Conversations on Process in Three Acts

In my introduction to Rhetoric and Composition as a field, Flower and Hayes’s cognitive process model was near the fore of the history. They were situated within the process movement, which was presented as a radical departure. Of course, the old pedagogies weren’t revolutionized overnight. There’s a level of change and revision in our curricula now as well as a variety of conversations being had about what it means to compose, how it happens, and how we teach it. Though this concept is central to our field, it is interesting that we seem to be building a larger network of conversations rather than coalescing, which can be infuriating or disorienting at times but can also be an invigorating aspect of social knowledge fields—what Lauer calls the mediation of the “epistemic court” (20).

It seems that there is always a gap to be found. Flower and Hayes propose their cognitive model under such auspices. Flower and Hayes assert that the linear, time-metaphor models of conceptualizing the writing process—even if they are recursive—do not accurately represent frames of mind that writers use as they compose. The process groups that they identify are task environment, writing process, and long-term memory (370), and Flower and Hayes arrange these within a network of tasks and subtasks that constitute larger processes of writing. Their model resists linear  or time-oriented functions (which are also linear-based models), which highlights the recursive-ness of composing.

Flower and Hayes contributed significantly to RC discussions of composing and how we may/not be able to theorize or understand it. However, their model continues to be debated in the epistemic court.

Our pedagogies for composition classes stem from our ideas of what “expertise” means, according to Carter. Our definition of such suggests that different composing processes may be happening depending on whether the composer is composing within a specialized area or not.  He asserts, “The goals of our classes indicate what we think expertise in writing is, and the way we teach indicates how we think writers achieve expertise” (265). This assertion becomes a statement for reflection on our curricula. Do we define expertise and the ramifications of that definition for students? Colleagues? Other stakeholders? This question is important to answer, and Carter places it in the cognitive process and constructivist process debate.  Rather than discussing the two models as a binary, Carter offers a continuum that acknowledges the existence of both models and their potential to affect a composer’s process. He argues that expertise can be a way for us to work within the continuum and to use the continuum as a productive lens.

He outlines either side of the continuum as a universal on one side with cognitive processes and local on the other hand with constructivist processes: “According to social theorists, however, all this talk of universal and individual ignores the most important dimension of human activity—the local dimension…the claim that knowledge is constituted by a community and that writing is a function of a discourse community” (266). If we place expertise along this line, we may place general problem solving near the universal and expert problem solving near the local side. According to “The Idea of Expertise,” expertise functions along with general knowledge in specialized situations. The expert then needs content knowledge as well as expert methodologies to accomplish expert problem-solving tasks.

Gary Olson’s “Toward a Post-Process Composition” is mostly a text of question raising. Theories of process are built on the assumption that they can be studied, thus he problematizes process research (Olson 7). It is key to note within his claim is his follow up statement. He understands process theory as part of an attempt to build theory that is generalizable or on some level is universal (8). He resists the process theorists’ attempts to generalize composers’ processes: “The postmodern critique of theory serves as a useful corrective in that it alerts us to the dangers of creating master narratives and then adhering to these explanations as if we have obtained truth” (Olson 8). Therefore, he argues that we should theorize rather than build theory. We should activate the noun, “theory.” The premise, then of process, as relying on the ability to build theory is replicated in some composition pedagogies. He terms this the rhetorics of asserting: “composing …has always seemed to be associated with asserting something to be true. Students are instructed to write an essay, which has usually meant to take a position on a subject…and to construct a piece of discourse that then ‘supports’ the position” (9). Olson argues that this constitutes most writing curricula, which then informs our conception of good writing. “Good” writing follows this model and supports the main assertion, according to Olson (9). Knowingly or not, he describes a five-paragraph pedagogy that teaches students formulaic writing. This view of composition pedagogy seems to be the backbone for his argument on rhetorics of assertion. His claims about composition pedagogies may be flattened, but his claims about the potential perils of a rhetoric of asserting are potential pedagogical conundrums for us.

--Brendan Hawkins

Works Cited

Carter, Michael. “The Idea of Expertise: An Exploration of Cognitive and Social Dimensions of Writing.” College Composition and Communication, vo. 41, no. 3, 1990, pp. 265-286.

Flower, Linda, and John R. Hayes. “A Cognitive Process Theory of Writing.” College Composition and Communication, vol. 32, no. 4, pp. 365-387.

Lauer, Janice. “Composition Studies: Dappled Discipline.” Rhetoric Review, vol. 3, no.1, 1984, pp. 20-29.

Olson, Gary A. “Toward a Productive Engagement with Cultural Difference.” Signs of Struggle: The Rhetorical Politics of Cultural Difference, edited by Thomas West. State University of New York Press, 2002, pp. v–vi.