...FROM THE EDITOR...

In this month’s newsletter, you’ll find Joan Hawthorne’s response to the persistent call for writing center re-search. In her essay she argues for using discourse analysis as a valuable and appropriate methodology for studying tutorials. If you are using dis-course analysis, what questions have you been addressing with this method of research? What other questions and methodologies are you exploring? Or, another way for you to join the discus-sion is to consider two articles about writing centers in unusual contexts, one in East Africa and the other in a science and engineering university. Does your writing center exists in yet another unusual context?

In short, the phrase in the news-letter’s masthead above invites an ex-change of voices and ideas—and that means all of us. That is, every news-letter essay is one author’s voice con-tributing to a conversation on that topic. Do join in. And invite tutors to do the same. As is evident in the tu-tors’ essays by Ildikó Carrington and Dawn Johnson—and in Bonnie Devet’s description of what her tutors have contributed to her writing lab— undergraduate tutors are also valuable contributors to our discussions.

• Muriel Harris, editor

...INSIDE...

Researching the Conference (Why We Need Discourse Analysis)

• Joan Hawthorne 1

Culture and Composition: Starting a Writing Center in East Africa

• Ann Miller 6

Conference Calendar 9

Tutors’ Column:

“TutoringInternational Graduate Students”

• Ildikó Carrington 10

“’Brainstorming’ Tutoring Tools”

• Dawn Johnson 11

Invisible Writing Lab Consultants

• Bonnie Devet 12

“Go to the Writing Center”: The Writing Center’s Growing Author-ity in a Science and Engineering University

• Emily F. Nye 14

The Writing Lab Newsletter, published in ten monthly issues from September to June by the Department of English, Purdue University, is a publication of the International Writing Centers Association, an NCTE Assembly, and is a member of the NCTE Information Exchange Agreement.ISSN 1040-3779. All Rights and Title reserved unless permission is granted by Purdue University. Material will not be reproduced in any form without express written permission.

Editor: Muriel Harris Managing Editor: Mary Jo Turley English Dept., Purdue University, 1356 Heavilon, West Lafayette, IN 47907-1356 (765)494-7268. e-mail: harrism@cc.purdue.edu

mjturley@purdue.edu web site:http://owl.english.purdue.edu/lab/

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Manuscripts: Recommended length for articles is 10-15 double-spaced typed pages, 3-5 pages for reviews, and 4 pages for the Tutors’ Column, though longer and shorter manuscripts are invited. If possible, please send as attached files or as cut-and-paste in an e-mail to mjturley@ purdue.edu. Otherwise, send a 3 and 1/2 in. disk with the file, along with the paper copy. Please enclose a self-addressed envelope with return postage not pasted to the envelope. The deadline for announce-ments is 45 days prior to the month of issue (e.g. August 15 for October issue).

These are troubling issues in a disci-pline that seems to be just achieving a certain amount of institutional stability and credibility, and they demonstrate the need for new knowledge, espe-cially the knowledge about practice that can be generated through dis-course analysis. We need to know what we do during writing center sessions. We need to analyze the ways tutors talk during sessions, and then examine how that tutor talk seems to influence writers’ talk. We need to consider the various strategies that tutors use to open students up, strategies that can be much more nuanced than might be sug-gested by one of our old rules: the writer should do most of the talking. We need to look at sessions where the writer doesn’t talk much at all but which seem to be productive sessions nevertheless; what can we find in that tape or transcript that accounts for the productivity of such a session?

When we can do studies like this and answer questions like these, we’ll be much nearer to being able to talk to-gether productively (and accurately) about our practice. And we’ll be much nearer to renewed discussions about the intersections between theory and practice, discussions in which theory and practice can each be informed by the other, because those discussions will be rooted in empirical studies that describe the range of current practice.

The need for new knowledge about writing center practice is surely central to any argument for a strengthened fo-cus on writing center research that in-cludes discourse analysis as a tech-nique for close examination of what happens in writing center sessions. But that is hardly the only reason for pursu-ing such research today. A second, closely related rationale is purely prac-tical: new tutors must be trained for writing center work every semester, and we are responsible for their devel-opment as competent and professional practitioners in our field. One piece of that development is related simply to providing tutors with the knowledge and experiences that they need to un-derstand how to do their job, and we’ll know more about how to convey the essence of effective tutoring once we’ve named and described it via the kinds of research discussed above.

These concerns about the theory and practice of writing center work, and the applicability of both to the training and development of new tutors, are prob-ably the most important reasons for pursuing research that uses the tech-niques of discourse analysis. However, a discussion on WCenter reminds me that there may be at least one other rea-son for using discourse analysis strate-gies in writing centers. That other rea-son is the increasing demand for assessment that provides evidence of outcomes.

