disabling writing, in a good way
This recent blog post comes from N. Renuka Uthappa (firstname.lastname@example.org), a Ph.D. student at Wayne State University in Detroit. Uthappa is a scholar whose personal experience “puts her firmly within the medical model of mental illness at the same time as that model faces what seems like a fair amount of resistance within the disability community that deals with mental illness. (Catherine Prendergast notes in an essay that she feels awkward explaining that she considers schizophrenia a disease in the face of her own ‘post-structuralist leanings.’ She worries that her opinion “makes me sound at best conservative and at worst, theoretically unsound.”)”
I look forward to posting more, and as always, contact me at email@example.com if you’re interested in being a guest blogger for the site, or would like to joint the DS-Rhet listserv. —Dev
“Like you, I wear many hats in my life. I am a Ph.D. student, a teacher, a wife, a sister, etc. But I’m here today talking to you because I am a person with a mental illness, specifically bipolar mood disorder.” This is the way I have been starting the presentations I give to high school psychology classrooms as part of my membership in a local group known as the Speakers Bureau. Made up of people with a variety of mental illnesses, the Bureau seeks to “put a face on mental illness, developmental disabilities, and substance abuse to overcome stigma and discrimination by sharing successful stories of hope and recovery.” I joined the group in order to research their rhetorical efforts from the inside and to contribute to their fight against stigma.
In the course of my initial research into disability, disability and rhetoric, and the particular rhetorics of mental illness, I find myself in a tricky position. I am steeped in the medical model of mental illness, a model not much in favor outside the mainstream. My decades long acceptance of the psychiatric assessment of a chemical imbalance in my brain and a genetic predisposition to mental illness, as well as my use of medication to successfully treat what I view as a biological illness place me in opposition to at least certain aspects of the consumer/survivor/ex-patient (c/s/x/) model of mental illness.
In her chapter of James Wilson and Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson’s collection, Embodied Rhetorics: Disability in Language and Culture, Catherine Prendergast states: “For an academic such as myself with generally poststructuralist leanings, to think of schizophrenia as a “disease” makes me sound at best conservative and at worst theoretically unsound.” I can understand her concern. As a fledgling disability and rhetoric scholar, how can I acknowledge and stay open to the well-argued viewpoints of the c/s/x or Mad Pride movement while still living within my conviction that I have a disease that requires specifically medical intervention? How can I say a simple “No!” to their contention that states of what they call “mental distress” represent ways of being on the spectrum of human existence or even natural responses to external factors such as modern isolation or materialism?
At a Speakers Bureau workshop about how to craft one’s story of mental illness, the leader cautioned the group, “Don’t promote broken brain theory.” When I asked her about this statement later, she brought up the idea that certain “states of being” can be considered life experiences rather than “symptoms” and noted that there are varying opinions as to what mental illness is. Is it a medical illness, she asked, or a part of living? Her commentary raised my hackles. I found myself wanting to argue against the idea that mental illness could be considered just another way of being. This idea rang false against my experience of both mania and especially depression, where I found the depth of sadness and hopelessness absolutely incommensurate with anything going on in the outside world. Given that the ultimate endpoint of untreated depression for many is suicide, I found this new (to me), alternative perspective frustrating.
Later on, I told the workshop leader that my experience of deep depression had been incommensurate with anything going on in my life and asked “Doesn’t that suggest that the cause must be biological?” She replied “The purists would say you had not looked hard enough for a source for your sadness.” Slap! We let the matter rest there, but inside I was seething, not at the group leader, who I respected and liked, but at the “purists” who would dare lay their interpretation over my crystal clear experience. (It has not escaped my attention that I am doing the same thing to their experiences!)
Those experiences, I know, have included the reality that people with mental illness diagnoses can in many states be involuntarily hospitalized and legally forced to take medication. I can only imagine the terrifying experience of being forced into a hospital against my will or the frustration of having to take medications in a similar fashion. On the other hand, as someone who worked at one time providing supportive services for mentally ill adults living independently in the community, I have seen instances of very negative personal results when people suddenly stop taking their medications. And I have seen the positive results that hospitalization can sometimes provide once it helps a severely ill person stabilize.
