year writing. Four foundational factors are especially impactful on student confidence and success in first-year writing classes at Orange State College. First, the process of conducting research is often a completely new experience for many students. Before entering college, students’ previous writing experiences simulate the standardized testing environment that state actors mandate as essential for the continued viability of the high school teacher and the school. While this is a rational response to outside demands for accountability, students are deprived of the opportunity to develop important skillsets vital for their college success. Second, the students in this study face difficulties in working with source materials. Although developmental writing classes were not considered to be useful, instructors and facilitators at Orange State College felt that developmental reading classes were effective in helping students develop the reading skills necessary for college-level analysis. Current students are unclear about how to properly quote, paraphrase, summarize, and analyze information in their papers, and they have little experience with citation methods. The lack of clarity about the 121 appropriate methods for citation are compounded by inconsistent demands from writing professors about plagiarism. Third, the process of organizing a paper presents a major hurdle for many students. The increased length of college papers is also challenging for students, particularly those who are used to five paragraph essays in high school. Unfortunately, due to their demanding work environment, many professors do not have the time to help students with “higher-order” concerns like paper organization. Hence, the writing studio can serve as a useful form of real- time support, addressing pertinent writing-related issues as they arise. When necessary, the studio can also generate emotional support for students whose self-confidence is tenuous. Without an informed mentor and the knowledge that others are facing similar obstacles, such students might otherwise drop out of college. Fourth, digital literacy is a problem not only for students who are new to technology, but also for students who interface with cell phones and other technological gadgets on a daily basis. Three forms of digital literacy were discussed: 1) the ability to operate the necessary hardware and software to complete writing assignments; 2) the ability to utilize institutional technology for important class updates and research; and 3) the ability to interface with online coursework. Each of these three skillsets require different forms of support and accommodations for students who have had limited experiences with computers and/or technology. Although many students might benefit from a separate digital literacy class, the mutability of the writing studio allows facilitators the freedom to identify needs and help students as the conditions surrounding technology change. 122 Act 2: Scaffolding the Writing Process Nathan’s Story: The Barriers to Networking at a Non-Residential College A 25-year-old Marine veteran who served nine months in Afghanistan, Nathan had been unemployed in Florida for four months before he started classes at Orange State College: I’ve had three depression states, even since I’ve gotten out, where I feel like I don’t fit in - that everything I do has no meaning. And I have to trick myself that it does. Nathan made this statement in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it was a commonly-shared state of mind. For many of the people he knew, it was. Nathan added that his brother, four years removed from the military, was “a little more messed up than I am. He’s on seven or eight medications.” Nevertheless, Nathan credits his family for keeping him “mentally engaged” from September 2016 to January 2017 - the period between his decommission and his first day of spring classes: If we didn’t have a close-knit family, we would both be homeless. I know a lot of military members that don’t have any family. When they get out, those are the majority of the people that you see that are homeless. Cause they don’t have a support system. This chapter takes a closer look at the writing studio as a “support system” for students like Nathan. For many students in higher education, a crucial part of the college experience concerns the opportunities that are facilitated for “networking.” From a conceptual standpoint, networking is often equated with a student’s opportunities to forge connections with individuals who hold influential positions outside of higher education. These individuals are potential sources of information about job opportunities, interview expectations, and a variety of other employment-related factors. Networking within institutions is also important, however. By identifying individuals who hold valuable information about instructor grading policies, exam 123 expectations, and other forms of institutional knowledge, a student can theoretically have a higher chance at succeeding in college. Unfortunately, when compared with large state universities or liberal arts colleges, institutions like Orange State College offer limited opportunities for networking. Orange State College does not have residential halls. On the main campus, the student center consists of a snack bar that is open for six hours a day, a pool table, and two ping-pong tables. Student activities revolve around a handful of intramural sports that have sparse attendance. The opportunities for networking are even more limited on Orange State’s smaller branch campuses, even though staff make a concerted effort to meet students. At one branch campus, the campus manager, a gregarious 50-year-old man named George, regularly greeted students in the parking lot before class and offered to walk students to their cars at night. And yet, George admitted that it was difficult to “build relationships with students”: I try to hold open house gatherings, encourage the community to hold special events here on campus. And they’re good people. They’ll do it. But the overall mentality is that a successful [Orange State College] student is a student who gets their credits and runs off to a state university. That’s why I try to - if nothing else, I guess - let the students feel like they’re cared for while they’re here. Even if it’s only [for] a short time each week. The transitory nature of the Orange State College student experience was surprising to Nathan. His decision to attend college was “part about learning, and part about necessity,” and he was very interested in meeting people: Nathan: It’s given me something of a social aspect, which is keeping me sane. Because, out of school, I literally have no friends. My best friend passed away two years ago. When I’m home, I’m home. When I don’t have my 124 son, I’m by myself. All my military friends - they’re out doing their life... School has definitely helped me keep a focus, and be able to conversate, and get out of my head at times. Michael: How do you get to know your classmates here? Nathan: Honestly? Through the writing studio. That’s it. Nathan was enrolled in one of Joy’s writing studios. The studio had six students, each of whom hailed from very different backgrounds. Nineteen-year-old Kordell, for instance, was originally from an island in the Caribbean, but moved to Florida at the age of 13. Although he was quiet, often consumed by his cell phone, he treated his studies seriously. Along with pictures of his family and friends, a single line graced his Facebook page: “I’m studying hard to be successful.” Another student, Rita, was approximately 55 years old. Twice before, she had tried to complete a full semester of classes, but family problems prevented her from finishing. She was also quite uncomfortable with technology, writing most of her papers by hand. Midway through the semester, Rita learned that she needed back surgery. It had become difficult for her to sit more than an hour or two at one time, much less walk across campus. Nevertheless, she was adamant about finishing the semester, declaring that “I have already come this far. I can’t let another thing get in the way.” Nathan, Kordell, and Rita formed the core of a group that became remarkably close over the spring semester, even though they had very different backgrounds. Rita and Kordell shared the same writing instructor, so they texted each other reminders about upcoming due dates. All three students shared tips about their writing assignments, read each other’s work, and offered words of encouragement when one of them received a bad grade. Rita, for example, was 125 despondent about C’s she received on her first two papers, saying, “Writing a clear sentence is something I don’t think I’ll [ever] be able to do. My professor says everything I do is ‘unclear,’ ‘garbled,’ or ‘a fragment.’ I write like I talk. How do I fix that?” Nathan slid his chair over to Rita’s side of the table and looked over her paper: You know, people don’t realize how much Marine commanders love making other Marines write essays. One time, I had headphones on while I was in uniform, and I had to write a 1000-word essay on “how uniform regulation is important and how one’s appearance affects the unit.” We had to have perfect grammar, or else we had to try again. So we learned to read papers to each other. Want me to read this paper? You might hear sentences that sound - to you - like they just aren’t right. As Nathan read through the paper, Rita’s face changed perceptibly. “Oh, that’s not right. I gotta fix that. Thank you hun.” Rameish had been keeping one eye on his own paper and one eye on Nathan and Rita. “Oh,” Rameish added, “I found out [our instructor] likes four to six sentences in every paragraph. He says ‘be creative’ since it is a narrative essay. But don’t be too creative. You have a couple of paragraphs with two sentences, and he’ll get you on them.” Nathan’s own writing was quite descriptive. Even though he had been placed in remediation, two of his first-semester papers were accepted in an Orange State College literary journal. Unlike many other veterans who understandably avoided reflecting upon their military experiences, Nathan seemed to relish the opportunity to write and reflect on his past: The sand is extremely soft under my boots as I step off the airplane onto our camp. The sun was bright and the color of the terrain dulled our eyes. My perception of the Afghanistan culture was very limited. What I did know was drilled into my brain from death by PowerPoint: that Afghans were extremely intelligent when it came to war and military tactics... 126 While gathering the concept of what I thought was normal and transforming it to what is their version of “normal,” I learned to appreciate many different outcomes. The way I was raised was not the “only way” or technically the “right way.” While I was racking my brain with those questions, I ended up with a different mindset. What do I look like to them? A trespasser? A hero? Knowing that the end goal of our military mission was to end the terrorist threat felt right to me. I was doing something good, or felt like I was. At least, until events that would make me question myself: was I the bad guy or the good guy? Nathan also enjoyed sharing his work with the studio, an activity that tended to inspire the other students to work on their own assignments. Knowing, from his writing, that his military experiences transformed the way he viewed America’s foreign policy, I asked Nathan if they also changed the way he viewed education: Nathan: Education? Not exactly. I learned over my years that - being humble - if you need help, ask for help. So, like the worst answer you can get is “no.” So that’s where I will always ask for something if I can’t do it myself. Michael: Is that why you’re willing to help? Nathan: Yeah, I’m always looking to network. That’s probably from serving. Take online gaming - I have a buddy that I’m close with. He’s an IRS agent. I have him help me with taxes or any questions of that nature. I have one who’s a nurse - about 20 years as a nurse. Anytime I have any certain questions, like my son is sick, she answers them. Another buddy’s helped me with math stuff. You find out what they’re good at. As illustrated by this story, a substantial contingent of students like Nathan enter college with a desire to network, identify other people’s strengths, and learn from other people’s areas of 127 expertise. In what follows, I depict how the social nature of the writing studio helps students in three significant ways: 1) understanding an assignment and conceptualizing a response; 2) meeting deadlines; 3) and responding to feedback. 1. Understanding the Assignment and Conceptualizing a Response One of the key distinctions that study participants made between high school and college concerned students’ struggles to start a paper in response to an instructor’s prompt. Four types of difficulties were delineated by students and facilitators: 1) unclear directions; 2) expansive topics that were difficult to address in a college essay; 3) topics that lacked relevance to students’ lived experiences; and 4) unfamiliar genres. Students at Orange State College shared that they rarely had to come up with their own topics for essays in high school. One focus group discussed this issue in some detail: Student 1: We did almost all of our writing in class. Like 40 minute timed essays. You read something, you know, and then you write a couple of paragraphs in response. Student 2: Our class did some of that. But - we had a couple of take-home group essays. One or two people always ended up writing those. Michael: Couldn’t your teacher tell who wrote those essays? Student 2: No - she liked to talk about her cats. [laughter] I don’t think she cared as long as we did them. As mentioned in chapter three, I interviewed two teachers who taught writing in both a district high school and at Orange State College. They shared their perspectives about why writing assignments were different at the two types of institutions: 128 Teacher 1: I think in the high school environment, you are more oral. You don’t always get the written assignment. You explain it to them in class and it’s explained to them, and when they have a question, they ask it in class because it's a more familiar environment. You’re there every day as opposed to a couple of times a week. In college, you’re more isolated. You’re by yourself. Teacher 2: Absolutely. I can’t tell you many times I’ve had to say to my [college students], “Have you read the assignment? And they say, “No.” “Well, how do you know what it is?” Well, they talk about it in class. And so, the oral thing they get, but it’s like they just - I don’t know if they’re afraid, if they don’t want to - but they can’t access the written directions. It’s an “Oh, I didn’t know I had to do that” kind of thing. Teacher 1: This is my reading background speaking. But a lot of that is, I think, that they lack the ability to comprehend really what it’s asking them to do. So they rely on what people say in class, and then they don’t always get the whole picture. In studio classes, facilitators invariably asked students about upcoming assignments at the beginning of sessions. In response, students were able to provide a general overview of the assignment, but they usually lacked clarity about crucial details, such as the word count, the purpose of the assignment, the intended audience, and the number and type of required sources. Facilitators would then ask students to pull up the syllabus and/or the assignment so they could 129 read through the prompt together. One emblematic example of this occurred during a writing studio early in the fall semester: Facilitator: What are you working on in your class? Student 1: We have to write about something we don’t know much about, but would like to learn more about. Facilitator: Is there anything more specific? Student 2: Um - it has to be 4-5 pages. On a person. Facilitator: Do you have the assignment sheet? Student 1: No, he just wrote it on the board. Student 2: Hold on. I took a picture of the board. [flips through his phone] Facilitator: Oh, great! Student 2: [holding his phone out so the facilitator can see it] It says here - 2-3 pages. “This is a profile essay modeled after the essay on pages 245-251 in your reader. Please limit your research to three sources, max. It can be something you are familiar with, but it should be a topic you would like to learn more about. You can make the profile about a person, a place, or an influential event in history.” Facilitator: Ok. Now we have that. Let’s talk about possible topics that you can quickly run by your professor. This above example was a bit of an anomaly, since most professors uploaded their assignments to the college’s online blackboard system. However, it was common for students to misinterpret their instructor’s directions or have difficulties conceptualizing a response to a broad topic. For example, one instructor asked students to write a four-page paper on the prompt: “Is 130 higher education valuable?” Ronald, the studio facilitator introduced in the previous section on digital literacy, quickly discovered that his students were having a difficult time writing the essay for two reasons: Ronald: First, my students didn’t have any perspective on the topic. The instructor gave them two sources to read about it. But you know how complex higher ed is, and the students were confused by the readings. I think the instructor’s intentions were good. She might have even thought it was liberating. But it just wasn’t something the students understood from two readings. Second, they thought the professor wanted them to say really nice things about college. One student even started his paper talking about how wonderful [Orange State College] was - which was total b.s. But I get it. They didn’t want to risk getting a bad grade. Michael: So how did you handle the situation? Ronald: It wasn’t easy. We spent our first class talking about how to narrow down that topic and make it personal and it wasn't quite working for them. So I started asking questions and forced them to answer: “Is higher education valuable?” “Why?” Okay, let’s make a list. Now, “For whom?” Let’s make another list. By the time you've done that, you've narrowed it down to a point where you can find some sort of way to categorize and list and create an outline out of it. Me: That's good. So the types of questions they should be asking themselves in order to attack any topic in the future? 131 Ronald: Exactly. So we had a whole, you know, discussion. English class is not about memorization. This is about critical thinking. Teaching the students how to critically think their way through a question, in service of starting an essay, was one benefit related to the writing studio. Students pointed out another benefit during a focus group: Student 1: I like [the studio] because I think the hardest part of writing something is the beginning of it. Like starting to write a new paper. And if we don’t know how to start it, we can just come in here and get ideas from everyone else. Michael: Has that been difficult for many of you? Student 2: Yeah, I just have a block - every time. It’s so much. The professor wants you to just get into the mind of the author. And he just wants you to see every kind of symbol. And he wants you to see what they’re saying, and what it means to you. Then, he wants you to take all that and fit it into one paper. And I’m like, “Aghhh!” Michael: I can see where that would be overwhelming. Student 2: And I’m not saying it can’t be done, but it’s tough to get your thoughts in order. Student 1: Yeah. Sometimes you just gotta talk that out! Gabe, a writing studio facilitator who held Master’s degrees in visual arts and creative writing, told me that he “relished helping students at the beginning of the writing process.” During one studio session I observed, Gabe discovered that several of his students were struggling to write a broadly-conceived essay about “what home meant to them.” One student 132 from Mexico, Alejandra, remarked that “I’ve moved so much, I don’t have like a physical place I call home.” A second student named Martin was having difficulties deciding whether to talk about past homes or the present: Gabe: Does home need to be a physical location? Alejandra: No. I guess it could be a state of mind. Gabe: Right. Is anybody saying that home is a person - or people? Alejandra: Hey - that could be part of mine. People in my life who I consider home. Martin: Right now, I have roommates that are part of my home life. I see them every day. Gabe: That’s good. Be descriptive about them. Remember the first thing we did together in this studio? Martin: Oh, how writing can engage all five senses?” Alejandra: Right, how they bring back memories!” Gabe: Exactly. What senses remind you of home?” Alejandra: I remember my grandparents’ house mainly because of the cooking. The cookies! Martin: Mine was the coffee. My grandma was a mad coffee drinker. So - from the time she got up til four in the afternoon - it was always the smell of coffee. And now, I love the smell of coffee. Gabe: People ignore smell and sound, right? But they’re some of the most visceral triggers. 