10 Tips on How to Write Better College Essays

Advice from Students on Good Writing

Recently, I asked my students: what barriers stand between good and bad writing? What prevents them from handing in quality work?

They had a lot of good insight.  Here are four problems that they identified: 

      

      Don’t overthink sentences:

Students think writing needs to be academic, ornate, and formal.  I have no idea where they got these ideas from.  As a result, their essays can appear like a well-meaning party guest in an ill-fitting tuxedo.  They flex the binder of their virtual thesaurus (AKA Google) and pose as a sesquipedalian.  They bury the subject and the verb in the back of the sentence.  Because, well, if they wrote it like they’d say it, it’d be too causal.   That may be true.  But balance is the key.

Don’t procrastinate:

Another group of students complained that they couldn’t write unless they had an intrinsic drive, so they would just wait until the last moment.  And it’s true.  When an assignment piqued their imagination, they shined.  When they were bored, they dulled.  Many of these students confessed that they loved to write, just not the assignments and tests they receive in school.  Well, that’s understandable. But, truth be told, most people have to work for a living.  If part of your job entails writing, well, it’s contingent on other people.   Just be grateful you’re not a technical writer for a lumber company…unless of course, you work as a technical writer for a lumber company.   

What’s the solution?  Set a specific time and space to write every day.  Or, as one student noted thoughtfully – do the least savory work first. 

Revise:

Many college classes overemphasize the final draft of a paper.  In my experience, many professors will agree to read early drafts if requested, but few require multiple drafts.  And this goes for both grad school and undergrad.  As a result, students never learn the steps or strategies to good revision.  My advice – ok, ok, it’s really Roy Peter Clark’s advice – start big, then go small. In other words, focus first on structure and organization and then edit for style and grammar.  On the first point, I always advise students to re-outline their paper AFTER they have completed a first draft.  This helps capture a big picture overview of their argument and content. It helps to determine a few key factors: order of thoughts, key elements, and superfluous content.  On the second point, I advise – again, not original to me – for students to read their work aloud – emphasis on loud -- and pay attention to the moments when they stumble or sound awkward.

Don't sweat page requirements:

When some students run out of stuff to say…they just talk till they fill the required space.  So, how can you expand your ideas without producing fluff?  Use examples to help provide context to difficult ideas or elaborate on the significance of your argument.  Use conjunctions to link and expand ideas: for, and, nor, but, etc.  Use subordinate clauses to add contrast.  These are sentences that start with although, nevertheless, unless, if.  

Are you a TA or a student?  Comment and share a note about your experience as a grader…or someone being graded. 

Between Preparation and Spontaneity

Spring semester begins tomorrow.  Early.  I am teaching the same class I taught last semester: PoliSci 399 Interpretation and Methods. At the same time: 8am.   Teaching the same class twice in a row saves a lot of trouble.  There’s no need to prepare new materials from scratch.  I have a baseline of what worked and what didn’t.  I know what to expect. 

But that’s exactly where the problem lies.

I've come to really appreciate the energy that spontaneity creates in the classroom.  The uncertainty, the unexpected, the unaware – they come so easily when you’re teaching a class for the first time.  For all the prepping and planning, I often rely on ideas that strike me late at night or driving to class.  I rely on the classroom dynamic, student participation, questions and reaction. 

The recipe for a successful semester is preparation, clear learning objectives, consistent communication and execution of a plan.  But that’s like mixing up crepe batter without any milk and butter.

I've heard that no one should teach the same class more than three times: once to learn the course, once to perfect it, and once to bore of it.  

While I refined the course based on my experience last semester, I’m not thinking about how I can perfect the class.  I’m approaching it with a different attitude: I’m trying to hold open a space for the mysterious and the unknown. 

Lessons on Writing from Ben Franklin

Political Science majors dread the Junior Year Writing requirement at UMass. Even before I ever taught the class, I knew that students dreaded it.  Faculty complained about low attendance and poor year end evaluations.   Students put off the class until the last moment; others did the least amount of work possible; others grin and bear it.   But no one seems to enjoy it. 

The semester began this year, my first semester teaching the class, with a perfect reminder of the dilemma I faced.  I have a handful of returning students who have attended my classes in past.  I thought this might be a good sign.  You know, like a sign that students were excited to take a class with me.  Not quite.  In one student’s words “well, if I have to take the class, I might as well take it with you.”  So, the semester began with a reluctant concession to turn rotten wormy apples into apple sauce.  