Much of the work on outcomes on college campuses had its impetus in accreditation standards (although a well-done assessment program should have value that goes beyond satisfying outsiders). The kind of assessment that accreditors are asking of academic de-partments and programs today is as-sessment that looks at what students learn as a result of taking classes in their field, or completing a major in that discipline. It shouldn’t surprise us that our colleagues across campus, in at least some cases, are expecting writ-ing center directors to talk about learn-ing outcomes as well.

The new standard (and there’s no reason to assume that this can’t turn out to be a good thing for those of us who care about student learning) de-mands that faculty look at student learning outcomes in ways that go be-yond grades. We in writing centers may want to be proactive in thinking about learning outcomes for the stu-dents with whom we work. Since our sessions can be so individualized and since we usually don’t know if a given student will be a one-time user or a regular visitor over a multiple year time span, our opportunities for docu-menting student learning are quite dif-ferent. But the techniques and materi-als used for discourse analysis may be applicable. In reviewing a tape or tran-script of a writing center session, I can identify needs or goals, both cognitive and affective that are implicitly or ex-plicitly agreed to by tutor and student. Later during the session, I can hear or see (and even name) the strategies that the tutor used to help the student ad-dress those needs. By the end of the session, I can look for evidence in the student’s own language that demon-strates whether goals were met, and, more generally, whether learning was achieved. This is an individualized ap-proach to documentation of outcomes, but the writing center is an individual-ized place; this could be an approach that makes sense. And this general ap-proach to documenting outcomes is ex-actly consistent with the strategies Bar-bara Walvoord and Virginia Anderson recommend (149-151), based on their work in assessment for accreditation with faculty on campuses across the country.

Joan Hawthorne University of North Dakota Grand Forks, ND

Works Cited

Blau, Susan R., John Hall, and Tracy Strauss. “Exploring the Tutor/Cli-ent Conversation: A Linguistic Analysis.”The Writing Center Jour-nal 19.1 (1998): 19-48.

Fletcher, David C. “On the Issue of Au-thority.”Dynamics of the Writing Conference: Social and Cognitive Interaction. Ed. Thomas Flynn and Mary King. Urbana: NCTE, 1993. 41-50.

Gillam, Alice J. (1994). “Collaborative Learning Theory and Peer Tutoring Practice.”Intersections: Theory-Practice in the Writing Center. Ed. Joan A. Mullin and Ray Wallace. Urbana: NCTE, 1994. 39-53.

Grimm, Nancy M. Good Intentions: Writ-ing Center Work for Postmodern Times. Portsmouth: Heinemann, 1999.

Johnson, JoAnn B. “Reevaluation of the Question as a Teaching Tool.”Dy-namics of the Writing Center Con-ference: Social and Cognitive Inter-action. Ed. Thomas Flynn and Mary King. Urbana: NCTE, 1993. 34-40.

Lerner, Neal, and Geller, Anne Ellen. “Listening to Writing Center Talk: Research across Institutions.”Con-ference on College Composition and Communication, Denver. 16 Mar. 2001.

North, Stephen. M. “The Idea of a Writ-ing Center.”College English 46(1984): 433-446.

Palmer, Parker. J. The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998.

Sperling, Melanie. “Speaking of Writ-ing: When Teacher and Student Col-laborate.”Writing With: New Di-rections in Collaborative Teaching, Learning, and Research. Ed. Sally Barr Reagan, Thomas Fox, and David Bleich. Albany: State University of NY Press, 1994. 227-245.

Walvoord, Barbara E. and Virginia Johnson Anderson. Effective Grad-ing: A Tool for Learning and Assess-ment. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998.

Writing Center Director Western Oregon University

Western Oregon University seeks a Writing Center Director, tenure-track position starting September 2003. Position involves overseeing student tutors in the writing center and teaching writing classes in the English Department.

PhD in composition and rhetoric desirable; writing center experience re-quired. Preferred candidates will have demonstrated coursework/experience/ training in several of the following areas: teaching writing at the lower-and upper-division college level; supervision and training of writing center tu-tors; professional development/in-service workshops for faculty; writing across the curriculum/writing in the disciplines. Salary competitive.

Send letter of application, current vita and transcripts, plus three current letters of recommendation to Dr. Curt Yehnert, Chair, Humanities Division, Western Oregon University, Monmouth, OR 97361. Applications accepted until December 15, 2002; open until filled. Western Oregon University is an AA/EOE employer and is committed to fostering diversity in its student body, faculty and staff. <http://www.wou.edu>.

