Teaching Writing :: Reflective Writing Education Feminism Essays

Teaching Writing As I look back over the course of this semester, the image that I pound is one of the murky variety. It is difficult to identify although I clear entangle its presence for almost four months now. There bring been many moments when I harbour waited for the insights to seminal fluid, for the translation and the writing to mesh. And instead, I felt like I was lost in a fog that was some quantify dense, other times only misty. The worst part is that the fog is pervading a familiar seat and once it clears I will be disappointed with myself because I should have kn protest exactly where I was. What troubles me is why I do non know where I stand, after a semester of studying concepts I entrust in. My hopes for myself in this class have not been met (for which I hold myself all responsible). I spent the last few months searching for answers in the material, in my dialogues with my classmates and coworkers, in my writing and through my thinking. As a feminist and a critical pedagogue I thought I would surely come to some grand conclusions, with all these theories as my bedfellows. But instead I feel like I have abandoned and failed my agenda to split learn the theory and grow because of it. This is not to say that I have not learned anything, or not grown from the puzzle of this class. I know and feel that I have been changed I am still not certain how.I look back at my reception papers and I only see doubts. Questioning the people whose projects I admire, whose goals are not so different than mine, who know so lots more than I do. And yet each paper that I have written criticizes and tries to poke holes. This sense of being lost, of not knowing is my own fault. I did not allow myself to engage with the writers. It has only been at the end, by doing my research paper and reading the articles about race that I finally felt like there was a place for me this course. It has been an alienating experience to see my peers thriving with our co ursework while I felt like a grumpy old dwarf, shouting What about me? And then, a couple weeks ago, when we started reading Race, Rhetoric, and Composition, I felt like the fog was beginning to shift.