But why?  Despite its subpar reputation, the principle behind the class is noble:  help students develop advanced writing skills tailored to a particular academic or professional community.   U.S. News & World Report even named it as one of the twenty-five “Programs that Work.” 

Still, students expect the worse and unless you can counter those expectations…well, that’s what they’ll get. In order for the class to be successful, the students need to buy into the value.  After all, the only way for them to develop “advanced writing skills” is to commit the time and energy to the craft of writing.  And that’s on them…not the teacher.

So, here’s a reminder of why writing matters for Political Science students:  

In 1729 the people of Philadelphia debated whether or not to increase the amount of paper money in the colony.   BenFranklin recounts the story in his autobiography:

“Our debates possessed me so fully of the subject that I wrote and printed an anonymous pamphlet on it, entitled “The Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency.” It was well received by the common people in general, but the rich men disliked it, for it increased and strengthened the clamor for more money; and they happening to have no writers among them that were able to answer it, their opposition slackened and the point was carried by a majority in the House.  My friends there, who considered I had been of some service, thought fit to reward me by employing me in printing the money; a very profitable job and a great help to me.  This was another advantage gained by my being able to write.”

Over the last three centuries, there have been monumental changes in communication technology (obviously).  But there is one thing that hasn’t changed: The ability to write, to connect and to communicate effects change.  It matters for politics, it matters for business and it matters for life. 

I appreciate the value of the UMass writing requirements, but they might consider investing in some good PR.  

Wikipedia in the Classroom

For two semesters in a row, students in my Intro to Political Theory and American Political Thought classes have participated in the Wikipedia Education Program. Their midterm assignment is simple: write an encyclopedia style essay with at least 10 references to be published on Wikipedia. The introduction of Wikipedia into classroom comes with a whole set of new challenges – for both me and my students – picking topics, using wiki mark-up language, new citation rules, as well as the old familiar problem: how to conduct good research. As the deadline for the assignment approaches, and the emails pile up, I am reminded of why these challenges are worth it.

The first task and the first struggle students confront is how to find a topic. The assignment breaks students’ dependence on easy answers and familiar subjects and reaffirms the value of the search.  Wikipedia offers some resources to help identify stubs and missing articles, but many times students discover ample noteworthy material by digging through Congressional records, public policy briefs and Supreme Court cases. By placing Wikipedia at the center of the assignment, it overcomes the fundamental concern that nearly all professors share: Wikipedia is NOT a source. Making Wikipedia the end, not the means, revivifies the research experience. It transforms Wikipedia from a problem to a solution.Wikipedia is always present in the classroom – whether it’s invited to attend or not. Students often draw from Wikipedia as a primary source. Too often, it is the place where research begins rather than ends and a semester rarely goes by without a minor or major case of plagiarism. Last semester, when I first introduced the Wikipedia project, a student asked: “how are we supposed to find a topic if it’s not on Wikipedia?” The Wikipedia assignment forces students out of their comfort zone. It pushes them to look beyond the easy sources and take a new approach to research (a new approach that is really an old approach). Good research begins with the search for a question.

Many of the students I meet view college as an obligation. But higher education is an extraordinary privilege. In the U.S., just 30 percent of adults over 25 have a college degree. And in the world, it’s less than 7 percent. The opportunity for education comes with the responsibility to produce and share knowledge. These are values shared among faculty and graduate students, but often ignored in undergraduate teaching. Wikipedia helps to break down the barriers between knowledge consumption and production.  It allows students to share their work with a global audience. And it helps students to cultivate the authority of authorship and become more discerning consumers and producers of information.

Students walk away from class with a deeper understanding of research. They walk away with the skills and comfort to edit, revise and add content to Wikipedia. And they walk away with the pride of publication. The Wikipedia assignment opens our classroom to the world. It gives new meaning to the work that we, as students and faculty, do in the classroom and in college.

