Jeanne Beatrix Law is a Professor of English and Director of Composition at Kennesaw State University, focusing on generative AI (genAI) and digital civil rights histography. Her AI literacy work has global reach, including multiple presentations of her Rhetorical Prompt Engineering Framework at conferences like Open Educa Berlin and the Suny Council on Writing. She has led workshops on ethical genAI for diverse institutions and disciplines at Eastern Michigan, Kent State, and CUNY’s AI Subgroup. She and her students have authored publications on student perceptions of AI in professional writing. Jeanne also co-authored The Writer's Loop: A Guide to College Writing and contributed to the Instructor's Guide for Andrea Lunsford's Everyday Writer. She has authored eight Coursera courses on genAI and advocates for ethical AI integration in educational spaces in both secondary and higher education spaces as a faculty mentor for the AAC&U’s AI Pedagogy Institute.   There's been some interesting buzz around the pedagogical campfire and on digital platforms lately: generative AI is being celebrated as a revolutionary "process-over-product" tool for writing. While it's exciting to see renewed interest in writing pedagogy from other disciplines, we might want to consider that writing studies scholars have championed process-oriented methodologies for decades. Generative AI, rather than introducing something entirely new, aligns with many of these historical concepts, offering fresh pathways for exploration. As with the nuances of writing processes themselves, balancing generative AI with mindful, human-at-the-helm practices, can amplify our creativity and rhetorical prowess in specific use cases. In this post, I think about specific connections between writing practices and generative AI and draw connections that have helped me in my own teaching. I hope they are helpful to you as well. Revisiting the Legacy of Process Writing (1970s) Janet Emig fundamentally reshaped our understanding with her groundbreaking 1971 study, The Composing Processes of Twelfth Graders, demonstrating that writing is inherently reflective, recursive, and cognitive. Emig's method of "composing aloud" mirrors how generative AI can now "think aloud" alongside writers, providing real-time reflections, ideas, and prompts that foster deeper metacognitive awareness. Donald Murray advocated for writing as a process of continual discovery, emphasizing iterative drafting and revising. Generative AI can enhance this exploratory practice by swiftly generating alternative drafts and stimulating new ideas, thus facilitating richer, more dynamic revisions. Peter Elbow introduced freewriting, advocating for writers to liberate their ideas without initial self-censorship. When prompted well, generative AI can parallel Elbow’s method by quickly generating expansive content, encouraging writers to explore possibilities freely and creatively. Linda Flower and John Hayes’ cognitive model depicted writing as an intricate interplay of planning, drafting, and revising. Generative AI can echo this nonlinear and iterative nature, actively participating in each stage to offer timely feedback, alternative phrasing, or structural recommendations, thus reinforcing the recursive process.   Beyond Steps: Post-Process Writing has a Moment (1990s) Post-process theory, championed by scholars such as Thomas Kent, underscores writing as a socially situated, interpretive act, inherently context-dependent. Kent argued against a universal writing process, emphasizing interpretation and adaptability. Generative AI connects to this idea when human writers critically interpret and adjust AI-generated content to specific rhetorical goals, underscoring the importance of human oversight in AI collaborations. Lee-Ann Breuch also challenges rigid pedagogical frameworks, advocating for adaptable, dialogic interactions. Generative AI might extend Breuch’s vision by acting as a responsive dialogic partner, enabling fluid and context-specific interactions where students and AI collaboratively negotiate meaning and rhetorical choices.   Generative AI: Enhancing, Not Replacing, Human Creativity and the Writing Process We may be able to agree that generative AI is powerful; perhaps we can also agree that it should always serve to complement, not replace, human creativity. AI-generated text, devoid of nuanced social awareness, relies heavily on human interpretation and contextual judgment to achieve rhetorical success and effective communication. We may not agree on how, when, or even if we deploy it in first-year writing, but I want to offer that we keep the conversation going. I cruised through the Bedford Bookshelf and drew some insights from a few Macmillan textbooks and authors that holistically embrace process and post-process methods (all available as low-cost options). I’m sure you have others we could add to this abbreviated list: Writer/Designer (Ball, Arola, Sheppard): Emphasizing writing as intentional design, generative AI invites students to critically evaluate and intentionally integrate AI-generated suggestions, ensuring alignment with specific rhetorical purposes. Andrea Lunsford's Collaboration Model: Viewing writing as a collaborative social act, generative AI functions as a digital co-writer, stimulating essential discussions about authorship, agency, voice, and ethical human-machine collaborations. This thread that runs through all of her work could not be captured in a post, but her prolific presence demonstrates the validity of viewing writing this way. Understanding Rhetoric (Losh; Alexander; Cannon; Cannon): exemplifies both process and post-process writing pedagogies through its innovative, multimodal approach to composition instruction.​ It aligns with traditional process pedagogy by guiding students through the stages of writing. It also encourages recursive writing practices, allowing students to revisit and refine their work continually. This approach fosters a deeper understanding of writing as a dynamic and evolving process. The Writer's Loop (Ingraham and Law Bohannon): a smaller, born-digital text that adds to the body of literature on socially-situated writing that reflects on writing as continuously recursive. Generative AI aligns with this looping model, providing ongoing iterative feedback that encourages perpetual reflection and revision, thereby strengthening students' writing agency. Built with intentional social and cultural consciousness in readings and activities, the text also invites inclusion.   Keeping Humanity at the Helm Ultimately, our role as educators seems clear, at least in this moment: to ensure human creativity and critical reflection remain central in the writing process. As generative AI evolves, it holds potential to expand upon foundational theories of process and post-process writing, fostering deeper human engagement, contextual responsiveness, and creative exploration in our digitally enriched writing practices. What generative AI can't do is replace the human edge required for authenticity, agency, and voice in how we engage with the communication practices of fellow humans. I hope this brief stroll through our field's history will be helpful as you respond to colleagues and work across disciplines at your own institutions!     ... View more

Kim Haimes-Korn is a Professor of English and Digital Writing at Kennesaw State University. She also trains graduate student teachers in composition theory and pedagogy. Kim’s teaching philosophy encourages dynamic learning and critical digital literacies and focuses on students’ powers to create their own knowledge through language and various “acts of composition.” She is a regular contributor to this Multimodal Monday academic blog since 2014. She likes to have fun every day, return to nature when things get too crazy, and think deeply about way too many things. She loves teaching. It has helped her understand the value of amazing relationships and boundless creativity. You can reach Kim at khaimesk@kennesaw.edu or visit her website: Acts of Composition   I just returned from the 4Cs (Conference on College Composition and Communication), our discipline’s premier national conference in Baltimore. It was a great opportunity to interact with other engaged composition teachers and to explore new ideas. I was encouraged to see the number of presentations focusing on and featuring multimodal projects and pedagogy. Multimodal composition is firmly planted within our field.   This trip was particularly special because I had the pleasure of presenting and mentoring three of my graduate students on a panel at the conference. I met these students through my work in my Composition Theory and Pedagogy class in 2024, where I teach about the impact, processes, and practices of multimodal composition. These students, who are now Teachers of Record in their own FYC classes, have incorporated these approaches into their curriculum. I dedicate this post to our experience at the conference and share materials from our presentation.   