133 At that point, both Alejandra and Martin felt inspired to start writing, and Gabe circled around the room to help students as they quickly drafted an expansive array of memories from their homes. A final problem encountered by many students concerns their first attempt at writing in a new genre. Students in focus groups stated that they knew how to write papers for English literature classes. One student remarked that “almost all we did in high school English was identify symbolism here, throw down some stream of consciousness there. I can do that. But now we’re talking different genres and different audiences, and I’m like ‘whoa!’” Another student contended that there “wasn’t much teaching in [his] writing class.” According to him, the process was “impersonal”: Student: It was more just, “Here’s your assignments. Here’s the definition of what you’re writing is. Go ahead and write it.” Michael: What types of writing did you have to do in your class? Student: You had to do persuasive. You had to a business letter. You had to put together resumes. Stuff like that. Michael: And so there wasn’t teaching involved with that? How did the professor present it? Student: This is what a business letter is. This is why you would use it. This is how one looks. Now go ahead and write one... If [the professor] could break a letter down, that would be helpful. I don’t actually even need them to write it down. I just need them to tell me, like, “what is the purpose of this paragraph. What are you trying to avoid in this paragraph.” Give me some clue. 134 Yet another student admitted that she was still unclear about what a “narrative essay really is,” even after completing the assignment: You know, we also wrote an analytical essay. But I found out - after I got the paper back - that I should’ve analyzed my own narrative. So which is it, dude? Is the analysis a narrative or is the narrative an analysis? I still don’t really know. The final narrative in this section concerns Kristi, a 35-year-old woman who was “initially nervous” in the writing studio. Even though she only had seven classmates in her studio, she told me that it took “four to five weeks” before she really felt free “to speak up.” At times, Kristi would repeat phrases in the classroom when she was nervous. Belying her outward appearance, however, was an exceptional determination to complete her Associate’s degree. Kristi has a learning disability that makes online and hybrid classes problematic. When advisors signed her up for online classes against her will at the beginning of the fall semester, she sent the head of the advising department an email and cc’ed several high-ranking members of the college administration. Within minutes, a new advising meeting had been scheduled for her. In studio, Gabe was asking students about upcoming assignments. When Gabe approached Kristi, she laughed nervously and cried out, “I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know!” Gabe probed further, smiling as he approached: Gabe: I don’t believe that. What is your next assignment? Kristi: A process - hold on - a process analysis. Yeah, that’s it. Gabe: Oh, I remember this assignment. Did he give you an example? Kristi: Yes. It’s called “Texas Chili.” We also have an explanation. Want to see? Gabe: Sure. Let me come over there. 135 Gabe read the professor’s explanation of a process analysis aloud to the class: Process analysis essays are directions. They explain how to do something, how something works, or how something happens. These essays present the steps in the process in chronological order, from first to last. Gabe: Okay - first thing. Forget the term “process analysis” for a moment. This is really a “how to” paper. Does that make sense? Kristi: A little. But I still don’t know what I’ll write about. You know that I get thoughts jumbled in my mind. For the next twenty minutes, Gabe worked with the students who had to write a process analysis, while a separate group of students proofread each other’s papers. I had to miss Gabe’s next weekly studio due to an out-of-town conference. When I returned, though, Kristi was beaming from ear to ear. “I just got an ‘A’ on my ‘how to!’” Turning to her friend, Kristi asked, “What was the technical word for it? What we just did?” “A process analysis.” Kristi continued, enthusiastically, “I couldn’t get it at all. I tried writing about changing a tire, but I kept getting stuck on the first steps. So, I had to change my way of thinking, because it was like a block. And Gabe helped me. He was like, ‘What would you really do? It doesn’t have to be true.’” “So I made up a story of how to rob a bank.” With this statement, Kristi got very excited, and her voice accelerated. “I don’t know how to really rob a bank. I have no idea what’s successful... But, I can tell you what my essay’s about!” At this point, Gabe and the other students smiled. Kristi continued: 136 My essay starts off as, “Some people say to use a gun, but it’s traceable. Some people say to a buy a car in cash, but it will break down on you. Some people say to lay low, or not to spend the money, but who wants to do that? So, let me tell you what I would use: a donkey, a mirror, and a Zorro mustache.” Those were things I picked - those were the topics of my sentences. And I went into detail about what the donkey’s role was, and where I did the preparations before I rob the bank. I realized that the donkey can put stuff in his hind compartment, which is under his tail. And the main reason I need him is that he can unlock the vault because he can speak Dutch and Vulcan. Cause the combination to the safe is not a regular combination. You speak it, and it opens. And then I think about, “Well, what am I going to do with the donkey when I’m done?” Well, I put him on a farm, and I work him on the farm. And then I sell him. Extra money! So I now use the mirror. I stand in front of the mirror and say, “You look good! I can do this! I am going to be successful today!” Finally, the Zorro mustache makes people think I’m crazy. No one is going to be fooled by it. But they might be worried about what I might do, if they try to stop me. I’m able to stay on topic. I’m able to do what my teacher wanted. But I’m also able to be creative - open to do whatever I want to do - but stay inside the rules! Kristi realized that she was fortunate that her teacher appreciated the way her imagination sparked her ability to write. “My teacher could have said ‘no.’ And I don’t know what I would’ve done.” Due to the unconventional way Kristi approached the assignment, it is quite possible that other professors at Orange State College would have told Kristi that her essay was not a proper 137 process analysis. Gabe later confided to me, however, that he knew Kristi’s professor. Hence, he talked with the professor before Kristi committed a single word to the page. The professor, cognizant of Kristi’s challenges, “okayed” the topic. The professor told me that he “was delighted that [Kristi] was excited about a writing assignment. It might have been the only one.” Such a relationship between facilitators and writing instructors was not terribly common at Orange State College. However, Gabe worked at a branch campus where individuals from different levels of the university regularly shared lunch and engaged in conversation outside of the classroom. As a result, Gabe’s connection to the faculty, facilitated by a flattened organizational structure and a relatively circumscribed setting, worked to Kristi’s benefit. 2. Meeting Deadlines (and Negotiating Grades) As much as Joy enjoyed getting to know the students in her studio classes, she was consistently discouraged by one issue: For some of [my students], it's honestly just turning stuff in. Even if we talk about turning in their paper and they're planning it, I’ll see them the next week and they're like, “Oh, it was due Sunday at midnight. I missed it.” Other studio facilitators were similarly frustrated. One of the primary reasons studio facilitators made a point of asking students about their upcoming assignments each week was to avoid the problem of missed deadlines. And yet, it remained a recurring issue. One facilitator discussed her experiences with studio students and missed deadlines in some detail: I see it happen a lot, and I think it comes back to two of the things we talked about before - confidence and a willingness to be open about your needs. I know that students will panic about certain assignments. It’s to the point that I’ll talk about the assignment with them before [the professor] even assigns it. But they still might pretend everything is ok. 138 Then, on the night it’s due, they’re lost, they realize it’s a different form of writing, and they don’t know where to turn. So, I talk with them after it’s due, and they act like missing the deadline isn’t a big deal. But - you know - it is. While facilitators had a largely sympathetic view of the deadline issue, many instructors attributed the problem to “a lack of time management skills.” One retired writing instructor offered her perspective on the students at Orange State: Honestly, one of the biggest differences between a “college ready” student and a “non- college ready” student is really simple. And it doesn’t concern - at least not directly - grammar, rhetorical sensitivity, critical thinking, or any of the things we tend to focus on while we’re teaching. It’s just getting the paper finished and sent to the instructor. It’s a shame, really, because I know a lot of us who went to college, many years ago, turned in papers late, and we might have gotten a few points knocked off. Students today don’t have that luxury, at least not at this institution. Their instructors are so overloaded - if it’s not in when it’s supposed to be in, it’s a zero. During my first semester of observing studio classes, I began to notice a pattern among several facilitators. If a student missed a deadline early in the semester, the facilitator would find an excuse to introduce the student to a writing center tutor. One facilitator who was an expert at rhetorical analysis even told a student, “I know the perfect writing tutor for your rhetorical analysis assignment.” Then, she ensured that an appointment was set up for the student two days later with the tutor in question. I asked the facilitator about this “deception.” After laughing about my use of the term, she responded with the following: You’re right, I guess. It is a little deceptive. We’ve talked about this in meetings. When a student has more than one point of contact at the college, we’ve noticed that student 139 tends to stay more engaged in their coursework. With writing classes, that’s even more important. If they have an appointment looming, they might get started on the assignment earlier. That’s huge - because if the student starts earlier, they know if they’re going to hit a wall earlier. This form of “social scaffolding” was utilized by students, as well. After a few weeks, I noticed that Nathan set up a number of appointments with writing tutors, even though he seemed to be doing exceptionally well in his writing class. After his studio class one day, he explained his reasoning for extra tutoring: I always get something out of [the session]. Sometimes it is surprising because I don’t feel like going at the time. But, they have good advice about editing and revising. Once, I changed the focus of my compare and contrast essay after my session. That was good because it saved me time in the long run. Mainly, it just forces me to get started. I don’t want to waste their time, so I try to get something done before the appointment. Once the fall semester was coming to a close, I had my first opportunities to talk with students in focus groups. During these sessions, several students shared their “shock” at the strict deadlines demanded by their professors. One commentary from a woman in her mid-20’s named Tiffany received scattered applause from the other students in her focus group: I have a child at home. I have an old car that sometimes dies, and you know that public transportation to this campus is a joke. I have a lot of time management skills, but I don’t really have time when I have to be with my kids, my family, and go to my job. So some of these instructors need to know that - it’s hard. As I developed relationships with several students at Orange State College, I became increasingly attuned to how they often “lived on the edge,” as one student described her financial 140 and time management challenges. At the beginning of the spring semester, Ethan nearly had to drop out of school because the Orange State College financial aid office was late in disbursing his grant money. For two weeks, he was compelled to work full-time at a car wash and miss class because he needed money to pay for the rent on his apartment. This payment took precedence over class attendance because, if Ethan had been late for even one month with his monthly rent payment, he might have lost custody of his six-year-old daughter. Ethan’s writing instructor sympathized with his dilemma and let Ethan bring his daughter to class so he could save money on child care. Midway through the spring semester, another student enrolled in one of the writing studios suffered from a liver infection that required $40 in prescription medications. Although his brief hospitalization was covered by insurance, his prescription - necessary for a full recovery - was not. A friend in another state wired the money, without which he would have been forced to drop out of college for the semester. Nevertheless, the student was still charged a “wire transfer fee” of $15 that placed his bank account into a negative balance and resulted in an additional $30 overdraft fee. Although I made several attempts to reach him, he stopped showing up to classes with only four weeks left in the semester. Students in a couple of focus groups were less sympathetic about their peers, however. Two recent high school graduates in one particularly-engaged focus group told me they were “tired of their classmates complaining”: Student 1: If they give you a time to put it in, to have it corrected, to submit it. You do it. You don’t ask questions. Student 2: It’s not high school. You know - in high school, sometimes, that would work. You could turn in your paper a few days late. 141 Student 1: You could turn in your paper a month late. Michael: So were your experiences in high school like that? You could turn in work late? <Everyone in unison: “Yes!”> Student 2: Mine was like that until senior year. That’s when my English teacher was like, “Listen. It’s not going to be like this in college. You guys need to step it up.” And my math teacher was like the same thing. Student 1: My teachers senior year and junior year were like, “Just turn it in whenever you can.” But freshman and sophomore years, especially freshman year, they were like, “This is the time you turn it in. This is the day you correct it. You turn it in on that day a minute later, you get 20 points off.” Like - they got more lenient as we got older. Writing instructors at Orange State College who previously worked in a Florida high school told me that the students’ perceptions of high school deadlines were correct. Paul, who worked in the Florida high schools in the late 2000’s, stated, “There was a lot of pressure in high schools for social promotion. That’s just an ugly truth.” According to another Orange State instructor who previously taught in high school, “for a while, I wasn’t supposed to give F’s on a report card. It just had to be all I’s - incomplete.” Two current high school instructors were willing to talk about deadlines and grades in high school classes. They shared the following details: HS Teacher 1: This is not how I would like to work, but students can turn in assignments the very last day of school, and I have to take them. And I have to grade them. I know one teacher who called it “extra credit.” 142 HS Teacher 2: Also, I know one school where if students turn in stuff and then fail, [they can] take an optional test and still pass the whole class. So I think a lot of [students] did that. Michael: So that explains why I've heard some students say that they didn't actually write [a paper] during their last two years of high school. HS Teacher 2: Right. One instructor at Orange State College was well aware of these practices, as her spouse was still teaching in the high school system. When she first started teaching at Orange State, she encouraged students to turn in an extra paper at the end of the semester for extra credit. However, that activity got out of hand quickly: Instructor: Before I knew what was going on, I had students coming up to me all the time, asking, “Oh, what else can I do?” “Do I have to turn this paper in if I give you a different paper?” It was madness. Michael: What caused that? Instructor: [The students] believe that’s what you do to get an “A.” My spouse actually laughs at my syllabus. He says it would last one week in his school. Michael: So, they think that’s the norm for coursework? Instructor: Exactly. Right. In a way, they've been trained to actually negotiate like that. A final problem that was highlighted by instructors and facilitators concerned the uneven expectations between writing classes and math classes. Students who were diagnosed as needing remediation in math were assigned to a one-unit computer lab that theoretically met once a week. 143 Students explained, however, that the math lab was completely unsupervised and attendance was optional. The only requirement was to “finish the modules” in the academic support center: Student 1: [The advisors] made it seem like it was an actual class. So they signed me up for that one unit and sent me to the [academic support center.] And they set me up at a computer and said, ‘Do however many [of these modules] you want. The ones you feel you need to do.” And I’m like, “O...k...” But it doesn’t teach you anything, though. It’s like, literally for any question, you take it, you try it again. And when you get it wrong again, you move on to the next question. So, for anything I didn’t know - I still don’t know! Student 2: What I did was - I would like get the wrong answer twice, and then I’d get the right answer. And then I’d write it down. So, I’d like do that for like four different modules so I’d have all the right answers. And I’m like, “Doof, doof, doof,” and just go do it all. Student 3: I had to do it yesterday. It’s easy. My friend did it before me, and so I got the answers from him for the last few modules. Michael: Has the math lab helped anyone in this room? [Several seconds of silence] Student 4: No. It sucks. You try your best not to cheat on it, and all that. But if you get anything under a 70, it makes you redo it, and I’m not down for doing it twice. Since math remediation was widely viewed as “a joke,” some students admitted that the adjustment to the demands of their writing classes and the integrated nature of the writing studio 144 was challenging. Still, most students were happy that the writing studio was not like the math lab. One student said he was “thrilled” when he walked in the studio classroom and “didn’t see a computer”: Honestly, I avoided [this studio] for the first two goes because [the advisors] made it sound like this was just going to be work in front of a computer... I was dreading it. This was my only helpful - my only real college class. Lyla, the 18-year-old student who transferred to a state university after one semester at Orange State, said that the writing studio was “completely surprising”: How [my advisor] explained the studio was - he was like, “Okay, so this is a class you’re going to take that - it’s like - you’ll be in a computer lab. And you will be like working on your writing assignments. And it’s kind of like another English class.” So when I walked in here the first day, I was like, “I don’t see any computers. I might be in the wrong room.” But then I met [my facilitator], and we started talking about rhetorical modes and analyzing television commercials and debating in class. And I got really excited because my other classes made me feel like I was 12. I called my mom, and I was like, “Mom! I finally found a teacher that treats me like an adult! I’m actually in the right place! This is awesome. This is how college should be!” In short, one can point to many factors that cause students to miss deadlines at Orange State College. Students’ busy schedules - in which they regularly balance the demands of family life, full-time jobs, and financial issues - certainly play a role. Miscalculations about the time needed to complete a writing assignment are a second viable concern. The uneven demands between classes with similar credits is a third contributing factor. Additionally, students’ 145 understandable assumption that college deadlines will be similar to the fluctuating deadlines of high school seems to have a negative impact on student success. Through the “social scaffolding” described earlier in this section, some students are eased into the multi-stage nature of the writing process. The fact that writing occurs in multiple stages is still a surprise to many students, though, as the next section details. 