The Magic Show by Bev Santo

Harry Houdini drapes the purple satin tent over Babu the elephant and “whoosh”. Gone. Vanished. The audience gasps, children squeal, even the cynical gape.  An illusion of course, but the rare observer can deconstruct how the magic happened. In another 30 seconds the purple satin tent descends from the rafters and as it touches down on the stage the intake of held breath is audible. The now visible Babu stands smiling and swinging her trunk toward the crowd.

How has the magician created the illusion that Babu can appear and disappear before the wide open eyes of the audience? How is it we can look for the jar of peanut butter in the refrigerator and not see it sitting directly in front of us on the top shelf? When, where, and how do we hone our ability to perceive, to see, to observe? What if we could refine this ability to see what is directly in front of us? What if the capacity for keen observation described by Malcolm Gladwell in his book Blink could be fostered, grown, and mastered? And, what if the quality of what one learns depends on the quality of one’s ability to observe and take notice? Would it be worth educators’ time to learn how to observe intensely in and around the world? If one can master the skill of “seeing” might it be possible to foster this same skill in graduate learners?

As Ritchard, Church and Morrison have noted in Making Thinking Visible, “looking carefully to notice and fully describe what one sees can be an extremely complex and engaging task. Such close observation is at the heart of science and art” (p. 6). 

Corita Kent and Jan Steward in their book Learning by Heart: Teachings to Free the Creative Spirit observe,

There are many styles and ways of seeing. The thesaurus mentions discern, perceive, and behold as elements of seeing. To really see implies one is making an appraisal of many elements. When we finally comprehend and understand a situation our response is often, I see! Connections are made, the truth revealed. (p.33)

Try this experiment called “Exercising Your Seeing Muscles” developed by Corita Kent.

For ten minutes a day look at a plant that is native to your area. Write about the plant for 15 minutes every day, describing visual details, as well as the feel, the fragrance, and the sound made when the wind blows through it. Do ten drawings each day of the leaves or other foliage and ten drawings each day of the whole plant. This is a wonderful exercise to combat the habitual. (p.33)

Once you have done this exercise yourself for one week, you will notice that your seeing skills in other contexts are enhanced; your relationship to your chosen plant is enriched; and a greater appreciation for botany and biology in general begins to bloom. Fine details of the Globe Mallow or California Poppy become firmly planted in your mind. What was metaphorically and in varying degrees invisible to you becomes available to the senses. Babu has reappeared. Keen observation and perceptive seeing by the graduate scholars we mentor set the stage for the powerful learning we seek to inspire. 

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Must Writing Be Hell?

You don't often find people who dislike writing asking themselves this question. For them, it's a foregone conclusion that the less time spent writing the better. Those who love to write, especially those who write for a living, seem to enjoy one-upping each other over the question of whether writing is primarily pleasure or pain. 

Ben Yagoda, a regular contributor to the blog Lingua Franca, collects some of the most searing laments about the writing life in a recent post titled "The Agony (or Not) of Writing." If you're one of those who has experienced the special stress of trying to get something you need to say in print, imagine yourself asking newly retired novelist Philip Roth how he views writing, as quoted in Yagoda's post:

I would quit while you're ahead...You write and you write, and you have to throw almost all of it away because it's not any good. I would say just stop now. You don't want to do this to yourself.

One can argue that Roth can afford to be dramatic about writing precisely because he has made a life of it, lives being held to be more noble when marked by suffering. Certainly, when we take any writing task seriously it becomes challenging work because it is cognitively and therefore emotionally demanding. Writing is not just copying down what we hear in our heads. It is social behavior requiring attention to the poetics of the medium (written language) as well as to the politics of creating messages that escape our control once they are published. Then there's that ideal reader we have to conjure in our writing brains if our message is to reach our intended audience.

Committing messages to print is risky behavior--What if I'm wrong? What if I sound 'dumb'? What if they hate it? What if my ideas are rejected? It's pretty certain that even confident, prolific writers struggle to cope with the risks inherent in writing things others will read and judge. That fear--that we will be exposed or diminished by what we dare to say in print--is enough to make writing a special, high-risk kind of human work. 