Some Context: In his essay “Writing Is Not Natural,” composition professor Dylan B. Dryer calls to our attention to the fact that writing is, and always has been, an expression of technologies. The feather quill, the ballpoint pen, and yes, the very laptops our students use are all technologies in their own right. Writing has always been a way to embrace technology. As a cohort, we have bonded over the possibilities of this communication. We remix the ideas surrounding multimodality and sample this idea across different formats, believing that the best way to honor composition’s past is by embracing its future. Our students, as it turns out, often agree. We share a series of low-stakes assignments that celebrate multimodal technologies and practices. Follow links for Presentation Slides and Handout Writing itself is a remix as we cross disciplines and genres. Digital and multimodal composition brings together visual, audio, and kinesthetic modes along with the written text. We now consider design and audience experience as part of our rhetorical situation and train students to move around and explore options that lead to critical and creative thinking. Our classrooms themselves are intricate symphonies that harmonize through collaboration, composition, cadence, pitch, and rhythm. Music is a natural metaphor for what we do as composition teachers. The A-side of composition is reading and writing, but the B-side is the low-stakes multimodal assignments where the students experience learning through invention without a heavily weighted penalty, developing a soundtrack for their writing. Remixing the first-year composition course requires innovative scaffolding.  We share multimodal, low-stakes assignments that draw upon music, both literally and metaphorically. Through using music as a lens, students come to understand connections to events, emotions, ideas, and cultural influences. What follows are our individual ideas and the ways we use technology tools to promote critical and creative thinking. For the full details for each assignment, see the attached presentation slides and handout.   Kim Haimes Korn  - Curating Creative Playlists Curation is an important skill for students to understand the processes of collecting, selecting, interpreting, creating, and sharing in the FYC classroom and across the curriculum. Students curate research articles, images, and a variety of shared content. We tend to think about playlists existing outside of the classroom, but they can engage students in a range of important rhetorical and interpretive skills that promote research and critical thinking. Playlists can inform, tell stories, express themes, and communicate ideas. Kim shares some low-stakes assignments that engage students in curation and interpretation through playlists, such as the soundtrack of your life, cultural critiques, thematic threads, and place-based and generational research. See my full post, Curating Creative Playlists (2023) as part of the Multimodal Mondays blog.   Emily Crocker - Jamming With Canva and Mood Boards The power of visuals cannot be overstated, especially in an attention-based environment such as the FYC classroom. Much like how an album cover is vital to the promotion of a record, Canva serves as a design platform that allows students to deliver professional content such as videos, presentations, Instagram reels, wallpaper, and much more. Emily shares her Canva Mood Board assignment that remixes student research through collage. Students learn the benefits of visual design and data visualization through extending their research ideas in new ways. Heather Voraphongphibul - Composition Karaoke Students can delight in the aural qualities of traditional rhetoric as they aid in understanding audience awareness and rhetorical appeals. Modern recording technologies provide instructors with mediums that enhance the repetition, alliteration, and poetic waxings of rhetors that impact audience awareness and the skills of growing writers. Heather shares a Composition Karaoke lesson, using Voice Thread, that further pushes these remixing practices by allowing students to incorporate songs, sound effects, and other sonorous approaches to convey meaningful messages. She has students research, rewrite, and record movie monologues through the lenses of genre, audience, and tone. Emily Chick - ReVision and Remix Remixing is revising through changing, blending, or altering to create something new. In this project, students remix the narrative essay through three modes: text, visual, and audio. Each part of this project extends students' creative and critical thinking skills. Students write a narrative, create a vision board, and generate a song using the Gen AI program Suno Music creator. This program offers features like personalized lyrics, discovering new artists, and curating playlists, making it a versatile tool for creative projects. Emily discusses the ways instructors can incorporate multimodal, low-stakes assignments through reVision and remix. ****************************************************************** As academic professionals, we often present at conferences to share our ideas and teaching practices, but this post gives us a chance to expand our reach and share with our readers here. As a long-time teacher of teachers, I appreciate the mentorship opportunities that these platforms provide.  bell hooks reminds us in Teaching to Transgress, that teaching is about experimentation and engagement in the classroom. Multimodal pedagogies offer many possibilities for learning and expression. We are reminded that integrated, low-stakes, multimodal assignments provide incremental scaffolding that helps students think critically and creatively on their way to their larger, major assignments. References: Dryer, Dylan B. “Writing Is Not Natural.” Naming What We Know, Linda Adler-Kassner, University Press of Colorado, 2015. hooks, bell. Teaching to Transgress. Routledge, 1994. ... View more

Jeanne Beatrix Law is a Professor of English and Director of Composition at Kennesaw State University, focusing on generative AI (genAI) and digital civil rights histography. Her AI literacy work has global reach, including multiple presentations of her Rhetorical Prompt Engineering Framework at conferences like Open Educa Berlin and the Suny Council on Writing. She has led workshops on ethical genAI for diverse institutions and disciplines at Eastern Michigan, Kent State, and CUNY’s AI Subgroup. She and her students have authored publications on student perceptions of AI in professional writing. Jeanne also co-authored The Writer's Loop: A Guide to College Writing and contributed to the Instructor's Guide for Andrea Lunsford's Everyday Writer. She has authored eight Coursera courses on genAI and advocates for ethical AI integration in educational spaces in both secondary and higher education spaces as a faculty mentor for the AAC&U’s AI Pedagogy Institute.   I have been thinking a lot lately about AI-assisted writing and reading as well as what human-AI collaborations mean as we teach first-year writing in diverse institutional contexts. I always approach AI conversations with a note of epistemic humility: I am not as an AI expert, but I am a writing professor and a specialist in languaging, multimodal content creation, and rhetorical practices. My professional passion centers on teaching students how to articulate their thoughts clearly and compellingly. It is precisely this grounding in thoughtful crafting and critical rhetorical engagement that led me to be deeply intrigued by recent findings on the transformative potential of AI as an instructional assistant. When I say recent – I mean it. Published this month by Pratyusha Maiti and Ashok Goel of Georgia Tech’s Design Intelligence Lab in the Proceedings for the International Conference on Intelligent User Interfaces, the paper I am so intrigued with explores the impact of conversational AI, specifically Georgia Tech’s AI instructional partner named Jill Watson. The Tech research team integrated Jill Watson into classroom Learning Management Systems (LMS’s), including into those of first-year writing courses at Wiregrass and Southern Regional technical colleges. Over three semesters and across different educational settings, the researchers collected more than 5,500 student-generated questions posed to Jill Watson. These questions were analyzed using a fine-tuned BERT model based on Bloom's Taxonomy to categorize their complexity. Their findings were striking: Students consistently posed a significantly higher proportion of higher-order questions (such as analysis, evaluation, and synthesis) compared to traditional classroom norms. Sustained interactions with Jill Watson resulted in increased cognitive complexity of student inquiries, indicating growth in students' confidence and initiative in engaging with course material. The effectiveness of Jill Watson was notably evident in English Composition and Rhetoric courses, where assignments included writing tasks, journal reflections, and topic research—activities