Culture and composition: Starting a writing center in East Africa

There was no question about the per-ceived need. I can remember for years walking into the faculty lounge and hearing colleagues complaining about the quality of student writing. During the second half of the semester, in term paper season, it became almost a ritual chant among us. Not that the university didn’t make an effort to train its stu-dents in writing; all undergraduate stu-dents were and are required to take freshman reading and composition courses. However, with enrollment in many sections exceeding 40 students, there was a limit to what could be done about the problem within the class-room, and faculty did not have time to meet individually with all of the stu-dents who needed help. Of course, if this scenario were to occur in the U.S., two solutions would quickly spring to mind: start a writing-across-the-cur-riculum program and/or establish a writing center. In Kenya these options were not so obvious. In 1999, when the Language & Literature and Communi-cation Departments first proposed a joint writing and speech center with the mission of “raising the quality of writing and speech in the Daystar com-munity” through the mechanism of peer tutoring, there were no models of formalized student-to-student aca-demic assistance at the university level anywhere in East Africa. When we tried to explain our vision to others, the most common response was a confused “What?”

As we explored attitudes toward the concept of peer tutoring through fac-ulty and student surveys, focus groups, and interviews, it became clear to our small committee that one key was un-derstanding the student-teacher rela-tionship within Kenyan society. We al-ready knew that in Kenya differences in status and power are considered a normal part of the social structure. In educational settings this translates into the attitude among students and teach-ers alike that the teacher is the all-knowing authority and exists on a dis-tinctly different plane than students (Hofstede 34). In primary and second-ary schools, for example, the common method of instruction is for teachers to write their lectures on the black board while students silently copy them ver-batim into exercise booklets. At the university level the lecture format and accompanying formal classroom rela-tionship continue in a modified form. Faculty we interviewed were con-cerned that with this gap between the teacher and the taught, student tutors could never hope to garner sufficient respect to be effective. In fact, a few faculty members wondered if students they might refer to a writing and speech center would simply conclude that teachers were unwilling to do their jobs.

In a different vein, some faculty members pointed out that most stu-dents had already had negative experi-ences with what Bruffee ( 96) calls “monitor-like” tutoring in the British-inspired prefect system. Virtually all of our students went to high schools where their most outstanding class-mates were selected as prefects, and given authority over the academic work and even personal lives of younger or less advanced students. And most students didn’t like it. Those who were not selected got the message loud and clear that they were not the best; those who were selected were left with the uncomfortable task of trying to appear both superior and equal to their peers. Some high schools, in fact, carried the system a step further and segregated students into streams: one for the A students, another for the B students, and so on. Would a student-staffed writing center bring back nega-tive associations to students and dam-age their self-image? Although we did not believe that peer tutoring needed to involve this kind of unhealthy competi-tion, it was clear that we would have to explain the concept of the center in such a way that people did not misin-terpret it.

On the other hand, it was clear that students needed to be assured that stu-dent staff were truly their equals. Obvi-ously managing to create both impres-sions simultaneously is no easy feat. We began with carefully considering through discussion with our first set of student tutors-in-training as well as in the student focus groups exactly what our workers should be called. Every-one agreed “tutor” wouldn’t do; it had too many connotations of remedial work. “Student teacher” and “teaching assistant” were ruled out immediately because they appeared to leap over the gap between student and teacher sta-tuses. “Consultant” was rejected as pretentious. In the end the students chose the non-threatening term “stu-dent assistant.” Similarly, we realized that posting the student assistants’ names and photos on bulletin boards or future web pages would set them apart in a way that could compromise their peer status. On the positive side, in re-sponse to comments in the student fo-cus groups, we determined to make our small designated space as student-like and homey as possible, beginning with posters and a carpet on the concrete floor. True to the British colonial legacy in Kenya we also provide tea for regular group sessions.

The student assistant dilemma of fill-ing both expert and peer roles extends into the content of tutoring sessions, but for different reasons. We serve a technically 100% ESL population. Al-though many students at Daystar began speaking English in their pre-school years, it is not their parents’ first tongue, and even among the most flu-ent of them, linguistic patterns from their first languages creep in. Because of this, our student assistants must be able not only to instinctively spot grammatical problems, but also to ex-plain underlying rules and conventions. One recently observed that she feels like she is studying for a grammar quiz every time she prepares for a meeting with a new client.

As we have examined American authored textbooks such as the Bedford Guide for Writing Tutors, Writing Cen-ter Resource Manual, and Ken Bruffee’s Collaborative Learning with both our first and second sets of stu-dent-assistants-in-training, we have probed them to critically analyze every reading for appropriateness to the Afri-can cultural context. We have con-cluded that strict minimalist tutoring is not adequate for many of our clients, depending as it does on drawing exist-ing grammatical knowledge out of the tutee. An approach closer to that de-scribed by Hawthorne, where student assistants learn to alternate between di-rective and non-directive approaches depending on the specific client and problem, is more useful. The extensive knowledge of grammar required of stu-dent assistants is another reason that the tutor training course spans an entire semester, and even then leaves some issues untouched for lack of time.

