Style for Style and the Ugly Black Dress

Old school. New school. Vintage. Modern. Traditional. Edgy. Classic. Trendy.

Call me materialistic. Call me superficial. I'd hope that I was considered neither of those two terms, but I have to admit that I am a worshiper of all things sequins. Or silk. Or crystal. Gold. Patent leather. I am addicted to fashion, people. Perhaps it was my mother who played an early roll in my interest of aesthetics. It was she, after all, who would parodically mimic the wisdom of Suzanne Sugarbaker (Designing Women) who, when asked, would state that the most important thing in life is not things like love or friendship--it's "lookin' good!"

I'm trying to shock you, okay? I don't really think that the most important thing in life is lookin' good--nor do I "look good" half of the time (have you seen me in class???). I will, however, blame my desire for fashionable things to a simple appreciation for aesthetics. I am a sensory junkie. If I can get my paws on good music, food, shoes (oh shoes...), or find my gaze captured by the firey red of oak tree leaves in October, I'm going to tell you that, in my opinion, I'm a little bit closer to heaven. Fashion, to me, is a way in which I can express my adoration for aesthetics; I find much pleasure in wearing the sparkle of a vintage crystal necklace or the creamy luster of a silk jacket.

Old school. New school. Vintage. Modern. Traditional. Edgy. Classic. Trendy.

I'm not just talking about fashion now, but I am talking about style and self-expression. This week, we read about grammar--what it means, what it can mean, what it doesn't mean and how it's mean to teach it (joke). In all sincerity, I found this week's readings to be somewhat lack luster in the "wow this is interesting!" department. Not to say that all readings didn't appeal to me, I just had a hard time finding something interesting to say about them. I will admit, however, that Steven Lynn's discussion regarding style, audience, and grammar truly struck a chord with me; I was able to relate much of what Lynn said to my interest in elements of fashion, such as self-expression and personal style. Also I think that Lynn is a closet closet appreciator (did you catch all of the subtle fashion references?!).

For simplicity's sake, I'll keep my analogy on the shorter side. Lynn outlines:

AUDIENCE
What is style? Consider the following requests:
(a) Close the door.
(b) For God's sake, will you close the dadgum door?!"
(c) Would you please be so kind as to close the door?
(d) The lid on the casket holding our relationship is that door, which you now must shut.

For me, I'd like to consider the following outfits.

(a) The formal look is comprised of a classic black dress, a vintage silk jacket (a recent find!) and black patent stilettos.

Lynn suggests that our writing is "dressed up in style," and that we "learn how to adorn pre-existing ideas appropriately for a particular audience in a given time and place" (142). If you're heading out for an evening in formal evening attire, you may choose items that 1) articulate your own personal style, and 2) are based upon your ideas about what people wear at formal events. If a student embarks upon a journey to employ more formal diction, he or she will have to use his or her knowledge of "formality" and then mold formality to fit his or her expressive style. This is not easy! In fact, when you dress up for a formal event, how do you know that what you're wearing will be appropriate? Sure we can base our ensemble from our experiences attending formal events, but if you're new to a formal scene, how do you know what to wear? I would compare a "formal outfit" to the research paper assignment (in high school & in higher ed.), as it follows a particular pattern and is associated with a particular academic audience.

In any stylistic situation, Lynn speaks of writers in a similar predicament, for if we embark upon a composition assignment, we "often cannot see, engage with, assess, and react to...audiences" and are, therefore, at a bit of a disadvantage. It is here, then, that in all circumstances how a writer is perceived is often tied to the syntactical choices a writer makes. Is this a valid way to assess a writer's intentions? Here, Lynn points us to this idea of a "second persona,"--an identity that is somewhat removed from the text in which a writer produces. Is it an authentic voice? Lloyd Bitzer would argue, "no," it is not. How can writers have authentic voices if their stylistic choices are dependent both upon their ability to imagine an audience and the way an audience understands, rejects, adapts, or distorts the style (and therefore, meaning) of the writer's text?

Lynn points us in the direction of allowing the teacher to "play additional roles" besides just "teacher." In other words, allowing a teacher to metaphorically put his or her "casual clothes" on from time to time allows them to be perceived more as a peer than as an authority figure (see figure b).

I imagine that all of my classmates already do this in their classrooms, and I would also imagine that an apparent challenge is knowing when to dress-down and when to dress-up! I would liken, perhaps, the assignment of a book review or something of the like to a more "casual voice," yet not quite pajama-esque in nature.

If "identity is dynamic and adaptable," why not writing style? If, perhaps, the instructor can invite their students into a various array of creative settings, then it's possible that personal expression and style may adapt, too. I'm not suggesting that this isn't already done; I know that teachers assign various assignments particularly in order to allow a writer to express him or herself in similarly different voices (or outfits, if you want to talk fashion).

Old school. New school. Vintage. Modern. Traditional. Edgy. Classic. Trendy.

Our reading this week asked us to consider grammar and its place in the classroom. Is it Old School to believe that grammar is the center of composition? Yes. But is the New School way of thinking fully incorporated into the mode of today's classroom? No. Vintage pedagogy is never comprised of horribly "bad" ideas; there is a purpose, a process of trial and error, and a history to present practices and methodology. At the same time, however, sometimes vintage ideas can go out of style style like shoulder pads and dickies. I'd like to think that our "edgy" thinkers are always pushing the envelope, allowing the modern practitioners to see where pedalogical potential lies beyond the boundaries of what it has always been. At the end of the day, I have to wonder if there's an either-or answer: either you teach grammar OR you don't. I'm shaking my head--can that be right??! I think that the answer to this question lies in a better look at grammar as a conceptual piece of composition. Certainly we exercise an understanding of grammar in our writing, as it is a tacit part of language acquisition. But the way we teach grammar in the classroom (correction: are REQUIRED to teach grammar in the classroom) is like a classic black dress from the 80s. Conceptually, it seems to work, but the ruffles and dramatic rouching make it just plain ugly.

It seems to me that the most important aspect of teaching grammar is simply to question its place in the classroom. I don't think I'm completely convinced that it does not belong at all in a learning environment. In fact, part of me wants to maintain that grammar is the classic black dress of composition. However, in order for it to "work," you have to have a place to wear it.