intrinsically suited to eliciting higher-order questioning. Three particularly compelling insights emerged for me. I hope they resonate with you: Higher-Level Engagement: "These findings demonstrate that Jill empowers learners to engage in critical questioning, thereby enhancing their educational experience by promoting depth, relevance, and application of course concepts" (Maiti & Goel, 2025, p. 314). Facilitation of Critical Thinking: "Conversational AI partners like Jill have the potential to foster critical thinking by encouraging students to engage with more complex concepts through active, self-driven knowledge construction" (Maiti & Goel, 2025, p. 321). Personalized Learning Trajectories: "Students who interacted with the AI tool more frequently exhibited a trend of increasing higher-order questions over time. This trend was more pronounced among individual students than at the overall classroom level" (Maiti & Goel, 2025, p. 321). The effectiveness of Jill Watson in fostering critical inquiry aligns closely with my pedagogical objectives. As someone interested in how intentional and mindful interactions with AI might enhance students’ metacognition, I find that the principles of the Rhetorical Prompting Method (RPM)—a method encouraging purposeful, iterative, and strategic human-AI collaboration—can potentially complement the strengths demonstrated by Jill Watson. RPM helps writers thoughtfully craft inputs and revise outputs by considering their intent, context, and desired outcomes, which might similarly foster critical and reflective engagement as well as metacognition. Stay tuned for a Kennesaw State case study results on that last one. We are analyzing some interesting data. RPM encourages learners to: Reflect deeply on their writing objectives. Strategically shape their inputs and output revisions. Read and synthesize outputs. Critically evaluate and refine AI outputs. Be the human-at-the-helm of AI collaborations. Exploring methods like the rhetorical prompting alongside AI-driven learning environments could amplify the benefits observed with Jill Watson, guiding students towards sophisticated critical engagement that supports writing and learning processes. Together, these complementary approaches have the potential to make AI interactions more intentional, reflective, and impactful—transforming conversations with AI into genuine opportunities for intellectual growth and skill development. I'm curious—are there other methods or pedagogical models you've found effective in first-year writing that might pair well with tools like Jill Watson? I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences. As always, I encourage you to take my work and models. My AI work is an OER for all of us. References Maiti, Pratyusha, and Ashok Goel. "Can an AI Partner Empower Learners to Ask Critical Questions?" Proceedings of the 30th International Conference on Intelligent User Interfaces, 2025, pp. 314-324, doi:10.1145/3708359.3712134. ... View more

  The 2025 CCCC Annual Convention brings together composition instructors from across the country for pedagogical sessions and best teaching practices they can use immediately in the classroom. This year’s Convention, chaired by Kofi J. Adisa, revolves around the dynamic theme: Computer Love: Extended Play, B-sides, Remix, Collaboration, and Creativity. Learn more about our presence at CCCC here.   Bedford Party  – Join us on Thursday, April 10, at 7 PM at the Historic Lord Baltimore Hotel for an evening of food, fun, and friends. Beverage Break!  – Stop by the booth on Friday, April 11, at 3:15 PM for a refreshing Black-Eyed Susan mocktail—on us!  Platform Challenge  –  Play along and get prizes, plus a chance to win a Yeti cooler. Explore & Discover  – Request samples of our popular titles and get a sneak peek at exciting new releases like A Writer's Reference, Models for Writers, and more. Be sure to stop by Booth 111. Can't wait to see you in Baltimore!     Michael Garcia, Teaching & Learning Strategist Bedford/St. Martin's  ... View more

Kim Haimes-Korn is a Professor of English and Digital Writing at Kennesaw State University. She also trains graduate student teachers in composition theory and pedagogy. Kim’s teaching philosophy encourages dynamic learning and critical digital literacies and focuses on students’ powers to create their own knowledge through language and various “acts of composition.” She is a regular contributor to this Multimodal Monday academic blog since 2014. She likes to have fun every day, return to nature when things get too crazy, and think deeply about way too many things. She loves teaching. It has helped her understand the value of amazing relationships and boundless creativity. You can reach Kim at khaimesk@kennesaw.edu or visit her website: Acts of Composition Why is digital literacy important for teachers and students? In today’s rapidly evolving digital landscape, digital literacy is a range of essential skills that help us navigate the digital world where we spend a significant amount of time.  Our students are continually immersed in online situations, making digital literacies an integral part of our teaching and learning.  They must learn how to communicate, critically analyze online content, and creatively use digital platforms in meaningful ways. In their article, Digital Writing Across the Curriculum (2010), Hague and Payton define eight components of digital literacy: creativity, critical thinking and evaluation, cultural and social understanding, collaboration, finding and selecting information, effective communication, e-safety, and functional skills.” Even though students are engaged in these digital practices, we can expand our teaching to include practices in these skills along with the analysis of the cultural and ethical implications of digital literacy.  Components of Digital Literacy (Hague & Payton, 2010, p19)I try to incorporate all of these practices into my curriculum design and have recently focused on functional skills. I always say, “I don’t teach tools; I teach digital intuition.” The reason I say this is 1) Tools change, 2) I like to give options for platforms and tool choices rather than prescribing a particular one, and 3) Digital intuition is a critical literacy skill that students only develop through “mucking through” and figuring it out on their own. It also teaches them research and reading skills as they independently seek out solutions and solve their own problems through articles, forums, and documentation. While I feel strongly about this approach, there are exceptions to this stance when we find tools that are so versatile and offer many possibilities that they open up possibilities rather than limit them. Recently, I have directly integrated some tools into my assignments and deliverables and found that they have the potential to create collaborative discussion spaces for problem-solving and extending students’ digital intuition. Canva, a conceptual and visual design platform, is perfect for multimodal composing and enhancing a range of digital literacy skills. With its low learning curve and user-friendly interface, Canva requires minimal additional classroom instruction and is a vital resource for content creation. Canva’s mission is to “empower everyone in the world to design anything and publish anywhere.” Using visualization tools is also a marketable skill that students can take into professional contexts. This platform easily integrates with composition pedagogy throughout the writing process, from invention to drafting to delivery. And it’s free. Applications of Canva in the Classroom   Brainstorming and Invention While Canva is often thought of as a tool for creating polished content, it also offers embedded components that help students with brainstorming, drafting, and collaboration. I introduce it to create storyboards, concept and mind maps, and planning documents (proposals).  The whiteboard tool encourages real-time collaboration and visual brainstorming techniques. We can encourage Design Thinking as a problem-solving framework.  “Unlike other brainstorming methods⁠, design thinking uses empathetic observation to focus on human-centered needs first before diving into ideation.” Data Visualization Research is an important skill that we teach our students.  Data visualization brings research to life as students take their research data and create infographics, charts, and graphs, giving them visual ways to represent their work.  Canva provides an abundance of templates for students to create impactful visual arguments that transcend traditional text-only documents. Microcontent Our students interact with microcontent regularly as they surf the internet and participate in social media. Canva offers many possibilities for students to create microcontent for academic, personal, and professional purposes. Through community engagement and service-learning projects, I have students create content such as memes, reels/videos, posters, flyers, promotions, and newsletters for professional organizations. I teach students about the ethical use of images, but Canva offers thousands of copyright-free images that students can use in their work. Additionally, digital storytelling and comic strips provide creative avenues for expression. Presentations Canva provides a variety of templates for creating engaging presentations, such as pitch decks, proposals, and presentations.  