communicating performance: first-year writing syllabi as ...functions on a rhetorical level is an...
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Communicating Performance: First-Year Writing Syllabi as Rhetorical Contact
Zones
Olivia Marie Sederstrom
Thesis submitted to the faculty of the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State
University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Master of Arts
In
English
Dr. Sheila Carter-Tod, Committee Chair
Dr. Katrina M. Powell
Dr. Jennifer Sano-Franchini
May 6, 2019
Blacksburg, VA
Keywords: First-Year Writing, Syllabi, Contact Zones, Rhetorical Genre Theories,
Actor-Network Theory
Copyright 2019, Olivia Marie Sederstrom
ABSTRACT
This thesis analyzes First-Year Writing syllabi in an effort to provide a rhetorical framework
with which to understand how the genre functions. I gathered a corpus of 25 First-Year Writing
syllabi within the Department of English at Virginia Tech and used verbal coding strategies as a
means of supplying my study with qualitative data. I rely on Mary Louise Pratt’s idea of the
“contact zone,” as well as Rhetorical Genre Theories and Actor-Network Theory, to argue that
establishing a rhetorical framework is essential to not only understanding how the genre
functions, but also how the genre acts as both communicative and performative.
GENERAL AUDIENCE ABSTRACT
Syllabi are an integral part of any college experience and an understanding for how the genre
functions on a rhetorical level is an under-researched area in the field of higher education. Using
the tools of rhetorical analysis—looking at language and genre structures—I gathered a selection
of 25 First-Year Writing syllabi within the Department of English at Virginia Tech to help
address this concern of a lack of research. Using qualitative research methods—specifically
those dealing with language and genre coding—I worked through my syllabi selection to
ascertain how the genre functions rhetorically. Using Mary Louise Pratt’s idea of the “contact
zone” as well as Rhetorical Genre Theories and Actor-Network Theory, I argue that beginning
with an understanding for how the genre of syllabi function rhetorically will also help us
understand how the genre can be communicative, in the sense that it sends a message, as well as
performative.
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DEDICATION AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This thesis is lovingly dedicated to my family for without their support, phone calls, and “You
got this girl” text messages, I would not have been able to finish this project in a (semi)sane
mental state.
I wish to thank my director, Dr. Sheila Carter-Tod, for working tirelessly to make sure the work I
produced was the best it could be. Without her guidance, support, encouragement, and patience
in enduring my “I’m sorry to bug you” emails, this project would not have been possible or
nearly as fun.
I also wish to thank my two readers, Dr. Katrina M. Powell and Dr. Jennifer Sano-Franchini, for
their contributions to this project as well as putting up with me in general.
Finally, I wish to thank the entire Department of English, including those who willingly donated
their syllabi for this study, as well as Dr. Joe Eska, acting Department Chair and Dr. Derek
Mueller, Director of Composition, for their help in the approval process for gathering syllabi
samples. Thank you all for the hard work you do to make this Department an asset to the
University.
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Table of Contents ABSTRACT .................................................................................................................................... ii
GENERAL AUDIENCE ABSTRACT.......................................................................................... iii
DEDICATION AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS........................................................................ iv
LIST OF FIGURES ...................................................................................................................... vii
CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................... 1
Beginnings of a Plan of Study .................................................................................................... 3
Outline of Work .......................................................................................................................... 5
CHAPTER 2: A RHETORICAL REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE ........................................... 6
Defining Syllabi .......................................................................................................................... 7
The Syllabus as a Contract ........................................................................................................ 10
The Learning-Focused Approach to Syllabus Construction ..................................................... 14
Realizing the Greater Need ....................................................................................................... 17
CHAPTER 3: METHODOLOGY ................................................................................................ 20
Issues with Data Collection ...................................................................................................... 20
Sample Collection and Coding Strategies................................................................................. 21
Words .................................................................................................................................... 22
Conversations ........................................................................................................................ 23
Textual Elements .................................................................................................................. 23
CHAPTER 4: RESULTS .............................................................................................................. 25
Audience Invoked ..................................................................................................................... 25
Audience Engaged .................................................................................................................... 28
Rules and Conventions ............................................................................................................. 31
Organization as a Genre Convention ........................................................................................ 34
Networks and Contact Zones .................................................................................................... 36
CHAPTER 5: DISCUSSION ........................................................................................................ 39
Theoretical Frameworks: Building a Foundation through Rhetorical Genre Theories ............ 39
Genres in Composition Studies ............................................................................................. 40
Utilizing Frameworks: Contact Zones and Actor-Network Theory ......................................... 45
Contact Zones and Performance ........................................................................................... 47
Navigation and Actor-Network Theory ................................................................................ 49
CHAPTER 6: IMPLICATIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH ................................................. 53
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Making an Argument for Syllabi .............................................................................................. 53
WORKS CITED ........................................................................................................................... 56
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LIST OF FIGURES
FIGURE 1: FREQUENTLY USED PRONOUNS WORD CLOUD INCLUDING OTHER FREQUENTLY USED
WORDS FOR COMPARISON ............................................................................................................... 26
FIGURE 2: RATE OF USAGE OF PRONOUNS IN SYLLABI .................................................................... 28
FIGURE 3: AUDIENCE NETWORK MAP ............................................................................................. 30
FIGURE 4: RATE OF FREQUENCY IN LANGUAGE STYLE OCCURRENCE ............................................. 34
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CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION
“Make sure you keep a copy of the syllabus handy at all times!” This warning issued by
my First-Year Writing still rings in my ears to this day some eight years later. Sitting in the only
left-handed/handicap accessible desk (my undergraduate institution was kind enough to allow
one desk per classroom to serve in this dual function) in the windowless classroom, I glanced at
the large black letters staring back at me: “ENGLISH 101: INTRODUCTION TO COLLEGE
WRITING AND RESEARCH.” The aggressive text made my eyes hurt and heartrate jump.
Pealing my eyes away from the font, I tried to focus on what the professor was saying, or rather
reading. It took me all of two seconds to realize that I was spending my first day as a college
student listening to my professor read to me, verbatim, the document I was holding in my hand.
