Reading and responding to student writing: A heuristic for reflective practice

Composition Studies, Spring 2002 by Straub, Richard E

He actually, she thinks, likes this relentless heat? He obviously hasn't been here in the summer.

I intend to spend my next four and one half years here, but I miss my other home, Syracuse, New York. One thing that I truly miss about Syracuse is the four seasons. Each season is distinct and clear in its own way. I will do my best to describe each season to you, but remember that my description cannot compare to experiencing each season for itself.

An okay start, she thinks. A good thesis statement. But he's slow getting into what he has to say. Try to grab the reader's attention, she jots in the margin. And this escape hatch won't do. It's a cop out. Why the disclaimer? she writes, and reads on.

In the Spring the ground is soft from the melting snow. You can feel the moist ground wanting to seep into your shoes.

Good, she thinks, a really nice image. Evocative. She puts a check next to the line in the margin and writes, Good detail. I can feel the squishing. She's about to underline the "you" and write, Shift in point of view, but she doesn't want to take away from the praise she's just given-he needs the applause-and decides for the moment to let it go. She wonders whether to mark the capital S on Spring or tick-mark it and let him find it. She puts a slash through the letter, and continues reading.

As the ground begins to dry, the trees begin to blossom and the faint smell of pollen lingers in the air. The flowers work their way out of the ground and bloom for another year.

Good, some more vivid description. She thinks of the cherry trees that used to blossom each spring in her backyard. But it's pretty generic: a composite of a mythical spring day up north. He could get a lot more specific. Which trees? What kind of flowers? she writes, then picks up with her reading again.

The familiar sound of geese is heard overhead as you look into the sky and see a "V"formation travelling north for the summer. A long winter's nap has ended for the bears, squirrels, rabbits and other hibernating animals. After they awake, their chattering conversations ramble through the forest.

She's not sure she likes "'V' formation," and she's still not sure about this use of "you." Why doesn't he use "I," she wonders, or stick with the third person? But she's clearly troubled by the string of general language, the stereotyped ideas: "The familiar sound of geese"? "A long winter's nap"? "Chattering conversations"? He's just blowing through these descriptions, not thinking about them. Coasting. She sharpens her pencil, drops her hand to the page, and next to the last two sentences writes, Really ? Squirrels and rabbits hibernating? Bears and rabbits chattering? He's getting careless here, she thinks, relying far too much on cliches about spring. But she catches herself. She wants to keep it constructive. She reads back over the sentences. Maybe it's just the way it sounds, a matter of voice or tone. Maybe he's thinking this is the way a description of spring is supposed to be: nice and light and homey. Hold off, she tells herself. Let's see what he does next.