Students can present research, collaborative projects, marketing plans, and media kits, among others.  Check out (and share with students) their beginners guide to Creating Engaging Presentations.  Students can also present their work and learning through digital portfolio templates to showcase their work. Educator Resources Canva has also done a good job of providing resources for teachers and students.  They have resources specifically for educators to create lesson plans, presentations, and pedagogical tools (see 10 Ways to Take Your Lessons to the Next Level with Canva). Teachers can create interactive polls and surveys to evaluate student engagement and learning. You will find an expansive educator community that shares pedagogical perspectives, classroom practices, and samples such as book covers, literary quote books, and narrative maps. **************************** Although this post focuses on Canva, many other tools are available for students to explore. However, Canva’s versatility makes it particularly effective for practicing a wide range of digital literacy skills within a single platform. For more ideas, The NCTE Definition of Literacy in A Digital World offers a specific breakdown of digital literacy skills and ways to apply them in the classroom. To this list, we also need to add strategies and ethical components of AI.  As students move into professional contexts, they will adapt and expand these skills with more advanced options and new rhetorical contexts. As the definition of digital literacy continues to expand, teachers play a crucial role in helping students navigate new technologies, create meaningful content, and engage thoughtfully in the digital world. ... View more

In a recent episode of the Mystery AI-Hype Theater Podcast, special guest Raina Bloom, Reference Services Coordinator for University of Wisconsin-Madison Libraries, referred to an ad for Google Pixel that aired during the Superbowl this year.  In the ad, a man uses Google AI to prepare for a job interview.  Bloom noted that the ad offers a “dark” reality, as if the man portrayed says, “I don't have any collaborators. I don't have any colleagues. I don't have any sources of support who can assist me when I'm doing this job interview or doing this research.” The best he can do is to rehearse with his Google-based LLM.   The Googleplex, Google's Headquarters in Mountain View, California.       This morning, I saw an interview with the CEO of Nomi AI, which promises an “AI companion with memory and a soul.”  Talkpal, an LLM that styles itself as a “language teacher,” promises that clients will learn five times faster. Thetawise and CK12 dangle the hope of success through AI math tutors. Google has even introduced a “co-scientist” who will collaborate with researchers to “generate novel hypotheses and research proposals.” With varying degrees of sophistication, these platforms offer the rewards of human relationships—without the humans. If efficiency and scalability are the standard metrics by which we judge educational services and budgeting, it’s clear to see where we are headed. Why pay for tutoring and support staff for corequisite and developmental English students? Just get an institutional license for an LLM! Why pay for researchers to go to conferences to network and brainstorm?  Get a “co-scientist” site license for the group. And why bother having professors keep office hours? Train AI avatars to answer student questions 24/7. Since much of the work of faculty and support staff can be off-loaded onto AI assistants, we can cut positions, reduce costs, and make education more accessible to all. If the AI startups and corporations can frame the dismantling of higher education as “restructuring” that aligns with democratic values, they will reap billions in profit. I am not a Luddite; I use and celebrate technology. My amazing students this semester use technology to compose, revise, edit, collaborate, and communicate. I am staring at a screen as I type this, and I have assigned adaptive online learning practice for my students as they develop editing skills. Still, I worry. My students deserve an instructor, not an algorithm that generates synthetic text. Granted, I don’t answer their emails at 2:00 AM, nor do I provide unlimited office hours for tutoring each week. I have the limitations common to all humans. But unlike the AI bots, I connect my students with writing fellows and writing tutors; those same tutors and I may show up for their band concerts, their sporting events, meals at the restaurants where they work, or services at the churches where they worship. The faculty and staff where I teach cheer for students at graduation and pose for pictures with them and their families; some of my students have come to my home, where we have shared a cup of coffee and worked on joint research.   My students deserve advisors who will talk to them about career choices and challenges—not AI-driven bots that get them registered quickly so that they will complete a curriculum “efficiently.”  When they have questions about financial aid, they need our human financial aid counselors, not a chatbot.   Education is both a human and a relational endeavor—based on human need and entrusted to human collaboration. We cannot protect this very human responsibility by de-humanizing it. Fast integration of AI in instruction and academic support may indeed drive down costs and yield savings to the institution. But in the end, what exactly are we saving?     Photo from Wikimedia Commons ... View more

In October of 2024, Marc Watkins opened a thoughtful discussion on open disclosure of AI tools; after considering his comments and my response to them, I created an AI disclosure guide for my spring 2025 courses. Early in this term, I explained to my students my concerns about generative AI and the rationale for using a disclosure statement for AI tools. I think I foolishly hoped that having a disclosure policy would mean that I wouldn’t have to deal with potential AI-based plagiarism in my courses. A week ago, I noticed a suspicious paragraph in theearly draft of an essay from a multilingual student in my FYC course. This student had spoken to me early on about wanting to make sure she learned English “the right way,” without recourse to AI tools that would get her in trouble. Given the overall voice and development in the essay, the presence of this one paragraph seemed surprising—and to my frustration, the student had not included an AI disclosure.  In a quiet moment before the next class, I asked her about tools she was using in her revision process, and she explained that she was avoiding AI—she was using “only the Microsoft rewrite tool” embedded in the latest version of MS-Word as a help on vocabulary in a paragraph that was giving her trouble. I had not heard of the rewrite tool, so I did some digging—and I learned it is an embedded AI feature that’s been around for a while. It promises to improve “fluency,” “phrasing,” and “readability,” according to a Microsoft blog. It’s certainly an AI-tool, but my student did not know this. After all, it was embedded in her word processing program along with grammar and spelling tools. I can envision instances where using this tool could be strategic for my multilingual international students—and also where it could lead to charges of cheating. As I thought about the growing number of tools and services available to student writers—as well as my own inability to keep up with these tools—I thought I might reconsider my AI disclosure policy. So, for the students’ second major project in the FYC course, I have asked all students to include a disclosure statement on the cover page of the project. In that statement, they should list all the tools and resources they used to develop the project, whether AI-tools, citation generators, graphic templates, translators, image generators, or even spell-checkers (for this first round). I’m also asking them to include disclosures (or acknowledgements) for human help—our writing fellows, the writing center, parents, or even peers who read over the paper. I gave them some model statements to follow: I used Google Translate to help me ___________________ in this project. I used MetaAI to create an image of ________________ to illustrate the second term in my project. I used my Canva account to design the poster presentation for this project. Kady J, my writing fellow, helped me organize my last three paragraphs. My groupmates Dani R. and Mari T. gave me suggestions on how to make the third section longer. I am sure other instructors are doing similar things—in fact, I found some similar guidance from Cummings Graduate Institute. For me, the broader form of disclosure and acknowledgement (not just AI) alleviates the pressure of determining what is and is not a form of AI, as well as what counts as an acceptable or strategic resource as opposed to cheating. In fact, these disclosures may encourage students to expand their use of resources as their strategies are validated in feedback and conferences.  Moreover, I have assured students that if they disclose their tools during the various drafting and revising stages—such that we can discuss and address anything that is not appropriate before they submit the final portfolio—they are not going to be penalized or find themselves facing accusations of cheating. While such disclosures do not eliminate the possibility of AI misuse or cheating, if students engage in the drafting process with disclosures throughout, I think we are inviting on-going conversations to support their linguistic and rhetorical development. Ultimately, students will see a record of collaboration, multimodality, and rhetorical strategy—all of which may become transferable resources for future writing.    Photo by Igor Omilaev on Unsplash ... View more