The professor also made sure to describe, in exquisite detail, the parameters and
requirements of every major assignment for the entire semester. Feeling my heartrate increase
yet again, I focused on the sounds of distracted students absentmindedly flipping through the
pages of their own syllabus copies. Fifty minutes elapsed and as I gathered my belongings to
leave, I glanced around the room and took note of how many students left their precious syllabi
behind or, in a brazen act of defiance, tossed theirs into the trashcan by the door.
I can also recall my first experience as a First-Year Writing instructor with the same level
of detail. Not only because the events are more recent, but also because the events were equally
life altering. I could smell the freshly printed stack of syllabi sitting on my desk. Give your
students a paper copy of the syllabus in addition to an electronic copy. The advice I had received
from my preparatory English 5004: Introduction to Teaching University Writing I had recently
finished not but a few weeks prior echoed in my mind. Make sure you get to your classrooms on
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time. But not too early. But not too late either. I glanced at my watch, proud that I had
remembered to include the last minute accessory to boost my almost non-existent ethos.
I arrived at my classroom with five minutes to set up my technology as well as make it
look like I knew what I was doing. I began class by distributing my meticulously photocopied
syllabi to the 20 eager faces I had sitting before me. Modeling off of my previous instructors, I
read the contents of the syllabus to my students stopping to check for questions every so often. I
was signaled my 50 minutes had elapsed by a sudden symphony of zippers opening and closing
book bags. A few students lingered to ask important questions like “Do I really need to buy the
textbook?” and “When do you have office hours?” Others however kindly left their syllabi on
their desks for me to collect and ultimately hand out again to those students who would add my
course later.
I tell these stories not as a therapeutic exercise (although perhaps selfishly I do), but
rather as a way to begin a conversation that, in my opinion, never really existed or perhaps is
hidden in the convoluted discussion already existing in syllabi scholarship today. The concept of
a course syllabus is certain not a new phenomenon and will most likely endure the ever changing
climate of higher education to outlive us all. Much scholarship has been published issuing
commandments for what shall and shall not be included in these sacred documents as well as
modern movements to push the subject away from the consecrated “the syllabus is a contract”
ideal to a more collaborative learning-centered approach to syllabi construction and distribution.
The issue that arises from the murkiness becomes: what rhetorical framework is serving as the
foundation for this scholarship? On what previous rhetorical knowledge are current scholars
basing their arguments on? The simple answer is that such rhetorical foundations do not exist,
however upon closer inspection of the scholarship, we can see that a rhetorical understanding for
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the genre of syllabi is apparent, but is implicit in the reading of such scholarship. In other words,
the rhetorical framework is implicitly acknowledged because a rhetorical framework, or
understanding of the genre, does not explicitly exist. This is where the focus of this thesis
becomes important.
Beginnings of a Plan of Study
This project began while I was taking a class on the rhetoric of science and technology.
While reading a chapter out of Annette Vee’s book Coding Literacy, I began to question whether
genres themselves could be considered technologies. After all, scholarship in composition
studies argues that the implements we use to write, even writing itself, can be called a
“technology,” why not the genre in which that piece of writing calls home also be called a
“technology”? Our final assignment for the class consisted of an autoethnographic project
chronicling and analyzing our experiences with a technology of our choice. Vee’s classification
of genres as “symbolic systems” in which other technologies “circulate” caused me to question
whether certain academic genres can be viewed as technologies, specifically the genre of syllabi
with its heavily regulated and almost sterile environment. I wondered if other scholars had
analyzed syllabi in this way, I further questioned whether there existed a clear and concise body
of work that addressed how instructors should create and perform their syllabi.
My preliminary research found that the bulk of scholarship on syllabi focused on issues
surrounding making syllabi accessible to diverse groups of students, but hardly any research on
how the genre functions rhetorically. Whole volumes of articles and books are devoted to listing
what a “good syllabus” should contain, but hardly anything is dedicated to understanding how
the genre functions rhetorically. These connections were implied in the syllabi scholarship I had
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been reading, but rhetorical consideration was never explicitly stated. I tend to think of this
implicit versus explicit stating of frameworks not existing as a gap in the research, but rather as
an opportunity to reinterpret the existing research.
This project will seek to provide a rhetorical analysis of first-year writing syllabi as
rhetorical contact zones as described in Ross Collin’s “Genre in Discourse, Discourse in Genre:
A New Approach to the Study of Literate Practice.” A more detailed review of Collin’s work
follows shortly, however a brief description is worth mentioning here. Citing James Gee, Collin
calls for genres to be discursive performances rather than sterile containers for classification. To
do this Collin introduces an idea well-known in composition studies: contact-zones as sites for
discourse. Collin argues that “genres may be seen [this way] as sites of action where
communicants come to recognize, construe, and act in particular kinds of situations” (90). My
project will, hopefully, seek to answer several questions regarding not only the scholarship
surrounding the study of syllabi, but also seek to provide a clear rhetorical foundation from
which users of syllabi—instructors and students alike—can build a better discussion on how the
genre functions as both communicative and performative.
Using Collin’s structure of the rhetorical contact zone, I will address the many voices at
play within the genre and how those multi-voices are assembled to create new literacies as
described by Vee in Coding Literacy, “Literacies are plural, multidimensional, heavily inflected
by orality, acquired along with value systems, as well as intertwined with the technologies in
which they are enacted” (104). In regards to how the genre functions rhetorically within first-
year writing programs: 1) In what ways are these generic devices being used to create a barrier
for learning? 2) In terms of engagement between author and text, what space is there for
engagement in a discourse (syllabi) that is so heavily surveyed? 3) How does reading the genre
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this way (looking for instances of regulation and surveillance) connect with ideas concerning
procedural and tactical rhetorics?
Outline of Work
The following chapters all discuss how the genre of syllabi can be studied rhetorically.
Chapter two will provide a rhetorical review of the literature surrounding syllabi scholarship.
Within this chapter I divide syllabi scholarship into manageable categories: defining syllabi, the
syllabus as a contract, the learning-centered approach to syllabus construction as a modern twist
to an age-old document, and finally realizing the greater need for syllabi scholarship. Chapter
three describes in detail the methods I used to analyze my corpus as well as the obstacles I
encountered while attempting to obtain approval for gathering my research samples. I also
devote a large portion of this chapter to discussing how I developed strategies to code and
separate my data. Chapter four will discuss the findings of my coding and attempts to gather and
group themed findings so that analysis will be easier.