A sizeable number of students come to Daystar from non-Anglophone na-tions outside of Kenya. One of our stu-dent assistants has labeled this group “ETL”—or “English as a third lan-guage”—to distinguish their difficul-ties from the rest of the student popula-tion. Students from these nations are given a language proficiency test upon admission. If they do not pass, the uni-versity provides an initial semester of nothing but English training on a no-credit basis. From one of our focus groups composed entirely of non-Anglophone students, we learned that ETL students on campus were eager to take advantage of any opportunity to improve their English, but also felt their needs were forgotten once they finished the initial intensive language course. We had already seen this dur-ing a year-long pilot program of fac-ulty tutoring where many students from this group eagerly volunteered to be involved in ongoing assistance when it was offered. As a result, we decided from our first semester of full operation to reach out especially to these students. In addition to being available to them for one-to-one ses-sions, the center has organized two weekly conversational groups which, in contrast to the formal lecture setting of their English class, offer an opportu-nity to talk in a relaxed environment on topics the students can select themselves.

Wealth and poverty are relative, of course. Although it would certainly not look good in a U.S. school for a writ-ing center to scrape by on less than $2000 a year, in Africa it is do-able. Beyond that, the tiny budget makes us more aware that our greatest resource is unquestionably our student assis-tants. Their enthusiasm and creativity has been inspiring. In our first semester of operation they have leaped into tu-toring. The first week we put out sign-up sheets for appointments, two-thirds of the available appointment slots were filled within 48 hours and we have continued at about the same usage rate since. One of our staff has single-handedly designed and begun to imple-ment a program of training fourth-year students for the post-university envi-ronment through mock employment in-terviews and feedback on student CV’s. Another has taken the fledgling ESL program and, with assistance from a visiting faculty member, started the two conversational groups plus in-dividual ESL tutoring. A third created a set of center Web pages that will be among the first links on the much awaited university Web site.

Our small budget also means we need to get creative in our funding op-tions. Locating outside funding looks like our next step, either through grants or possibly through becoming partially self-supporting by offering services to the community outside of the univer-sity. One of our current class of stu-dent-assistants-in-training, a marketing major, is helping us begin to explore these ideas.

The adjustments for attitudes toward teacher/student relations, implications of the high percentage of ESL students on our campus, and limitations in fund-ing will undoubtedly be only the first of many that must be undertaken to make the writing and speech center at Daystar fit its own environment. In just our third semester of faculty tutoring and our first with student assistants, we still have much to learn about what shape the center needs to take in order to be effective. Although we have been conducting background research for a year and a half now, we still lack firm figures on who exactly is using the center and why. It is too early to say whether the nearly overwhelming num-bers of students will continue to fill our appointment slots, or whether the flood will slow down once the novelty wears off. Still, the lessons we have learned so far, and the process of dis-covering them have been invigorating. The unpredictability of culture is part of the adventure.

Bruffee, Kenneth A. Collaborative Learning: Higher Education, Interdependence, and the Authority of Knowledge. 2d ed. Johns Hopkins: Baltimore, 1999.

Hawthorne, Joan. “ ‘We Don’t Proof-read Here’: Re-visioning the Writing Center to Better Meet Student Needs.” Writing Lab Newsletter 23.8 (Apr. 1999): 1-7.

Hobgood, Linda. “The Pursuit of Speaking Proficiency: A Voluntary Approach.” Communication Education 49:4 (October 2000): 339-351.

Hofstede, Geert. Cultures and Organi-zations: Software of the Mind. McGraw-Hill: London, 1999.

Ryan, Leigh. The Bedford Guide for Writing Tutors. 2d ed. Bedford: Boston, 1999.

Silk, Bobbie B., ed. The Writing Center Resource Manual. NWCA: Emmitsburg, MD, 1998.

“Wiring African Universities.”

_{Southeastern Writing} mission of nominations or awards materials should be directed to Jennifer Registration beginsCenters Assn. Awards Liethen Kunka, co-chair of the SWCA

Tutoring international graduate students

One day, dismayed by a page-long paragraph of such sentences, I ex-claimed, “Sounds more like German than English!” When the student pro-tested, “I don’t speak German,” I wanted to kick myself for making such a negative comment. But when I had explained that German compounds can be much longer and more complicated than English ones, he understood im-mediately because the same thing is true in Chinese. Armed with this fortu-itous insight, I used the analogy of a long freight train sometimes requiring two engines: the strings of nouns in an English sentence, the freight cars, need active, transitive verbs, the engines, to move them along. After I had modeled a few examples for him, he was able to decrease the number of compounds and increase the number of active verbs; gradually his sentences grew shorter and more easily comprehen-sible. I have recently used this analogy with another Chinese graduate student, who has designed an artificial neural network to assess the readability level of Taiwanese textbooks. From his dis-sertation I have learned a little more about Chinese compounds. Like his ar-tificial neural network, I can be trained to learn.