This blog post first appeared http://blog.wikimedia.org/2012/04/02/wikipedia-in-my-classroom/ on April 2, 2012

Assembly Line Pedagogy

It’s not an accident that UMass graduate students are card-carrying members of the United Auto Workers.  That’s right, the good old UAW.  Surprised? You shouldn’t be.  Working as teaching assistant is not that different from working on an assembly line.  Actually, they’re really different.  But both require a lot of routinized, mind-numbing labor.  In my first TA appointment, I graded for 125 students.  There were two five page papers, a midterm and a final, per student.  After two years of doing this type work, I had graded thousands of college essays and developed a few thoughts about the state college writing. Most of those thoughts can be summed up by two words – not good.

Both the university (professors, administrators, teaching assistants) and the students bear responsibility.   The assembly line style grading process fails students…figuratively speaking. Honestly, not that many students really fail classes, despite sub-par assignments.   But I digress. 

There was one semester when I was responsible for 75 students.  Each student had nine papers over two pages and final examine with two essay questions.  In addition, there were 4 extra credit essay opportunities.  I graded over 825 essays in about 12 weeks.

Sure, I can assign a grade to each assignment without too much trouble.  But given the quantity, I didn’t have time to notate the essays adequately or help students improve.  You know, like, teach.  And, as usual, problems flourished: vague arguments, passive voice, run-on sentences, poor citations, and even plagiarism.  I complained to the professor half-way through the semester that there were too many assignments and that it was very difficult to give each student the attention they needed.  He said “you’re doing it wrong; each paper should take you no more than two minutes to grade.”  In other words, he literally just wanted me to assign a number to each paper. “Don’t we an ethical responsibility to the students?” I asked.  The professor shrugged his shoulders and replied “that’s just the reality of these big classes.” 

So, what’s the point of the lecture? If students can’t communicate their ideas clearly, it’s unlikely that they leave with a clear understanding of the content. 

The institution, of course, is not entirely to blame.  After all, some students procrastinate, cheat and slack, etc.   Recently, I asked my students: what barriers stand between good and bad writing? What prevents them from handing in quality work?

They had a lot of good insight.  Here are four problems that they identified: 

      

      Don’t overthink sentences:

Students think writing needs to be academic, ornate, and formal.  I have no idea where they got these ideas from.  As a result, their essays can appear like a well-meaning party guest in an ill-fitting tuxedo.  They flex the binder of their virtual thesaurus (AKA Google) and pose as a sesquipedalian.  They bury the subject and the verb in the back of the sentence.  Because, well, if they wrote it like they’d say it, it’d be too causal.   That may be true.  But balance is the key.

Don’t procrastinate:

Another group of students complained that they couldn’t write unless they had an intrinsic drive, so they would just wait until the last moment.  And it’s true.  When an assignment piqued their imagination, they shined.  When they were bored, they dulled.  Many of these students confessed that they loved to write, just not the assignments and tests they receive in school.  Well, that’s understandable. But, truth be told, most people have to work for a living.  If part of your job entails writing, well, it’s contingent on other people.   Just be grateful you’re not a technical writer for a lumber company…unless of course, you work as a technical writer for a lumber company.   

What’s the solution?  Set a specific time and space to write every day.  Or, as one student noted thoughtfully – do the least savory work first. 

Revise:

Many college classes overemphasize the final draft of a paper.  In my experience, many professors will agree to read early drafts if requested, but few require multiple drafts.  And this goes for both grad school and undergrad.  As a result, students never learn the steps or strategies to good revision.  My advice – ok, ok, it’s really Roy Peter Clark’s advice – start big, then go small. In other words, focus first on structure and organization and then edit for style and grammar.  On the first point, I always advise students to re-outline their paper AFTER they have completed a first draft.  This helps capture a big picture overview of their argument and content. It helps to determine a few key factors: order of thoughts, key elements, and superfluous content.  On the second point, I advise – again, not original to me – for students to read their work aloud – emphasis on loud -- and pay attention to the moments when they stumble or sound awkward.

Don't sweat page requirements:

When some students run out of stuff to say…they just talk till they fill the required space.  So, how can you expand your ideas without producing fluff?  Use examples to help provide context to difficult ideas or elaborate on the significance of your argument.  Use conjunctions to link and expand ideas: for, and, nor, but, etc.  Use subordinate clauses to add contrast.  These are sentences that start with although, nevertheless, unless, if.  

Are you a TA or a student?  Comment and share a note about your experience as a grader…or someone being graded. 

Worrying About What's Next...

It’s a question that comes after class or at the end of office hours. It’s a question that comes by email at the end of semester after all the grades have been posted.  And often with the hesitancy of dog bite victim perusing the pound: “So… what kind of jobs can someone get with a poli sci degree?”

