I’ve been thinking about the concept of “voice” in many different contexts lately. This past summer I was teaching a class about teaching language and literacy skills. While we discussed the process of teaching writing I bought up the “six-traits” of good writing. For those of you who do not know, these traits were developed as a way to identify what a good piece of writing includes and as a way to assess and improve student writing. As far as my experience has been, the six traits have been primarily used by elementary teachers. Those six traits are: idea, organization, voice, word choice, fluency, and conventions.
(If you would like to read more about these traits and their characteristics from a teaching point of view, here is one resource: http://teacher.scholastic.com/products/ruth-culham-writing-program/writing-instruction-program-overview/traits/. Here is a website for the author, Ruth Calham: http://www.culhamwriting.com/home.html).
“So Mary, is this just going to be a post about teaching writing?” Well, hang with me a moment and you’ll see my connections to other, bigger things.
One of the most difficult traits to “teach”, based on my experiences with teachers, might be “voice”. As you can imagine, most of schooling revolves around things that teachers can control and give templates for, such as conventions and organization. In fact, I don’t recall talking much about voice as a writing trait in my schooling until I was in college and joined a writing group as part of a class I took. Most of my own writing instruction had been about how to organize use an outline. (Here’s a secret: I don’t usually do outlines. I write until something happens and then go back and wrestle it in to some sort of coherent shape. When I was *required* to turn in an outline, I usually wrote the outline after the paper!)
Voice, to quote Ruth Culham’s material, refers to “The tone and tenor of the piece—the personal stamp of the writer—which is achieved through a strong understanding of purpose and audience”. In other words, the writing belongs to you and has something to say. Unfortunately, because this trait is sometimes neglected – or perhaps teachers really don’t know how to approach it – there is a lot of writing coming from students that doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve graded as college professor that may follow some structure and are grammatically correct, but do not say anything at all. I just read some research papers that, while presenting accurate and informative details about the topic, did not mean anything. I continually ask the student, so what? What does this mean to you? Why do we need to know this? What implications are there? What is the Big Tomato? In terms of the craft of writing, I believe that voice can be taught in the context of meaningful writing opportunities and through the ample use of writing workshop. You can find lots and lots of information on the specifics but basically, it is about giving students the time and permission to first *find* their own voice and then express it. Too often school as a whole is about the reproduction of specific sets of knowledge that do not allow for individual expression of individual understanding (not to mention socio/cultural understanding and perspective).
Too often school is about control. This control over students doesn’t allow for that blossoming of the individual. In a larger sense, the lack of emphasis on “voice” in writing programs is a symptom of that larger problem, which is the silencing of the individual through control. Try having an honest to goodness debate with some young people and you might see what I mean. You may find that they have nothing to say or that the only thing they CAN say is what has been spoon-fed them (My children have informed me that this is not only the case…believe me; my children have something to say!).
For me, the larger and obvious danger is a people who do not or cannot find their own voice and must rely on regurgitating whatever message the media bombards them with. Is that a heavy-handed idea? Perhaps, but the thread is there. On the other hand, we have a people who are indifferent. They don’t wish to be “political” or rock any boats. Can there be democracy if the people are silent?
The thing is I can’t be quiet. I’ve always had a strong voice, a strong point of view and I am always bothered when I am told silence that voice. (EVERYONE in my family has a strong voice and they all like to express it...that's why it is so NOISY at the Schumacher reunions) You know when this happens; don’t talk about politics or religion. Don’t criticize or question your employer. Don’t disagree with your neighbor. Sheesh. What would there be left to talk about? Can I not have an opinion? How am I going to learn more about something if I can’t question it?
I’m worried about the larger context and consequence of “voice” in our society. Debate today really consists of reiterating talking points from someone else rather than engage in open, sometimes difficult discussion. Do you want to turn me off in a debate? If you start by repeating the latest line from the latest “pundit” you have shown me that you do not have your own voice. Rather, you are a parrot. I’m done with you and nothing has been solved, and mutual understanding has not been achieved.
Others will not engage in debate because they really and truly have not opinion. Perhaps that is a more dangerous problem. A democracy that does not invite engagement and debate is in danger.
So what is to be done? I have to have some conclusion because often my comments to my student’s papers is that they need to have some implications for their ideas so I guess I had better practice what I preach.
1. Begin early by allowing children to express their individuality. School should not conform but rather invite active engagement through meaningful activity.