That learning brings me to the sec-ond linguistic difficulty created by the wide range of disciplines that my inter-national graduate students work in: an-thropology, biology, climatology, eco-nomics, education, fine arts, political science, psychology, nursing, statistics, and instructional technology. Knowing very little about most of these disci-plines, I ask frequent questions to ac-quire the necessary discipline-specific discourse. When I ask such questions, of course I initiate role-reversal. Al-though I practice such role-reversal with American students, too, interna-tional students struggling with a for-eign culture have much less self-confi-dence than American students do. But when international students become the authorities teaching me, I notice a dramatic surge both in their self-confi-dence and their willingness to accept constructive criticism.

The barriers to such willingness, however, are often cultural rather than linguistic. For example, an outstanding Japanese M. A. student in psychology applied to nine doctoral programs at other universities. Helping her write her application essays, I detected her reluctance to emphasize her many ac-complishments. These included an ar-ticle, originally an outstanding gradu-ate-course paper, accepted by a psychology journal, after I had helped her to revise it in accordance with the criticism of two peer reviewers. When I questioned her about this reluctance, she translated a Japanese proverb: “The nail that protrudes is the one that is hammered down.” Japanese culture values group cooperation, not indi-vidual competition. Once I had con-vinced her that applying to American doctoral programs is highly competi-tive and that Americans admire pro-truding nails instead of punitively flat-tening them, she agreed to highlight her accomplishments. When she was accepted by the university that was her first choice, she was ecstatic.

A second example of a cultural barrier to accepting constructive criticism occurred in the case of a South African student writing a dissertation on the effects of apartheid on the education of nonwhites in South Africa. Since she had learned English from British teach-ers, language was not a problem. Al-though some British expressions had to be converted into American English for her American audience, her gram-mar was much better than that of American students. The problem was that in tracing the history of apartheid in South African education, she could not control her plethora of primary and secondary sources because she felt obliged both to quote and to para-phrase every single one of them, even if they made the same point. When I urged combined and condensed para-phrase instead of repetitive individual quotation, she resisted what she ini-tially feared would not only diminish the authority of her writing but also ex-pose her to the possibility of plagia-rism. She did not articulate this fear for a long time; she simply dragged her feet in making the revisions I sug-gested or made only minor changes. Gradually, however, over the course of 14 conferences, I persuaded her to fo-cus on the crucial statements of her pri-mary sources, both the key engineers and the key critics of the apartheid sys-tem. These primary statements she em-phasized by quoting; secondary com-ments on these statements she reduced to paraphrase embedded in the detailed historical explanations she did not ini-tially realize were necessary for an American audience unfamiliar with her country’s past.

A third example of a cultural mind-set involves a definition of cour-tesy radically different from the American concept. Helping an Iranian graduate student e-mail a series of let-ters to his dissertation advisor at home, I remembered what I had learned in Tehran: Iranians consider it very rude to refuse a request outright. Politely in-venting evasions and postponements, they avoid saying what they know the other person does not want to hear. Al-though they do not intend to fulfill the request, they will never explicitly say, “No.” After a long time, the other per-son is expected to realize what the situ-ation is and to back off in some mutu-ally acceptable compromise. Working with the graduate student who was re-luctant to do what his advisor asked, I was prepared for the evasiveness of his letters. When dissertation advisors are here at the University, I occasionally meet with them to define the students’ problems and clarify possible solu-tions. But in this case, I turned off my American impatience for clear and straightforward communication and did not insist, “Well, why don’t you tell your advisor right now and per-suade him to agree?” I knew that the student’s mode of persuasion was rooted in his own culture.

Despite these linguistic and cultural problems, tutoring international gradu-ate students can be unexpectedly grati-fying. “Whenever I write now,” a Japa-nese graduate student confided, “I hear your voice in my head.”

“Brainstorming” tutoring tools

Student writers can interpret those well-intentioned terms, “brainstorm” and “freewrite,” to mean that they should follow their own stream of con-sciousness. The trouble is that this “process” still looks linear. A writer seems to move from many ideas to pro-gressively fewer, with no hint of the many dead ends or side trips or false starts that thesis hunting entails. The very origin of the word “brainstorm” suggests disorder. It dates from the late 19^th century as “a severe mental disturbance” and in the 20^th century has come into corporate jargon as a conferencing term. But to the students struggling to define their own ideas, this vagueness is a plague. The concept of “brainstorming” gives students a place to begin, but does nothing to di-rect their focus. “Freewriting” is also a liberating philosophy for students, but for many it’s a one-way street. The writer will wander through a paragraph rewriting the same sentence over again without getting to the point. Once they’ve finished a “zero” draft, the urge to leave it alone is overwhelming. If we, as tutors, can’t understand their point, it must be that we just don’t get it. As a result, we may find ourselves in tense situations with students who feel helpless or resentful.