3. Interpreting Feedback and Revising A final distinction between high school writing and college writing was established by instructors and facilitators early in this study: the culture of feedback in both types of institutions. In every focus group, I asked students to raise their hands if they ever participated in a peer review session in high school. Out of the 183 students who participated in focus groups, only 7 raised their hands. One of the few who participated in a high school peer review session shared this story about her experience: Student: Yeah. We did it in high school, but it was like people from the AP class who came into our English class to like coach - or help - us. They were always mean. Michael: Really? Student: Yeah - because they thought they knew better. They weren’t helpful. Michael: Did the teacher give them any guidelines? Student: Nope. She left the room for a while. Michael: Did you have a chance to critique their writing? Student: Nope. Nope. 146 In general, students told me that instructor feedback in high school was limited. Knowing that many students may have waited until the end of the semester to turn in papers, I chose a follow-up question carefully. Michael: When you received feedback from your high school English teacher, what did it focus on? Student 1: Lots of grammar. And if [our writing] wasn’t persuasive enough. Michael: So you wrote a persuasive essay? Student 1: Yeah, that’s all we did in ninth and tenth grade. We also did vocabulary on different types of words. We had flash cards. Student 2: We did those essays, but one other type too. Student 3: Oh, yeah. Expository. Those got added while we were in school. Michael: Did you write essays outside of class? Student 1: No, they were timed. Students who graduated from a Florida public high school within the past ten years told similar stories. The grade eight and grade ten FCAT writing assessments exclusively focused on persuasive and expository essays. Therefore, high school assignments and feedback prioritized these two genres of writing, as well as the memorization of signal phrases, the repetition of information from a reading selection, and vocabulary that pertained to description, persuasion, and transitional phrases. To a certain extent, these activities were, of course, helpful to students who attended college, even if their schools incorporated less writing into the curriculum in eleventh and twelfth grade. Very few students, however, were prepared for the phenomenon of receiving comments and suggestions back from a professor. Nor were they prepared to revise their paper in response to those remarks for a second or third submission. 147 According to students, the experience of receiving feedback that had to be not only read, but responded to, was “painful.” Even students who said that they “enjoyed writing” were unprepared for the experience of writing a paper in multiple stages. One student explained how she gradually came around to appreciating the process of revision: [My professor] does our papers in phases. And we do inspections in class of our papers, which I really like. But we’ll do our papers in phases, which at first, I hated. I hated doing that. But the last phase, he’ll actually go over and read your paper and put his own comments and edits. And he’ll give you his grade. But then he gives you two days - or a week - to where you can revise it and fix it without any point deduction involved. And you can improve your grade. This was really helpful for me because I always go over my word limit, and he’ll have to point it out to me. And at least I can be like, “Oh, sorry!” and fix it. Katherine and Paul were deeply involved in faculty training on providing feedback and structuring assignments. Thus, I asked both of them how they managed to provide feedback for so many students. Katherine responded with the following: So one of the things that I do is I do audio feedback for my students, and it’s a five- minute max recording through our system. I do hierarchical feedback, so I start with ideas first. I structure my feedback into what's working well and what needs work. Students learn more from what they’re doing well than what they do poorly, so I start out with things that are working well and then move to the things that need work. I also make students ask me questions about their writing. So, when they turn something in to the assignment folder, there’s a comment section. I tell them that, in order to get audio feedback from me, they have to initiate a conversation. 148 Paul’s answer was similar, but he added the following insights as to why other instructors diverged from best practices concerning feedback: I think as instructors, we almost feel like we’re cheating them if we don't mark their papers up. If you're dedicated, you don’t want to be thought of as a lazy instructor. But when you give [students] tons of comments, they can’t process all of that. So, instead, when you say “Hey, these are the two things that I really want you to work on in this paper,” they can get to work. Especially if they’re not focusing on grades in that important first draft. Since Paul had experience working in the Florida high school system, I also asked why he thought more feedback was not a part of the high school curriculum. He waited for a few seconds before giving an answer: If you think back to when I was teaching - that was around 2007, 2008. That’s when Florida was booming, and we were getting everyone coming in. The schools just kept growing and growing. Say you were teaching composition classes, you’re teaching seven, and you’ve got 45 students in a class. Of course teachers are burned out. Of course they’re not really dedicating as much time for comments and feedback. They can’t. It isn't that they’re lazy, right? It’s just not manageable, and some had given up completely. One of the peculiar aspects of the writing studio is that it was both helpful for some students in terms of feedback and a little deflating for others. Once the studio was established as a community, nearly every student enjoyed peer editing activities. Concerning the studio, one student stated, “I think what was most helpful was the peer editing. Cause you have more people 149 than just like your classmates. And you have people from other classes. They add something to your paper every time it gets read.” At the same time, the writing studio exposed instructors who did not provided useful feedback to their students. While this knowledge was useful for the facilitators (who, in turn, occasionally warned students at the beginning of the semester), the students who were stuck with inconsistent or ambiguous instructors for the full semester said that the studio made them “even more depressed” about their situation. Three students who had different online instructors described their experiences: Michael: What was the feedback like in your class? Student 1: I’m lucky, because my instructor gives feedback constantly and answers questions and is very good... If I submitted a paper early, I didn’t expect feedback on the deadline. But she would give it back to me within a day or two of the deadline. Student 2: One thing I liked about [my instructor] is that she made feedback visible to everyone. When I first started with the [MLA] formatting and everything, if I was really confused on something, and I looked at her notes for other people, it kind of triggered things and helped me. Student 3: Mine was not helpful at all. When I get a paper back, all I get is like, “Look at the syllabus.” She says “I should already know how to fix my errors, but I don’t.” It really sucks, and I want the semester to be done. One graduate from the Florida Virtual School, Caroline, told her college advisor that she “had taken a bunch of [classes] online, so she felt more comfortable there”: 150 I’m not really good with someone who talks and talks and talks. And I sit there and don’t do anything. I’m good with someone, who talks, gives, work to do, we work on it, and I ask questions... So that’s why - when I took [high school classes] online - I liked it. I was able to keep in contact with my teacher the whole time, and so I did my work constantly. When I told my teachers to help me, they were on it, like, “Okay. You might wanna do this.” After examining her transcripts and discussing her options, Caroline’s advisor made a logical decision to enroll her in online classes for her first semester at Orange State. However, Caroline’s online experience in college turned out to be vastly different from her high school experience: Caroline: The [writing] professor didn’t really ask much of us - but she had a specific idea in her mind of what she wanted. We had to figure that out. Like, the second essay I wrote, she gave me like a 45 because my “sentence structure wasn't strong enough.” I was like, “Oh, Lord!” She said that it was a very good start, though. That’s actually what she said! I was like, “Okayyy...” Because like my friend was taking writing in class, but she's getting Bs and As, and I'm just like I'm chilling over here with an F. And I don't know how ‘cause of incomplete sentence structure. Michael: Does the instructor provide a rubric online to tell you how she grades? Caroline: No. The very first paper was on a video on meditation, mindfulness, and she gave me a D for different reasons. She said I had to base it off the video, so I was taking quotes directly. I added descriptions of what [the video] was saying, but more in-depth of it, and my own opinion like she 151 asked. And she was saying I didn't have enough supporting detail. It was like, “Well, the video's only five minutes long, so how many other details am I gonna put into it?” So I emailed her. I was like, "I don't understand what I did wrong. Like I used the video." And she said I should have done more depth into [the person] who created the video... How am I supposed to look more in depth and only reference the video without referencing something else that I read? Michael: It sounds like she wanted you to look up details about that person... Caroline: Yeah. Her instructions don’t match what she wanted. Michael: Oh, that’s rough. Caroline: Yeah. So I’m just going to stick with the in-school. I’m not going to do it online anymore. [laughs] In many cases, students also became impatient over the course of the semester as they continued to turn in papers, yet instructors failed to return comments. One student who still had not received feedback on a single paper by mid-November flatly declared in studio, “I am done”: Student: She’s barely put any grades in since the beginning of the semester, so she’s got a lot of work to do. Facilitator: I don’t know what to say. I know that’s tough for you. Student: She emailed us the only paper she’s graded, instead of actually putting them in the system.” Facilitator: She emailed you the grades? 152 Student: Well, yeah. She said it was just faster. She said it takes forever. This whole semester, I’m worried I’m a crappy writer because I just don’t know if I’m writing my papers the way she wants. Facilitator: Well, I don’t think you’re a “crappy writer.” Your work has been excellent. Student: Well, thanks. But I hope she feels the same way. Finally, in a couple of instances, the studio also exposed professors who were providing feedback in a questionable manner. The following conversation transpired between a White facilitator named Mikayla and two Black students named Felicia and Dawn. Before arriving at Orange State, Mikayla had worked as an English instructor and writing tutor at several institutions in the Northeast U.S. As the fall semester unfolded, I noticed that the studio students felt comfortable enough to share intimate classroom experiences with their peers. Felicia and Dawn were doing well in their non-writing coursework, but they were irritated by their writing instructor: Mikayla: Do you know when you’ll find out your grade? Dawn: I’ll find out on Friday when [my professor] grades our papers in class. Mikayla: That’s when he gives the papers back to people, or...? Dawn: He’ll look at [the papers], and he’ll you exactly what you did wrong. But then I’ll be looking at him like “You didn’t tell me or give me more information to help me be a better writer.” Mikayla: Wait. So you just give the papers back, and he grades it right there for you? Felicia: That’s why I wait until the end of class to give my paper to him. 153 [Several people in the studio laughed.] Mikayla: Does he write feedback on your paper? Dawn: No! It’s like “awkward” or “slang.” But you’re not telling me what’s “awkward” and what is “slang!” Felicia: How do I know what’s slang? I said “fun,” and he said it was slang. At this point, Mikayla audibly moaned in sympathy. Then, she continued with another question, “How is the rest of the class doing?” Dawn: The older students are just saying, “If I don’t get it done now, I’ll never get it done.” So they spend a lot of time outside of class looking for help. Felicia: Yeah, the younger students seem to have stopped coming to class. Mikayla: Out of curiosity, how many students are in your class? Dawn: Hmm - 25? Mikayla: So that would be a lot of conferences. Dawn: But that’s what we had at the beginning. We’re probably down to ten. Mikayla: Seriously? Dawn: Yes. The other day, we were literally down to six people in class. Mikayla: Oh my God. One frustrating aspect of the writing studio is that facilitators are largely powerless to help students in such situations, other than to provide emotional support. Nonetheless, stories like the one above circulate quickly at a college like Orange State. By the time I arrived on campus, enough comparable stories had disseminated to where several professors had become active in starting dialogue within the English department. One instructor told me how teaching in a writing studio caused her to provide “more scaffolding for everything”: 154 My daughter has a learning disability, so I worked with her very closely when she was in high school, you know, with that kind of thing. But she left ten years ago, so I forgot. And the studio reminded me that there are 25 individuals in that class that may need a little different kind of help. The other thing I found is that some of the professors have really bad syllabi... Students really didn’t know where to find their assessments sometimes, especially in the online classes, or if the syllabus were online. And I couldn’t find it. There were at least five cases where I could not find it either. So we talked about that in department meetings. Other instructors who taught writing studios were actively advocating for new culturally- relevant curricula. Katherine was one such professor who was aware of the “studio tales” in which students had received offensive feedback. As a result, she had reconsidered her stance on first-year writing: I think when I first started at [Orange State] I was still pretty rigid about getting students to sound like an academic writer. But, as I started to think about it, there have been very few situations where I have legitimately been unable to understand somebody’s message because of simple grammar errors. It’s just that we want them to write like us, and we write like middle-class white people and, probably even hyper-academic, middle-class white people, and that’s not who are students are. Now, I am much more willing to accept different kinds of Englishes. Ten years ago, I would not have said that my classroom was political, but now I believe it absolutely is. The composition classroom is always political. I mean, now, I’m just like, “How did I ever think that?” Now, I believe that you can't teach language without teaching culture, and I didn’t see that at first. 155 Hence, the writing studio, through an informal feedback loop from facilitators to instructors, was already playing a role in transforming campus dialogue. Many professors who were already thinking about writing from a sociocultural perspective were also reconsidering the ways in which writing was taught on campus. As the student body of Orange State College continues to become more diverse as the result of continued migration to Florida, it is quite possible that the college’s writing curriculum will once again be reconfigured within a few years - and the writing studio will deeply inform that reconceptualization. Summary of Act 2 “How did I rationalize what was normal before?” -- Nathan The data from Act 2 illustrate three ways in which the “normalized” writing-related expectations of high school can change dramatically once a student enters college. First, assignments in high school often direct students to follow a prescribed format, such as the five- paragraph essay. Students in public schools are especially used to writing timed, in-class essays, rather than multi-staged papers with instructor feedback and multiple revisions. As a result, college assignments present new challenges for students. Four challenges were highlighted: 1) unclear directions; 2) expansive topics that were difficult to address in a college essay; 3) topics that lacked relevance to students’ lived experiences; and 4) unfamiliar genres. Second, high school instructors in many Florida public high schools are not allowed to enforce deadlines, so students have been “conditioned” to negotiate when they will complete assignments, which assignments they will complete, and even the grades they will receive. The expectations behind deadlines and grading in college can therefore be quite surprising for entering students. The studios provide useful “insider knowledge” about the grading practices 156 and assignment deadlines of individual instructors. Without peer support and “social scaffolding,” many students may fail to complete assignments on time, resulting in negative outcomes. Third, the activities of feedback and revision are new for most Orange State College students. While many students found these activities to be a positive experience, a few instructors either provided delayed feedback that was too late to be useful or offered questionable feedback of limited benefit. Through feedback loops, the studios have compelled some instructors to reflect on their feedback and grading policies, a development that might yield positive results for the college in the future. Chapter Summary As previously stated, both acts in this chapter are united by a common theme - namely that non-cognitive skills play as essential a role as cognitive skills for the successful completion of first-year writing coursework. Through the recognition of writing as a social act, appropriate forms of support can be developed that aid students during their transition from high school to college. The writing studio concept employed by Orange State College is but one form support that encourages collaboration, networking, and feedback channels. Hence, its potential has been explored through a variety of writing-related activities in this chapter. Chapter 5 extends this conversation into theory, examining the writing studio from the perspective of sociocultural theories on writing and its potential in fostering social capital among students and the institutional community. 