Feedback; An Autoethnographic look at an Autoethnography
My job neither demands nor precludes professional publication. My job description is predominantly teaching responsibilities and that is where my passion lies so it is a great fit. Once in a while, though, I dip my toe into the pool of technical/professional writing and submit an article. The publication pool is more of an ocean at times. It is not always friendly. One submits an article, waits for a long enough time that they have often forgotten what they wrote, and hopes beyond hope for a magical "revise and resubmit" notification. This tells the author that they're on the road but there are things that need addressed before the article can be accepted into publication. More often than not my publishing life has been a not-so-magical "reject" notification. Sometimes editors are kind in their delivery and simply say that I could try to submit it elsewhere, to another journal. Sometimes, most times, it's simply a form letter.
This past year I conducted an autoethnographic study relating back to my dissertation work with metaphors teachers hold about teaching and how these metaphors enter into the classroom. I wrote an article, let it simmer, and then submitted it to a journal. That was six months ago. Last week I received a "revise and resubmit" notification.
Here's where the story takes a turn from the ordinary or, at least, from what I have come to expect as ordinary. The notification was an email that not only invited me to revise and resubmit but connected me with a reviewer colleague who would assist this process until it led to submission. That was new. The process was not futile. I was working toward a promised goal.
Even with this goal I opened the pdf file of critique with trepidation. I must admit that this article was more personal to me than others I've written. It was, after all, a deep look at me, my deeply held metaphors and how they alter my own teaching practice. I did not want to read a harsh critique. It was my infant and it was beautiful in my eyes and how could anyone dare to speak differently? The fears were unfounded. The critique was kind. The suggestions were thoughtful and helpful. There were points where one reviewer actually interjected personal connections and comments. Twice in one review a peer reviewer noted a point where I did something very well. The suggestions for revision were manageable and sensible and served to truly strengthen my writing. I've added the suggested revisions and sent it back for another round of review with fingers crossed and eyes and heart opened.
Feedback on writing. It's a common concern among us as teachers. How do we provide constructive feedback while still preserving the personal ownership involved in a piece of writing? How do we help students improve their writing while maintaining their voice? It's a struggle I share with my university students. Even in a very content based writing assignment I struggle and tend to take the easier route and use some type of checklist or rubric that checks for important content rather than to fully comment on the writing itself. The wrong type of feedback on writing can have lasting effects. I once wrote an essay that was my young naive heart poured out in ink only to have it labeled "trite". I did not share my writing publicly for a long time after that. Now, as a teacher, I know it was likely trite but it was my lived experience as a young pre-teen and that word cut to my core (after I looked it up in the dictionary).
My recent experience was a model for me on how to deliver quality feedback on writing designed to improve it but not crush it. The reviewers provided a delicate balance of pointing out my strengths and making room for growth without damaging my fragile writing soul. I am analyzing and reflecting on what feedback they provided and how they delivered it- every little nuance- in an effort to replicate this in my own grading process this semester. Yes, Virginia, there is a way to provide writing feedback without crushing the soul. I will strive to do so.
This past year I conducted an autoethnographic study relating back to my dissertation work with metaphors teachers hold about teaching and how these metaphors enter into the classroom. I wrote an article, let it simmer, and then submitted it to a journal. That was six months ago. Last week I received a "revise and resubmit" notification.
Here's where the story takes a turn from the ordinary or, at least, from what I have come to expect as ordinary. The notification was an email that not only invited me to revise and resubmit but connected me with a reviewer colleague who would assist this process until it led to submission. That was new. The process was not futile. I was working toward a promised goal.
Even with this goal I opened the pdf file of critique with trepidation. I must admit that this article was more personal to me than others I've written. It was, after all, a deep look at me, my deeply held metaphors and how they alter my own teaching practice. I did not want to read a harsh critique. It was my infant and it was beautiful in my eyes and how could anyone dare to speak differently? The fears were unfounded. The critique was kind. The suggestions were thoughtful and helpful. There were points where one reviewer actually interjected personal connections and comments. Twice in one review a peer reviewer noted a point where I did something very well. The suggestions for revision were manageable and sensible and served to truly strengthen my writing. I've added the suggested revisions and sent it back for another round of review with fingers crossed and eyes and heart opened.
Feedback on writing. It's a common concern among us as teachers. How do we provide constructive feedback while still preserving the personal ownership involved in a piece of writing? How do we help students improve their writing while maintaining their voice? It's a struggle I share with my university students. Even in a very content based writing assignment I struggle and tend to take the easier route and use some type of checklist or rubric that checks for important content rather than to fully comment on the writing itself. The wrong type of feedback on writing can have lasting effects. I once wrote an essay that was my young naive heart poured out in ink only to have it labeled "trite". I did not share my writing publicly for a long time after that. Now, as a teacher, I know it was likely trite but it was my lived experience as a young pre-teen and that word cut to my core (after I looked it up in the dictionary).
My recent experience was a model for me on how to deliver quality feedback on writing designed to improve it but not crush it. The reviewers provided a delicate balance of pointing out my strengths and making room for growth without damaging my fragile writing soul. I am analyzing and reflecting on what feedback they provided and how they delivered it- every little nuance- in an effort to replicate this in my own grading process this semester. Yes, Virginia, there is a way to provide writing feedback without crushing the soul. I will strive to do so.
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