There’s a tyranny in the printed page that keeps student writers from ques-tioning what they’ve written. They feel trapped into the formulations they’ve set down on paper; they can’t think of new words because they’re looking at the old ones. Often when I ask what their main point is, student writers will show me sentences that don’t com-pletely explain the idea. But when I point out that the statement is incom-plete, they always speak up and ver-bally fill in the missing information. That’s when it struck me that it’s not that the students don’t know what they want to say. It’s that they must look up from the page to find the words.

Perversely, the machine-aided ease of word processing makes computer revision even more difficult than revis-ing from a hard copy. On the screen, a student confronts the displaced word, an abstract signifier twice removed from its object. Language is hard enough without removing it from tan-gible control. It may be that a student feels an irrational faith in the machine, which for them has become a sort of “writing fairy” (thanks to Carlene Pote). This phenomenon goes beyond grammar and spelling checkers. Some students are sitting down to a com-puter, clicking away until they have the required number of pages, and then as-suming that because the text looks like a finished product, it is. Often when we show a student where his sentences break down on paper, there’s a mo-ment of shock. Suddenly he sees mis-takes that he never noticed onscreen. Of all the predictions that have been made about computers, it is this irratio-nal faith that is most dangerous. A stu-dent counting on technology to pick up where pedagogy leaves off can be left holding perfectly printed chaos.

In light of this realization, it is my goal in the Writing Center to help the student writer take control of the tools of writing. It’s very liberating to view the writing process in open-ended terms, but it takes discipline and struc-ture to take an idea from the brain-storming stage to its finished form. We should also be aware of problems that new trends, such as computer compos-ing, may be causing for the writers that we see. As tutors we can use the tools that work for us to help other student writers.

Invisible writing lab consultants

Yet their walking out the door means the lab is losing core people. Even if the graduated consultants (or as I think of them, “the invisible consultants”) are not physically present, I have found ways—if only metaphorically—so that they leave something of themselves be-hind, helping both clients and their fel-low consultants as well as keeping the training going on and on, like a never-ending story.

These invisible consultants can be ever present through their publications.

In recent years, several consultants have rewritten their conference presen-tations and, fortunately, had them pub-lished in venues such as the Writing Lab Newsletter and Southern Dis-course. Then, although the consultants have graduated, their articles—along with their voices and experience—re-main in the lab. New consultants read the articles written by former col-leagues on topics as diverse as Writing Across the Curriculum (“Writing Lab Consultants Talk about Helping Stu-dents Writing across the Disciplines”), working with international students (“International Students and the Writ-ing Lab”), and exploring the conversa-tion which occurs in a consultation (“Making the Oral Journey”).

To forestall even more of the experi-enced consultants’ knowledge from es-caping out the lab door, I have asked departing consultants to write an “Ad-vice to the Future.” The advice can cover any aspect of their work, with the choices left entirely to the consult-ants. This advice is, then, placed in a notebook available for all tutors to read. After all, departing consultants know what are the hardest parts of their jobs, what are the most demand-ing aspects, and what other consultants should know in order to be successful.

New consultants sitting in the lab awaiting clients open up the Advice Notebook to read some of the thirty or more essays offering words of wisdom about a wide range of topics, such as how to survive as a consultant: “Take care of yourself; you cannot help oth-ers if you cannot help yourself” (Julie Bennett). Other advice stresses the benefits of working in the lab: “Learn as much as you can about your own writing process from the writer you help. . . . Use the knowledge you gain from the consultation to enhance your own writing and show your clients how much fun reworking a sentence or analysing a poem can be” (Laurel Marling). And some of the comments provide useful tips for successful con-sultations, such as “The more excited you are about their papers, the more your clients will be willing to work hard” (Susan Burr). Written in tutor talk, these time capsules of advice are vibrant, personal ways to keep the voices of graduated consultants ever present in the lab.

In asking consultants to write articles, create handouts, and compose advice to the future, I was, of course, training the tutors. But, they, in turn, became the trainers, leaving behind something of their own experiences. So, in the spring, in addition to Keats, lab directors should be reminded of H.

G. Wells’ The Invisible Man—or in this case— the invisible men (and women) who have worked in a writing lab. The invisible can become visible, continuing the training and creating a smooth transition between generations of consultants.

Burr, Susan, Jason Chan, Joshua Farrar, Mary-Jane Ogawa, and Bonnie Devet. “International Students and the Writing Lab.” Writing Lab Newsletter 22.3 (1997): 1-4.

Cramer, Peter, Alice France, Forest Mahan, Mary-Jane Ogawa, Tammy Raabe, Brandon Rogers, and Bonnie Devet.“ Writing Lab Consultants Talk about Helping Students Writing Across the Disciplines.” Writing Lab Newslet-ter 19.9 (1995): 8-10.