Today’s featured blogger is Holly Bauer, author of Food Matters: A Bedford Spotlight Reader. Food is an essential part of society. Food sustains us. Food provides our bodies with the nutrients and energy needed to stay alive and healthy. Food unites us. Whether it’s a late-night tub of ice cream with a friend or a holiday gathering, food allows us to connect with our family, friends, and even community. Food distinguishes us. Our diets portray our cultural background, identity, and racial history. And most shockingly, food divides us. Although food is integral to our livelihood, millions of people across the United States and the world do not have equitable access to healthy food. That said, how do we motivate students to care about it? The fourth edition of Food Matters offers several ways to connect students’ lived experiences to the larger social, cultural, political, and ethical realities that affect food consumption and production. Here are some potential ways to make food justice relevant to students:   Make it personal I find that students enjoy writing about food choices when they can relate their personal experiences to the broader academic questions posed by the readings. This edition features readings from Jill McCorkle and Lily Wong, who take a closer look at how their food choices reflect their identity and values. Using these readings as model texts, you can ask students to explore why they eat what they eat, how it reinforces their sense of self, and how they would be impacted if they did not have access to these foods.    Make it local Connecting issues raised by the readings to local food issues can help students understand the larger debates and complexities around food justice initiatives. You can ask students to examine campus resources, such as a basic needs hub, campus dining options, and food-based clubs or organizations. They can also research food-related organizations or projects in the neighboring communities, such as food banks, community gardens, indigenous food projects, or community groups focused on shared food values. Using Kathlyn Yee’s piece about black food co-ops in Ohio as a model, students can highlight the work these organizations do and analyze why they are needed.   Make it political, economic, historical, or cultural While eating is a shared human experience, many people give little thought to the broader implications of their food choices or the political and socioeconomic systems shaping those choices. Food choices are inevitably connected to nutritional science, agriculture, and cultural practices. They also say something about our values and the principles we live by. The readings in Food Matters suggest that we have a range of moral obligations and responsibilities related to food. Examining the political, economic, historical, and cultural aspects of food production and consumption helps us understand our moral obligations to other people and communities. Various writers, such as Bennet Goldstein, Ligaya Mishan, Katherine Wu, and S.E. Smith, offer ways to help students use a food justice lens to analyze our food system. Is access to enough healthy, nutritious, and culturally appropriate food a human right? How is food justice connected to other social issues, such as racial justice, environmental justice, and sustainability movements?   Make it global While everyone has a relationship with food and a vested interest in the current and future food supply, writing about food can also help students explore global questions and problems. How do we justify food waste and overconsumption when other parts of the world have food shortages and malnutrition? If we have the capacity to feed everyone, are we obligated to feed the world? Reading articles by Chad Frischmann and Mamta Mehra, Chidinma Iwu, and Lela Nargi can provide students with a framework for analyzing our food infrastructure and understanding its global reach.  The fourth edition of Food Matters is filled with readings about food justice that can be used to promote meaningful discourse about how our food infrastructure disenfranchises marginalized communities. Connecting students to food justice initiatives not only creates awareness, but it can also foster agency to make better food choices and/or advocate for better access. We all play a role in our food infrastructure, and if we want to see a change, we must acknowledge that every bite counts. ... View more

Today’s featured blogger is Andrew Hoffman, author of Monsters: A Bedford Spotlight Reader. Demands on instructors in English classrooms in some ways seem more complex than ever. We aim to build an inclusive curriculum. We encourage our students to think critically. We guide them to create coherent, relevant, and insightful texts. In many cases, we go beyond the standard college essay to include other forms of meaningful communication, such as videos, oral presentations, and other forms of writing. In the new edition of Monsters, there is plenty of material to inspire your students while engaging in meaningful, relevant discourse.             The third edition of Monsters includes more writings about monsters from around the world, expanding its view of monsters to encounter creatures from legends found in Native American stories, Latin American myths, as well as tales from Africa and Asia. After all, the human experience with monsters is universal. The cry of the Wendigo, the haunting of La Llorona, the allure of mermaids, and the power of dragons – the existence of these monsters creates an opportunity for students to analyze the roles that monsters play in cultures from all around the world. Students from diverse backgrounds do not have to be confined to pigeon-holed categories of monsters. They can examine the role that monsters have played in their own lives and histories, or learn about other cultures and peoples through the very nature of the monsters they create.             A key part of any inclusive instructional environment is a recognition of how identity is formed – and reformed – through various societal and cultural expectations and interactions. Monsters are a rich source for this conversation. Creators of monsters – or those who rethink and re-imagine monsters that are already in the popular imagination – come from as a diverse a background as today’s college students do. Examination of monster stories can lead students to question the presentation of sexuality, gender, and identity. For example, James Whale, director of the iconic 1933 movie Frankenstein, took advantage of the opportunity to create a sequel and loaded The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) with subversive images and allusions to queer culture that slipped past Hollywood censors and the mainstream heterosexual audience. Or, Jalondra A. Davis, a self-described “merwomanist,” shifts our attention from the European mermaid to figures from the African tradition, such as Mami Wata and the orisa. Even video games give us monsters that force us to question issues of sexual identity and its role in monster stories. These inquiries are not entirely new, so the current edition of Monsters retains seminal works, such as Carol Clover’s exploration of the Final Girl in horror films, and Jack Halberstam’s argument about the creation of a new monstrous queer gender in slasher films.             It is hard to turn around these days without encountering technology that is more advanced, mysterious, and potentially threatening. In prior generations, fears about technology gave us Godzilla and Frankenstein’s creature, but today’s technology has given us new fears with new expressions -- urban legends such as the Slit-Mouthed woman or the Momo Challenge in Japan, or the machines that use artificial intelligence and other advances in computer technology that threaten to overwhelm our ability to control our own world.  Indeed, preserving our humanity in the face of many threats is a key issue. Judith Clemens-Smucker argues that these fears can make us feel threatened by those who are different from us in her examination of the television series Stranger Things, and Fay Onyx points out many ways in which creators of monsters – intentionally or not – use harmful ableist ideas that promote damaging stereotypes. Fear – of the new, the different, and the difficult – motivates many of our monster stories.             Monsters, 3e, provides instructors with materials that can help create a classroom experience that is challenging, inclusive, insightful, and meaningful. The collection retains both primary and secondary sources that have proven successful in the classroom and adds new works from around the world from authors of different nations, races, ages, and perspectives. Ultimately, the study of monsters is really not the study of monsters; it’s the study of what it means to be human, in the past, in the present, and into tomorrow. ... View more