Chapter five shifts attention away from the data and attempts to provide a theoretical
framework for my research. I begin by outlining two key frameworks pivotal to my research:
rhetorical genre theories and actor-network theory. Within each of these sections, I provide a
sampling of key scholarship to serve as the foundation for understanding how and why my
research is important to the field as a whole. Chapter six concludes this thesis by discussing
implications for further research. The scope of this thesis is by no means exhaustive, but should
help to supply the reader with the understanding that more research needs to be completed on the
subject of syllabi as having a rhetorical function.
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CHAPTER 2: A RHETORICAL REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE
What comes to mind when we think of the word “syllabi”? Do we instantly see in our
mind’s eye an image of an impressively long contract, complete with dotted signature line? Do
we begin to feel anxious as we think about how our students will respond to the syllabi we have
so carefully (or perhaps not so carefully) designed—much like the scenario I described in the
introduction? Peter E. Doolittle and Robert A. Siudzinski in “Recommended Syllabus
Components: What Do Higher Education Faculty Include in Their Syllabi?” provide the results
of a study they conducted to gather information on not only what exactly it is that faculty most
commonly include in their syllabi, but also what components of a syllabus students are most
interested in and ultimately pay the most attention to. “Often the initial and most formal
communication tool received by students regarding the course, a syllabus serves as the practical
and intellectual guide to the academic term ahead” (Doolittle and Siudzinski 30). Terrence
Collins in his chapter, “For Openers...An Inclusive Course Syllabus” discusses the need for
language that is both inclusive of course and professor expectations as well as student needs (79-
81).
Already we can see a theme that will become clearer in the following chapters: students
as sole recipient and users of syllabi. I analyze this them in more detail in succeeding chapters,
however a brief, very brief, discussion is worth mentioning here. The assumption of students as
the sole audience members of syllabi is not only a common theme in the literature I evaluate
here, but can also be seen in the data I present in Chapter 4. Even so, this idea can be
complicated simply by asking who is involved in syllabi construction? The literature points us to
instructors and indeed appears to have been primarily written as guidebook material directly to
instructors. However, as the literature will show, university administrators—including
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departmental guidelines—cannot be dismissed. Whether we can call these groups active
audience members remains to be seen, yet it is safe to say that their presence remains a constant
companion in syllabi construction.
Doolittle and Siudzinski’s, as well as Collins’, statements highlight the need for a student
centered approach to understanding how syllabi are being used, however the focus of discussing
the need for teachers to have a greater understanding of how they learn to navigate the genre is
severely lacking. Furthermore literature on the regulatory nature, in terms of university
requirements, of syllabi is also lacking. Perhaps what is needed then is a discussion for how the
genre functions rhetorically. Such discussion seem to be lacking in fervor or missing altogether.
What follows then is a sampling of the existing scholarship centered around key themes that
arose while reading literature on the genre of syllabi. The selection I provide should by no means
be considered exhaustive, but rather should serve as an example of the trends within the
literature. It should also be noted that as this is a rhetorical literature review—in keeping with
my goal of providing a rhetorical sketch of syllabi in general—I have read each of the sources
that follow with a focus on both content as well as rhetorical implications. The sources I
highlight here are all in conversation with each other (as in each is cited by the other), therefore
providing an analysis of not only their content but also their rhetorical use of language seems
fitting.
Defining Syllabi
All of the sources mentioned in this review describe syllabi as a contract, therefore I will
not spend time discussing this trend here, however I will use this space to discuss the word
choices authors, not just those described above, use to define syllabi. Do they create their own
definitions? Do they base their definitions on the works of other scholars? Or, do they simply
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cite the dictionary definition and expand on what is provided there? “Does the Document
Matter? The Evolving Role of Syllabi in Higher Education” by Michael S. Palmer, Lindsay B.
Wheeler, and Itiya Aneece define as “Essentially, the syllabus is a physical artifact outlining key
structural elements of a course. It often serves contractual, record keeping, and/or
communication functions” (37). As we will see, the idea of a syllabus existing as a contractual
agreement between instructors and students is a common one. However, what I wish to focus on
in the definition I have outlined above is the introduction of the words “record keeping,”
possessing a communicative function.
While other sources in this review describe a shift from the traditional view of syllabi as
acting as a contract to a newer learning-centered syllabi (again, I discuss this idea in further
detail in another section of this review) other sources draw on the communicative properties of
syllabi to draw a distinction between how a syllabus functions both at the instructor and student
levels. Mary F. Smith and Nabil Y. Razzouk in “Improving Classroom Communication: The
Case of the Course Syllabus” describe syllabi as a “contractual agreement between the instructor
and the students, teachers seek to communicate with students the general purpose of the course
and how it will be carried out. Students on the other hand, use the syllabus document to decide
whether they should enroll or stay enrolled in a particular course” (Smith and Razzouk). Again,
emphasis is placed on the contractual and communicative properties of syllabi, but another trend
that seems to be surfacing is the idea of the syllabi as existing as a physical artifact. Palmer et
al.’s use of the phrasing “physical artifact” and now Smith and Raccouk’s use of the word
“document” to denote the physical nature of the text. Of course the argument could be made that
“document” can also refer to a digital document, such as a Word document or Google document,
however I believe that in this instance at least, the authors are referring to a physical document.
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Other sources in this review use standard dictionary definitions to make clear the
terminology they are using when discussing syllabi. Jay Parkes and Mary B. Harris’ “The
Purposes of a Syllabus” pulls from the go-to Oxford English Dictionary to provide their readers
with a definition of “syllabus”: “According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word syllabus
made its debut in the English language in 1656 in reference to, in essence, a table of contents”
(qtd. in Parkes and Harris 55). In fairness, the authors do claim that “what is meant by ‘a
syllabus’ seems to vary greatly among individuals,” as this section hopes to prove, however I
take issue with Parkes and Harris’ instant use of a dictionary definition (Parkes and Harris 55).