157 Chapter 5: Findings and Implications The Disorienting Space of the First-Year Writing Classroom Several weeks into the spring semester, an Orange State professor, frustrated with the quality of his students’ rhetorical analyses, was reviewing several common errors during the first few minutes of class. In particular, he was concerned about incorrect citations, essays that lacked a clear thesis statement, and general confusion about the differences between ethos, pathos, and logos. One student raised her hand and asked what the letters “p.p.” meant in her paper. The professor, barely looking up from his notes, responded with an exasperated sigh, “It means present perfect tense. You need to look that up and fix it. I told you I don’t want passive verbs. I don’t teach grammar.” The professor continued elaborating on the topic of rhetorical modes, but several students stopped reviewing their own papers. The intrepid young woman who asked a question about her professor’s feedback slouched in her seat and half-heartedly moved her finger around her laptop’s touchpad. A student in the back of the class turned to a friend and quietly grumbled, “What do you teach?” My intention here is not to reveal a “bad” instance of writing pedagogy. Most of the writing instructors at Orange State College were responsive to student needs. Nevertheless, this study has demonstrated that college instructors across the board at Orange State College make strong distinctions between the writing-related skills that are considered important in high school and the skills that are considered vital for success in college. The aforementioned professor who refused to teach grammar was drawing a clear distinction between a skill that he felt students should master in high school (verb tenses) and the skills he was willing to entertain in his college-level class (citations, thesis statements, and the rhetorical modes). 158 One of the trickiest aspects of conducting research on the topic of college writing is that such viewpoints are not universally held among individual writing instructors working at different institutions - or even by first-year writing instructors working within the same department. The clear majority of instructors at Orange State College, like Rich and Aaron, were more than happy to help students with grammar-related issues, even if their written or oral feedback was not always prioritized to address grammar as a “higher-order” concern. They were also aware of the fact that their students hailed from a broad array of educational backgrounds and life experiences. For this reason, the comparative strengths and weaknesses exhibited by one group of students might be completely different from another group. An effective Orange State College writing instructor not only needed to be compassionate and attuned to student needs, but also a quick diagnostician and a flexible pedagogue. As shown in the previous chapter, Orange State has also deeply reflective professors like Katherine, who was actively rethinking how she teaches the first-year writing class and her role as the instructor. As a result of her experiences at Orange State College, Katherine has come to believe that the writing classroom is a “political” space where too much emphasis is placed on having students write like “hyper-academic, middle-class white people.” To be clear, I witnessed Katherine helping students with grammar issues in their papers, as well. She is acutely aware that in many discourse communities - especially those where her students will be applying for jobs in the future - a certain level of proficiency with grammar can be a determinant of success or failure in the labor market. However, she would also claim that her primary role as an instructor is always not to fix students’ grammar problems. Instead, like many other instructors at Orange State College, she believes that the role of the first-year writing class is twofold: 1) to help students think critically so that they can contribute new insights and 2) to help 159 students think rhetorically so they can effectively communicate their ideas to different audiences. Given the inherent complexity of the English language, teachers like Katherine might even gloss over grammar-oriented errors in student papers, as long as the student’s intended audience is likely to be more concerned with the content of the paper’s argument than the fidelity to which students follow established academic norms. The main point of this chapter introduction is to emphasize one of this study’s important recurring, yet backgrounded, themes: the experiences of students in first-year writing vary significantly, even within a single institution like Orange State College. From one instructor to the next, the individual cognitive skills and procedural writing practices that constitute “college- level writing” are conceived quite differently. One instructor may grade students primarily on grammar, sentence structure, and citations. Another instructor may emphasize the quality of the students’ analysis, their originality, and/or their rhetorical effectiveness. Some instructors even significantly change their evaluative criteria from paper to paper. Individual students enter this space with different writing skills, educational experiences, and personal histories with secondary school writing instructors. Some have learned English as a second language. Meanwhile, institutional perspectives on writing change as instructors become more familiar with the particular needs of their students, just as theories on writing have evolved from the early emphasis on “expressive” activities to the more contemporary, and arguably more relevant, cognitive and sociocultural frameworks. In this chapter, I will argue that that effective writing remediation acknowledges these realities - the first-year writing class as a disorienting space, the varied backgrounds of students, and the intimate nature of writing - instead of essentializing lived experience and assuming that “college readiness” can be distilled into a finite number of cognitive skills. 160 A Study Synopsis Research Purpose and Questions The central question of this study concerned how to provide writing remediation for students who have been mainstreamed into first-year undergraduate writing, where an instructor’s expectations often seem unclear and the classroom instruction may inadequately account for individual students’ deficiencies. As stated at the outset of this study, the theoretical justifications for mainstreaming college students in need of remediation are murky. The review of literature in chapter one, however, reveals that four theoretical beliefs underscore the implementation of mainstreaming in first-year college math and writing coursework: 1) that learning is solely a cognitive process; 2) that students in need of remediation are lacking in motivation; 3) that mainstreaming helps students maintain momentum through their coursework due to accelerated expectations; and 4) that a motivated student who is able to avoid non-credit-bearing coursework will develop the pertinent cognitive skills in a given subject more rapidly. A final assumption is that mainstreamed students will be able to demonstrate valid, measurable improvement in these skills through standardized exams and/or passing grades in first-year, credit-bearing classes. Nevertheless, there is a dearth of empirical evidence to support this rudimentary theoretical framework. Recent literature on developmental education has been almost exclusively focused on quantitative investigations of course completion rates, student retention percentages from one semester to the next, and student graduation rates. To be sure, this work is essential in that it can reveal individual variables that may influence student success. However, 161 it is not sufficient for a holistic understanding of the complex relationships between students, academic support staff, and professors, especially as higher education in the United States becomes more diverse and welcomes a larger percentage of traditionally underserved students. Therefore, I adopted a different approach. I proposed to undertake a nine-month ethnographic study of first-year writing classes at a four-year institution, where developmental students were mainstreamed and one-unit writing studios were provided as a co-requisite replacement for four-unit developmental reading and writing classes. As explained in Chapters 1 and 3, a writing studio meets once a week, is led by a studio facilitator that is usually a writing center tutor, and has between four to twelve students. I further specified that my work would follow Desmond’s (2014) concept of relational ethnography, where fields, processes, and conflict are studied in lieu of a focus on a single site or a shared culture. Additionally, rather than consider writing from a cognitive process framework, I asserted that writing is also a sociocultural process, deeply informed by a writer’s initiation and continued exposure to identifiable discourse communities. This study was motivated by a desire to explore the impact of writing studios as sites of social capital for mainstreamed first-year writing classes. As part of the analysis, I examined three types of relationships: 1) the relationships between academic support staff and students; 2) the relationships between academic support staff and instructors; and 3) the relationships formed among students who attend writing studios and/or utilize writing center resources. Three sets of research questions anchored the study: • What forms of discourse are familiar to students? How do students become acclimated to the challenges of academic discourse? • What are the specific resources that help students overcome deficiencies and achieve 162 success in mainstreamed writing classes? • What types of relationships are formed among mainstreamed students and academic staff? How does the resulting social capital - accessible through these relationships - help or not help students? Once this study’s limitations and findings have been discussed in considerable detail later in this chapter, I will return to these research questions. Afterwards, the implications of this study for theory, policy, practice, and further study will be considered. Research Goals Aligned with the activities of data collection and data analysis, I accomplished three goals. First, I offered greater clarity about the challenges that students face in first-year writing coursework. Second, I provided a deeper understanding of how writing studios, as sites where social capital is potentially held and conferred, impact first-year student development at the college level. Third, I added to our understanding of how both mainstreaming and co-requisite remediation function with regards to writing, student development, and persistence. To support these goals, I presented a selective history of writing theory in the second chapter, with attention to early “expressive” theories of writing, the development of cognitive process theory from the 1960’s to the 1980’s, and the development of sociocultural theories of writing from the 1980’s to the present. I then introduced the key assumptions, strengths, and weaknesses of cognitive process theory and sociocultural theory, suggesting that both theories can offer useful frameworks for a study of college writing. I also discussed the expediency of social capital theory with regard to educational research, in general, and writing remediation, in particular. During this discussion, I specified that two forms of social capital - “information 163 potential” and “bounded solidarity” - would be employed for making sense of the data relating to Orange State College’s writing studio classes. Methodology and Data In the third chapter, I explained how this study was operationalized by addressing the topic of methodology in detail. I first explicated the research study’s setting, design, and process. As part of this discussion, I explained the unique circumstances relating to contemporary developmental education in Florida and the response by Orange State College in developing writing studios. The rationale for the study was established through a cooking metaphor, as I asserted that we know little about the ingredients that help mainstreamed students succeed in and complete first-year writing coursework. I also delineated how trustworthiness and rigor would be established through confirmability, credibility, dependability, and transferability. Afterwards, I clarified how qualitative data collection and analysis procedures engendered the data in chapter four. In the fourth chapter, I presented qualitative data from interviews, focus groups, and observations in two acts. Demetrius’s story introduced the theme of self-confidence in Act 1. I then explained how deficiencies in four foundational skills - research, engagement with source materials, paper length and organization, and digital literacy - can undermine student confidence and have a negative impact on student success in college first-year writing. Nathan’s story introduced the theme of networking in Act 2. I then described how studios provided support for three activities related to the writing process: understanding the assignment, meeting deadlines, and interpreting feedback and revising papers. At different points throughout the chapter, I also provided descriptive quantitative data that contextualized students’ financial circumstances and instructors’ teaching loads at Orange State College. 164 As I will detail after the forthcoming section on “limitations,” this study has four major findings. The first two findings relate to the topic of sociocultural theory and writing remediation. The latter two findings relate to the social capital cultivated in writing studios as a form of remediation. The findings are as follows: 1. First-year students lack four foundational skills - research skills, engagement with source materials, organization, and digital literacy - necessary for successfully entering the discourse community of college research and writing; 2. Three aspects of the writing process are especially challenging for first-year students: understanding the assignment, meeting deadlines, and revising in response to instructors’ feedback; 3. Writing studios increase the institutional information potential concerning assignment expectations, instructor preferences, and student needs; 4. Bounded solidarity in the writing studio helps students build relationships that are otherwise difficult to forge in open-access institutions. Later in this chapter, these findings will be supported by references to the empirical evidence presented in Chapter 4. A full discussion of these findings is essential before returning to the research questions that were presented at the outset of this study. The implications of these findings for theory, policy, practice, and further study will also be delineated. Before I expand upon this study’s findings and implications, however, four limitations pertaining to access, generalizability, positionality, and theoretical considerations are necessary to stipulate and discuss in detail. 165 Limitations Access I was exceptionally fortunate that Orange State College is staffed with thoughtful, trusting individuals who support the notion of critical research that informs policy and practice, even if it results in unexpected findings. From the beginning of my research, the staff and faculty in the writing center, department of English, and the college library could not have been more accommodating or altruistic with their time and their resources. When it was apparent that institutional review board approval from Orange State might take longer than we initially anticipated, a couple of administrators helped me meet key individuals who forwarded my application to the appropriate personnel. In an environment where so many people were constantly busy, I was consistently humbled by the time students, staff, and faculty set aside to meet for formal interviews and entertain my casual questions. Nonetheless, I wish I could have spent more time, beyond this study’s nine-month timeframe, at Orange State College for four reasons. First, I found myself frequently reinterpreting data as I learned more about the lives of students and staff at Orange State College. To cite just one example, I jotted a note in February that one studio session was a “waste of time” because several students talked about their favorite video games for the entire class period and little discussion about writing took place. At the end of April, I had to return to the jottings from that session because I learned three new pieces of information: 1) the students in the studio had developed strong bonds through their shared interest in video games and were meeting at least once a week outside of the studio for study purposes; 2) they had collaborated on a group writing project about the recently-released NES Classic system; and 3) one of the students received parts for a new computer from online and local video game friends after his laptop died. 166 Without the computer, the student would have been unable to revise his final essays because he worked during the times the college labs were open. These data points fit into the notion of the writing studio as a source of social capital, but often the ways in which the studio facilitated such networking opportunities were not immediately apparent. Second, I feel that I have barely done justice to the life histories of so many students, like Demetrius and Nathan, who attend Orange State College. While I am confident that I might be able to expand on their stories in future research articles and monographs, the tight timeframe for the completion of this dissertation meant that a wealth of rich contextual data worthy of extended analysis was left on the cutting room floor. I plan to return to Orange State several times in the future so that I can learn more about the students who agreed to participate in this study and follow their college (and post-college) trajectories. Third, one key group of informants was unfortunately left out of this study: the academic advisors at Orange State College. In the “implications for further study” section of this chapter, I will briefly discuss the testing conditions for the PERT exam and the information that students receive about their math and writing options. As I touched upon in chapter three, academic advisors are central to this chain of information. However, I was advised that soliciting interviews from this important constituency might raise questions from skeptical administrators about the focus of my research. By the end of the spring semester, I had gained the trust of many people working in the Orange State College administrative offices. Thus, I should be able to return to Orange State to conduct a focus group, if not individual interviews, with advisors in the future. Fourth, it became clear within the first two months of this study that the high school to college transition was a major theme of my research. Gaining access to local high schools, 167 however, would have required a time-consuming overhaul of my original institutional review board application, as well as approval from a variety of secondary school institutional actors who were not familiar with me or my research. By that point, I also had scheduled observations and interviews for several hours each day on the Orange State campus. For these reasons, I limited my research on the high school writing classes to five interviews with current public high school writing instructors (each of the interviews were conducted off-site), specific questions to students about their high school experiences, and interviews with professors at Orange State College who had firsthand experience with high school writing instruction. A study of writing that examines the multiple pathways that high-school-age students currently undertake (through public high schools, virtual schools, international schools, and other forms of secondary education) would be extremely useful in the wake of this study’s findings. Generalizability While I believe Orange State is representative of