  I received two emails from students in my FYC composition course recently. While not the exact wording or details, the emails looked something like this: Dear Dr. Moore, I am not feeling well, and I don’t want to make anyone else sick. I won’t be in class this morning. I saw on the syllabus that we are doing peer workshops in class today, and I have downloaded the handout. Is this something I could make up, maybe virtually or with another class? Please let me know what else I need to do. Thank you for your time. Your student   Dear Dr. Moore, My car won’t start, so I won’t be in class this morning. I apologize for any inconvenience. Best, Your student The first email aligns with my syllabus policies for FYC; students who request alternative assignments in a timely manner can earn participation points for class activities that they miss. It’s specific and respectful; it also shows me that the student has taken advantage of resources such as the syllabus and the online course platform. The second, however, baffles me a bit—and I’ve been encountering similar language more often over the past few semesters. I am not sure what inconvenience the student is causing: I will be teaching the course regardless of whether or not the student is present. If no group work or assigned presentations are occurring, the student’s absence will not inconvenience me in any way. What might be an inconvenience is the expectation that I will take the initiative to ensure the student does not lose ground—informing the student what activities were missed, sending the handout, creating the alternative assignment, negotiating extensions if needed, etc. In some cases, students assume that notifying me of an absence “covers them”—they need not think about my course until they return, at which point they expect that I will provide (without being asked) a re-cap of what was missed, copies of handouts, and a revised schedule to follow until they are “back with the flow of the class.” When students who have missed class (with or without a perfunctory apology for “the inconvenience”) ask me to “go over the handout” or explain a concept on which I had dedicated significant time during the session they missed, I must pause and restrain the snarky response that first comes to mind—similar to retorts that arise when I am asked, “Did we do anything last class?” I don’t want to engage in stereotyping (what’s wrong with this generation?) or blame-casting (what are those high school teachers telling them?). Nor will I cast a rose-colored nostalgia over my own college days to suggest that (pre-internet and email) my college cohort knew better, taking full responsibility for their own learning. Still, I cannot deny the frustration of unrealistic student expectations, which I suspect all colleagues teaching FYC and corequisite courses experience. I understand why, given all that gets dumped into the course objectives in FYC, the idea that we are going to teach students how to write an email regarding an absence and how to behave following that absence—basically, how to be a college student—seems unreasonable. But consider how a discussion of the ideal “absence email” (which for me would be like the first email in this post) offers an opportunity for rhetorical meta-talk: a discussion of audience, purpose, exigence, ethos construction, and genre. This past week, I did just that—I used an early-semester syllabus review to explain what information I hoped to see when students inform me of an absence: the fact that they’re missing (a reason isn’t always required, although it’s often appreciated), what they’ve done because of the absence (i.e., reviewed the syllabus, asked a friend for notes, etc.), and any specific requests (alternative assignment, an office visit later in the week, an extension of deadlines, etc.). I will revisit the model throughout the term, not only as a reminder of what I expect, but also as an illustration of linguistic and rhetorical concepts we are discussing. I’ll have to see if I am still getting “sorry for the inconvenience” absence emails in May. Photo by No Revisions on Unsplash ... View more

On Tuesday, January 14, 2025, I walked into a composition classroom to start what is my 67th full semester of college teaching (there are more than 80 if I count summer terms). As part of my first-day introductions, I told them how excited I was to start the semester with them; after all, I love what I do. I told them a little bit about the first project we would be working on—a literacy narrative—which would give them a chance to tell their stories about language, reading, and writing. Some of them looked skeptical, but I know they have stories to tell. There is always a story to tell—even though students don’t always recognize their stories at first. They have to sift through memories and experiences, building narratives that will make sense of them.  Through this class, they will learn that we don’t always know the thesis or the ending when we start writing, but we keep writing. The narratives and reports and essays and blogs and reflections will come. . . eventually. Later that afternoon, I walked into the Writing Fellows seminar, and I asked the six advanced students in the group what brought them to that particular moment, to the work of the writing fellows. As they shared their stories, they expressed some surprise at how they moved from their first semester in college to a paid internship as a writing fellow. Most had not planned for it, but they found the fellows as they “kept writing”–and finding their story. One had started at the local technical school, in an HVAC program, but discovered during his first-year comp class the exhilaration of having his writing taken seriously. He transferred to our university and became an English major. One of our fellows said she had changed majors five times before she found her home in English. Another had actually applied for the fellows’ job during his first year, despite not having the qualifications, because he needed on-campus employment. A year later, he applied again and is now a senior fellow. Others talked about meetings with advisors (often because of scheduling conflicts or classes that were needed but unavailable) that made them aware of unexpected opportunities, including the writing fellows option. Some had met peers who were writing fellows or supplemental instructors on campus, and they recognized the power of listening, helping, encouraging—skills they could develop through our program.  Like the first-year writers composing literacy narratives, the fellows are finding narrative threads in their own experiences—using language to make sense of the various pieces, discovering who they are in the process.  During the fellows’ seminar session, I shared some of my own story—from graduate school in linguistics to positions teaching composition, English, and applied linguistics (in a university, in an intensive English program, in community colleges, in a church, and even in a chicken processing plant). As a graduate student, I could not have foreseen what my teaching journey would look like, but I have been blessed by hundreds of colleagues, editors, friends, and students, each of whom contributed to my story. While it wasn’t the story I intended to tell back in the early 1990s, to be sure, it is a story that makes sense to me now.  And after 35 years, I still love what I do.  So I am encouraging my students in this moment, whether they are starting college or working as writing fellows: they don’t need to have mapped out their entire story yet. If they remain awake and aware, looking at where they have been, building new relationships, stepping into new opportunities, finding and doing what they love (and letting go of what they don’t), the story will come together eventually. It will make sense.  How do you tell your story in your teaching?  ... View more