First, such an immediate call to something as standard as a dictionary seems rather off-
putting. Second, this source is cited by nearly every other source I read for this review. While the
authors certainly would not have had a way to look ahead and see how influential their work
would be, I feel that something more original than a definition gleaned from a dictionary could
have been used to pull readers in. From a rhetorical standpoint alone, attracting a reader with a
definition for a topic that serves as the focal point of the piece sends the wrong message. It
should be noted that the authors do spend the majority of the article trying to arrive at specific
purposes (hence the title) for syllabi, each purpose framed as a short definition, however even at
the end of their article the only clear definition the authors provide comes in the form of a plea to
readers: “We urge readers to consider these suggestions and to recognize that a syllabus is a
personal document as well as a professional one” (Parkes and Harris 59).
Pleading tone aside, Parkes and Harris seeming definition brings us back to the
“document” structure discussed earlier, while also introducing the idea of the document being
both personal and professional. It would seem that subsequent scholarship built around Parkes
and Harris argument has taken the idea of syllabi being both personal and professional and
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translated the idea into the theme we see in current syllabi scholarship; that of communication. If
communication seems to be the current trend in defining syllabi, then the question that must to
be asked is: what exactly is being communicated through syllabi? Who is doing the
communicating? How is this communicating taking place? Is the communication explicit or
implicit? This thesis seeks to answer some of these questions, however one collection of
scholarship that I gathered seemed to focus on this idea of communication while discussing idea
of a “learning-centered” syllabus.
The Syllabus as a Contract
Parkes and Harris’ in “The Purposes of the Syllabus” go into great detail concerning the
idea of syllabi acting as a contract. They very clearly state in the beginning of their article, “The
first purpose of a syllabus—either explicitly or implicitly—is to serve as a contract between the
instructor and the student” (Parkes and Harris 55). In a similar article, “Designing a Great
Syllabus,” Ken Matejka and Lance B. Kurke state that “The syllabus represents an agreement
between you [the instructor] and the students […] As such it is an important ‘legal’ document”
finishing their introductory section with the phrase: “Here are some of the suggested components
for your contract” (115).
There are several issues with the idea of a syllabus performing as a contract. First the idea
of the contract syllabus alienates the role students take in creating the document. As will become
clearer, a learning-focused approach to syllabi creation shifts the focus away from instructors as
possessing the sole say in what goes into a syllabus. Using such language as “agreement” and
“’legal’” is not only rhetorically unappealing, but as I mentioned earlier distances the one
audience for whom the document is designed. In “Syllabus: How Much Does it Contribute to the
Effective Communication with the Students?” authors A. Mine Tokatli and Yeşim Keşli argue
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that “A syllabus is generally defined as a plan that states exactly what students at a school or
college should learn in a particular subject. It is not only about the knowledge to be gained, but
also it helps the students to meet the desired expectations which make them feel secure” (1491-
1492). Clearly the focus of syllabi should at the very least involve students, however the strict
and legalistic language of a contractual agreement would seem to push students away rather than
invite them into the classroom.
In addition to possibly alienating students, the language of a contractual agreement makes
it sound as though the relationship between instructor and student is an all-or-nothing
arrangement. Students either accept the terms of the contract, by agreeing to stay enrolled in the
course, or they choose to not accept the terms and ultimately drop the course. Again, this all-or-
nothing mentality does nothing in at least attempting to meet students in a comfortable middle
ground. Mary Louise Pratt will make this idea clearer when she discusses her idea of the “contact
zone” later in this paper. There is no room for bargaining or conversing over terms within the
contract that may be unclear. Even in a traditional legal setting, typically those involved in the
contract process discuss the terms and come to a mutual decision over what needs to be changed
and what can be left as is. If the syllabus must be thought of as a contract, why not allow for
discussion?
Charles J. Fornaciari and Kathy Lund Dean in “The 21st-Century Syllabus: From
Pedagogy to Andragogy” call for a shift from the pedagogical viewpoint of acting as a table of
contents for a course to a more andragogical approach that emphasizes learning: “We reframe
syllabus usage within SOTL, arguing that the syllabus can and should be much more closely
integrated into teaching and learning as not only an operational tool but more importantly, as
class-culture—building and collaboration opportunity” (702). Describing in more detail exactly
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how this system might work within a classroom setting in a companion article to be discussed in
another section of this review, the authors advocate for andragogical syllabi as “Much more than
unidirectional instruments and can assist in constructing both intellectual and psychosocial
meaning with students” (Fornaciari and Lund Dean 703, emphasis added). The word choice used
by the authors is crucial here. By choosing to use such disparate words as “unidirectional” and
“with” the authors have instantly established a dichotomy that current syllabi scholarship, these
authors included, seek to dismantle.
The dichotomy of “us” versus “them,” in terms of instructors versus students, is rampant
in syllabi scholarship. And while the tradition of thinking of syllabi as contracts, will last longer
than it should—even with the advent of learning-focused syllabi structures—a greater focus
should be placed on the communicative aspects of syllabi if we are ever to break from the
legalistic ideals a contract based system seems to advocate. Jeanne M. Slattery and Janet F.
Carlson in “Preparing an Effective Syllabus” argue that:
Syllabi are a paper contract between faculty members and their students, designed to
answer student questions about a course, as well as inform them about what will happen
should they fail to meet course expectations […] syllabi are [also] imperfect ways of
communicating course information, we believe that highly effective syllabi are
characterized by completion of information […] motivational comments, and a style of
communication that engages students as effective collaborators in the learning process.
(163, emphasis added)
Tone of syllabi is worth mentioning here. Note the author’s use of the words
“motivational,” “engages,” and “collaborators.” The authors previously state in the same article
that “The most effective syllabi we have seen are user-friendly and warm” (Slattery and Carlson
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163). Such warm and engaging language certain does not fit in with the strict genre conventions
of a legal contract, yet the authors here seem to suggest that such a companionship between
warm user-friendly language and harsh contract legalese can happen through collaboration. The
obvious question then becomes, how does this collaboration work? Can we expect first-year
students without previous college experience to possess enough of a working knowledge to be
able to understand the genre conventions of syllabi enough to be able to adequately collaborate
with an instructor so that the finished product both fulfills the duties of a syllabus while also
possessing a shared focus on the learning needs of students?
