Deep down, this is a question about what we value, in what we read, what we write, and unfortunately, we have attached a set of values to student writing that are disconnected from anything we actually value about what we read, and what we write.
I first wrote about the underlying algorithm (GPT3) at Inside Higher Ed back in March 2021, when it was put to the task of trying to answer some college-level writing assignments and then compared to the output of human students answering the same questions.
For three of the four subjects - research methods, U.S. history and law - the AI passed with a C or better grade. The top human scored better than the AI in each category, but in two categories (research methods, law), the AI beat one or more of the humans.
I sincerely hope that this is the end of the high school English courses that the lamentations are describing because these courses deserve to die, because we can do better than these courses if the actual objective of the courses is to help students learn to write.
One of the assumptions those who say this is the end of high school English make about students is that if students can find an end around doing the actual work of school, they will definitely take it.
The final epiphany that cemented how wrong a turn we had made was the first time I stood in front of a class of first-year students on the second day1 of our writing course and I presented a hypothetical where I give them all A grades, but class would never meet, they would no no assignments, they would get no feedback or instruction. They would learn nothing. That first time I did it, about 60-65% of students said they'd take that deal.
The students were not lazy or entitled. They were responding rationally to the incentives of the system. An A without learning anything was far more valuable than learning anything, and risking a grade lower than an A. School had nothing to do with learning, and writing courses especially were unlikely to be interesting or engaging.
Unfortunately, for the vast majority of my career, I did not have the time or resources necessary to fulfill the highest aims of my own pedagogy. The National Council for Teachers of English (NCTE) recommends each instructor teach three sections of a maximum of fifteen students each, for a total of 45 students. I never had fewer than 65 students in a semester, and some semesters had in excess of 150.
High school teachers are working under even greater burdens, and in more challenging circumstances. If the system will not support the teachers who must do the work, we may as well let ourselves be overwhelmed by the algorithm.
But part of the problem is that we - and very much including myself here - have been conditioned to reward surface-level competence (like fluent prose) with a grade slike a C+, B-, or B. We may have to get used to not rewarding pro forma work that goes through the motions with passing grades, or it may mean finding other elements of the experience to focus on in terms of grading.
Having played around with this stuff for only a few days, my thoughts are early and provisional, but I could see potential in crafting assignments that encourage and empower students to utilize the AI in their work. At his Substack, Lincoln Michel interviewed the author Chandler Klang Smith, about how she uses a similar technology, Sudowrite, to help produce her fiction. The AI could be used as a tool, or a toy in a way that opens up experiences of learning.
I think this would be a shame because one of the things I value about writing, is the act of writing itself. It is an embodied process that connects me to my own humanity, by putting me in touch with my mind, the same way a vigorous hike through the woods can put me in touch with my body.
In my Chicago Tribune column this week, I share my favorite nonfiction and memoir of 2022, including Ancestor Trouble by Maud Newtonwhich I wrote about in an earlier newsletter when I asked "How do you know if a book is true?" Also included is Foreverland: On the Divine Tedium of Marriage by Heather Havrileskywhich I swear every married (or unmarried) person should read as a route to improving their own perspective on matrimony.
From the start, this newsletter has run on a patron, rather than consumer model, where I would keep the content free, while asking those who can afford and are inclined to support the project with paid subscriptions to do so.
Let me say something about repetition and patterns. I spent 27 years as a coach and judge of HS Forensics. I've spent countless hours listening to students use 3 point analysis to explain why the US should continue to fund NASA (for example) and I've sat through countless debates on resolutions like, "Resolved: Civil Disobedience is a just response to oppressive government."
By and large, regardless of the topic or the resolution, students followed certain formats. In Debate (Lincoln Douglas debate) it was the Toulmin rhetorical method (Claims, Evidence, Warrants, Impacts) and in Extemporaneous, it was generally 3 point analysis organized around time, location, or hierarchy.
Surely I'm not suggesting that all students should engage in the rigorous and often ridiculous event of HS Forensics, where some of the very best speeches I've ever seen are those that lampoon just how predictable their speeches are.
But I am suggesting that kids need lots and lots of practice and that understanding the importance of form as a scaffold is important...so long as we also understand we need to help them move away from this.
I've spent thousands of dollars and endless hours freewriting and revising work through attendance at Bard College's Institute for Writing and Thinking. I know how I write, and that knowledge is a debt I owe to Peter Elbow, who never taught the way most HS English teacher teach:
If what ChatGPT does is, as you and many here and elsewhere are saying, is force out those who profess forms and efficiencies over voice and engaging prose, then count me in. I'll put on my VR headset and lead the way to something more human, something unpredictable, something closer to our own truths in words.
It\u2019s not every week that someone with my particular employment profile and expertise has something they\u2019re knowledgable about become a hot topic of national discussion, but the release of OpenAI\u2019s, ChatGPT interface generated a sudden flurry of discussion about how we teach students to write in school, which is something I know a lot about.
I\u2019m never sure how much overlap there is for the various audiences that consist of the John Warner Writer Experience Universe, but while to folks here I am, \u201CThe Biblioracle,\u201D book recommender par excellence, to a whole other group I am the author of Why They Can\u2019t Write: Killing the Five-Paragraph Essay and Other Necessities, and The Writer\u2019s Practice: Building Confidence in Your Nonfiction Writing, and a blogger about education issues at Inside Higher Ed.
Modesty aside, and somewhat to my surprise, I have become an expert in how we teach writing. That expertise was birthed from the frustration I experienced in trying to teach writing to first-year college students over the years, and finding them increasingly disoriented by what I was asking them to do, as though there was no continuity between what they\u2019d experienced prior to college, and what was expected of them in college.
These were well-above average students at selective schools (University of Illinois, Virginia Tech, Clemson), who did not necessarily lack writing skill, but had very negative attitudes towards writing. To cut to the chase, and to keep from repeating everything I cover in Why They Can\u2019t Write, rather than having students wrestle with the demands of trying to express themselves inside a genuine rhetorical situation (message/audience/purpose), they were instead producing writing-related simulations, utilizing prescriptive rules and templates (like the five-paragraph essay format), which passed muster on standardized tests, but did not prepare them for the demands of writing in college contexts.
My books are a call to change how we approach teaching writing at both a systemic and pedagogical level. What teachers and schools ask students to do is not great, but that asking is bound up with the systems in which it happens, where teachers have too many students, or where grades or the score on an AP test are more important than actually learning stuff. It\u2019s not just that we need to change how and what we teach. We have to fundamentally alter the spaces in which this teaching happens.
It is difficult to overstate how bad things have been for a couple of generations of students. This tweet from the writer Lauren Groff (Matrix), lamenting what school had done to her son\u2019s attitudes towards writing is a not uncommon testimony I hear from parents and students alike.
Along with many others, I\u2019ve been shouting about these problems for years, often into what felt like a void, but this past week, once people had a chance to see what the ChatGPT could produce, suddenly attention was being paid.
It\u2019s important to understand what ChatGPT is, as well as what it can do. ChatGPT is a Large Language Model (LLM) that is trained on a set of data to respond to questions in natural language. The algorithm does not \u201Cknow\u201D anything. All it can do is assemble patterns according to other patterns it has seen when prompted by a request. It is not programmed with the rules of grammar. It does not sort, or evaluate the content. It does not \u201Cread\u201D; it does not write. It is, at its core, a bullshitter. You give it a prompt and it responds with a bunch of words that may or may not be responsive and accurate to the prompt, but which will be written in fluent English syntax.
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