2. As a teacher and/or as a parent, know your children and let them speak! Listen and respect their ideas (and remember that respect earns respect). Let them become who they are meant to be and know that YOU can’t really and shouldn’t really control that.
3. Begin teaching writing early, including the trait of voice. Writing is such a POWERFUL force. It’s not just a skill that is needed to pass a test. Writing allows us to find ourselves, to think through our understandings and to discover our truths. Writing is simply transformational in so many ways. BTW, I taught preschool for years and yes, even children as young as four years can begin to understand the power of writing YOUR ideas on paper – even if it is a series of scribbles down the side of a piece of lined paper.
4. If you are a teacher, stand up for what you know is good teaching. If you want children to be literate beings, you need to be literate yourself (this goes for parents as well, of course). Be a voice for equitable, fair, and democratic schools and teaching. And for goodness sake, just say “no” to the canned curriculum!
5. Our schools (our society) simply have to reevaluate the purpose of education. Is our purpose the reproduction of dominant knowledge or is it to empower a people who are engaged, critical, democratic thinkers?
6. Find your own voice. Do you find yourself only listening or reading those sources that lean to your way of thinking? If you do, you are not doing yourself any favors. How do you know what you really think if you don’t challenge yourself? Have a respectful debate with that neighbor down the street who always puts up signs from the opposing political party during election season. Read something that debunks what you believe. You will either confirm your own ideas, or you will develop them more. Either way, you will have grown.
Wow. If you’ve stayed with me this long I would like to reward you with a poem. Don’t groan. This started as an essay I was writing as part of a writing seminar for teachers I was running about the trait of “voice”. It turned into a poem. I know I’m not supposed to apologize for my work, but, ok, it might be a bit preachy or mawkish, but I like it. And, hey; my voice, my audience, my poem, right?
Voice
“Hyperbole”, they tell me. “You put too much stake in it. You think too much.
You over think.
Who are you to say?”
I’ve heard this before. I know the reaction.
I’m well aware of the glazed eyes,
Impatient tapping of feet,
Restless bodies trapped in a chair.
I am stung and I am embarrassed.
I silence the voice inside.
But it is not stilled.
It is persistent. Unflagging.
Niggling, nagging, urgent.
It pokes holes that stretch and break silence.
My voice can fade to a whisper,
Yet it cannot be stagnant.
My voice grew from somewhere else.
Before me, generations of my kin used their strong voices.
Theirs would not be quelled by a culture of power seeking to silence them.
Theirs did not wait to be asked.
Theirs did not seek permission.
Their voices sang out cutting through the silent glares of an establishment.
“Who are you to say I have no voice,” they still sing.
And they sing, and they sing, and they sing.
And they pass it to me.
My voice speaks now not caring if the assembled are with me or not.
I don’t care.
It is who I am.
Our children have voices.
When they are young, the voices ring out with joy and truth,
Unfettered by expectations.
It is growing older that silences them.
They are held tight and close for fear of losing control.
Choices are discarded, too difficult for the child.
“We know better”, they say.
Dissent is spit upon.
“Defiant of authority; criminals”, they accuse.
“Be seen, not heard,” they instruct.
It is the child’s lot in life.
Forced to conform, they cease listening,
Lacking faith for the voice inside
If you have no voice, you have no choice,
So I’ve been told.
I am a teacher so I ask,
“How will I reach them?”
I’m given the ‘flavor of the month’.
“Here, use this.
Easily digestible; easily consumable; easily reproducible.
Teacher proof,” someone says proudly.
I have to ask: Where is the child? Where is their voice?
How can they rise up if they cannot find themselves?
How can they rise up if we cannot find ourselves?
The Master teachers understand and they tell me:
“You already know.
Use your voice to find theirs.
With utmost respect, watch and listen.
Help them pull tendrils of thought from their head.
Hand in hand, side by side, mold, nurture, and nourish.
Together, you will discover their voice.
And when the time is right, let go.
It is not yours. It is theirs.”
This is why the pen exists,
Why fingers draw in the sand
Or dance upon keys.
Our voice leaves its mark.
It makes a stand.
It believes or denies.
Persuades, provokes and comforts.
To write is to live.
Give your voice strength
Do not be swayed by those who think
They know better.
They don’t.
Tell it to yourself, and then tell it to your children.
You have the right.
You have the choice.
You have the voice.
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