Knowledge of genre conventions seems to be the crux of the argument and serves to
introduce issues with accessibility in syllabi production and distribution. Elena Afros and
Catherine F. Schryer’s “The Genre of the Syllabus in Higher Education” seeks to highlight how
the strict conventions of the genre may actually both help and hinder how students function
within a class:
As a genre, the syllabus offers instructors a constellation of rhetorical strategies to
describe the course, its goals and objectives, its structure and its correlation with other
courses within the program, classroom and institutional policies as well as general
logistical and procedural information. It mediates the interaction both between students
and instructors and between instructors and their colleagues. Therefore, the syllabus has
to be balanced so that it can appeal to students, motivate and structure learning, while
also at the same time convince (senior) colleagues and external evaluators of the
instructor’s professionalism and the course quality. (225)
The focus of this thesis is centered on a rhetorical genre studies approach to the
convention of course syllabi, therefore a brief discussion of genre conventions in relation to the
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contractual language would be appropriate here. It would seem then that not only does the
legalistic language and structure syllabi go hand-in-hand with the requirement of the genre in
terms of an instructor/student relationship, but also in terms of colleague to colleague. The
language used seems to act as a justification for both continuing university accreditation as well
as an outward display of an instructor’s professional worth at an institution. Therefore the idea of
a contract would seem to be necessary to fulfill these requirements. However, how would a
learning-focused syllabus approach help or hinder this genre requirement?
The Learning-Focused Approach to Syllabus Construction
The culmination of research on syllabi seems to be currently focused on the necessity of a
learning-focused, accessible, style of syllabi construction that is centered around student
involvement at the same time as addressing instructor concerns with abiding university and basic
genre requirements. Returning to two previous sources mentioned in this review, Fornaciari and
Lund Dean’s andragogy based syllabi seems to be building off of the learning-focused methods
described in Palmer et al’s “Does the Document Matter? The Evolving Role of Syllabi in Higher
Education.” Using the results of a study conducted to test student perceptions of syllabi, Palmer
et al found that “When students read a learning-focused syllabus, they have significantly more
positive perceptions of the document itself, the course described by the syllabus, and the
instructor associated with the course” (46). The authors define “learning-focused syllabi” as “a
learning tool, the syllabus looks and reads much differently than one that is content-focused […
and] are grounded in evidence-based teaching and learning principles and student motivation
theories” (Palmer et al 37).
Fornaciari and Lund Dean also advocate for a learner-focused approach to syllabus
construction. Among other criteria for learner-focused syllabi, the authors highlight “The balance
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of power must shift toward the learner from the instructor” and “The evaluation of assignments
and assessment of learning shifts from solely instructor driven towards student—instructor
collaboration” (Fornaciari and Lund Dean 712). Further in this same paragraph describing how
learner-focused syllabi function the authors also argue for “Allowing students to ‘discover’ what
the course is about in lieu of the instructor ‘going over’ the syllabus content offering students
time in class to digest the syllabus, then administering a quiz that fosters more in-depth
examination” (Fornaciari and Lund Dean 712).
Already we may see some issues with how a learner-focused syllabus might work. As
was mentioned earlier, how are first-year students with little to no knowledge of the genre
conventions expected to be able to feel comfortable collaborating in creating a document that
sets the tone for the entire semester? Conversely, can we then say that such a level of
collaboration is only reserved for the experienced? Furthermore, how is experienced to be
measured? If we are gaging experience by how long an individual has been inhabiting the space
of academe then certainly instructors have the most experience. Yet, a learner-focused syllabi
requires a collaboration between all users of syllabi.
Again, the field has been muddied. If syllabi are to be truly collaborative, then the
opinions of university administrators should be included and they most certainly are. Kevin
Gannon in “What Goes into a Syllabus?” claims that “The proliferation of boilerplate language
and policy statements obscures more than it clarifies, and prevents our syllabi from fulfilling
their actual purpose: inviting our students to become active learners in our courses and providing
them the tools with which to do so” (Gannon). What Gannon calls “boilerplate language” is
exactly what learner-focused syllabi try to negate. The heavy legalese of contract-like syllabi has
already been discussed in this review as a proven method to push students away rather than
16
invite them into the creative process. What hasn’t been discussed yet is the influence of
boilerplate language in terms of university syllabi requirements.
A recent Chronicle of Higher Education article titled “Yes, Your Syllabus is Way too
Long” by Tom Deans argues for a learner-focused syllabi condensed to only one page, front and
back. Deans claims that “The core problem, I realized, was that I was thinking of the syllabus as
a contract. Indeed, that seems to be the default metaphor of syllabus design, and multiple pages
amplify the effect” (Dean). Again, Dean harkens back to the age-old method of thinking of
syllabi as contracts between students and teachers. However, Dean calls into question the genre
conventions behind such usage of the contract metaphor by arguing that it is the very length of
most syllabi that tends to make people believe in the contract ideology. Such an attack on genre
conventions has not, until now, been attempted and Dean’s almost shockingly short syllabus
seems to be an appropriate attack to dissertation-length syllabi, “Whatever approach you settle
on, a two-page limit forces a distillation of essentials” (Dean).
Anticipating public outcry, Dean addresses the issue described above in regards to
institutional required policies. To help dissuade disapproval with his system, Dean states that
“On my two-pager I include campus policies—or quick summaries of them—that I think most
significant. Whatever policies and procedures don’t make the cut […] I make available on the
course-management system” (Dean). While this may seem like a feasible solution, Dean makes it
clear that when deciding what policies and procedures to include and condense, he relies on his
own opinion. If Dean were to adopt a truly learner-focused (in his defense, he never uses this
language in his article) he would be interested to see what policies and procedures his students
were most interested in. Multiple studies—too numerous to include in this review—document
what students consider to be “valuable” sections of syllabi, among them grading systems and
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information regarding assignments always rank the highest in student consultation throughout
the semester.
Realizing the Greater Need
The conversation I have outlined above helps guide us to the realization that a greater
focus needs to be placed on how the genre of syllabi function rhetorically. Ross Collin in “Genre
in Discourse, Discourse in Genre: A New Approach to the Study of Literate Practice” argues that
by placing Miller and Bazerman side-by-side, “these theories offer productive ways of seeing
how genres position individuals to recognize and build certain kinds of situations, and act in
accordance with those identities” (77). Drawing on his firm background in discourse theories,
Collin seeks to better understand how “(a) genres call on communicants to build certain kinds of
situations and perform certain kinds of Discourses, (b) how communicants from different
backgrounds adapt generic resources to engage in different kinds of Discursive performances”
(78).