I am hoping the existence of multiple views about the ontology of mental illness does not require me to decide on an absolute definition. In some ways, at present, it seems to come down to a sense of how experiences influence one’s sense of identity. Because I have had mostly good experiences within the medical model, and because it makes sense to me, I use the term “mental illness” and identify as a “person with a mental illness.” This phrase attempts to put distance between my “self,” or my essence, and my medical condition. The more I read, however, (Susan Gabel, thank you for “Depressed and disabled: some discursive problems with mental illness.”), the more I find myself open to questioning my current sense of identity. Thanks for the great scholarship, everyone, and I look forward to any and all responses to this, my first ever blog!
Fellow Disab Rhet people –
Wanted to let you know that the article I wrote with Lisa Meloncon based on
the disability data from the 2010-2013 Faculty Surveys of the CCCC Committee
on Online Writing Instruction was awarded the 2015 Distinguished Publication
Award from the Association for Business Communication. The article is
broadly targeted at Composition Studies community.
We will be in Seattle at the annual conference of ABC to accept the award
and give a presentation on it. While the article gives a shout out to you
all, it’s important for me to say thank you once again because it’s the
collegiality and the smart crip conversations we always have that inspire
this sort of scholarship. Many thanks to each of you.
Sage, which publishes the Journal of Business and Technical Communication
has made the article open access. Simply go here: http://jbt.sagepub.com/
the red box will link you to the download for, “Paying Attention to
Accessibility When Designing Online Courses in Technical and Professional
Hope you all are wrapping up lovely and restorative summers,
We have had some updates in disability studies. Brenda Brueggemann has published an extensive list of disability themed issues in academic journals from 1993 to now. The list is available on the Resources page under Bibliographies. See also this guest blog from Allison Hitt, who works at Syracuse University. Hitt’s website, Accessing Rhetoric, is available here.
I look forward to posting more, and as always, contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you’re interested in being a guest blogger for the site, or would like to joint the DS-Rhet listserv. —Dev
This post comes to us from guest bloggers Lauren Cagle (email@example.com) and Ellie Browning (firstname.lastname@example.org) from the University of South Florida. To share the Guide on listservs and emails, please distribute this link: http://www.ncte.org/library/NCTEFiles/Groups/CCCC/Convention/2015/Accessibility-Guide.pdf.
Each year for the Conference on College Composition and Communication, local volunteers put together an Accessibility Guide to support conference attendees as they make their travel and presentation plans. This year, we’re particularly proud of the Accessibility Guide, which was produced by the largest group to date of local collaborators: two Accessibility Committee co-chairs and four volunteer members. All 39 pages of the Guide are packed with information and photographs designed to help you make informed choices about your trip to Tampa.
The Guide features accessibility information about:
Other sections of the Accessibility Guide address the secondary conference hotels and downtown amenities, such as drugstores, restaurants, and support group meetings.
We ask for your help in sharing the Accessibility Guide as widely as possible. We also encourage you to spread accessibility by using the resources at https://disabilityrhetoric.com/access/ to make your CCCC presentation, poster, or workshop accessible.
Our contact information is available in the Accessibility Guide, and we encourage you to contact us via email.
Here’s to an accessible CCCC, and we look forward to meeting you in Tampa!
Guest blogger Emily Michael contributes this post. Emily is an adjunct writing instructor at the University of North Florida. Read more about Emily at her blog.
Voices in Error: Counting against Competence
Before I begin teaching in any classroom, I must tailor the environment to my specific needs. I secure my guide dog to the sturdy teacher’s desk, turn off three of the four lightswitches, and run my hand along the chalk tray to find the eraser and black dry- erase markers. I shuffle the blue and green markers to the end of the tray where I won’t confuse them with the colors I prefer. I move the desk chair from behind the bulky computer table and place it near the short, unadorned desk – careful not to disturb my dog, who lies underneath with a toy.
After the first course meeting, the novelty of my daily accommodations diminishes. Students welcome the dimmed lighting and rarely forget to submit assignments in large print. Only two features of the routine elicit regular comments – the guide dog and the whiteboard. From their seats, students fill the last minutes before class with variations on this theme:
“Your dog is so cute. I wish we could pet him.”
“I just love your dog – I’ve told my friends about him!”
Those who approach my desk repeat these sentiments, usually adding, “Your dog is sniffing me; he probably smells my cats.”
The second topic receives a disproportionate amount of conversation.
“Ms. Michael, the board is covered in writing.”
“Yeah, it looks like a bunch of equations.”
