Three's a charm.

Although my favorite applied learning theories for writing have been cognitivism and expressivism, I recognize the value in the social constructionism camp too. After a student strengthens their individual writing “voice” (using the expressivist theory), they can strengthen that voice through revising (through the cognitivist theory), and then they can better relate their point to a specific audience (using the social constructionist theory).

My high school courses focused mostly on a social constructionism way of writing. We were often limited to a specific topic, and were rarely given permission to stretch our thoughts on paper from anything but that assigned topic. Our teachers wanted to make sure we understood the content within the classroom; they didn’t care quite as much about whether or not we had any sort of attachment to it. Writing from the expressivist view was foreign to me until I entered my first English class as a new freshman at Westminster three years ago.

In English 110, we focused first on expressivism—finding our voice, then cognitivism—revising and processing, and then finally social constructivism—writing for a specific community, while still keeping our newfound voice clear on paper.

My first assignment in Leslie Robbins’ English 110 class was a free-writing journal—writing for the sake of writing. Forget grammar, sentence structure, and format—just write. And if we had nothing to say, write until we did. And once we were done, no editing. Our first paper was a personal essay. Discovering our voice through written word seemed to be the number one goal—and what caused me to become an English minor. I don’t enjoy writing unless I feel invested in it, and this class was centered around what we each valued as individuals.

Leslie’s class was heavy on the revising process as well. On the due date of a rough draft assignment, we would bring in 3-5 copies to exchange with others. This would often frustrate me, however, because a group of 18-year-olds editing their peers’ papers hardly seemed helpful to me. Rarely did I feel that I took much from that experience, probably because most of us were still tied up in our confusing (and often incorrect), grammar-focused way of learning to feel like we could offer any real constructive criticism. After peer-edits, we had one-on-one revision time with Leslie where we were given useful feedback on structure and content. From there we were given the chance to revise a handful of times, allowing each of us to turn in a more sophisticated piece of work. Perhaps that was where the most learning occurred for me.

And then after we established a stronger writing foundation for ourselves, we were encouraged to write for a specific audience—a few of us even submitted work to the Salt Lake Tribune. It’s nice to “find your voice,” but this is the camp that allows students to do something with it.

And today, I would say the learning theories I use most are a mixture of these three (thank goodness the current traditionalist theory has been absent from my education). I feel comfortable weaving my voice in my work, while being able to gear my thoughts toward a specific group—after many, many revisions (thank you, Westminster!).

If I ever really do become a writing instructor, I am sure that I will tie in the cognitivist, expressivist, and social contructionivist learning theories, with a strong emphasis on expressivism towards the beginning. I would want my students to feel invested in their work, and like their voice has just as much power written as it does spoken.