Mikhail Bakhtin also weighs in on the idea of ideology and communication within
genres. Using a phenomenon he terms as “heteroglossia” in his work “Discourse in the Novel,”
Bakhtin argues that:
These distinctive links and interrelationships between utterances and languages, this
movement of the theme through languages and speech types, its dispersion into the
rivulets and droplets of social heteroglossia, its dialogization—this is the basic
distinguishing feature of the stylistics of the novel. (263).
Bakhtin’s theories will be discussed in more detail in subsequent chapters, however Bakhtin’s
use of heteroglossia is helpful in understanding how genres are built both individually and
collaboratively. As we have seen, current trends in syllabi scholarship ask instructors to become
18
more collaborative in their syllabi construction. Heteroglossia’s “many voices” campaign seems
to solidify and reinforce this claim.
To help facilitate the kind of research that is needed to understand syllabi as rhetorical
genres, Collin give us several questions to ask when evaluating genres in terms of, not only
discourse theory but also activity theories. These questions include:
What improvisational rules and resources does the genre offer?
What kinds of situation networks are typically built with these rules and
resources?
What kinds of ideologies shape and are circulated by this generic practice?
What kinds of discursive performances are typically called forth by the genre?
What other discourses are in play in the situation mediated by the genre?
How are discursive performances carried out in the genre shaped to engage other
discourses in play in the situation?
How do different actors learn, adapt, or resist the genre and its discourses?
Which adaptations are accepted as legitimate and which are not?
Which other discourses are complicit or in ideological alignment with the
discourses cultivated by the genre?
Which other discourses contrast or are in ideological tension with the discourses
cultivated by the genre? (taken from Collin 92-93).
I evaluate and condense these questions in my Results chapter, therefore I will not spend time
here discussing how these questions are defined within my own research strategy. However, it is
worth mentioning here that Collin points to looking within genres themselves to evaluate
language and ideologies. This idea will become clearer in subsequent chapters.
Norman Fairclough in “Genres and Generic Structure” states that “Genres are the
specifically discoursal (sic) aspect of ways of acting and interacting […] So, when we analyse
(sic) a text or interaction in terms of genre, we are asking how it figures within and contributes to
social action and interaction in social events” (65). Fairclough’s discussion of genres and
discourse helps us reposition ourselves in relation to my original aim for this project. His
analysis of genres and discourse also helps formulate several questions that may or may not help
19
my cause. Not least among these questions could be, how do syllabi contribute to social action?
If, according to Fairclough, our analysis of genres should include attention to how the genre
interacts and contributes to social action (whatever action that might be), my question hardly
seems out of place.
Furthermore, we could also ask, what exactly is the “interaction” of syllabi? If this genre
is designed to be communicative—an instructor communicates course policies, grading criteria,
main assignments, and so-on, while the university communicates policies such as the honor code,
disability services, etc., and students communicate concerns regarding required materials and
other coursework questions can serve as a few examples—while also possessing incredible
performative qualities, can we necessarily pinpoint a specific instance where we see syllabi as an
“interaction of social events”? What would that even look like in the classroom? Taken in its
most basic sense, an “interaction of social events” could refer to instructors and students
collaboratively creating and designing the course syllabus on day one, and indeed many
composition theorists argue for such a move. However, one can see how this might be
problematic for several reasons, not least among them differences in understanding what a
syllabus should and should not include.
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CHAPTER 3: METHODOLOGY
Issues with Data Collection
I experienced several setbacks in obtaining permission to use Department syllabi. In an
effort to be as open and ethical about my research as possible, I made inquiries at the IRB office
at Virginia Tech to ask whether my project needed approval or not seeing that I was not
interacting with humans in such a way that my data was dependent on interviews or one-on-one
meetings. While my project does not involve the direct study of human participants or the
transcription of interview recordings, syllabi can be considered intellectual property and
therefore would require special approval before I could begin my analysis. I applied for
Institutional Review Board (IRB) through the use of a Human Research Determination Form and
was granted exemption, “Not Human Subject Research,” with the recommendation of acquiring
departmental approval (IRB # 19-119).
At the request of the IRB, I emailed the acting department chair as well as met with the
director of composition to gain permission to use Department syllabi housed in a Google drive
folder accessible to all in the English Department. The results of both of these meetings
concluded that I would need to contact each First-Year Writing instructor individually, for
permission to use their syllabi.
I was able to work around contacting each instructor individually, by first compiling a list
of possible sample owners from the drive folder described above. I crafted a single email
describing the nature of the study, how I was collecting samples, as well as how I would be de-
identifying the data. I also included the IRB case number I had been given to show that I had
followed ethical procedures before arriving at this step. I used Gmail’s “Label” feature to create
an email list that I then copy-and-pasted in the “blind carbon copy” bar in my email header.
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Sample Collection and Coding Strategies
My First-Year Writing syllabi samples all came from a Google drive folder that
instructors within the Department of English at Virginia Tech are required to share their syllabi
in. In an effort to make my emailing process as efficient as possible, I first compiled a list of all
First-Year Writing instructors who had uploaded their syllabi to the shared folder. To do this, I
simply read through the titles of all the syllabi collected within the folder, listing those who had
uploaded First-Year Writing syllabi. In the end, my email list comprised of 41 individual First-
Year Writing instructors. I crafted the permission email described above and received a total of
27 responses: 25 granting permission and only 2 responses not granting permission. My response
rate of approximately 65.8% (including negative responses) may be attributed to my own
familiarity with those teaching First-Year Writing in the English Department at Virginia Tech,
however in several of the positive responses I received, instructors mentioned the need for
research in the rhetorical nature of syllabi and were more than willing to grant me access to their
syllabi.
In an effort to maintain anonymity and reduce the opportunity for biases to become in my
coding, I de-identified all syllabi samples by first removing all names and office information.