Here, I insert some grumbling about professors who don’t erase their work, and my students laugh. They ask if I want help erasing the mess, and I refuse: “Just direct me and I’ll erase it.”
This request generates unparalleled class participation as students call out, “Left, no your left! A little further down, okay stop! Back and forth right there, now over right. The last bit is high up, almost at the top of the board. You got it. All clean.” Because the board is so often covered in half-erased material, I’ve learned to ask if I have a clean surface before uncapping my black marker. Students answer readily – occasionally imitating a GPS: “In two inches, erase left.”
In my first months of teaching, I would have called this collaboration generous: I assumed that my students would read a request for help as a sign of my incompetence. I expected my students to measure my authority by everyday difficulties – reading pencil or blue pen, seeing raised hands, performing a quick head-count, recognizing faces. Now, entering my seventh semester as a part-time writing instructor, I recognize that these seeming glitches have become part of my classroom management, minor features of a holistic learning experience.
As an adjunct instructor at a state university, I design my courses within a programatic range of expectations. My department chooses textbooks, grading schemes, and assessment procedures; I fine-tune the day-to-day schedule and assignment prompts. While I don’t mind teaching a course where themes, texts, and learning outcomes are already determined, I am less willing to engage with certain assessment practices. As an academic subordinate, I can assert little control over the assessment methods my department chooses, but as a disability advocate, I experience a conflict when I am asked to monitor and medicalize the writings of my students.
My department uses a series of aculturalist rubrics for assessing student work, and these rubrics, like any pervasive grading scheme, color the perspectives of their most frequent handlers: students, faculty, and peer tutors. The most formulaic rubric addresses mechanics through error-counting: professors calculate a student’s score based on the number of errors per page. Although the rubric localizes grammatical correctness, the impartial counting catalyses a perspective of diagnosis and repair, a sense of “correcting and perfecting.”
It is this idealistic vision of students’ writing that bothers me. Each day, I offer my students a visible interaction with disability – guide dog, dark glasses, large print, braille labels. In my classroom, disability is not a taboo subject, and I welcome students’ respectful inquiries outside of class. When I grade their work, I must adopt the counting rubric and the curing pen; my comments and calculations must rehabilitate the broken writing in front of me. Grading within this pre-assigned framework, I feel awkward, ashamed, robotic – as if my normalizing efforts on the page discredit my individualistic teaching in the classroom.
The error-counting rubric dehumanizes my students, taking stock of their nonstandard grammar and stripping them of rhetorical power. In a course that prioritizes the understanding of rhetorical situations, this rubric denies the force that enables rhetoric itself: context. If a student repeats the same typo seven times throughout the essay, (the unfortunate occurrence of “common spice” instead of “comma splice” or the phonetic interpretation of Seeing Eye Dog as “see and eye dog”), the rubric counts each iteration as a new error. Rather than noticing a pattern that indicates some personal feature of a student’s work, the rubric searches for arbitrary, non-hierarchical flaws. Defects compiled without context – this is indeed a bleak vision of our students’ abilities. No wonder some colleagues stand by their cynicism: “ A punitive approach to grammar is the only way to make students care about their work.”
Again, my activist voice pipes up, sounding small and naive in my own head: I want to know what drives a professor to teach such careless, error-strewing wretches. If this is the vision we have of our students, why do we remain at our posts? I find it frightening to believe that my colleagues choose these practices to treat, to perfect, to normalize with so little regard for the unique voices already in place in their classrooms.
While my students look to me for guidance, I cannot perform such standardizing practices without reflection; my red pen stalls over the fourth missing apostrophe, the third dangling modifier. Foremost among my favorite errors is the word used “incorrectly” – usually a Latinate word deployed in a sense I don’t recognize. Before I search the OED, I want to know what language(s) the writer speaks, what books she reads. As cognitive scientists unravel the brain’s complex grammar processing, a nonsensical sentence functions like a work of art – daring me to examine how I create meaning.
Error-counting leaves no room for these inquiries. Each misplaced comma is an intolerable deviation. Textual bodies must be repaired before we can admit their human creators into our class of “professional communicators.” With rigorous defect-spotting, students learn to repudiate their own difference, coding the presence of grammatical errors as “being a bad writer.”
I do not rail against the teaching of grammar or the value of proofreading. But even our most timeless standards are situated among a chorus of cultural biases. I find hostility in a system that condemns difference for its own sake. As part of a larger conversation, students must be allowed to respond to our counting.