Marisa Koulen Marisa Koulen is pursuing her PhD in English concentrating on Rhetoric, Composition, and Pedagogy at the University of Houston. She has taught a range of courses including First Year Writing I, First Year Writing II, and Advanced Composition. Marisa's teaching philosophy centers on acknowledging all students as writers and challenging them to critically engage in making meaning through social justice and advocacy writing. Her research explores the intersection of antiracist writing assessment and multimodal composition pedagogy. As a first-generation American and college student, Marisa is passionate about supporting students, especially those from marginalized communities, navigate the transformative power of education and literacy.       How does the next generation of students inspire you?  The next generation of students inspires me with their increasing awareness of social justice and their willingness to challenge systems of inequality. They enter the classroom with a powerful sense of activism and a desire to make their voices heard, even in my first year writing classes. These students push me, as an educator, to be more reflective, to deconstruct barriers to learning, and to make sure my classroom is a place where all voices are acknowledged and valued. Their courage to question norms and advocate for change invigorates my commitment to building inclusive and responsive writing assignments in my classroom.   What is the most important skill you aim to provide your students? The most important skill I aim to provide my students is the ability to critically reflect on their own learning and writing processes and provide/receive feedback. Reflection encourages students to become aware of their growth, understand the reasons behind their choices, and see their learning as ongoing. This metacognitive skill not only empowers them to develop as writers in my class, but also to become lifelong learners, confident in adapting their skills to new contexts. By fostering feedback and reflection, I also equip them with the tools needed to navigate and shape the world around them, both in writing and beyond. Whether using digital platforms like Padlet for anonymous feedback or facilitating breakout room activities in online classes, I prioritize spaces where students feel comfortable sharing their thoughts and supporting each other. Regular reflections and interactive discussions (like word clouds and other visualizers) are integrated to ensure that learning is a shared and dynamic process. To ensure my course is inclusive, equitable, and culturally responsive, I center my teaching around representation, linguistic diversity, and equitable assessment practices. I use labor-based grading to value students’ efforts rather than imposing traditional language norms, allowing them to take risks and grow as writers. I also encourage students to draw on their personal and cultural experiences in their writing, which allows their unique voices to flourish in the classroom. Additionally, consistent feedback mechanisms allow me to adapt the course based on students’ expressed needs. Experience giving and receiving feedback is invaluable in the classroom, as these skills transfer beyond just writing.   Marisa's Assignment That Works Below is a brief synopsis of Marisa's assignment. For the full activity, see Logical Fallacies in the Wild.    The "Logical Fallacies in the Wild" assignment is designed to bridge the critical rhetorical analysis skills discussed in the course textbook and in professional academic examples with students' lived experiences, emphasizing the situated nature of communication across diverse discourse communities. Its primary goal is to cultivate an awareness of how logical fallacies are not only pervasive but also ideologically loaded, particularly within the context of consumer culture on social media platforms. By requiring students to locate fallacies in advertisements found during their own personal social media use, this assignment actively situates their learning within spaces that shape and reflect their identities. This assignment helps students acknowledge that rhetoric operates everywhere! ... View more

I recently wrote about my struggle with AI overload, a post prompted by an email predicting that AI would soon take over the “routine work of scholarly editing and publication.”  What, I wonder, makes something routine in scholarship or academia? My social media feed, guided by my history of clicks, has lately been flooded with advertisements for AI platforms that promise to clear my hectic schedule by picking up some of the drudgery of my job—specifically, providing feedback on student writing, crafting standard letters, or even putting together meeting agendas.  Apparently, those tasks are “routine” and can be handed over to a trained LLM (Large-Language Model). For a fee, of course. Except I don’t think of these as routine.  (Well, maybe writing agendas could be seen as routine; still, I think reducing the number of required committee meetings and service responsibilities for faculty who teach four or five courses per term is a more helpful solution than letting a machine throw together a bulleted list of agenda items.  Just a thought.) I suspect that most of us who teach composition would not agree that response to writing is so “routine” that it should be handed off to an algorithm.  But what about other tasks, such as annual self-evaluations or recommendation letters for students? Over the Thanksgiving break, I wrote three recommendations for students applying to graduate programs.  The process took over six hours of my “vacation days.”  Surely, one might suggest, I could have saved time by generating a letter template from ChatGPT and tweaking the details, right? My answer, without hesitation, is “no way.”  It’s not that I produced something particularly masterful in those letters over six hours, nor do I expect that the letters will be the deciding factor for graduate admissions committees.  And given enough detail, could the AI produce something similar?  Perhaps.  But the AI will not have the joy of reviewing, remembering, discovering forgotten moments and sorting through assignments, emails, projects, or random hand-written artifacts from these students, who have shaped the way I teach just as much as I shaped their undergraduate experiences. For each student, the process began with a review of a CV, followed by a transcript review to find all the classes taken with me, as well as classes in which the student worked with me as a supplemental instructor or writing fellow.  I looked for conference presentations and academic service—noting that two of the three students attended faculty-focused conferences to present research with me.  I thought about my initial impressions of each one and how those impressions changed as I saw their particular passions appear in course projects—or as I came to rely on their help as supplemental instructors in my classes.  I recalled when they frustrated me, when they made me laugh, and when they made me think differently about concepts or my own teaching practices.   I imagined what each would bring to a graduate program, of course, but I also tried to articulate what they brought to our undergraduate program—and to me.  My teaching is better because of these students, and I wanted to articulate why as part of these letters.  I suppose one could say that given all this information, ChatGPT could have produced an effective letter.  But truthfully, the letter wrote itself once I had worked through the process of remembering.  And I suppose others might suggest that it was the extraordinary qualities of these particular students that made the writing process meaningful; had the students not been quite so stellar, perhaps the process would have felt more routine—and perhaps I would have given it over to the AI in that case. But I don’t think so.  My limited interactions with students who are not quite so remarkable still contain valuable stories and possibilities.  Reviewing those stories is not a waste of my time, however constrained that time may be.  So, I am back to my original question: what qualifies a task as “routine” to the extent that it can be relegated to AI?  Who decides that?  And how will those decisions—whoever makes them—impact our work going forward?  These are just some of the questions that give me pause.  For now, I need to proofread some recommendation letters.  ... View more