In a society as literate as ours, however, it doesn't make sense to create an atmosphere of personal crisis every time we write. Competent writing does not require gnashing of teeth or cosmic despair. For each writing task you take on, you choose how hard you want to work at it. The saying 'garbage in garbage out' applies as in all human endeavors. On the other hand, if we care too much and psyche ourselves out with fear or denial, we can get overwhelmed and seek out that old enabler, Friend Procrastination. 

Yagoda, who teaches English and journalism at the University of Delaware, has taught countless college students to keep their feet firmly planted on fertile rather than infernal ground. His short book How Not to Write Bad: The Most Common Writing Errors and How to Avoid Them (2013) is a practical, upbeat tipsheet written to help you write in a level-headed manner without spiritual distress. His theme is that most often we need to write things that are good enough to get something done in the world. Having realistic yet informed expectations of ourselves when we are required to write a paper or business document takes the hellfire out of writing for those who dread it. 

Unlike the APA or MLA manual, How Not to Write Bad is readable from cover to cover in addition to being a guide to refer to in moments of doubt. Adorned with page flags or highlights on your favorite pages, this little helpmate can walk you through most kinds of writing tasks without stumbling into common but embarrassing mistakes.

No one learns to write well or even well enough from reading a single book. However, if you need some constructive solace in those low moments while you're stressing over yet another paper, Yagoda's friendly tone is welcome competition to that devilish voice whispering "Abandon all hope." He provides instead a healthy dose of "You can do it!" There's nothing tormented or more necessary than that when your confidence wanes.  

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Audience Awareness: Using What You Know by Skye Anicca

Facing a new writing task can bring on classic fight or flight symptoms: sweaty palms, immobility, the sudden compulsion to do laundry or wash dishes. Professional and academic writing can certainly be intimidating, but what few people realize is they are already well versed in the fundamentals.  Have you ever tried to get out of a speeding ticket? Attempted to convince a friend to go out with you when they’d rather not? Had to give a public presentation? Kindly refused a family member’s advice? In these everyday situations, we know exactly how to respond because, since even before we could speak, we have been learning to communicate with one another, to essentially step outside ourselves in search of someone else’s understanding. This communication is based on our innate sensitivity to three social cues: audience, purpose, and context. 

Our intuitions about our audience when we speak or write are perhaps the most elemental. For example, bring to mind a humorous conversation you recently had with a close friend. Now picture having the same conversation with your 83-year-old grandmother. Imagine using the same language, mannerisms, and tones. Likely, this new picture is absurd. You already know you could never speak to your grandmother in the same way as you do your friends. You might even discover that the topic of your conversation has to change significantly in order to imagine your grandmother taking part at all. Therefore, an understanding of audience begins simply as this: What you say (or write) and how you say (or write) it depends entirely on the person or group you are addressing.

Could the basis of effective writing—know your audience—really be this simple? The answer is actually yes! And yet of course, there is more. This basic understanding can go a long way in deciding where to begin, how to focus, what information to seek, and the language and tone you will choose. Where it gets a bit more complicated is what it means to know your audience, especially when that audience is a group—say, of academic professionals—that are widely varied and unknown to you. However, with a little research, you can apply the same tactics you would use in everyday situations to an understanding your audience in academic and professional settings. 

Questions to Ask When Considering Audience

• Where is your audience coming from? What do they know about your topic? What are their likely assumptions? What might they not know? 
• What does your audience care about? Is their focus on the same aspect of the topic as your own? If not, where might their focus lie? Are their priorities likely the same as yours? How might they be different? 
• What outcome is most important to your audience? In the complicated mix of priorities, what is the bottom line for your audience? What are their most important concerns? Are they essentially the same as yours? How might they be different? 
• What are the best ways to negotiate any differences of priorities or opinions amid you and your audience? Is your audience likely to respond to logic? To emotional appeals? To your credibility or the credibility of your sources? Are there points on which you can “agree to disagree” and still move on to mutual priorities?

With some thought, research, and the basic communication skills you have already spent your lives perfecting, you will soon be on your way towards being a clearer communicator and more effective writer. Next time the panic sets in, think about how much you already know and who you want to share that with. Tackle some of these questions, and soon that empty page will transform into an intelligent, articulate expression of your unique perspective. Happy writing!

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