Hornsby, Chris, Laurel G. Marling, Dennis Maxwell, Melinda Rose, Melissa Tidwell, and Bonnie Devet. “‘Is This an ‘A’ Paper?’: Strategies for Working with Literature Clients in a Writing Lab Consultation.” Writing Lab Newsletter 24.9 (2000): 14-16.

Ogawa, Mary-Jane. “Making the Oral Journey: The Talk Between Writing Lab Consultants and Clients.” Southern Discourse 2.2 (1999): 6.

“Go to the writing center”: The writing center’sgrowing authority in a science and engineering

university

In our small science and engineering state university, writing has historically taken a back seat to math, chemistry, and physics. When the Writing Center at New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technol-ogy was established six years ago, its vis-ibility was minimal and student usage was low. By using public relations tech-niques suggested in the Writing Lab Newsletter and other sources, the NMT Writing Center’s reputation has grown. The Center has, incrementally, developed its own ethos of trustworthy assistance for writers at all levels.

How does one begin to create an ethos of authority in matters of writing? I was hired to establish and direct the Writing Center at NMT in 1995, with a few years of graduate school writing center experi-ence (and a lot of enthusiasm). I trans-formed an empty office into the writing center (two desks, a dictionary, and some pencils), I recruited a staff of peer tutors (volunteers), used guilt to coerce a few of my new humanities colleagues to volun-teer some extra hours, and I hung up a bunch of flyers. All the while, I pondered the deeper question of how I could gain the respect of students and faculty alike.

As Elizabeth Bouquet writes, “The re-spect, security, and stability of the WC must come first, and it is well docu-mented how hard-won these are. But it is only by virtue of gaining respect that we stand a chance . . . of maintaining the critical space (literally and figuratively) that our writing centers would do well to occupy” (7). I fully recognized this chal-lenge as I set out to establish my credibil-ity as a writing center director. I also rec-ognized that I couldn’t “go it alone.” Al DeCiccio expresses my sentiments when he states, “We negotiate and compromise; we speak the language of the academy as well as of the student; we build alliances; we acquire respect from multiple con-stituencies” (4).

Helpful and dedicated colleague ethos: Writing center lady to save the day

The first step to establishing credibil-ity was establishing myself as “the writing center lady.” I tried an “in-your-face” approach of making Writing Center announcements at the monthly faculty meetings. I wanted to make sure that every faculty member knew that there was a writing center on cam-pus, and I was the main connection. This raises another point about figuring out the best way to communicate with one’s colleagues. In a science and engi-neering university, faculty and students alike speak the language of calculus and computers, but (and I say this with full respect) they sometimes lack the social graces required for successful in-terpersonal communication. Therefore, I went double-duty to reach out to fac-ulty. I visited their classrooms and labs to talk about the Writing Center. And I listened to them talk about their con-cerns about their students’ writing.

Empathetic and knowledgeable colleague ethos: Tell me where it hurts

To gain faculty respect, I had to prove I understood their concerns and could act on them. In addition to offer-ing to speak to their classes, I also sent out an informal faculty survey, “What Are Your Pet Peeves About Student Writing?” (Nye). I learned a few things from the survey responses. First, I learned specific writing problems to focus on with Writing Center clients. Second, I began to understand the atti-tude of professors, as well as their ap-proach to helping their students. Third and perhaps most importantly, I began to identify the professors who cared deeply about writing. Six years later I still call on these advocates to support me on Writing Center issues.

Accessible professor ethos: The writing center is here to serve you

As I surveyed the faculty, I also sur-veyed the students. I devised a question-naire to learn about their writing prob-lems, their writing habits, and their needs in a writing center. I administered the questionnaire in the most visible place on campus (the Student Union Building) at the busiest hour (lunch), with the most delectable incentive (chocolate). Responses weren’t all that surprising (students said they needed help with English classes, with grammar, with resumes, and so on), but it was im-portant to document needs as a reference point for my work as Writing Center di-rector. I think the most important out-come was the Writing Center Lady to Save the Day effect again: hundreds of students saw me, and by association saw the Writing Center. I made sure that I came across as concerned and acces-sible. Although it is tempting, “we can-not stay in the Writing Center . . . where it is safe and comfortable,” writes Sally Crisp (4). It is essential to “venture out,” even (especially) if the attitude towards writing is not hospitable.

Community ethos: A literate university

In the Writing Center’s second year I tried to venture out even more. I contin-ued all the “ethos building” strategies of year one, and I tried to introduce a few new strategies to convey the idea that NM Tech supports and encourages read-ing as well as writing. Again I polled the faculty, this time with a program I called, “What Tech Reads.” I asked fac-ulty for recommendations of their favor-ite fiction and non-fiction works. I typed their responses and made an attractive display on our library’s main bulletin board, which I changed once a month for a few months. I thought it was important that the students saw that their profes-sors read “fun stuff” and not just science journals. I also started the annual Writ-ing Center Creative Writing Contest, a tradition we have continued for the past four years. This event seems to draw writers out of the woodwork. We have received so much poetry that we had to enlist a six-page per author entry limit. We reward the winners with gift certifi-cates from around town and publication in our school paper. Last year we also tried publishing winners in an on-line literary “zine.”