Office information included office number and building location as well as information
regarding office hour availability. I also removed all information regarding the course being
taught—ENGL 1105 or ENGL 1106—as well as any and all contact information belonging to
the instructor; office and/or personal telephone numbers as well as email addresses. To remove
this information in Word documents I simply manually deleted the above information by
highlighting and entering “delete” on my keyboard. For PDF documents, I anchored solid white
22
text boxes over identifying information. Only de-identified samples were saved to my Google
drive. No changes were made to the original syllabi housed in the Department shared folder.
To help facilitate the segmentation and coding of my data, I turned to Cheryl
Geisler’s Analyzing Streams of Language: Twelve Steps to the Systematic Coding of Text, Talk,
and Other Verbal Data for help in segmenting my samples into manageable portions of data.
“The analysis of verbal data begins when we segment the data into some unit for analysis”
(Geisler 29).Using the information gathered from Geisler’s chapters, I separated my data into
three large units of analysis and then further divided these units into smaller sub-segments of
data: words, conversations, and textual elements.
Words
This unit of analysis focused on aspects of language within the documents themselves. I
read each document and separated the words and phrases on the pages into smaller sub-segments
devoted to how the language functioned rhetorically on the pages: positive and negative emotive
language, indexicals, personal pronouns, as well as total number of words in the document.
Focusing on positive and negative emotive language helped determine the overall tone of
document. Indexical language, or ways conversations and interactions were evident verbally in
the text, was used to show how interactions between student, instructors, and administration were
evident, verbally, in the text. I kept track of the use of personal pronouns throughout my reading
so that I may determine who the key informants of the document may be. To determine the total
number words I simply used the word counting feature in Google docs and input the total words
count found.
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Conversations
This section allowed for space to go into greater detail in the indexical
conversations/interactions uncovered through indexical coding described above. I further divided
this section into two smaller sub-segments: conversations directly addressed to students and
conversations addressed to the speaker. This section was harder to code for as most, if not all
conversations found in the document seemed to be addressed to students with a very minimal
interaction between instructors themselves, nor the university. Little to no conversations seemed
to be addressed to the university.
Textual Elements
Utilizing a coding section that dealt with textual elements of a text allowed for a greater
understanding of the how the genre functions at a basic level as well as rhetorically. I centered
this segment around discourse principles found within the document, however I also had a
category devoted to describing how the individual documents were organized. In addition to
organization, my other categories were: genre components-boilerplate, genre components-
creative, and metadiscourse (conversations found within the document about the document). I
label “genre components-boilerplate” and “genre components-creative” to distinguish where
university mandated language was used within the document and where instructors exercised
creative license either in changing the language of the university mandated discourse, or simply
added new discourses through the creation of policies or conversations individual to the
instructor.
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Disclosure of Limitations and Conflict of Interest
Limitations exist within my data sample. First, my syllabi samples were all gathered from
one university and therefore cannot be considered a representative sample. Furthermore, my total
sample size of 25 also compounds the issue with sample representativeness; my goal in this
study was to amass a sample of at least 50 syllabi from universities and colleges across the
United States, however after experiencing timing setbacks within my own department, I was
forced to use only what I had immediately available.
There could also be a potential conflict of interest as my sample came from an English
Department in which I am actively teaching First-Year Writing. My close proximity to other
First-Year writing instructors and GTAs may have contributed to the higher than average
response rate I received from my emails asking for permission. However, as was described in
detail earlier in this chapter, all syllabi were de-identified before being collated in a central
folder. My de-identifying of syllabi samples helped in reducing any explicit bias in my coding.
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CHAPTER 4: RESULTS
Revisiting Collin’s original guiding questions I described earlier, I am forced to
reconsider, not only how rhetorical genre theories play a role within the genre of syllabi, but also
how theories of discourse can help us understand how the genre functions as an object that is
both performative as well as communicative. To help guide this discussion I relate Collin’s
original questions here:
What improvisational rules and resources does the genre offer?
What kinds of situation networks are typically built with these rules and resources?
What kinds of ideologies shape and are circulated by this generic practice?
What kinds of discursive performances are typically called forth by the genre?
What other discourses are in play in the situation mediated by the genre?
How are discursive performances carried out in the genre shaped to engage other
discourses in play in the situation?
How do different actors learn, adapt, or resist the genre and its discourses?
Which adaptations are accepted as legitimate and which are not?
Which other discourses are complicit or in ideological alignment with the discourses
cultivated by the genre?
Which other discourses contrast or are in ideological tension with the discourses
cultivated by the genre? (taken from Collin 92-93)
In an effort to condense the above list, I have categorized my findings around the following
groups:
Discussing audience in terms of both invoking as well as engaging,
Rules and conventions created within the genre,
Organization as a specific genre convention, and
Networks and contact zones as they are defined within the syllabi sampled.
Audience Invoked
In order to discuss how audience is invoked in the First-Year Writing syllabi I sampled, I
must first establish a foundation for how audience is defined within the genre itself. To
accomplish this, I turn to the pronoun usage I coded for earlier. Out of the 25 examples of syllabi
26
I collected the most frequently used pronouns were “you” and derivatives thereof, and “I.” The
figure below highlights the usage of particular pronouns in relation to each other.
Figure 1: Frequently used pronouns word cloud including other frequently used words for
comparison
Figure 1 shows visually the rate of usage of the most frequently used pronouns, as well as
other commonly used words within the sample for comparison. The amount of times a word is
used is relative to the size of the word in relation to other words in the cloud. This word cloud
shows the usage of pronouns such as “you” and “your” far outweigh more inclusive pronouns
such as “we” and “our.” This suggests that, at least in the syllabi I sampled there seems to be a
very strict instructor/student dichotomy where “you” represents students, the intended audience
of the document and “I” representing instructors, the perceived creators of the document.
Defining students as the intended audience of syllabi is also evident in the language used
particularly in the course introduction and course goals sections of the document. Statements
such as “Students will learn” immediately followed by phrases directed to the recipient of the
27
document, indicated by the use of the personal pronoun “you”: “You should be able to
successfully meet the outcomes,” “This course helps you explore,” and “This course, in
particular, asks you to think about topics.” This use of the term “student” followed by the
pronoun “you” very clearly suggests that at the very least the intended audience for the document
are students.
