A Teaching Subject: Composition Since 1966

by Joseph Harris

In this classic text, Joseph Harris traces the evolution of college writing instruction since the Dartmouth Seminar of 1966. A Teaching Subject offers a brilliant interpretive history of the first decades during which writing studies came to be imagined as a discipline separable from its partners in English studies. Postscripts to each chapter in this new edition bring the history of composition up to the present.

Reviewing the development of the field through five key ideas, Harris unfolds a set of issues and tensions that continue to shape the teaching of writing today. Ultimately, he builds a case, now deeply influential in its own right, that composition defines itself through its interest and investment in the literacy work that students and teachers do together. Unique among English studies fields, composition is, Harris contends, a teaching subject.

Genres: Nonfiction, Teaching, Grad School, Writing, Academic

208 pages, Paperback

First published September 26, 1996

Reviews

[Dave Schaafsma · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of several histories out there to serve as a textbook for Writing Studies graduate courses, which I am teaching this term. A classic, focused on three decades, 1965-1995, and leaning heavily to college composition (his area, and not primarily mine--which is English education and middle/high school writing instruction), one virtue of the book is that it is short, concise and affordable. It was originally released in 1997 and was expensive; so Harris eventually got the rights to the book back, added updates and inter-chapters where he focuses on his own teaching, and republished it in 2012. I had read it when it came out and now read it again.

The main chapters highlight five key words (to follow Raymond Williams's Keywords), a term a chapter, that he thinks are useful for exploring K-College writing instruction: Growth, Voice, Process, Error and Community, and only in the end he talks of digital issues (which have emerged in the last several years). Each of these key terms roughly aligns with a chronological approach for changes in thinking about why/how people have taught writing in schools.

"Growth," for instance, came about as a result of an international conference on writing at Dartmouth in 1966 which produced a book sort of summarizing the talk there that would shape writing instruction for many years, Growth Through English, by John Dixon. The sixties, as you know, were a volatile decade, an explosion of moments in areas such as feminism, environmentalism, anti-racism, pacifism, and so on. Interestingly, schools didn't immediately respond to integrate these societal concerns in the classroom (and indeed never really fully have done so). The Dartmouth conference focused on how the structures on writing in schools had emphasized rigid approaches to required forms and structures and had ignored issues of personal engagement, creativity and relevance. Personal growth became a guiding principle for teaching writing, to go with the individualism of the sixties (the social commitments would come later, in some classrooms focused on social justice issues). Personal narratives would become a centerpiece for some teachers of K-12 writing.

A period focusing on issues of personal "voice" followed this concern with growth, and in the early seventies people became interested in a "process" approach to writing--discovering various stages of writing and drafting writing with teachers instead of merely handing in "products" on due dates. People then began to focus on some cultural issues with respect to errors in writing--is it "wrong" to speak as you do in your community or culture? Can standard English make room for other language use in schools, such as Black English Vernacular (Geneva Smitherman)? These issues of correctness vs. freedom still drive writing instruction, though correctness is largely in control now.

The last chapter focuses on how writing instruction changed from something you are taught from a teacher to something that is learned a bit more democratically in a "classroom community," through the uses of exchanging drafts of writing with peers (as well as the teacher). Thinking of a classroom as a community is still very much in vogue today.

Harris seems to be in dialogue in this book with another, more radical, historian of writing instruction, Marxist scholar James Berlin, who of course takes a more ideological approach that I prefer. Harris, more of a political centrist, and seeing his job as a historian as more descriptive than prescriptive, doesn't to my mind adequately address many of the "community" or sociocultural issues that came to eventually get addressed in many writing classes--racism, sexism, and so on.

But in each of his chapters, Harris illustrates through his key words how there has been a tension in the last few decades between what schools require--the structures and forms schools require one to know--what James Gee calls "essay-text literacy") and the needs and desires of students and society, a tension between freedom and structure that has now largely been lost through a testing craze in schools that shapes all the writing K-college students do, resulting in an emphasis on argumentative writing in prescribed forms. This focus on rigid preparation for tests today is not unlike what led to the 1966 Dartmouth conference, and will probably create the need for such a conference again, to right the ship more in the direction of freedom, creativity and both individual and social needs.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

I fear that Harris’ ideal of the city as the model of community, with many different groups all living and working together—like the university that includes janitors and academic vice-presidents, students and adjuncts and archival preservationists—may be fading. Cites are becoming choices. Austin is a Texas choice and Hyde Park even more so. In the D.C. area, there’s an almost palpable different between Maryland and Virginia residents. With our computer-assisted occupational mobility, potential residents can scope out the yoga studios and Whole Foods offerings in a town (or the gun ranges and American flags in the yards) and decide whether the space is “right for them.” I don’t mean to belabor the locality point, but I think it’s emblematic of the way that our society specialized in and out of work. We used to all watch the Big Three news channels: now we watch the news that agrees with us. Less and less are there community forums for students to address. Instead, should be teach them to capitulate with whatever status quo they adore, or do we insist that they compete to win over the haters? Harris’ “specific and material” view of community “allows for consensus and conflict” (106) because “they are simply thrown together” (107). I think more and more, people are choosing not to deal with conflict—they’d rather just pick up and move.