the contemporary challenges faced by many open-admissions colleges, it is still a bounded environment with unique student demographics and personnel. For example, as I will mention in the “implications for practice,” Orange State benefits from a full-time staff of writing tutors who are capable of filling the studio facilitator role after little to no training. Due to the bounded nature of case study research, it is also quite possible that Orange State is not reflective of greater trends in the Florida College system, much less other open-admissions colleges throughout the country. Students were advised at all times that their participation was optional. Even though none of the students in writing studios or first-year writing classes opted-out of the focus group interviews, it is possible that the students who chose to participate in interviews are not 168 representative of other students at Orange State College. As I discussed in chapter three, my goal, in this regard, is to present findings that have transferability to other contexts. Positionality Most research on developmental education has focused on outcomes in math coursework. I do not want to contend that math and writing are so different that an accumulated body of research from one subject area cannot inform the other. I do, nonetheless, approach this topic from a different standpoint than many who conduct higher education research, in general, and developmental education research, in particular. For nearly fifteen years, I taught writing on the undergraduate and graduate levels at several different institutions: a public research university; a private research university; a regional, teaching-centered university; and an open-access community college. In East Asia, I taught English-language writing to students whose native languages were Cantonese, Korean, Mandarin, Vietnamese, and Thai. During three summers in Los Angeles, I also taught writing to college-bound students who attended high schools in impoverished socioeconomic areas. These students were largely Hispanic, and many considered English their second or third language. Having witnessed the advantages and limitations of a cognitive approach to writing firsthand, I have been influenced by sociocultural theory, both in my research and in my day-to-day practice as a writing tutor and writing instructor. These experiences have led me to believe that writing instruction is sufficiently distinct from math as to warrant a robust qualitative methodological approach that involves several months of study, rather than a day or two of interviews and focus groups. However, it is important to acknowledge that my previous teaching experiences have influenced my approach to the topic of writing and remediation. A different researcher may employ a more cognitive-oriented approach to the study of writing at Orange State College and 169 have consequential insights on student development and persistence. Furthermore, I suspect that many instructors were willing to openly share their experiences in the classroom because I was conversant with sociocultural theory, writing across the curriculum programs, and the rhetorically-oriented curriculum that many employed in their classrooms. A researcher who approached the topic from a different perspective would likely have quite different interview experiences, for better and for worse. Power relations are also essential to recognize and unpack. To many students, I was symbolic of privilege, as I was a White, doctoral student from a prestigious, private university and a middle-class background. In the Orange State College metropolitan area, middle-class can be reasonably considered “wealthy.” Upon learning I attended the University of Southern California, students frequently asked me a series of questions about the football team, the film school, and the Pacific Ocean beaches before I had an opportunity to ask questions of my own. Some student responses, especially about the relationships among students and faculty, may have been different if a researcher more reflective of their backgrounds had been the interviewer. Even though I had lived in Florida for several years previously and understood many aspects of the regional culture, some students seemed to relish the opportunity to tell their story to someone who was an “outsider.” A few expressed disappointment that I was going to use pseudonyms while I detailed their lived experiences. From the first moment I met participants, I made it clear that I was conducting research. At several points during the study, though, I helped students with their papers. On a couple of instances, I provided short-term financial assistance when it was apparent that a student might otherwise be compelled to leave college. Although I looked on such events as an expression of gratitude, I suspect that students may have interpreted such events differently - and may have seen me as more of a friend than as a researcher. Thus, I 170 was quite sensitive to the intimate stories that students shared, and, as a result, I feel that the process of member checking was especially crucial in this study. My relationship with facilitators and instructors was also potentially complicated by my status as a doctoral student from the University of Southern California. A couple of facilitators were curious about pursuing doctorate degrees, and, in their eyes, I was a resource on doctorate degree-granting institutions and financial aid through assistantships and fellowships. Their willingness to participate in this study may be linked, in part, to the possibility that I could provide information or networking opportunities pertinent to their career goals. They may have also been eager to portray their teaching methods in a flattering light. Theoretical Considerations As I have been reminded by individuals who provided feedback on early drafts of this work, one could identify numerous discourse communities for the purposes of study and/or comparison. Community-based discourse communities, for example, would require a more focused theoretical lens on the greater cultural and societal factors that impact the environment in which Orange State College is embedded. For such work, a scholar employing critical race theory might analyze a story like the one at the end of Act 2 - with Dawn, Felicia, and Mikayla - and discover that other instructors use similar racially-changed language as “slang” to critique papers by Black or Hispanic students. It is also possible that the writing instructors in this study, the majority of whom are White, are unaware of their biases in assessing the work of students from different international and multicultural backgrounds. For the purposes of this study, students were vocal about describing the innumerable ways they felt their previous educational experiences had not prepared them for the challenges of first-year undergraduate writing. College and high school writing instructors were also more 171 than willing to share their insights, resulting in an abundance of data with which to compare high school and college writing discourse communities. Following their lead, I focused on the differences between two specific academic discourse communities: high school writing classes and first-year college writing classes. All of this is to establish four important limitations before the presentation of this study’s major findings. First, I discussed the ways in which participant access was circumscribed by time limitations and a sensitivity to institutional concerns. Second, I addressed the limitations of generalizability for this particular case study. Third, I expounded upon my positionality, grounded in professional experience, with regards to college writing, my socioeconomic background, and my experiences with the Orange State College community. Fourth, the limitations of this study’s theoretical purview were considered, with a focus on the specific discourse communities that were examined in this study. Findings I now turn my attention to the four major findings of this study. As stated previously, the first two findings relate to the topic of sociocultural theory and writing remediation. These findings mirror the presentation of data in Acts 1 and 2, respectively outlining four foundational skills and three aspects of the writing process that present significant challenges for students. The latter two findings relate to the social capital cultivated in writing studios as a form of remediation. As such, they respectively concern the information potential of the writing studio and the bounded solidarity that develops among students and facilitators. The combination of these findings demonstrate that multifaceted support is needed to help mainstreamed students succeed in first-year writing coursework. 172 The research questions pertain to the forms of academic discourse that students navigate, the resources that enable students to be successful in first-year writing, and the relationships that students cultivate. Therefore, the first two findings - relating to the foundational skills and aspects of the writing process that pose difficulties for students in college - will answer the first research question concerning students’ navigation of academic discourse communities. The third finding, concerning the information potential of the writing studio, will relate to resources. The fourth finding, which pertains to bounded solidarity, will address the research question about relationships. Finding 1: First-Year Students Lack Four Foundational Skills Necessary for Successfully Entering the Academic Discourse Community of College Writing In Act 1, four foundational skills were described as necessary for student success in first- year writing: 1) conducting research; 2) engaging with source materials; 3) organization and paper length; and 4) digital literacy. Students entered the first-year writing classroom at Orange State College from a broad array of past educational experiences, work experiences, and cultural backgrounds. Hence, they frequently lacked these foundational skills, and their confidence, especially in the first weeks of the semester, suffered as a result. Participants drew several distinctions between the foundational skills necessary for success in the college first-year writing classroom and the high school writing classroom. For these reasons, I employed sociocultural theory and identified them as different discourse communities, even though they both transpire in academic settings. As shown in Table 7 on the next page, first-year college students had little experience with the four foundational skills discussed in Act 1. 173 Table 7. Comparison of High School and College Foundational Writing Skills Foundational Skill High School Writing College First-Year Writing 1. Research Expectations Source materials provided by instructor Students expected to locate source materials online and through the institutional library 2. Engagement with Source Materials a. Lack of clarity about the activities of quoting, paraphrasing, and summarizing; analysis is not emphasized b. MLA and APA citations not expected a. Students are expected to quote, paraphrase, summarize, and analyze source materials b. MLA and/or APA citations required for papers 3. Paper Length and Organization a. Most papers are 1-2 pages in length; five paragraph essays are a norm b. Much writing is in-class, timed preparation for standardized exams c. Recent high school students may stop writing after standardized exams in 10th grade a. Papers are 3-5 papers in length; multiple body paragraphs for content b. Students write inside and outside of class; expected to manage writing tasks c. Students write several papers over a two-course sequence 4. Digital Literacy a. Neither institutional databases nor digital libraries are utilized b. Papers are either handwritten or typed c. Basic computer skills may not be necessary, depending on school and instructor a. Research is often conducted through digital libraries and institutional databases b. Microsoft Word proficiency expected; some advanced skills necessary for paper formatting c. Basic computer skills necessary, such as using a USB drive or uploading files to online portals 174 For students who attended Florida public high schools, any research materials that were required for an essay were generally provided by the instructor. Students who attended online virtual schools, like Caroline, were accustomed to more detailed instructions so they could complete a research-oriented assignment. 7 International students like Lanzo and Edgerin had experience with writing genres that did not require outside research. Students like Brittany, who benefitted from a challenging history project that required research, multi-stage writing, and revision, were better prepared for the demands of college writing; they were also able to help their writing studio peers with their projects. In short, though, students from a broad range of backgrounds were not trained in finding sources for their papers, assessing those sources’ applicability to a given topic, nor in incorporating useful material from sources through the activities of paraphrasing, quoting, summarizing, and analyzing. First-year college writing students also lacked experience with annotating, citing, and incorporating sources. Due to perceived deficiencies in students’ past experiences with sources and the elimination of developmental reading classes, Katherine, like other professors, began scaffolding annotation and other reading strategies in her first-year writing class. Problems like annotation were exacerbated for lengthier papers, when students were confronted not only with juggling multiple sources, but also with organizing and contributing material to a paper much longer than any they had previously written. When students identified sources for their papers, they were likely to assume the source was authoritative and that they were not in a position to question its argument or its content. As Paul contended, students may even believe that, by citing other authors, they are abdicating themselves of responsibility over the content of the text: “Hey! I don’t have to like think now! It’s not about me anymore!” 7 As a reminder, the rosters of student participants, facilitators, and instructors are located on pages 80-81. 175 Additionally, the process of deciding which information in a paper required citations was unclear to students. Consider Lyla, who reasonably assumed that basic information about chromosomes did not need a citation in her paper about the television show Mad Men. She was one of many students who lost valuable points for not meeting often-ambiguous instructor expectations about which information was “common knowledge” and which information required an outside reference. In a few unfortunate cases, students like Betty consistently lost points for extremely minor errors pertaining to MLA and/or APA style, such as misplaced punctuation or entitling their papers as “Work Cited” instead of “Works Cited.” Students who did not set up their papers in the proper MLA or APA formats were also occasionally subject to harsh grading practices. With few exceptions, students had not written papers longer than two pages before they entered the college writing classroom. They also generally wrote timed essays in-class, instead of preparing multi-stage papers outside of the classroom. Therefore, they were unprepared for the task of organizing materials in service of a lengthier paper. Since Orange State has a multitude of non-traditional students who are returning to college after extended time away from formal education, the initial paper in a writing class may be the first piece of writing many have completed in years. While most of the teachers in this study placed a high priority on organization and were willing to help students with this time-consuming task, three issues prevented them from giving students the attention they desired. First, demanding course loads and large class sizes meant that many writing instructors at Orange State followed a variation of Katherine’s limit of five minutes of oral feedback per paper. Second, more than half of the writing instructors at Orange State, like Valerie, serve as contingent labor, and they are unable to meet as frequently with students outside of the classroom as they would like. Third, classroom 176 time was limited, leaving little room for in-class discussion of student concerns. As Finding 3 will discuss in further detail, the writing studio was particularly helpful to students in need of help with organization and paper length. Digital literacy was a final foundational skill that adversely affected students’ abilities to succeed in first-year writing. Although digital literacy is often portrayed as primarily a challenge for adult learners (Hsu, Wang, & Hamilton, 2013) or low income students (Relles & Tierney, 2013b), this study revealed that students across the institutional landscape faced a number of digital literacy hurdles. The most severe deficits concerned students who had never typed a paper on a computer or, in some cases, had never used a computer before. These students needed basic skills training to learn how to use a USB drive, work with applications like Microsoft Word, print out their work, and perform simple searches on the library catalog. Since many of their writing classes required a paper within the first couple of weeks, these students faced an extremely steep learning curve. As Ethan stated, the digital literacy aspect of the writing class was often a “a humbling experience.” Even students who would consider themselves proficient with technology were not immune to the problems associated with digital literacy. Studio facilitators recognized that they needed to show students how to access the university portal so they could access time-critical information about their classes. While many students could perform simple searches for research materials on Google or other search engines, they did not have the background experience or the digital literacy skills to discriminate between different types of sources. Furthermore, many students were not acclimated to contemporary expectations concerning technology, communications, and coursework. They regularly missed important class updates because they did not check email more than once a week. 177 Access to technology was a major issue for many Orange State students, as well. The only way many students at Orange State could access internet-related materials from an off- campus location was through their smartphones. When students needed to complete work on a computer, they largely made use of the on-campus computer labs. However, because a sizeable number of students at Orange State work full-time while attending school, the amount of time they could devote to on-campus schoolwork was limited. Surprisingly, many students were placed in online classes for unclear reasons, even if their previous experience with technology was minimal and their access to technology was limited to campus. Finding 2: Three Aspects of the Writing Process are Especially Challenging for First-Year Students. Employing a sociocultural lens, three aspects of the writing process from Act 2 also presented challenges for first-year writing students at Orange State College: 1) understanding the assignment and conceptualizing a response; 2) meeting deadlines; and 3) interpreting feedback and revising. On the following page, Table 8 captures each of these activities related to the writing process and provides an overview of how participants depicted the differences between high school and first-year college writing discourse. Substantial scaffolding was required so that students could work their way through a writing process that was almost invariably foreign and, at times, overwhelming. By forging institutional and informal networks for students and encouraging group brainstorming and revision strategies, the writing studio served as a form of support for these writing process-oriented activities. 