One of the best aspects of being a part of this community is learning with and from such tremendous colleagues. People working at the Disability Studies/Rhet-Comp nexus are producing fantastic work right now (as I hope we showcased in our last blog). This blog entry showcases one particular scholar whose work intersects the areas of technology, accessibility, and disability. If you don’t know his work already, you should!
Sushil K. Oswal is a Technical Communication faculty member in the School of Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences at the University of Washington-Tacoma as well as faculty of Disability Studies at the University of Washington-Seattle. He is a former Taft Fellow and the winner of C.R. Anderson Award for his Environmental Communication research in the area of environmental technology applications in the research and development division of a Japanese-owned company. As a driving voice in our field, his work has addressed faculty access and accommodations, accessibility issues for visually impaired students, design problems in learning management systems employed by higher education, self-service kiosks in the banking industry, and the development of best practices in online writing instruction. He is the accessibility architect and co-author of the College Composition and Communication Conference’s 2013 “Position Statement of Principles and Example Effective Practices for Online Writing Instruction (OWI)” http://www.ncte.org/library/NCTEFiles/Groups/CCCC/OWIPrinciples.pdf, which should be required reading for all writing program administrators and instructors aiming to thoughtfully engage accessibility as they design online curricula.
One of his publications, “Ableism,” a part of collaborative project under the banner of “Multimodality in Motion” for Kairos http://kairos.technorhetoric.net/18.1/coverweb/yergeau-et-al/index.html, offers both a demonstration and an invitation for multimodal rhetoric informed by disability. At the 2014 Computers and Writing Conference in Pullman, Washington, the Computers and Composition Digital Press presented the Accessibility and Digital Composition Award to this project. His chapter on E-portfolios also received an honorable mention from the same sponsor.
Dr. Oswal is presently working on a cross-Atlantic project with colleagues in the United Kingdom on the topic of “Avoidance in the Academy” which aims at critiquing the ways the contemporary university compulsively ignores disability by making it invisible through its ableist policies and structures while simultaneously tolerating the presence of its disabled members to avoid legal and social complications. So we’ll have that work to look forward to…
In addition to his scholarship, Sushil maintains an invaluable presence at our flagship conference (CCCC), sharing research ideas at the Standing Group for Disability Studies meetings and providing service and critical insight to the Committee on Disability Issues in College Composition (CDICC). Beyond CCCC, he sits on the Disability Committee of the Council for Writing Program Administration and consults in the area of digital technology and accessibility with industry. We invite you to engage his work and cruise through the suggested reading list we’ve provided below. Sushil is also open to being contacted if you have questions, comments, or just want to introduce yourself to a fellow colleague. He can be e-mailed at email@example.com
Big thanks to Sushil for his willingness to participate in this showcase and for his contributions to our field. We wish everyone happy reading!
Tara & Hilary
“Participatory Design: Barriers and Possibilities.” Communication Design Quarterly 2.3 (June 2014).
“Paying Attention to Accessibility and Disability in Technical and Professional Communication Online Course Design.” Journal of Business and Technical Communication (October 2014).
“Access to Digital Library Databases in Higher Education: Design Problems and Infrastructural Gaps.” WORK: A Journal of Prevention, Assessment & Rehabilitation (July 2014).
“Faculty Members, Accommodation, and Access in Higher Education”, Co-Authored with Stephanie Kerschbaum, et. al. Profession. (December 2013).
Book Review, The Online Writing Conference: A Guide for Teachers and Tutors, by Beth L. Hewett, Composition Studies 41.2 (Fall 2013): 3.
“Multimodality in Motion: Ableism.” Kairos: A Journal of Rhetoric, Technology, and Pedagogy 18.1 (August 2013).
“Accessible ePortfolios for Visually-Impaired Users: Interfaces, Designs and Infrastructures.” In K. V. Wills, & R. Rice (Eds.), Eportfolio Performance Support Systems: Constructing, Presenting, and Assessing
Portfolios. Anderson, SC: Parlor Press. (2013): 133-151.
“Exploring Accessibility as a Potential Area of Research for Technical Communication: A Modest Proposal.” Communication Design Quarterly 1.4, (August 2013): 50-60.