I’m not sure if students hesitate because past professors have snapped at them for asking the same question, or because they anticipate the worst: there are no jobs. 

Not surprisingly – wait, scratch that -- SURPRISINGLY, the jobs question is extremely controversial.  Many professors resist describing liberal arts education in terms of utility: Education is not a means to an end; rather, it contains intrinsic, aesthetic, moral, political and unquantifiable value.  In other words, it’s the journey not the destination.   And they’re not wrong.  Liberal arts education helps people enrich their life; excite curiosity; inform political action; expand the horizons of possibility; develop important analytic skills. But still, many students have more immediate concerns: excessive debt and imminent membership with the boomerang gang.

I am at that point in my career, where I am confronting this reality head on -- the students I had as freshmen are now graduates (AKA I’m getting old).   On Saturday, I met with a former student and a recent graduate to talk about a lot of these very issues.  He’s currently unemployed and frustrated that UMass didn’t do more to help prepare him to transition.  I felt frustrated at myself that I hadn’t/couldn’t do more to help.   We spent a long time brainstorming different professional options and opportunities.  And I have a lot of faith that he will find success.  But still, I really identify with his frustration -- perhaps, because I hear the same frustrations from other students, or perhaps because it resonates a little with my own college experience.

So how can the university better prepare our graduates? The current answer: career services, advising and internship programs.  But there has to be more.  Degree programs should require students to take courses that will help students transition to the workforce.   

This semester, teaching Methods and Interpretation, I find myself in the position to help meet this need.  A section of the class requires students to practice different forms of professional writing.  I know some of my other colleagues have done the same.  As a result, we've started to move the peripheral question of utility out of the margins and closer to the center of our Political Science degree program.

What does this look like in the classroom? Last week, we started to map the variety of job opportunities and possibilities open to students with political science degrees.   It’s irrelevant to talk about a “career path.” Instead, we focused on the web that links different careers together – it’s about a network.   We talked about the interrelationship between government, political, non-profit and corporate jobs and the different opportunities to pivot from one sector to another.  We’ll continue this conversation next week and students will prepare cover letters and resumes for different entry level positions. 

My hope is that these conversations will defuse their anxiety – it already has for some.  The economy sucks, but opportunities for success abound… however you choose to define it.  I like to think that college has the potential to help students align their definition of success with their own values.  And set them on the path to achieve it.

Leave a comment below: What’s one thing that you learned, or could have learned in college, that better prepared you for your current job? 

Twitter and the Art of Prolixity

If the great Will Strunk were still alive, the current state of the English language might render him mute.  #Twitter, Txt msgs, and Facebook reward brevity.  But they often mangle language, leaving sentences and words looking like plastic yard toys in a lawn mower’s wake. 

I love social media, but what happens when social media conventions creep into the classroom? Worse yet, what do you do when they pop up in students’ writing?  A year and a half ago I taught an Intro to Political Theory class titled: Investigating Democracy.   One evening, I received a short email from a student.  The message was in all caps, followed by a string of strange and angry emoticons: HELP >:o.  His final papers didn't look much different.  This student struggled with the material – in a good way – but he also struggled to communicate his ideas.  At first, I didn't know what to make of his writing style.   But then I realized if it had been a text message or even a string of tweets, it would have made perfect sense.   

I spent a good deal of time that semester marking up drafts and helping him to bring his writing in line with traditional conventions.  It wasn't till the end of the semester that I started to consider an alternative approach.  Rather than take traditional writing conventions as a starting point, what if I started with Twitter.  In other words, is it possible to find common with students to connect and talk about good writing? After all, the skills required to craft good tweets are at least as old as…well…Strunk and White’s maxims: Prefer the active voice to the passive; avoid unnecessary words; order sentences for emphasis, etc.

Good tweets jump like a fish out of the rolling twitter stream; they provoke laughter, disgust, empathy.  But more than that, they make you want to read more.  In other words, a good tweet has the same effect as a good title, a good topic sentence, a good lead paragraph. 

This semester, teaching Methods and Interpretation, I turn back to Twitter again and again.  Before students submit their final papers, I often ask them distill their argument into 140 character tweet…with one difference: they have to use pen and paper #OldSchool.

@EdwardErikson