The effects of this multi-faceted ethos

While the Writing Center is still un-der-utilized, I believe attitudes and val-ues about writing have changed for the better throughout my six years at New Mexico Tech. Most students know about the Writing Center (although probably less than half have actually used it). Their professors know about it and en-courage students to get help. Several years ago I appealed to the administra-tion and received a small budget to hire tutors. I continue to flood the campus with publicity to draw in more students. And I continue to look for more ways to reach out and serve the larger campus community.

Last fall the Dean of the Graduate School approached me with questions about the quality of graduate student writing. We conducted a meeting of graduate faculty to learn more about their perceptions and desires for their graduate students. As a result, I designed a series of writing workshops for gradu-ate students, which I am conducting this spring (my department chair gave me a course reduction to undertake this project). The response has been excel-lent, especially from faculty who hope their students will attend the series and become better writers.

Conclusions

While I don’t think there is a specific formula for how to grow a writing cen-ter and develop an ethos of authority, here is a summary of strategies that worked for my university.

• Know your audience. Know that you are dealing with multiple audiences: What do students need? What does faculty need? What does your university need? To analyze your audience, you may use a number of techniques including surveys, focus groups, and informal conversation.

• Identify your resources. By this I mean not just budgetary con-straints, but also a realistic assessment of your time and energy, as well as that of your colleagues and students. In my case, I have identified four areas for the Writing Center to offer: One-to-one peer tutoring; a resource for questions on grammar and usage (small check-out library, plus tutors provide information and handouts); annual writing contest; graduate student writing program.

• Publicize cleverly. This goes back to knowing your audience. What publicity seems to work at your in-stitution? Flyers? Chalking side-walks? Speaking to classes? Every school is different.

Perhaps the last point is the most im-portant: Build alliances. Find faculty, staff, and administration to bolster the idea that writing is important at your uni-versity. Try to draw the university to-gether—across disciplines—in your goal to improve writing. Such institutional support makes the words, “Go to the Writing Center,” a sweet triumph, not just for yourself as a director, but for the whole university.

Emily F. Nye New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology Socorro, NM

Works Cited

Bawarshi, Anis, and Stephanie Pelkowski. “Postcolonialism and the Idea of the Writing Center.” Writing Center Journal 19.2 (1999):44-58.

Boquet, Elizabeth. With Albert C. DeCiccio, Deborah Burns, and Paula Gillespie. “Responsible Practice in the Writing Center: Tutoring in the Center, in the Disciplines, and in Cyberspace.” Writing Lab Newsletter

22.6 (1998): 6-11.

Crisp, Sally. “On Leading the Writing Center: A Sort of Credo and Some Advice for Beginners and Oldtimers, Too.” Writing Lab Newsletter 24. 6 (2000):1-5.

DeCiccio, Al. “Outsourcing Writing Center Work: The View From the Administration.” Writing Lab Newsletter 24.10 (2000):1-5.

Nye, Emily. “The New Mexico Tech Writing Center: The First Year.” Writing Lab Newsletter 22: 5 (1998):

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Call for Proposals March 8, 2003 Monterey, CA Keynote Speaker: Nancy Maloney Grimm

“Cultivating the Center: Connecting Diverse Writing Communities”

Submissions should fall into one of two categories: 60-minute or 90-minute presentations. Please include an abstract: 250
words maximum including the title, format (panel, roundtable discussion, or workshop), description of presentation and pur
pose, and a summary for the program: 50 words maximum including presentation title, names of presenters, job titles, and
institution. To print out a proposal form see Web site: <http://www.asap.csumb.edu/ncwca>. Deadline: January 10, 2003.
Contact: Natasha Oehlman, Chair. E-mail: ncwca@csumb.edu; phone: (831) 582-4614.

Northeast Writing Centers Association		Call for Proposals April 5, 2003 Nashua, NH “Moving Forward and Looking Back:Writing Center Histories, Herstories, and Heresies” Keynote speaker: Neal Lerner
We are interested in the way that histories—personal, public, and political—describe the work of WC’s and tutors and wonder how those histories may influence our current philosophies and practices. More detailed questions to guide your proposal are available on the website. Proposals are due December 27th. The conference Web site is: <http://web. bryant.edu/~ace/wrtctr/NEWCA.htm>. An additional link to the conference Web site is available from the Rivier College homepage: <http://www.rivier.edu>.

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