on teaching rhetorics

Music: Collection D'Arnell Andrea: Les Marronniers Dr. Mmmmm asked me if I would share my ideas about teaching rhetorical theory and criticism in the form of a blog entry, so here goes. He asked a series of questions as prompts, divided into the categories of criticism and theory. For criticism, he says that "I'm assuming there are several models for doing criticism: survey of methods, workshop of critical practice, semester-long project (step-by-step model), narrow view of rhetorical texts versus a broad view, read lots of criticism versus do lots of criticism. I'd love to hear what you (and others) think about what works best for what size of class and what type of student." In respect to theory, Dr. Mmmmmm asked " Do you prefer the huge historical overview or some other model? Do you even know of any resources devoted to pedagogy of rhetorical studies?" I'll mull down the divide.

ON TEACHING RHETORICAL CRITICISM

I think the central problem of teaching rhetorical criticism—like teaching composition!—is avoiding the appearance of "magic." I think the close-textual reading tradition of my field encourages a kind of Romanticism or occultism whereby the teacher of criticism ends up teaching a kind of "do you see what I see?" approach, which ultimately deifies the Rhetorical Critic as some sort of occult master, revealing textual secrets by "penetrating" or "vibrating against" the text. I tire of the mysticism approach to criticism (and I especially tire of folks in the field who reject my work because I bring "too much theoretical presupposition" to bear on my readings of texts, e.g., Marxism, psychoanalytic theory, etc.). So how not to seem like a magician teaching magicians—how to avoid the Hogwarts' approach to criticism—is the pickle.

My own classes in rhetorical criticism at the master's and at the Ph.D. level were taught as a sort of "workshop of critical practice," where we did a series of smaller papers, and then tried to synthesize them into one big term paper at the end. My master's level introduction to rhetorical criticism was taught by R.L. Scott, and he used Critiques of Contemporary Rhetoric by Karlyn Kohrs Campbell and Thomas A. Berkholder as a textbook. This book advances what KKC and Burkholder term an "organic approach" to rhetorical criticism, which is a fancy way of saying the virtuoso/magical approach, but fortunately, they do provide some steps. Basically, it's phenomenological hermeneutics: first you pick an object to analyze. Then, you write a description of the object (structure and style). Then you write a short paper that contextualizes the object (history, etc.). Then you write a paper that details a theoretical approach that you think will help to unfold the inner-secrets of the object. Then you write a paper that analyzes the miraculated/Edenic text, and so on.

My Ph.D. seminar in rhetorical criticism was with Karlyn, and she used a series of articles culled from the field (mostly from the Western Journal of Speech and from the Quarterly Journal of Speech). Like with Scott, we wrote a series of papers. Unlike Scott's class, though, we didn't share these papers with the class, we just wrote them outside of the course, which, basically, was a "survey of methods" sort of class. But Campbell's survey was taught via exemplars, so, we would read a genre criticism and then tease out the methodological approach implicit in that criticism (as opposed to reading a method-theory and then seeing it applied; the class approached method inductively). I recall with some vividness the most boring approach ever was the ideographic criticism stuff (the best work I've seen done with the ideograph is by my colleague Dana Cloud, by the way; although they are brilliant, if I have to ever read Lucaites and Condit's Crafting Equality again I'll gouge out my eyes).

Anyhoo, all in all, my courses in rhetorical criticism were lessons in what I call "textual occultism" or phenomenology if you want: let the text tell you how best to disclose or reveal its secrets. It's a frustrating way to learn criticism, but it is also the dominant way in which criticism is done and valued in NCA-style rhetorical studies (or at least that's my perception), or at least among the public address crowd.

Frankly, I think teaching criticism the magical way at the undergraduate level would be a disaster, because students at that level have yet to develop a strong tolerance of ambiguity and uncertainty. Teaching criticism at the undergraduate level does benefit from the series-of-papers approach, but not without, well, a good dose of the "cookie cutter." Now, Campbell has written a textbook that attempts to teach the "organic" or occultic method at the undergraduate level, and it's titled The Rhetorical Act. I've used this book in argumentation and advanced public speaking classes with some success, but I don't know how helpful it would be for "rhetorical criticism" proper, because the book is divided between criticism and invention. Another book that I've used, at the wise suggestion of Michael Bowman, and with a better degree of success, is Michael Real's Exploring Media Culture, which is a media criticism methods survey book. Students like it, and his examples are from pop culture. This is a good text for a more cultural-studies oriented approach to criticism, though it suffers from the lack of "workshop" structure. It is an excellent text, though, on critical thinking by way of Madonna.

One very popular textbook for teaching rhetorical criticism in our field is Sonya K. Foss' Rhetorical Criticism: Exploration and Practice, which is in its umpteenth edition. Among rhetorical studies folks, this book is often routinely criticized for advancing a "cookie cutter" approach by reducing various methodological approaches into "steps" on can follow (e.g., first you do this, and then that, and then that). In a sense, Campbell's rhetorical criticism texts can be understood as the other end of the continuum between cookie cutting and mysticism (indeed, I would go even so far as to suggest she wrote them in response to Foss—but I haven't confirmed this yet). Truth be told, though, I'm ambivalent: on the one hand, undergraduates love Foss' book because it is so clear and easy to read, and there's nothing romantic or mysterious about the process. On the other hand, I recognize criticism is an "art" and cannot be taught as a theory-then-slap-onto-discrete object, if only because objects are dynamic.

