Oh boy, these posts always turn out longer than I want them to be

I have always struggled with directive vs. non-directive tutoring, especially when working with ELLs. I've been at our Writing Center for years now, and it rarely gets any easier. Like Elise mentioned in their post, there are still professors who take points off for the smallest grammar mistakes. Some of them treat all students like this, and some of them unfairly target ELLs. When our assistant director hears about these professors, he has a strategy for dealing with them. He likes to take them out for coffee. They will usually start with a casual, friendly discussion, and then he gives them The Talk, which is essentially just a subtle interrogation. Always very polite and diplomatic, of course. Always. Absolutely no subdued threats. Nope. Absolutely never.

Clearly, we can get very protective of our students. We hear their stories. We are part of their lives. We talk to them about their pet lizards and we help them charge their laptops. Sometimes we are the only ones who will listen to them. We care about their voices and their creativity and their relationship with writing. However, if a student wants desperately to work on grammar and only grammar, I won't argue with them. I can't ignore that. They come to us for a reason, and that's because they want help. Like Elise says, we can't just march down to these professors' offices. We can't just magically fix institutional racism and the hierarchy of academia. We're just student tutors, and we can only try our best.

I do fight, though. In small ways. I give students the tools they need to be confident writers. I try not to just fix their grammar and call it a day. (Sometimes this does happen, and it's okay. In these moments I have to remind myself that I didn't fail them entirely.) I try to subtly explain grammar rules in ways that make sense to them. If there's time. If they want to know. I tell them why the rules exist. I explain homophones and laugh with them helplessly when they throw their hands up in the air in frustration. English is hard! I always remind them that it doesn't make them stupid if they're struggling with it. I still never feel entirely confident in my own grammar abilities as a native English speaker, and I'm not sure I ever will. I tell them what I would want to be told. When I don't know something, I will ask someone else, and then we will explain it to them together.

It's really hard to watch the students that scold themselves for the smallest mistakes. After years of damaging, unhelpful instruction, they hear a small correction and feel worthless. They feel like failures. They apologize. Sometimes it makes my heart clench, and my hands form fists under the table, and I want to straight up punch a random student's old elementary school teacher in the face. But I know they can unlearn the hateful perception they have of their own writing. That's why I always try to give students the resources they need to take the power back. It's always possible to tame the beast that is English, if you can learn the tricks. It's always possible to make it seem less scary.

So this is how I justify correcting grammar. I do prefer a more non-directive approach with the majority of students, phrasing my suggestions like questions, trying to make it seem like the student is figuring things out for themselves with only a little prodding from me... which they often are. In this way, I am totally utilizing the teaching style that Delpit is criticizing here. If I can sense that a student needs more direction, I'll step up, but I've never really liked confrontation. I do sometimes really like being the Chill Tutor Buddy who gives fist bumps and says things like "grammar SUCKS, kiddos!" I like being a friend.

Sometimes Chill Tutor Buddy is just what a student needs, but it isn't helpful in every situation. As I've learned to be more confident in my abilities, I have stopped associating directive tutoring with confrontation and aggressiveness. Many students want to be told what to do, and need to be told what to do. Last year, I had weekly appointments with a student. She is one of the coolest, funniest girls I have ever met. She had traumatic associations with writing, like a lot of ELLs, but after getting really comfortable with me, she would sometimes get a little lazy. We would agree on what she needed to finish before our next appointment, and then she wouldn't listen, breezing in later and asking me to fix everything as quickly as possible. Eventually, I learned to tell her no. I was always willing to help her with grammar, but I'm not a line editing machine. I would have to say things like, "We've gone through this concept five times. You know how to do this. Tell me what you remember. Tell me why this is important. You're going to need to know how to do this later, and not just for this class." She would sigh loudly, sass me like always, and then get to work.

For me, speaking to a student like this is only acceptable if I know them pretty well, but I completely agree with Delpit when she says that "The answer is to accept students but also to take responsibility to teach them" (292). I wouldn't have felt helpful if I let this student push me around. Sure, she would have gotten what she wanted: a quick grammar fix. But she needed more. I feel like it's important to note here that I never forced her into it - she started getting really excited about her growing knowledge of grammar rules, even when she claimed she was too tired to think about that stuff. Don't get me wrong, I kind of despise grammar. I hate all the rules. They can be satisfying to unpack, but I never really enjoy it. Like Delpit, I believe in "a diversity of style." When she discusses this culture of power, though, she wants to make it clear that she isn't talking about how she thinks things should be, but how they are.

I really like this piece, and I especially love this line: "I prefer to be honest with my students. Tell them that their language and cultural style is unique and wonderful but that there is a political power game that is also being played, and if they want to be in on that game there are certain games they too must play."(292). Institutional racism is everywhere. It's kind of in the name. It's super fucked up. But this is how I always feel as a writing center consultant. I'm not even an actual teacher, but I care about these students a lot. I care enough to realize how much help they need navigating the academic world. They have to play the game, even when the game isn't fair.

In my last blog post, I begrudgingly gave Bartholomae the benefit of the doubt, and after reading Delpit's piece this week, I feel more confident in my opinions. I strongly believe that ELLs and other students need to be on a level standing with everyone else in this power struggle, if they want to find their success and make real change. All I can do as a tutor is help, and stay patient and humble, and tell them what they need to hear, even if it isn't always what they want to hear. I can fight the bigger fight somewhere else. I always have to remind myself that being an anarchist in this particular setting isn't always what's best for the students. I would love to burn down the establishment, but I gotta pick my battles.

My regular from last year doesn't come in anymore, and I do actually really miss her. I hope she's taking what she learned into the world with confidence.