[Angelina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Joseph Harris examines 5 different concepts/words we tend to throw around in education without always agreeing on their meanings. He discusses how these words are interpreted differently and what those interpretations mean in terms of how educators approach writing instruction specifically. He has some really good points about how our dialogues talk past each other when we understand these key concepts differently. His 5 concepts are growth, voice, process, error, and community--words I took for granted that people used in the same way I used them, which I wish I had not done and which I will not do in the future.

[Anth · Rating 3 out of 5]

At times stimulating, at times vapid, Joseph Harris both highlights old opinions of composition and suggests new ones in the updated version of this text from 2012. Despite the occasional slog of reading the text, I walk away agreeing with Harris' positions, namely the ideas around writing process, looking at errors in student writing, and the difference between community and the more desirable public space in a classroom.

[Elizabeth · Rating 4 out of 5]

Harris is such a thoughtful and readable writer, and this book does a nice job historicizing how composition has been taught since the latter half of the 20th century. Harris has strong opinions about the themes he highlights, but he always makes them clear and, in his interchapters, illustrates them nicely through using examples from student work. I also appreciated how he was willing to extend his thoughts and sometimes even change his mind in his 2012 postscripts to each chapter. He's the consummate example of an academic who works hard to thoughtfully teach writing and, while I may not always agree with his theoretical stances, the quality of his teaching shines through in both his examples and in the careful construction of his prose.

[Jessica Gordon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Overall, I really enjoyed this book by Joseph Harris, but I especially appreciate his tone. He writes in an exceptionally clear manner and he explains complex issues in an articulate and straightforward way. One person wrote in her comments that Harris is "name droppy," but well, each chapter is a review of the literature-after all, this is a history of composition--so Harris is bound to drop some names. I just thought that was an odd remark.

I really enjoyed the chapter focused on errors, and I would not have thought this would be my favorite section. In that chapter, Harris make a number of great points and shows how composition took the turn away from grammar and toward technique and process. In my experience as a composition professor, teaching grammar has always been a taboo.I picked up on this in graduate school, but it's only been reinforced throughout my 15 years of teaching.

I was looking for a book that would provide a broad overview of the process movement, and this book certainly serves that purpose. And I would emphasize, again, that it is written in a very accessible way.

[Ian · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't understand some of these other reviewers claiming Harris is hard to comprehend or that his argument is unclear. In address to this latter issue, this strikes me as a piece of exposition rather than argument. Objective exposition untinged by ideology, belief and values doesn't exist, though, even in scientific writing, and Harris seems to me to be incredibly transparent about where he, as the writer of this book, stands in relation to the history of the theories and methods he is attempting to trace. I greatly appreciate this, because as a reader I didn't feel I had to try to suss out his biases from something that tries to play itself off as objective. But I wouldn't say he is trying to propose or argue anything specific--at least not as his primary goal.

Additionally, his writing both seems to do justice (in broad strokes) to the theories and methods it outlines while rendering them easily processable to someone entering the field. It is also tinged with lots of self-consciousness/reflexiveness and humor. A must read for anyone teaching composition--especially new TAs!

[Steven · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of the more interesting things about this book was to read all the theoretical underpinnings for the composition courses I took as an undergraduate. So that’s why they had us do those things! Boy, was I clueless. I also was not aware that composition was such a hotbed of ideology. Another fascinating feature of this book is the sections that Harris titles “Interchapters.” In these sections he provides a teaching example using samples from student writings interwoven with the story of the teaching methods used, his point being to show how the student grew in response to the teaching methods. These are—for me anyway—the most engaging sections of the book, and a great relief from the heavy theoretical and ideological discussions in the rest of the chapters. The book did provide me with a keener sense of the problematic nature of teaching composition, that composition is not simply grammar and rhetoric.

[Lance · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an interesting perspective on the history of composition, with some generally valid criticisms of past theories and practices, though, as most theoretical critiques tend to do, Harris constructs simplified taxonomies that don't necessarily hold true. In the end, I'm not really sure what Harris would like to propose himself, other than a vague form of social writing. If you need to get a better sense of the history of composition, this is a great book to start with, especially since it is short and easy to read.

[Chanel Earl]

This is a great introduction to composition theory. I think it is a little overwhelming to the beginning student, but I can't think of a better way to introduce so many concepts and dialogues in one book. If I had been wise, then I would have looked up all of the names and theories that were included in the discussion as I was reading. Then I would know so much more. As it stands, I think that just reading the book, gave me a good foundation.

[Mari · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this for English 614: Practicum in Teaching Composition. It gives some background about the field.

[Everett]

I like how Harris intersperses the longer chapters with "interchapters" that give longish examples of student writing.

[Bridget · Rating 3 out of 5]

A nice overview, but very dense and name-droppy.

[Ann · Rating 3 out of 5]

At times, Harris's argument is difficult to comprehend, but he provides practical teaching strategies and his chapter on community is particularly interesting.