So, I guess the question for me is how would I teach a rhetorical criticism class to undergraduates? I think I personally would go with Foss' book for one reason: it makes rhetoric appear less scary, and it is more likely to encourage critical thinking. Foss' textbook is for beginners and should be understood in that context! Depending on the size of the class, I would teach the course with Foss differently. If it were a small class, I would teach the "workshop" way like Campbell does, writing a series of papers that try on different hats and approaches (and in this scheme, Foss' book would step in at the "theoretical approach" level), but not assigning the Campbell text. If it were a larger class, I'd teach the Foss book and supplement it with examples from the field, and then have students do mini-papers and exercises with each approach that are easy to grade, and then, have them select their favorite "method" and use it for a term paper at the end of the semester.

Truth be told, though, I don't think rhetorical criticism should be taught at the undergraduate level—only at the Master's and Ph.D. level. Why? Because rhetorical criticism is an art shot through with disciplinary politics. Indeed, there's so much politics behind the practice that I daresay doing a rhetorical criticism is somewhat of a tip-toe-through-the-mine-field maneuver if you're thinking about publication. All this lip-service to "doing good work" as the only standard is just bullshit. One has to know, for example, that genre criticism was a theoretical compromise dreamed up to bring the close-textual critics and the theory-wonks together, and that if you do one, you're announcing at least tacitly an allegiance to neither side (or to a largely panned and "failed" approach, which is wrong, but that's what some folks think!). Undergrads don't need to know that stuff. So I think they are better served learning "criticism" in general, and hence, I recommend Real's media criticism text.

TEACHING RHETORIAL THEORY

I have much more definite ideas about teaching rhetorical theory. I've seen theory taught as topic-bound and as a historical survey. I've seen folks teach it in terms of "invention" and concepts, and in terms of "obstacles to developing a persuasive message." At the graduate level, I think rhetorical theory is best taught depending on the needs of the graduate students. If they have had an introduction to rhetorical theory (e.g., if they've read Aristotle before), then I think it's best to adapt the class to pressing rhetorical problems (e.g., how do we conceptualize the audience? What is the status of the rhetorical situation? and so on). If graduate students have not had a survey before, however, then I would offer a survey class. I'm not certain, but I believe all graduate students have the opportunity to take an MA-level survey of rhetorical theory with Barry every other year here.

At the undergraduate level, I'm a firm believer in the historical survey over and above the conceptual orientation. Again, the reason has to do with the low tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty that is typical of the communication studies undergraduate (and, I have to admit, this is in large part a consequence of the social scientific wing of the field, whose classes are taught for mastery and with easy-to-read textbooks): when one is learning about the rhetorical tradition for the first time, there's simply a ton of information to digest, and much of this information repeats the social constructivism party-line. In my experience, Hegelian progressivism aside, undergraduates have a better sense of the tradition if it is taught historically, beginning with the Sophists and moving toward the twentieth century. It's simply easier to remember (and to memorize) when you know Aristotle came before St. Augustine, and that kairos is not a concept that developed in the 1970s. I also think students get a kick out of learning how relevant those ancients are to today's rhetoric (e.g., Augustine's musings about rhetoric are very relevant to persuasion today—"preaching to the converted" is our contemporary malaise).

Now, I've had some disagreements with colleagues about what texts should be assigned: some argue for primary texts; others, for conceptual digestions; and others, for a combination of both. There are textbooks aplenty for each of these approaches, but I have always assigned primary text collections, and in part, this is because such collections are also organized historically. To date I've always used Bizzell and Herzberg's The Rhetorical Tradition, and it's a massive tome that students love to complain about (there was always that book in college; mine was one on constitutional law). My reasoning for teaching primary texts is that it is college level reading, bi-gosh! I always begin my theory class by stating (after my teacher, Karlyn Kohrs Campbell) that most textbooks are written for the eighth grade level, and that they are about to do college level reading and that it'd good for them. I explain that reading tough materials is good for all sorts of reasons, but the upshot is that I’m teaching them to be curious and to give up trying to "master" texts—that although mastery is better for math and science, it is a bad goal for critical thinking and the negotiation of ethics. So my choice of the primary texts collection is built on a sort of "humility of the text" gesture, I guess.

Next spring I'm teaching this survey class again, and I'll be assigning Barry Brummett's Reading Rhetorical Theory, which is also a collection of primary texts. The reason is this: the Bizzell and Herzberg text has rather lengthy introductions to each reading, with lots of biographical information and outlines of the argument. What has been happening is that students are reading these introductions and not reading the primary text. Barry's book doesn't have these introductions—and the cuttings are a much shorter. So I'm going to try it out.

Anyway, I do find that the historical survey approach to rhetorical theory helps them to hang all these names on something (that is, chronology). The time-line image of thought helps them avoid confusing Aristotle with Isocrates and Plato, and so on. It's also a class most students find difficult but say, at the end, that they found rewarding as well.

One day I may simply get bored or tired of teaching rhetorical theory this way, but for the time being, its what I prefer. I'd be interested in hearing about how others teach this stuff too!