178 Table 8. Comparison of High School and College Writing Processes Aspect of the Writing Process High School First-Year College 1. Understanding the Assignment and Conceptualizing a Response a. Oral directions and reminders b. Limited topics / 3 essay points constructed by teachers c. One or two genres a. Assignment sheets and syllabi b. Expansive topics c. Multiple genres 2. Meeting Deadlines Suggested in class; negotiable Stipulated through syllabus; rarely negotiable 3. Interpreting Feedback and Revising a. Little feedback received from instructor b. Little peer review; uneven power dynamics c. Feedback oriented towards point system / standardized testing rubric d. No revision expected a. Feedback received from instructor at multiple stages of a single paper b. Some peer review; mostly diagnostic c. Feedback oriented towards revision strategies / “higher order” and “lower order” concerns d. Revision is either expected or offered as an opportunity for a higher grade The first aspect of the writing process that presented complications for students concerned the assignment prompt and the conceptualization of a tenable response. Students who recently made the transition from high school to college were often confused by the assignment sheets handed out by their instructors and had difficulty explaining the parameters of the assignment to their peers and facilitators in the studio. As high school teachers and students 179 explained in Act 2, high school assignments were often assigned orally, with essays limited to a single topic in one of three familiar genres: a literary analysis, a narrative essay, or a persuasive essay. The latter two essays were common genres for standardized exam preparation, so they were generally written in-class and timed. The literary analysis was a paper with which some students had experience in their high school English literature classes; other students, however, claimed that they rarely wrote an essay, within any genre, after tenth grade. Topics that either lacked relevance to students’ pre-college experiences - or were conceptualized so broadly as to be beyond students’ immediate understanding - posed distinctive problems. For instance, the prompt from Act 2 that encouraged students to consider whether or not “higher education [is] valuable” was obviously well-intentioned, and it could be a stimulating prompt for students well-versed in literature about the topic of higher education, tuition increases, and the labor market. However, the students in Ronald’s studio did not have the background to conceptualize the various arguments and dimensions associated with such a broad topic, nor had they been trained to ask relevant questions that could be useful in formulating a few initial approaches to the topic and a basic outline. When an essay was in an unfamiliar genre, many students shut down completely. Kristi, for example, would have been unable to begin her process analysis essay if Gabe, her studio facilitator, had not re-envisioned the prompt in a way that sparked her innate creativity and imagination. Moreover, by encouraging her to visualize an absurd scenario, Gabe helped Kristi meet the essential demands of the assignment - to explain a process in step-by-step detail - without being stifled by emotional factors, such as boredom or a lack of confidence. The issue of deadlines exemplifies how non-cognitive factors, as much as cognitive factors, can function as a determinant of student success in first-year writing. In Act 2, a retired 180 writing instructor claimed that the ability of a student to meet deadlines in an environment unforgiving to late work was a primary element of their “college readiness.” Both instructors and students were quick to blame high school culture for students’ lack of urgency concerning deadlines, as multiple people stated that a culture of “social promotion” had acculturated students into thinking that deadlines and grades were negotiable. My personal experiences with the students at Orange State, however, revealed more complex realities that replicated Tiffany’s assertion, “I have a lot of time management skills, but I don’t really have time when I have to be with my kids, my family, and go to my job.” Even while working one or two jobs, students were often financially “on the edge.” An unexpected medical bill, an obligatory car repair, a late payment from financial aid, and/or a variety of other unforeseen factors could cause a student to miss class, turn in work late, and/or prioritize their work responsibilities over the classroom. Many instructors were sympathetic to these student realities, but they were also under exceptional pressure due to their own heavy course loads. Instructors operated under tight timelines so they could provide useful feedback, give students time to revise their work, and move the class forward to the next writing assignment, usually in a different genre. Instructors also complained about student procrastination. While procrastination may not have been a major problem for students who needed to write a two-page paper in high school, the increased length and organizational demands of first-year college writing assignments caused many students to simply give up, rather than turn in an incomplete assignment. The association of procrastination with negative writing-related outcomes, such as increased anxiety, decreased satisfaction with the end result, and lower grades, have been well established in the literature 181 (Fritzsche, Young, & Hickson, 2003; Onwuegbuzie & Collins, 2001). 8 As I will discuss in the “implications” section of this chapter, the writing studio helped some students realize that longer papers required a multi-stage approach, with several hours devoted to research and feedback on early drafts. Nonetheless, procrastination and missed deadlines remain a primary concern in the writing classes at Orange State College and, one might imagine, across many higher education institutions in the United States. Responding to feedback and revising were almost entirely new activities to the students in this study. When students received feedback in high school, it was detailed by a rubric that relied on a point system similar to the one students might encounter in a standardized exam like the FCAT. It remains unclear what kind of feedback, if any, students received on writing performed outside of the classroom. Since students in the high school environment frequently turned in work at the end of the semester, they stated that they were not used to extensive written feedback from an instructor. They were also not accustomed to revising their work in response to feedback. When students received feedback from college instructors at multiple stages of a single paper, they were initially, yet understandably, reluctant to revise their work. Some feedback from instructors was helpful, as it prioritized “higher order” and “lower order” concerns in a transparent manner so that students knew what issues to address first, even if many “lower order” concerns related to grammar and sentence structure were easier to fix. Although the students in this study were initially disinclined to revise their writing, many learned to appreciate the importance of revision, especially once their grades improved as a result. Unfortunately, as I 8 Recent literature has helpfully distinguished between “active procrastinators” who purposefully work under pressure and “passive procrastinators” who are uncomfortable with an assignment and/or lack confidence (Hensley, 2016). 182 have already discussed in some detail, some feedback from instructors parlayed into students’ concerns about their own writing abilities, resulting in a crisis of confidence. In those instances, support structures were essential in ensuring that students did not simply “give up” or assume that their writing was at a hopeless level below an ambiguous college standard. Although the activity of peer review has been shown to reduce student procrastination, make students more likely to accept feedback, and promote student revision (Baker, 2016; Graham & Perin, 2007), it was also largely novel to students at the college level. Peer review at the high school level was not always executed in a way faithful to its implicit purpose. In fact, one student shared that it became less about “peer” critique and more about “assessment” by a group of students who were considered to be at a higher level of writing achievement. Unfortunately, this uneven power dynamic caused students to feel both ashamed of their writing and less willing to share their work in the future. As I detailed at the beginning of Act 2 with Nathan, Kordell, and Rita, I witnessed instances of effective peer review in the writing studio environment. These occasions relate to the information potential of the writing studio, as I will further discuss in the next finding. Finding 3: Writing Studios Increase the Institutional Information Potential Concerning Assignment Expectations, Instructor Preferences, and Student Needs The story at the beginning of Act 1 of how a teacher’s seemingly-simple request for cursive writing caused Demetrius to leave school for several years is illustrative of a larger issue with first-year college writing. Students enter the first-year writing classroom with a dearth of knowledge about their own college readiness and their instructors’ expectations. This lack of knowledge can lead to what I have termed a “crisis of confidence.” Early in the semester, apprehensive students may leave college unnecessarily if they feel that they do not have the 183 requisite skills to succeed in coursework. At the heart of this issue is a lack of information about how to approach assignments, how to produce writing that meets the standards and/or preferences of a specific professor, and how to identify and ameliorate deficiencies during the first few weeks when student confidence may be in its most fragile state. Turning to social capital theory, I found that writing studios enhance the information potential at Orange State College in three ways: 1) information about individual assignment expectations; 2) information about instructor preferences; and 3) reciprocal institutional information about student needs. A pair of examples from Gabe’s studio in Act 2 demonstrate how studio facilitators can draw upon their accumulated knowledge to help students meet the explicit and implicit expectations of individual assignments and instructor preferences. As a reminder, Alejandra and Martin were having difficulties responding to a prompt about “What home meant to them.” Both students had lived in multiple places; hence, they were consistently shifting their narratives back and forth between individual locations. While this narrative was reflective of their lack of certainty about how to approach the assignment, their facilitator, Gabe, knew that it would result in a poor grade due to a lack of focus on a central theme. Gabe, cognizant of the fact that the instructor appreciated past student narratives that focused on different senses around a centralized theme, encouraged Alejandra and Martin to consider elements of sound and smell, calling them some of the “most visceral triggers.” Freed from thinking of “home” as a “place,” Alejandra and Martin both crafted much more focused narratives that ultimately received excellent grades from their writing instructor. Gabe once again relied on his knowledge of a particular writing instructor to help Kristi, who was struggling with a process analysis assignment. I have talked about this assignment already at length, but it is worth emphasizing that Gabe’s understanding of the instructor was key 184 in encouraging Kristi to write a “how-to” essay that met the requirements of the assignment, even though it was not factually accurate. Without this essential information about the professor, Gabe might have encouraged Kristi to write a process analysis that would have received a poor grade, thereby extinguishing the bonds of trust between facilitator and student that had developed over several weeks in the studio environment. Drawing upon their information about students, facilitators can contextualize assignments in a beneficial fashion. Consider Angela and Joy’s discussion of the movie Ice Age. By knowing Angela not just as a faceless student, but as a mother who had a strong passion for her children, Joy was able to make a discussion of summary and analysis relevant to Angela’s own life. Ronald, similarly, was in tune with the digital literacy needs, as well as the extra-curricular needs, of his students. The information about students that facilitators accumulated during their studio sessions was highly valued throughout the institution. It informed the ways in which facilitators and instructors tackled specific student deficits. This understanding resulted in relatively-humble endeavors, such as the “secret” cache of USB drives for students, and rather ambitious programs, such as the faculty-led initiative to eradicate homelessness. It also informed pedagogical practices in the institution, causing instructors like Katherine to develop an even greater sensitivity to the backgrounds of their students. Even though the current redesign of Orange State’s first-year writing curriculum occurred before the writing studio was established, full-time instructors in the English Department are already rethinking the ways in which the curriculum might be developed in the future. This re- envisioning was based, at least in part, on their experiences as facilitators. In such a role, they were forced to read syllabi, interpret assignments, and consider the ways in which feedback are read and interpreted from a student’s perspective. The alarming experiences of students like 185 Dawn and Felicia, who were told that their use of language constituted “slang,” were increasingly known throughout the college due to the feedback loops facilitated by writing studio sessions. At an institution like Orange State, where students do not live on campus and face-to-face contact is frequently limited to classroom time, this information about student needs is highly valued. The placement exam, which I will discuss in the “implications for further study” section of this chapter, was widely viewed as an inadequate source for information about student skills and needs. For this reason, I learned that every writing instructor at Orange State College was compelled to spend significant time at the beginning of each semester designing and evaluating in-class essay assignments just so they could have an initial understanding of the skills and deficiencies of their students. Finding 4: Bounded Solidarity in the Writing Studio Helps Students Build Relationships that are Otherwise Difficult to Forge in Open-Access Institutions As exemplified by Nathan, students at Orange State College struggled to establish college-oriented networks similar to the networks they counted on in their daily lives. Student participants shared that they relied on family and friends for help when unexpected crises transpired and finances were low. Nathan, for instance, stated that the networks he formed through online gaming provided a number of benefits. When he needed medical advice, he could rely on the advice of a nurse. When he needed help with financial issues, an IRS agent was available for guidance. He also identified a friend who could help with math homework. These types of “friendship networks” have been shown to be vital for student academic success at the undergraduate level (McCabe, 2016). And yet, Nathan encountered challenges in forming 186 the same types of relationships within the Orange State College environment. The theme of networking, as facilitated by the writing studio, thus underscores this study’s fourth finding. Through the theoretical concept of “bounded solidarity,” individuals who share similar experiences may establish a sense of community that enables the sharing of social capital (Gu, Hung, & Tse, 2008; Light, 2004; Portes & Sensenbrenner, 1993; Wall, Ferrazzi, & Schryer, 1998). Although bounded solidarity is not always common in school environments, it can be fashioned through involvement in club activities, athletic teams, and other extracurricular groups. In the writing studio environment, I witnessed a group of diverse individuals - Nathan, Kordell, and Rita - establish bounded solidarity as a result of their shared interest in not just succeeding, but excelling, in their first-year writing class. As I demonstrated in the opening pages of Act 2, they shared samples of their writing through peer review, provided emotional support, and they were willing to share insider information gleaned from their instructors’ comments. Not every group that formed this “bounded solidarity” remained a cohesive unit after the end of the first semester, much less the academic year. However, they did offer important support during a time when many mainstreamed students are most vulnerable - the first semester of their writing classes. Bounded solidarity also included the facilitators of the writing studio, in addition to writing tutors and other academic support staff throughout the institution. The studio facilitator who introduced a student to a writing tutor for help with rhetorical analysis engaged in what I have termed “social scaffolding.” It was widely recognized among academic support staff at Orange State that students needed multiple points of contact. Not every individual was available 24 hours a day, seven days a week at Orange State. Thus, social scaffolding was an effective 187 strategy to ensure that students like Nathan had several people they could count on, just in case a specific facilitator or tutor was not immediately available during a time of need. Nadine helpfully reflected on her experiences as a student at a liberal arts college, stating in an affectionate manner that such institutions are “very cuddly with their students.” While her critique was directed at the need for increased digital literacy support at Orange State College, I believe it can be extended to other aspects of institutional support. This study demonstrates that networks for students at open-enrollment colleges like Orange State especially need scaffolding, as few opportunities for meeting peers outside of the classroom exist and instructors are frequently too busy to hold extended office hours. The “cuddly” experience that might be most beneficial to students at open enrollment colleges are provided to students who have the good fortune or the financial resources to gain admittance to a well-resourced liberal arts college with ample facilities and restricted class sizes. While online education provides opportunity and access to many students who might not otherwise be able to take classes at Orange State College, this study also found the online experience is highly dependent on the instructor’s level of engagement. Even students with extensive experience in the online environment, like Caroline, may feel alienated by their online coursework, if the instructor provides unclear instructions for assignments and has limited availability. Nathan’s example shows that students can forge strong bonds through online environments, and perhaps bounded solidarity can be similarly established through online writing studio classes or other forms of computer-based support. One interesting related theme concerning the writing studio was the recurring comment, expressed by several students, that the studio was their “only college class.” Lyla extended this statement, telling her mother that she “got really excited [by the studio] because [her] other 188 classes made [her] feel like [she] was 12.” The implications of these statements are twofold. First, they reveal that many of the students in this study had a preconceived notion of what college was going to be like. The studio environment - with its small class sizes, Socratic approach to learning, and open-ended space for inquiry - was more congruent with students’ concept of college than other classes that had 25-30 student sections and a prevailing pedagogical approach that was lecture-based. Second, they suggest that - even with the studio’s relatively-loose structure - students may have felt more challenged in studio classes because they were regularly engaged in peer review, drafting, outlining, and other types of critical thinking activities. Moreover, these activities were performed in a collaborative environment with other individuals, rather than in competition. A final important aspect of bounded solidarity concerns the fact that a facilitator can offer real-time support for a student in need. The narrative of James, who received a zero for unclear reasons on a writing assignment, illustrates the unpredictability of the relationship between instructor and student in many writing classes. I do not wish to argue that stories