Comfort in the Writing Center: Why I Never Went

I'm a pretty happy guy. When I'm sitting at the desk in the Writing Center, I smile at people who walk by. Basically, I look like this:

Though, unlike the bow-tied Dwight Schrute, I keep it casual.

Some people smile back, and some are too focused on their destination to notice the smiling weirdo. But every now and then, a passerby will look up, see me smiling, and turn away quickly.

I'm not a stranger to people avoiding me, but usually it's because they're just embarrassed to be my friend. Plenty of people avoided being seen with me from around December through February because I was the only person on campus still wearing flip flops every day. However, these students turning away and avoiding eye contact is a bit different. They can't even see my flip flops. These are students who don't want to be pulled into the Writing Center. I remember being that person.

When I was an undergrad here at EIU, I would walk by the writing center on my way to class each day. Every now and then, I'd look in to see what was going on, but I made sure to avoid eye contact with whoever was sitting at the desk.

I feared that they would pull me in. I thought that their eyes were insisting, that they were telling me I couldn't write. Theirs were eyes that said, "Look at the English major who needs help writing his papers!"

Even if they didn't think this way, I was sure that my peers would talk about me going to the writing center. I knew they'd doubt my ability to write the right words, punctuate my own sentences, and come up with my own ideas. I mean, if I couldn't write, why I was an English major in the first place?

I don't know if that's what all averting eyes are afraid of, but I can and will admit that mine were. I wanted to prove to everyone--not that anyone cared--that I could write my own papers. I didn't need help.

But I did. I've looked back at many of my undergrad papers. Trust me, I could have--and should have--used the help.

As a grad student, I ask my friends and colleagues, many of whom work with me in the Writing Center, for help. Do they judge me? Nope. They're in there too. In fact, when a colleague comes to me for help, I know that they're trying to write a better paper and be a better writer. I don't scoff at them for wanting assistance; I'm impressed by the initiative they've shown by seeking out resources that can help them improve.

Those of us who work in the Writing Center know that getting someone else to look at our writing helps. We have our own set of grad-student eyes, but it always helps to have someone else look at your work. And I'm happy I've realized that.

But I wish I'd realized it a long time ago.

Stage Fright in the Classroom

Recently I have been thinking about stage fright, or public speaking anxiety. Just this weekend alone I have witnessed several of my peers competing in a creative writing competition for scholarships valued over $3000.

As end of the semester presentations are upon us, I have also become aware of how normal it is for students to cringe and crumble at the idea of presenting in front of a class.

In Dibartolo and Molina's study on public speaking anxiety, the found that "[f]ear of public speaking is the most common social fear experienced by the general population and can have far-reaching academic effects, including lower course grades and even an increased likelihood to drop out of college" (Dibartolo, Molina 160). 

I am no exception when it comes to fear of public speaking. However, I have learned to cope with it.

Last year I performed at a poetry slam competition and crumbled on stage. Prior to the performance, I felt fine. Once I took a step on stage and turned around to face the audience, I noticed that several professors from my program were in the crowd. I freaked. My performance was embarrassing, and it took me several days to get over my failure. 

A fear of public speaking in or out of the classroom can be a sensitive and serious topic. As it is prevalent in our classrooms, I think it deserves some attention and consideration.

Last week, I presented at a professional conference. My placement for the panel was in between two professors. As the first professor began his portion of the presentation, I began to feel numbness in my cheeks, and my hands felt tingly. Both of these symptoms increased my anxiety as I knew my time was quickly coming.  However, I got up and made my presentation, and I was later complimented on my professionalism.

Just a few days ago, I performed at the same poetry slam competition. This time, I did what was previously unthinkable for me.  As I stood on stage, I told the audience that the title of my poem was "I Want You to Look at Me: For Five Minutes." I then stood still, and without moving or saying another word, the audience stared at me. I felt like the my time on stage would never end. I survived although I did not win the competition.

I got over my fear by practice. What helps me the most is understanding that the time I am actually demanding any attention is very temporary no matter how it feels. Acknowledging my fears as pointless and insignificant helps tremendously as well. However, the latter cognitive exercise did not occur to me until after I had my embarrassing moment at the first poetry slam. I could have done without that learning experience.

DiBartolo and Molina have a cognitive exercise that may help students avoid my experience.

They suggest giving students a written exercise. In this exercise "students are asked to identify their most feared prediction for the upcoming speech (e.g. the audience will laugh, I will run out of things to say)" (161).

The students are then encouraged to rate the amount of anxiety they believe they will experience as well as the likelihood that it will come true. They then make a "horribleness" rating of how bad things would actually be if it did come true (162).

The first-year college students involved with the study found significantly lower fear of public speaking. The idea is that if students are forced to consider their fears logically prior to the event, then they are less likely to "catastrophize," which leads to what feels like an anxiety spiral.

As someone who has experienced stage fright, I think the cognitive exercise DiBartolo and Molina propose is worth a try especially this time of year.

At the very least, having a thoughtful classroom conversation about the anxieties of public speaking may be class time well spent.

Below is a video of my latest attempt to win the poetry slam.

The Awkward Peer Review

Peer review is a common practice many teachers support because it is a useful way to reinforce the writing process in their classes.

But what do students think about peer review?

In Linda Nilson's "Improving Student Peer Feedback,"she finds that "apparently most students are loath to find fault with one another's products," and that the largest problem in the peer review process is "the intrusion of student's emotion into the evaluative process."

Nilson also uncovers the "if I do it to them, they will do it to me" phenomenon during the peer review settings, which I believe is the biggest motivation behind student resistance to peer review.

As a student who has experienced the peer review process many times, I find that Nilson is pulling on the heart strings of this issue. Fear and vulnerability.

Some students fear peer review will actually work as it is intended, and the last thing many students want are negative remarks from a friend.

Every student who has insecurities about their writing will most likely find themselves faced with the idea that even their peers will discover that they are faking it. In fact, I would go so far to say that most students believe it is harder to fool their fellow students through writing than it is the instructor.

When students are assigned peer review, they have that awkward moment when anxiety begins to rise as they think about who their peer/s might be. If they get to choose, they grab the hand of most familiar student/s in the classroom. Safety first.

If they are paired with an unfamiliar student, or a group of students, the students will routinely make an unspoken contract of "fake it until we get out of here." It is at this moment that peer reviews begin to fail to produce anything worthwhile.

After the students are grouped together, murmurs of insecurities might fill the classroom too. For example, in an effort to mask my writing flaws during peer reviews, I have said, "this is a really rough draft," and "I'm sure yours much better than mine," or, "I don't even know what I'm writing about here." Even the most apathetic student writers can be pushed outside of their comfort zones.

Students will often empathize with their peers during the odd predicament of the peer review and follow the unspoken rule religiously in order to produce a peer evaluations that has little merit and no sincere criticisms, all for the sake of protecting their own feelings. I make this claim because almost every undergraduate peer evaluation I have experienced has produced similar results, and I argue (as does Nilson) that it mostly has to do with fear and vulnerability.
 

As a graduate student who works in a student staffed writing center, I see daily how peer reviews can be extremely helpful. But even in this setting, when students volunteer to have their work reviewed in the writing center, they sometimes tremble, often drop their shoulders and sigh heavily, and on some occasions even cry.

Still, I  believe that a classroom peer review setting has many benefits. However, student fear, vulnerability, and anxiety are deeply rooted variables that must be considered and discussed in the classroom in order to initiate a worthwhile peer review.