This past weekend I had to shift gears for a little bit. I needed to finish reading through my partner\u2019s second novel. 40 chapters, nearly 100k words. And I had to go through word for word and provide my feedback. I mean I\u2019ve been doing it for a while now for her, but in a more informal capacity for a long time. She had an editor who she worked with, an excellent fellow who pushed her writing further. Except she often complained of some feedback. Not that it wasn\u2019t good or relevant feedback, just that she felt like he often didn\u2019t understand what she was trying to say or do and his feedback was contrary to what she intentionally did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I picked up Howard S. Becker\u2019s Writing for Social Scientists. <\/em>So far, I am of the understanding that it stems from an article submitted to an academic Sociology Journal. Written about a course he runs: writing for graduate students. Originally published in 1983, so many of the exact same<\/em> issues that Becker speaks about are echoed in classes today. The same struggles of students, the power relationship between professor and student. That relationship is predicated in highschool and struggles to transition to what the academic community attempts to conjure through their various rituals of administration and degree planning. Somewhere, in that messy system, are passionate folks who care deeply about very specific subjects and carry that passion into something most people struggle to understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It is those passionate folk, who share a spark for intellectual community that pushed me through school. I find myself guilty of the sins spoken of by Becker\u2019s musings on the struggles of students, chief among them: Trying to produce generative scholarship from performative scholarship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oh, I was told, time and time again, that I\u2019ve got some sort of spark. Something to take me further. My academic career was like swinging from one bar of the schoolyard jungle gym to the next, hinging on the feedback of the few who gave it to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I remember in a third-year course, I wrote what was more equitable to a creative peace: a journal entry for a man in the 19th<\/sup> century. As Becker speaks says of most students I was taught to \u201cearn grades rather than be interested in the subjects that they study\u201d (44). Nonetheless, probably at the crook of the hour of midnight, I handed that paper in, fearful of what the grade might be. On the day we handed it in, my professor had us all go around the room and share their ideas of the paper. I shared mine, thinking it was silly. If it were a measure, I had to be proud that I even had an idea. Some folks came to class without a clue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was interesting, but I eventually got my grade back from that paper and the feedback said something along the lines of: \u201cThis work showed to me that you are capable of doing high-quality work in upper-year classes.\u201d Paraphrased, but something quite close to that line of wording. I was devastated. I had dozed off in these classes, and really wasn\u2019t certain what I had done right. As with most things, I was conflicted, but in the end, I still have the feedback saved somewhere for me to find on a reminiscent day and to help remind myself something another professor told me: \u201cWhatever you do will be good enough.\u201d I have the evidence to say so!<\/p>\n\n\n\n But it\u2019s hard, imposter syndrome. It\u2019s a recognized issue, especially<\/em> for graduate students. One of the issues is, this disconnects between these wonderful human beings who care so much about something that they dedicate their lives to it, and (some unwillingly) teaching it. This system is somewhat inherently performative, but also at the same time extremely expressive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve been told time and time again, that I give good feedback. I\u2019ve been effectively a \u201cReading and Writing\u201d tutor although my official title was Humanities Tutor. The previous holder of that position changed the title to reflect the work he was doing; I was open to helping people whatever their issue. Unfortunately, I didn\u2019t have a whole lot of people come, but the few who did all told me that I really helped them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I even had a professor tell me that I give incredible feedback and ask me in front of one of her lower year classes on how to give better feedback. I, not having thought much through it at the time, responded to a fundamental principle that I followed since middle school: \u201cTwo stars and a wish.\u201d Let the person know what they did well, and something you wish they did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, not to say that Two Stars and a Wish isn\u2019t a great method<\/strong>, but it is something that I wish I pulled out in a more straightforward sense at the time: You need to tell the person Why something needs improving.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve done some editing. I always tell people, my grammar sucks. <\/strong>I know, because I can still go through my undergraduate thesis and find grammar errors (5$ to the first person to find the random \u2018z\u2019 I forgot to edit out), spelling errors, citation errors, formatting errors. It\u2019s a real mess, but,<\/strong> I did receive a 90 on that thesis, and the author of the book which I was following up on had told me: \u201cThis is a great thesis!\u201d suggesting I do more graduate research on it. Another one of those things that I go dredge up for my \u201cI Love Me\u201d days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The trouble is: I have no idea what I did right.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Part of the trouble is I never asked anyone, but the other thing is, I went through that paper word for word with my supervisor, had another faculty member read it and<\/strong> it\u2019s been downloaded at least 28 times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The trouble is, despite having empirical evidence that I have succeeded to some degree, I have little understanding of how or why and I must plod forward with the concept of: \u201cWhatever you do will be good enough\u201d guiding my actions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, if you\u2019re still with me or if you want to skip to the useful bit<\/strong> you need to tell people why your editorial advice is useful to them.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n If you want someone to be receptive to your feedback, whether it be destructive (cuts\/alterations\/changes) or constructive (criticisms\/additions\/questions), tell them Why<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I go into giving people feedback knowing several of things:<\/p>\n\n\n\n If you can\u2019t provide The Why, then it\u2019s not a form of useful feedback. It\u2019s the perpetuation of a misunderstanding. People who take the time to seek feedback, are opening the door to being educated. Except feedback is used like the whip of a lash. Red ink becomes scars across someone\u2019s heart and soul because that\u2019s what writing inadvertently becomes. The exposure of internal communication. Translating thought into words to be shared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Most people carry a great shame in writing, as Becker notes in his first chapter, hiding their process of writing behind rituals attempting to control variables entirely outside someone\u2019s control.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When you could teach someone, to help them become better than they were before. Why miss the opportunity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tell them Why<\/strong> they did something well, and tell them<\/p>\n\n\n\n