like James’s are a regular occurrence in first-year writing. It is common, however, for students to receive conflicting messages from a class syllabus or rubric and the actual feedback they receive from the instructor. Whether a student misunderstands an assignment or an instructor is unclear about an assignment’s purpose and grading criteria is immaterial to this discussion. The point is that any discussion of improving retention and completion rates for writing coursework should acknowledge the reality that writing can be a rather subjective - and maddening - experience. Students who feel they have received unfair feedback may even question their reasons for attending college. If Sarah had not been available to provide emotional support and strategize an 189 alternative outcome for James, he might have left school after receiving that one grade, as well as the accompanying dismissive feedback from the instructor. Relating Research Questions to the Findings At this point, I return to the three sets of research questions that were stated at the beginning of this study. To reiterate, the first set of questions concerned the following: • What forms of discourse are familiar to students? How do students become acclimated to the challenges of academic discourse? Findings 1 and 2 directly relate to this research question. In high school, students develop a fluency with grammatical constructions, sentence structure, and other writing-related skills that can be readily evaluated through a standardized exam format. They also become acclimated to writing five paragraph essays in a limited number of genres, including a literary analysis, a narrative essay, and a persuasive essay. Deadlines for these writing tasks are often fluid and neither peer review nor revision for lengthier writing assignments are common. As a result, students enter college with a certain set of expectations they associate with “academic discourse.” For this reason, the transition to “collegiate academic discourse” can be quite startling. The primary method of student evaluation may no longer be related to grammar or sentence structure. Instead, students are quickly expected to develop several new foundational skills, including the ability to locate, evaluate, and incorporate research materials on their own. Many students, especially adult learners returning to school after 10-20 years, struggle to complete their first assignments due to a lack of digital literacy. Students are also introduced to new genres, including a rhetorical analysis, a process analysis, and a causal analysis. The lengths of papers significantly increase; as a result, students who are used to writing five paragraph essays 190 have to adjust the way in which they organize materials and conceptualize the dimensions of an academic paper. If they fail to account for the extra time required to write these much longer papers, students may miss deadlines. Unlike high school, college deadlines are usually not negotiable, and a student could fail several assignments early in the semester before they adjust to these new expectations. The second question concerned the following: • What are the specific resources that help students overcome deficiencies and achieve success in mainstreamed writing classes? Information about instructors and assignments is key. As this study has shown, writing instructors employ a broad variety of teaching strategies, evaluation methods, and course materials in their classes. The students in this study were acutely aware that they needed to meet their specific instructor’s expectations, but they were often at a loss on how to accomplish such a task. I found that studio facilitators held vital information about the first-year writing classes at Orange State College in at least four ways. First, they knew what individual instructors were looking for in specific assignments, thus saving students time during the conceptualization, research, and organization stages of the paper. Second, they were able to quickly diagnose and remediate student deficits in digital literacy. Third, they provided additional support on topics that were new to students, such as rhetorical modes, citations, and unfamiliar genres. Fourth, they helped students prioritize and respond to instructor feedback, an activity that was new to many first-year writing students. Information also expanded throughout the institution, as instructors became increasingly aware of student needs and adjusted their curricula accordingly. The third set of questions concerned the following: 191 • What types of relationships are formed among mainstreamed students and academic staff? How does the resulting social capital - accessible through these relationships - help or not help students? Not all useful support in the writing studios was related to specific writing-related skills. Due to the relatively small size of the studio, facilitators and students frequently developed strong bonds that were difficult to forge elsewhere at Orange State College. As a result, students received emotional support when a writing-related task caused stress or instructor feedback was perceived as being unhelpful. Through the social scaffolding that occurred in the studio, students also developed relationships with multiple individuals inside and outside of the writing center. These relationships enabled students to be more open to the feedback process and the construction of multiple drafts; hence, they were more likely to complete assignments on time. Implications The broad scope of this study’s findings invite considerable space for a discussion of implications. In what follows, I group these implications into three thematic areas: theory, practice and policy, and further study. Theoretical Implications Sociocultural theory was found to be a helpful, if not essential, framework for examining students’ college writing skills and for identifying the writing-related challenges students face as they transition from high school to college. By considering high school academic writing and undergraduate first-year academic writing as distinct discourse communities, four writing skills were accentuated for which students receive little training in high school, yet are foundational to success in college. These gaps offer one explanation for recent research that indicates high 192 school academic preparation has little to no positive predictive effect on college readiness (Ferenstein & Hershbein, 2016). This study also highlighted three specific aspects of the writing process that pose significant challenges for students in first-year college writing. These aspects of the writing process require critical thinking abilities that are certainly cognitive in nature, but they are enhanced by community activities involving peer review, information sharing, and insider knowledge about genre conventions and instructor expectations. A sociocultural perspective can shed light on the impact of these activities, as it treats writing as a community-oriented practice more in line with the way college instructors conceptualize their assignments and their own writing. In short, effective remediation requires a more nuanced response to student needs than a cognitive perspective might suggest. Nevertheless, there are limitations to sociocultural theory. Had I conducted an ethnography of writing at an institution where instructors graded students exclusively on proper grammar, elegant sentence structure, and correct citations, a cognitive perspective might have been a more appropriate theoretical fit. Also, one cannot ignore the fact that standardized exams have a major impact on student trajectories in high school and college. These exams do not prioritize the activities of research, organization, and revision required by the first-year college writing instructors profiled in this study. Two forms of social capital were explored in this study: the “bounded solidarity” and “information potential” of the writing studio as a form of remediation. The primary benefit of a social capital theoretical lens is twofold. First, it emphasizes the importance of networks for student support and retention. Second, when employed in conjunction with sociocultural theory, a social capital perspective highlights the fact that a student who does not understand the 193 conventions and expectations of a specific discourse community needs socialization in that community to develop the skills necessary for effective writing. Implications for Practice and Policy This study has offered a favorable view of the writing studio as a form of remediation. The greatest strength of the writing studio is that it embraces, rather than ignores, the disorienting space of the first-year writing classroom I depicted at the outset of this chapter. Writing studios are flexible, catering to the specific needs of students and the varying requirements of different instructors. As I suggested in the fourth finding, writing studios can also give students an opportunity to experience a style of learning that is different from the lecture-based style of teaching prevalent in many open-access community and state colleges, especially for first-year coursework. In addition, writing studios provide students with an opportunity for feedback from multiple individuals, including facilitators, tutors, and peers. Feedback has been shown to be a vital part of student learning, yet this study has indicated that many students may not be receiving useful or actionable feedback during their high school coursework. Some students also do not receive helpful feedback during their first-year college coursework. As described by Hattie and Timperley in a 2007 Review of Educational Research article that synthesized over 500 meta-analyses and 180,000 studies, the most effective feedback is constructed in the following manner: Where am I going? How am I going? and Where to next? The answers to these questions enhance learning when there is a discrepancy between what is understood and what is aimed to be understood (p. 102). 194 This form of critical thinking was encouraged by nearly every writing studio facilitator I observed over the course of this study. Therefore, I believe writing studios can be of particular help to students who are unaccustomed to interrogating writing assignments and their own processes as they write. In a related vein, writing studios might also help ameliorate a perceived gap in student skills that was once filled, at least in Florida, by developmental reading classes. Research indicates that reading and writing rely on shared knowledge and cognitive processes (Fitzgerald & Shanahan, 2000). Hence, reading strategies, along with writing skills, need scaffolding if students are to succeed beyond the first year (Boylan, Calderwood, & Bonham, 2017). For individuals interested in the practical application of the writing studio model, three potential limitations were also discovered over the course of this study. First, facilitators must be not only comfortable with a broad range of college-level writing skills, but they also need to embrace the occasional lack of structure central to the studio model. Not every personality is amenable to a Socratic style of teaching, and I witnessed at least one facilitator who was not effective at fostering class discussion. Some full-time writing instructors who served as facilitators also were uncomfortable “leaving the sage on the stage approach” to teaching, as it was described by one administrator. I previously mentioned that some of the most important knowledge about students came from casual conversations about their interests, their passions, and their goals. This knowledge can be useful later in contextualizing writing-related lessons or assignments, but only if the facilitator is willing to set aside considerable time for non- pedagogical purposes. Second, Orange State College was in the enviable position of having several full-time writing tutors who could serve as facilitators for multiple writing studios. Some writing centers 195 are staffed almost entirely by part-time tutors. Hence, the expense of filling several writing studios with extra labor might make the model prohibitively expensive for some institutions. Third, the flipped nature of the writing studio might be a poor match for the top-down orientation of many open-access community and state colleges. A culture of burdensome assessment would be particularly damaging to the writing studio model, as a few isolated class observations of individual studio sessions may seem unproductive. Furthermore, any attempt to assess the overall skills developed by the students in a studio may be difficult, since so much of the instruction is targeted to meet individual needs. Furthermore, skill development is inherently tied to collaborative peer review of the specific assignments that students find challenging. Although the findings from this study are not generalizable, they have the potential to inform developmental education policy, especially with regards to first-year writing. This study has met the three purposes stated at the outset. It has provided greater firsthand knowledge about 1) student perspectives on developmental education; 2) the resources that are essential for student success in mainstreamed classes; and 3) the instructional practices that students find most helpful. This study has also shown that any student who is mainstreamed into first-year writing will likely need substantial academic and personal support to persist and succeed. Therefore, any discussion of mainstreaming should be accompanied by an analysis of the type of remediation - the “recipe” I depicted in Chapter 3 - that will provide students with these forms of support. The writing studio model is one way in which Orange State College creatively addressed the identified needs of students, and it could be a viable option for other institutions. However, any institution looking to provide support for mainstreaming should conduct its own thorough 196 evaluation of student needs and institutional resources before deciding whether the writing studio model, or any other form of remediation, would be feasible. Another aspect of policy that is worthy of discussion concerns the lasting impact of Florida State Bill 1720. In some ways, SB 1720 represented the “spirit of innovation,” as described by one Orange State administrator, in that it granted institutional autonomy to experiment with new approaches to developmental education. The bill was also credited with focusing attention on developmental education and galvanizing support for much-needed reforms. Nonetheless, many aspects of State Bill 1720 were problematic for the cultivation of an innovative institutional climate. Many administrators and faculty members at Orange State College expressed their opinion that the bill was passed in an “overnight” fashion and did not give institutions the necessary time or resources to develop truly innovative ideas. As shown by Hu et al. (2015c, 2016c, 2017), administrators’ perceptions of the effectiveness of developmental education reforms in Florida have declined dramatically from 74% in 2015 to 60% 2016 and 30% in 2017. This decline is likely attributable, at least in part, to sustained cuts in funding and resources by Florida legislators. Furthermore, an overriding emphasis on performance funding has had two negative effects. First, institutions that have developed innovative approaches to student support are not incentivized to share their knowledge with their peer institutions, thus limiting impact and diffusion. Second, institutions have been incentivized to meet short-term quantitative measures, rather than to develop lasting programs that promote deep learning and improve student success beyond the first year. As a result, administrators and faculty feel that their intrinsic motivation, a vital component to innovation, has not been tapped (Deci, Ryan, & Koestner, 1999; Tierney & Lanford, 2016). 197 In short, other states that might adopt mainstreaming in their higher education systems would be well-advised to give institutions much more time to develop and implement alternative models. As indicated by Act 2’s student responses about math modularization at Orange State College, not every mainstreaming initiative has been successful. Due to the pressures of performance funding, more qualitative field research may be necessary to determine if institutions are truly testing innovative approaches to remediation - or if they are being “innovative” in how they accumulate and present statistical evidence to the state. Implications for Further Study One nagging question throughout the course of this study concerned students, like Brittany, who were obviously writing far beyond the first-year college level. Why and how are students like Brittany placed in developmental education? Since this study was focused on student experiences in writing studios and first-year writing coursework, a comprehensive discussion of students’ placement testing experiences is beyond its purview. Nevertheless, the literature review on testing and placement demonstrated that the use of high-stakes assessments to determine student placement is a contentious issue, and students’ understanding of college placement exams is often limited (Fong & Melguizo, 2015; Safran & Visher, 2010; Venezia, Bracco, & Nodine, 2010). With regards to this study, I made four preliminary discoveries pertaining to the PERT assessment (Florida’s placement exam) that I plan to address in a separate article. These discoveries are worth mentioning here. First, I discovered that most students were not aware of the existence of the PERT assessment before they were placed in front of a computer to take it. Second, they learned about the exam during their first advising session. Since Orange State’s advisors are overloaded with students, the average wait time for each advising session was typically two to four hours per 198 student. After that extended period of time, students discovered that they needed to take the PERT, and they were summarily ushered to a computer lab to take the exam. Third, as I have previously detailed, many students at Orange State have little experience with technology. For nearly all of the adult learners in this study, the PERT assessment was the first time they had ever taken a computerized exam. Fourth, students both young and old were anxious to finish the PERT as quickly as possible because they generally had to take time off from work or their family responsibilities to be on campus. The entire process is worthy of deeper study, as students were invariably confused about how they were placed into the writing studio. 9 In focus groups with the first-year writing classes, I learned that students from Florida had a greater awareness of their placement options. Therefore, many of them refused to take the PERT assessment, or they simply disregarded the scores and signed up for the classes they desired. One of the primary takeaways from this extended description is that writing studios at Orange State College are overrepresented by students from other states, international students, private school students, and ex-military students. Students from each of these groups are the only ones who are still required to take the PERT. Since the PERT assessment is proprietary, I have not yet been able to get statistical data concerning the percentages of students who are placed in remediation, but I suspect they are artificially high. Many “developmental” students who did not attend a Florida public high school, like Brittany, were actually considered - by their facilitators and peers - to be the best students in their respective writing classes. 9 In Table 2, I provided the grid that advisors at Orange State College use to assess whether or not students need remediation. Four factors are considered with regards to writing placement: GPA, SAT reading, ACT writing and reading, and the PERT writing and reading scores. From this information, the advisor may outline the students’ options and provide a recommendation, tell the student they are being placed into specific classes, or ignore the information, especially if the student is from a state other than Florida. 