“Accessibility Challenges for Visually Impaired Students and their Online Writing Instructors.” In Lisa Meloncon (Ed.), Rhetorical Accessibility: At the Intersection of Technical
Communication and Disability Studies. Amityville, NY: Baywood Publishing Company, Inc. (2013): 135-155.
“A Position Statement of Principles and Example Effective Practices for Online Writing Instruction (OWI)”, Co-Authored with the Committee of Conference on College Composition and Communication for Best Practices in Online Writing Instruction. Digital Publication at
There is so much going on in Disability Rhetoric these days, our list of things to watch/read/listen to seems almost never-ending. But in an exciting way, of course! This post is meant to share a few recent items that we’re suggesting should be on your list as well (if they aren’t already). First, Dev Bose has been working tirelessly at updating the Disability Rhetoric site, so please take some time to cruise around the various pages and see what’s new. Let us (Tara Wood, Hilary Selznick, Dev Bose) know if there is anything you’d like to add or any ideas you have for enhancing the site.
Second, 2014 has been an exciting year for books that focus on the intersections of rhetoric, disability, and writing studies. Here are a few highlights:
Several articles should also be mentioned:
In addition to these publications, the following recent presentations are available to view:
In addition to the books and presentations listed above, Emily Clark recently reviewed Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson Jen Cellio’s Disability and Mothering: Liminal Spaces of Embodied Knowledge for JAC 34.1/2; Elizabeth Brewer reviewed Jay Dolmage’s Disability Rhetoric for DSQ 34.2; and Amy Vidali reviewed Stephanie Kerschbaum’s book Toward a New Rhetoric for DSQ 34.3. And speaking of DSQ, they recently put out a call for a multidisciplinary editorial team.
Finally, we’d like to mention the fantastic work of one of Amy Vidali’s graduate students, Marissa Michael who put together a website focusing on first-year composition and disability studies. http://disabilitystudiesincomposition.wordpress.com
The work we’re highlighting here is by no means exhaustive; it represents our efforts to applaud, amplify, and share the tremendous quality of work produced by/in this research community. And we want to know what you’re up to! Let us know what you have on your disability to do-list, whether it’s something we should read, a site we should visit, or a talk we can listen to!
Tara & Hilary
Hi all! As you may or may not know, I’m stepping into the role of co-chair (along with Amy Vidali) of the Standing Group on Disability Studies. Part of this role entails coordinating the mentoring program, which is set up for scholars, teachers, and researchers interested in cultivating productive and supportive relationships between those of us vested in the intersections of disability and rhetoric. Many of us often feel a bit isolated as the only “disability studies” person in our departments and connecting with the wonderful group of DS/rhet comp can create a sense community.
In my own experience as a mentee, I cannot begin to describe the absolute pleasure of having someone who “gets it” respond to my work, not to mention the added (and perhaps even more crucial) benefit of tapping someone outside the confines of my own campus to offer me advice on navigating the often lonely and murky waters of graduate school survival. Although our mentor-mentee relationships are not meant to be hierarchical by nature, I found it very helpful to consult my mentor about the job market, about completing large-scale research projects, and about balancing my various academic and personal roles. She’d been there, done that!
I know that Amy has also loved working in a more peer-to-peer capacity, where she can get feedback on her work and provide feedback for her “mentee.”
We’d love to keep this program growing, hearty, and vibrantly demonstrating our community’s shared values of collaboration, connectedness, and interdependence. So if you are interested in becoming either a mentor or a mentee, please send an email to Tara Wood at firstname.lastname@example.org
Our long-standing “Special Interest Group” (SIG) in Disability Studies, through CCCC, became the CCCC Standing Group in Disability Studies (SGDS) at the beginning of Summer 2013. This means that we have a “sponsored panel” each year at CCCC, a regular meeting time (as we had before), and standing status (so we don’t have to re-apply each year). Here is the SGDS description and the bylaws.
We also have a new co-Chair of the group, Tara Wood, and a new Elections Officer, Dale Katherine Ireland. Amy Vidali is staying on as co-Chair (hello!) and Margaret Price is rotating out, though we won’t let her go very far! The next election will be after CCCC in 2014, so stay tuned!
The disability discussions spawned at CCCC continue!
You can also find some papers on disability-related topics at CCCC at the NCTE Connected Community (head to “Libraries” and then the link titled “2013 CCCC Annual Convention,” then skim through – thanks for the tip Stephanie K.!).