Toni Morrison published her slim non-fiction meditation, Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination, in 1993. The historical context shimmers in my memory. In 1991, my graduate cohort analyzed every moment of Anita Hill’s testimony about her harrowing harassment from then Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas. In response, 1992 ushered in the “Year of the Woman,” with a record number of women being elected and re-elected to the Senate. In those years, people everywhere were talking about narratives about sexism and racism that haunted American culture. Without explicitly referencing those political touchstones, Morrison published Playing in the Dark the next year, to challenge readers to consider all the ways language shapes our literary, cultural, and political imaginations. Just after the recent election, I taught the Preface and Chapter One of Playing in the Dark to my writing students. I was moved to hear from them how relevant they find Morrison’s insights, now. Morrison writes specifically about the ways racism haunts the sentences and plot lines — often through pointed silences — of celebrated literary classics written by white writers, from Edgar Alan Poe, to Henry James, to William Faulkner, to Flannery O’Connor. Morrison guides readers through her own process of learning to see the repression and functions of Blackness as tools for moving forward white characters’ development. Morrison offers many examples of Black characters who function only to turn the plot, including the Countess in James' What Maisie Knew (13). These are active writerly choices, Morrison argues. Those choices have cultural and political weight that affect both victims of racism and those who perpetuate the racism (11). In other words, as my students concluded after some discussion, Morrison shows us why, as both readers and writers, we must take language seriously. Our language shapes our entire world views. Morrison locates her own readerly awakening as the moment when she "stopped reading as a reader and began to read as a writer” (15). She continues, “Yes, I wanted to identify those moments when American literature was complicit in the fabrication of racism, but equally important, I wanted to see when literature exploded and undermined it” (16). Morrison calls both writers and readers to action:  Every writerly decision we make — and learn to pay attention to as readers — builds a world of consequences. This crucial insight — that we must learn to “read as writers” and “write as readers” —  is the central tenet of From Inquiry to Academic Writing (5e), my co-authored book with Stuart Greene. We scaffold for students specific steps for the reading approach Toni Morrison calls for in literary texts, with an eye for the implications of every writerly decision in academic texts. These steps strengthen critical reading strategies, of course; that’s what we mean by “reading as a writer.” But the steps also help students name the decisions and moves of academic writing so that they can practice them in their own writing, with real readers in mind; that what's we mean by “writing as a reader." Here is our five-step Rhetorical Analysis assignment (62), which can be adapted to many different assignments: Identify the situation. What motivates the writer to write? Identify the writer's purpose. What does the writer want readers to do or think about? Identify the writer's claims. What is the writer's main claim? What minor claims does the writer make? Identify appeals to ethos, pathos, and logos. How does the writer establish credibility, develop a relationship with readers, and use evidence to support a claim? Identify the writer's audience. What do you know about the writer's audience? What does the writer's language imply about the readers? What about the writer's references? The structure of the text? These steps can help students with any level of expertise flex the necessary muscles to be more effective readers and writers, and to understand the consequences of every word choice. As Morrison reminds us — and my students affirm — those consequences for our cultural and political imaginations can be dire, or downright inspiring. ... View more

Hayden Kindrat Hayden Kindrat is pursuing his PhD in English Literature at Stony Brook University (SUNY), with a focus in American and Anglophone literature, science fiction, and environmental fiction and ideas (all in the mid-twentieth century). He has taught courses in Stony Brook's English Department and Department of Writing and Rhetoric. He lives in Queens in New York City.               What do you think is the most important recent development or pedagogical approach in teaching composition? Generative AI, for sure. I don’t think any development in the past has had so much potential to disembody and disincorporate the actual process of writing to such a degree. Students are using AI to write papers, AI-generated papers are being published in academic journals. When we read it, we can usually intuitively sense that something is wrong, but we can’t always put our fingers on why; we are already talking about using AI to detect AI writing.    It is especially important, too, because of its consequences on morale, which we’re already seeing. It is challenging for instructors; it has necessitated a presumption of guilt, so that we feed our students’ work into specious and faulty detection software; there is an atmosphere of paranoia shared in by students and instructors alike. Every semester for the last few years I have had students approach me with their concerns about their work being arbitrarily flagged for plagiarism, and every semester I receive papers that have clearly been written using AI — but I do not have the tools or the resources to definitively prove it, because the technology is evolving and changing faster than institutions can adapt.    It already seems like it is necessitating a total overhaul of how we administer even the most basic and fundamental writing instruction, and a reconsideration of what is or should be sought or valued in student writing. It’s disorienting to think about!     What is the most important skill you aim to provide your students? Probably to think meaningfully and critically and what they write, how they’re writing, and all of the other processes that go into writing. And, of course, to think the same way about what they read or otherwise consume. I use the word “consume” because I think, with the way we are inundated with information and sensory input, deliberation tends to go out the window. We’re basically being conditioned to take information about as consciously as we take in oxygen. To take in as much as possible, as quickly as possible. I think it’s important to impart to students that everything they take in can and should be scrutinized for how it works, what it is saying, what the purpose or the intent behind it is, the nature and logic of its rhetoric, and so on.    In college writing courses, this is especially relevant to argumentation. Encouraging students to slow down, to think about what they’re saying, the best way to say it depending on the audience, and what evidence needs to be provided to actually convince an audience of something, is key — and one way to do this is to teach them to parse these same elements in the things they read, see, watch, and hear.    Hayden's Assignment That Works Below is a brief synopsis of Hayden's assignment. For the full activity, see Database Scavenger Hunt.   This activity is designed to acquaint WRT 102 students with the databases accessible to them through Stony Brook University’s libraries. It takes place in the classroom. I usually set aside forty-five minutes to an hour for this activity.   Students are asked to bring their laptops to class, and to break into groups of four. I give the entire class a search task to complete which will involve the use of advanced search options, database directories and research guides, boolean operators (AND, OR), and phrase searching with quotation marks, which they’ve become glancingly familiar with prior to this activity. The first team to complete the task gets a point (candy, extra credit, etc), but they have to demonstrate for the class how they arrived at their search result on the classroom’s overhead.   Some of these tasks involve whittling down massive search results by whatever means they can think of, from hundreds of thousands of results, to hundreds, to a single search result. For example: “Make a search query involving ‘Shakespeare’ that yields a single search result.” Others involve using date ranges, such as “Find me the earliest mention of Stony Brook’s mascot, Wolfie, in a newspaper,” or, “Find a contemporaneous review of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, or, “Tell me something about the Long Island Railroad in 1976.” Others still are a bit more open ended, such as “Find me a weird New York State animal fact.”   I’ve done a variation of this activity later in the semester, after students have chosen their research topics and we have discussed “scholarly” and “popular” sources and Joseph Bizup’s BEAM method. Students work individually or in groups to find articles, and also to evaluate the articles in real time. I’ve found that responses tend to be interesting in what they reveal about how deeply students are thinking about the nature of the information they’re pulling, potentially for sources and evidence in their own writing. Some get very nitty-gritty with the advanced search features of a given database, others sidestep it all and wade into the morass of thousands or even millions of results for a basic query. And almost every time I do this assignment, I have a couple students who just try to use Google, which can create some problems when it comes to actually accessing an article behind an institutional paywall.  ... View more