199 Early research concerning developmental education reform in Florida has produced mixed outcomes. Overall, however, it appears that mainstreaming has not had a negative effect on student retention or graduation, although it is important to emphasize that research relating to quantitative outcomes is still at a preliminary stage (Hu et al., 2014a, 2015a, 2016b). My initial findings about the PERT offer two possible theories as to why this is the case: 1) the conditions under which students take the PERT assessment have created invalid placement results and 2) the multiple-choice format of the PERT exam does not adequately assess the activity of writing. If there is one encouraging aspect of this entire line of inquiry, it is the fact that developmental students are currently only paying for one non-credit hour of remediation in the writing studios, as opposed to the four or eight non-credits they previously were compelled to take. At present, we do not know what happens to students who drop out after the first two or three weeks of classes. These students are difficult to track because they often just “disappear” before an instructor, a facilitator, or even another student has the opportunity to form a bond that can lead to off-campus meetings or an intervention. A few students like Demetrius were willing to reflect on the reasons why they previously dropped out of school, but other students tended to sidestep the question in interviews or remain silent in focus groups. For this reason, we need a greater understanding of the relationships between instructors and students (Perin, 2013). In a multi-year qualitative study of several two-year colleges in California, Florida, Illinois, New York, Texas, and Washington, Cox (2009) has convincingly demonstrated that undergraduate students are frequently penalized because they misunderstand the expectations of their professors; likewise, professors often fail to discern the unique backgrounds of their students, especially a greater proportion of non-traditional students enroll in higher education. The findings from this study align with Cox’s arguments, supporting the notion that students would 200 benefit from greater exposure to “insider” college knowledge and professors who are sensitive to the college transitions of adult learners, students from low-income backgrounds, and other traditionally under-represented populations. As I demonstrated in the literature review on faculty instruction, we also have insufficient knowledge about the effects of online education (Carpenter, Brown, & Hickman, 2004; Zavarella & Ignash, 2009), the training of faculty who teach writing classes (Boylan, 2002), the impact of part-time faculty on student success (Boyer, Butner, & Smith, 2007), and a variety of other pedagogical factors that could affect undergraduate student retention and completion. Another area for further study concerns the long-term effects of mainstreaming. In particular, we need to know more about the long-term impacts of SB 1720 reforms on Florida mainstreamed students from a variety of backgrounds, including ex-military, adult learners, and international students. By learning more about the needs of these different student groups, other forms of remediation, beyond writing studios, might be devised that would be effective for specific institutional contexts. As a final issue, information alone is not sufficient to remedy all problems pertaining to college access and attainment (Tierney & Garcia, 2011). This study further demonstrates how information needs to be conceptualized in a multifaceted manner that transcends reductive data about students’ skill levels, their experiences with the standardized exam setting, or even their educational backgrounds. Furthermore, students need to be apprised of how they are being assessed and what the implications of that assessment mean for their futures. 201 Conclusion “When you look at one person in hundreds of thousands, I guess it kind of doesn't matter. Either you have it or you don’t. But I’m sure that some of the great thinkers are getting basically shoved down the drain.” -- Demetrius Despite the pessimism expressed by Demetrius in this statement, this study takes the position that one person, even amongst hundreds of thousands, matters a great deal. For example, Demetrius was one of many astute thinkers at Orange State College who were not only combating exceptional odds to earn an undergraduate credential, but who also expressed concepts relating to writing, college persistence, and society in eloquent, effective, and insightful language. Even though he was assessed as needing “remediation,” there was certainly nothing remedial about Demetrius’s ability to communicate. Many commonly-employed measurements of student success assume that the classroom is an isolated chamber of unimpeded cogitation. Nevertheless, we know, from past research studies, that outside factors - such as financial aid difficulties, family issues, and the necessary for concurrent full-time employment - can have a robust impact on a student’s ability to stay enrolled and complete coursework. When athletes have personal issues relating to family life or friendships, it is widely accepted that their performance on the field of play may be negatively affected. Nevertheless, performance for other college students is too often treated as a bounded event, where theories involving GRIT and perseverance place educational success or failure almost entirely on the shoulders of the individual. For these reasons, I deliberately adopted a theoretical framework that embraces the role of non-cognitive and societal factors in student success. 202 In this study, I depicted student and instructor perspectives on developmental education to demonstrate the complex nature of interactions in the writing classroom and how they resist simplistic notions about college readiness. I also identified resources that are essential for student success in mainstreamed classes, as well as the instructional practices that students find most helpful. I explored the potential of the writing studio as a form of remediation for students who have been mainstreamed into first-year writing classes, and I was encouraged by the findings. 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Acquiring writing revision skill: Shifting from process to outcome self-regulatory goals. Journal of Educational Psychology, 91(2), 241. 234 Appendix A: Interview Questions for Students 1. What is your age/ethnicity? 2. How long have you lived in the area? Where else have you lived? 3. Is English your first language? If not, what other languages do you speak? Which languages are spoken in your home? 4. What types of jobs have you had in the past? 5. What do you hope to get out of your college studies? Which degree do you intend to receive? 6. What might be your intended career(s)? Do you think writing will play a significant role in your career plans? 7. Outside of class, what do you read? On which platforms (e.g., tablet, computer, phone, hardcopy) do you typically read? 8. Do you enjoy writing? If so, which forms of writing do you enjoy? 9. What do you feel are your strengths as a writer? 10. What do you feel are your weaknesses as a writer? 11. When you first applied to college, did you anticipate needing extra help with writing classes? Why or why not? 12. Why did you decide to take ENC 1101 (the first-year writing class), rather than take a developmental writing class? 13. What have been the greatest challenges in your first-year writing class thus far? 14. What have been the biggest surprises in your first-year writing class thus far? 15. Are you enrolled in the writing studio class? If yes - In which ways has it been beneficial? In which ways could it be improved? If no - Why did you decide not to attend the studio class? 16. How often do you seek help at the writing center? Do you ask for a specific tutor? 235 What kind of feedback do you receive? How do the tutoring sessions primarily help you? 17. Do you share your writing assignments with anyone enrolled in your writing class? How do you share your writing with them? What kind of feedback do they provide? Why do you seek help from them? 18. Do you share your writing assignments with anyone outside of your writing class? How do you share your writing with them? What kind of feedback do they provide? Why do you seek help from them? 19. Do you meet with any of your classmates to study other subjects? Why do you meet? What are the primary benefits to your meetings? 20. If you could give advice to another student entering a mainstreamed writing class, what advice would you offer? 236 Appendix B: Interview Questions for Faculty 1. What is your age/ethnicity? 2. How long have you lived in the area? Where else have you lived? 3. Is English your first language? If not, what other languages do you speak? Which languages are spoken in your home? 4. What types of non-academic jobs have you had in the past? 5. Tell me a little about your academic background. Where did you study? Have you taught at any other institutions? How long have you taught at Orange State College? (Did you teach in Florida before the implementation of SB 1720?) 6. How would you describe your teaching philosophy for first-year writing classes? What do you hope students will take from their writing classes? 7. Outside of class, what do you read? On which platforms (e.g., tablet, computer, phone, hardcopy) do you typically read different material? 8. Do you write for any audiences outside of the college? (Blog? Newspaper column?) 9. What do you feel are your strengths as a writer? 10. What do you feel are your weaknesses as a writer? 11. As a college student, did you face difficulties with the writing assignments in any of your classes? How so? 12. How do you determine that a student in your class needs extra help with writing? 13. What are some of the greatest challenges in teaching mainstreamed students in first-year writing classes? 14. What have been the biggest surprises about the mainstreamed students in your first-year writing class? 15. What form(s) of support do you suggest for a student who needs help? 237 16. Do you have any strong relationships with individuals from the writing center? If so, what are those relationships like? How did they form? 17. Do you encourage your students to share their work with others? Do you have peer review sessions during class? 18. What are some of the primary difficulties that students face in your first-year writing class? Do mainstreamed students face the same difficulties? If not, what others do they face? 19. In general, do you think mainstreaming has had a positive effect on your institution? For your classroom? If not, what other solutions might you suggest? 20. If you could give advice to a faculty member teaching a mainstreamed writing class for the first time, what would you offer? 238 Appendix C: Interview Questions for Academic Support Staff 1. What is your age/ethnicity? 2. How long have you lived in the area? Where else have you lived? 3. Is English your first language? If not, what other languages do you speak? Which languages are spoken in your home? 4. What types of non-academic jobs have you had in the past? 5. Tell me a little about your personal background. Where did you study? Have you tutored or taught at any other institutions? How long have you worked at Orange State College? (Did you work in Florida before the implementation of SB 1720?) 6. How would you describe your teaching philosophy? 7. Outside of class, what do you read? On which platforms (e.g., tablet, computer, phone, hardcopy) do you typically read different material? 8. Do you write for any audiences outside of the college? (Blog? Newspaper column?) 9. What do you feel are your strengths as a writer? 10. What do you feel are your weaknesses as a writer? 11. As a college student, did you face difficulties with the writing assignments in any of your classes? How so? 12. From your experience, what are the most common writing skills that are in need of remediation? How do you help students with those skills? 13. What are the greatest challenges with tutoring (or running a writing studio for) mainstreamed students? 14. What have been the biggest surprises with tutoring (or running a writing studio for) mainstreamed students? 239 15. Besides the writing center, what form(s) of support do you suggest for a student who needs help? 16. Do you have any strong relationships with faculty members teaching first-year writing classes? If so, what are those relationships like? How did they form? 17. Do you encourage students to work with each other in the writing center? Do any particular students regularly engage in peer review? 18. What are some of the primary difficulties that mainstreamed students face in your (tutoring sessions) writing studio? 19. In general, do you think mainstreaming has had a positive effect on developmental education at your institution? If not, what other solutions might you suggest? 20. If you could give advice to a tutor or instructor teaching mainstreamed writing students for the first time, what would you offer? 240 Appendix D: Observational Protocol Guidelines When first observing the classroom or tutoring session, note the date and time. Take notes about any relevant environmental phenomena you might find useful later. Also take notes with the following questions in mind: • What subject matter is being taught? What genre/type of writing is being discussed? • Is the style of teaching lecture-based? For tutoring sessions, is the session dominated by the tutor? Or, is the environment more collaborative? • How well are students engaged? • What kind of comments are the students making in response to the instructor/tutor? • Are the students actively writing during class/during the session? • Are the students engaging in peer review? • What is the nature of the interaction between the students and the instructor/tutor? 241 Appendix E: Information Sheet for Participants University of Southern California Pullias Center for Higher Education Rossier School of Education INFORMATION/FACTS SHEET FOR EXEMPT NON-MEDICAL RESEARCH The Intersection of Academic Support and Social Capital in Developmental Education: An Ethnography of First-Year College Writing You are invited to participate in a research study conducted by Michael Lanford from the University of Southern California. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you are enrolled in a first-year writing class or you provide academic support for first-year writing classes. Research studies include only people who voluntarily choose to take part. This document provides information about this study. Please take as much time as you need to read this form; you may keep this form for your records. You should ask questions about anything that is unclear to you. You may also decide to discuss this form with family or friends. PURPOSE OF THE STUDY The purpose of this study is to explore the impact of writing centers as sites of social capital for mainstreamed first-year writing classes. As part of the analysis, three types of relationships will be examined: 1) the relationships between writing center staff and students; 2) the relationships between writing center staff and instructors; and 3) the relationships formed among students who regularly work in the writing center and utilize writing center resources. Although you may not directly benefit from participation in this study, your insights can provide valuable information into the relationships that facilitate the mainstreaming of first-year writing classes, as well as the forms of academic support that are most helpful to students. PARTICIPANT INVOLVEMENT If you volunteer to participate in this study, you will be asked to take part in the following research activity. (Participation is not required.): Interviews: You will be asked to meet with a researcher for a semi-structured interview. Interviews will be scheduled at your convenience. During these interviews, you will be asked to answer questions about your relationships and experiences with other individuals involved with first-year writing classes. Interviews will last approximately 60 minutes. You do not have to answer any questions you choose not to answer. If you agree, your participation will be audiotaped. If you do not wish to be taped, handwritten notes will be taken. 242 PAYMENT/COMPENSATION FOR PARTICIPATION You will not be paid for participating in this study. CONFIDENTIALITY Any identifiable information obtained in connection with this study will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission or as required by law. We will assign a pseudonym (pretend name) to ensure confidentiality for interview participants. When interviews take place in a public place, there is a chance that individuals outside of the study may accidentally intervene and identify study participants. Additionally, confidentiality cannot be guaranteed if participants decide to discuss the contents of their interviews outside of the research periods. The members of the research team and the University of Southern California’s Human Subjects Protection Program (HSPP) may access the data. The HSPP reviews and monitors research studies to protect the rights and welfare of research subjects. The data will be stored in a locked filing cabinet or on a password protected computer. You have the right to review audio recordings or transcripts of your interviews. Any identifying information, such as this consent form, will be destroyed three years after the study is completed. The remaining data will be maintained indefinitely and may be used in future research studies. You can indicate at the end of this form whether or not you would like the data to be maintained for future use. If you agree, your permission will be not obtained to use the data in the future, since the data will not contain any identifiers. When the results of the research are published or discussed in conferences, no information will be included that would reveal your name. INVESTIGATOR CONTACT INFORMATION If you have any questions or concerns about this research study, please feel free to contact Michael Lanford by phone at (850) 320-1490 or by email at lanford@usc.edu. IRB CONTACT INFORMATION If you have questions, concerns, or complaints about your rights as a research participant, you may contact the IRB directly at the information provided below. If you have questions about the research and are unable to contact the research team, or if you want to talk to someone independent of the research team, please contact the University Park IRB (UPIRB), Office of the Vice Provost for Research Advancement, Stonier Hall, Room 224a, Los Angeles, CA 90089-1146, (213) 821- 5272 or upirb@usc.edu.
Abstract (if available)
Abstract
In recent years, a growing number of researchers and policymakers have advocated for the elimination of developmental coursework in favor of “mainstreaming,” an educational treatment in which remedial students enroll directly into credit-bearing, college-level classes. This dissertation details a nine-month ethnographic study of writing studios as co-requisite remediation at a Florida state college where mainstreaming was mandated by state policy. The ethnographic approach of the dissertation is informed by Desmond’s (2014) concept of relational ethnography, where a comprehensive field, processes, and cultural conflicts are each explored in lieu of a single site or a unified culture. The goals of this dissertation are threefold: 1) to clarify the challenges students face in first-year writing
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Lanford, Michael
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The writing studio as co-requisite remediation: a relational ethnography of academic discourse and social capital
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Rossier School of Education
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Doctor of Philosophy
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Urban Education Policy
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07/26/2019
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academic discourse,bounded solidarity,developmental education,digital literacy,ethnography,feedback,first-year experience,Higher education,mainstreaming,OAI-PMH Harvest,remediation,social capital,sociocultural theory,student development,student success,Writing
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academic discourse
bounded solidarity
developmental education
digital literacy
ethnography
feedback
first-year experience
mainstreaming
remediation
social capital
sociocultural theory
student development
student success