However the significance of university administration expectations cannot be dismissed
while at this level of audience definition. While never clearly addressed in the samples I
analyzed, it was clearly evident that certain language was included strictly to satisfy university
administration requirements. Evidence of this existed through the boilerplate language of
sections such as information on Undergraduate Honor System, available disability
accommodations, information on the Virginia Tech Principles of Community—whether copy-
and-pasted from the University website or an abridged version, as well as a statement describing
how student work may be used within the Department of English:
Privacy Note: The Department of English may use your written work to assess its teaching and
learning goals. In such cases, your name will be removed and your work assessed anonymously.
Your work will not be shared with any individual outside of the department. It will be used
strictly to help the department offer students the best possible academic experience.
Again, usage of “your” suggests that the information contained, at least in this passage, is
intended to inform students of a possible use of their work outside the normal student/instructor
relationship. Whether other universities also include such verbiage remains to be seen, however
the repetitive use of this exact text in all of the syllabi I sample seems to indicate that we can
consider the privacy statement used in the Department of English at Virginia Tech as the kind of
boilerplate language resplendent throughout the syllabi I sampled, although this particular
language requirement is not mandated by the Department of English per se, but rather as a
28
requirement for Pathways, the current general education reporting system for undergraduates at
Virginia Tech.
Audience Engaged
Pronoun usage can also be used to determine how audience was engaged, however data
gathered from conversational coding seems to be more persuasive. Of the 25 syllabi samples
gathered and analyzed, most if not all of the text seemed to be directly addressed to the intended
recipients, students, of the document. This is evident based on the large return of information
gathered from coding for statements within the syllabi that were directly addressed to students.
Whereas usage of pronouns such as “you” was more evident in sections relating to
describing course expectations and student requirements, audience members were more clearly
addressed in the boilerplate sections of the syllabi samples. In sections related to describing
course content, understood “you” was used in place of the actual pronoun “you.”
Figure 2: Rate of usage of pronouns in syllabi
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The information contained in Figure 2 shows the reader the rate of usage of pronouns
such as “you,” “your,” “I,” “me,” “my,” “our,” “we,” “us,” and “they/their” combination. To
compile these figures I simply counted which syllabi used these pronouns. Therefore, “you”
occurred in 92% of the syllabi sampled, while inclusive pronouns such as “our” and “us” only
occurred 20% and 4% of the time consecutively. What is interesting to note based on this visual
is that while usages of the pronouns “our” and “us” were relatively low, the inclusive pronoun
“we” occurred in 60% of the syllabi sampled. Of course this number is far outweighed by the
higher usages of other pronouns like “you” and “I,” yet it shows that there is a sizeable amount
of syllabi at the very least attempting to use more inclusive language rather than alienating
language such as “you” and “I.”
Boilerplate sections more clearly called on audience members to complete, or not
complete, certain actions. Evidence of audience engagement usually involved use of understood
“you” when referring to student expectations and requirements, but a more conversational tone
was used when student needs were being called into question. Examples of this type of
communication include usually were found in honor code policies, departmental privacy
statements, as well as services provided by the University. More specifically, phrasing found
within these sections plainly detailed expectations for student behavior:
Students enrolled in this course are responsible for abiding by the Honor Code. A student who
has doubts about how the Honor Code applies to any assignment is responsible for obtaining
specific guidance from the course instructor before submitting the assignment for evaluation.
Ignorance of the rules does not exclude any member of the University community from the
requirements and expectations of the Honor Code.
In regards to disability services:
Please speak with me if you have any disabilities that may affect your work in this class in any
manner so that we can make the appropriate arrangements. Information can also be found at the
Services for Students with Disabilities website.
30
However, in sections of the document where instructors stated their own policies for the
course, outside those stated in the boilerplate sections, instances of audience engagement also
occurred. These interactions were usually more explicit regarding instructor as “I” and student as
“you.” Examples of this kind of interaction include:
“Assignments must be turned in through Canvas in a Word document unless I personally tell you
otherwise.”
“If you are late to class you should explain after class the reason for your lateness.”
“Although not all of you will enter this course confident in your writing abilities, I urge you not
to fret.”
“Your attendance is your responsibility and at your discretion, so plan your life accordingly.”
Figure 3: Audience network map
Figure 3 shows the complicated, and rather messy, network of audience members/roles at
work within the syllabi sampled. To make the process as clear as possible, I defined three basic
31
audience groups—students, instructors, and administration—and further defined the function of
these groups with by stating examples of what this looked like in the corpus. I delineated
relationships (conversations occurring between groups) with yellow lines. Far from being an
optimal way to represent such a complex relationship, this visual does do a good job of showing
just how complicated the idea of audience is. Rather than simply assuming that the only active
audience members are students, this map shows that a great deal of conversation occurs in the
area of administration individually as well as administration with instructors who then translate
that information to students.
What is interesting to consider here is that the bulk of this conversation is declarative in
nature and therefore seem to carry a more negative tone than statements simply describing the
course. Recall that statements found in course description sections were directed to students, but
usages of the pronoun “you” were less frequent than in subsequent sections. The language of
conversation found in sections addressing course policies as well as university boilerplate
information was explicitly addressed to a “you” and based on our previous discussion we can
safely say that the “you” is referring to students. However the language tone used in course
policy sections was noticeably more direct, almost commanding and therefore could be
conceived of carrying a more negative vibe.
Rules and Conventions
Before a conversation can take place regarding rules and conventions, we must first
differentiate between users and audience members. While we can safely say that intended
audience members of the syllabi I sampled are First-Year Writing students, users of syllabi are
vastly different. Of course being an audience member certainly qualifies as a user, but there are
certainly more individuals and groups of people involved than audience members.
32
In the next chapter I will discuss how syllabi function within the rhetorical situation,
however a brief synopsis is worth mentioning here. Lloyd Bitzer in “The Rhetorical Situation”
argues that:
[The] Rhetorical situation may be defined as a complex of persons, events, objects, and
relations presenting an actual or potential exigence […] Prior to the creation and
presentation of discourse, there are three constituents of any rhetorical situation: the first
is exigence; the second and third elements are complex, namely the audience to be
constrained in decision and action, and the constraints which influence the rhetor and can
be brought to bear upon the audience. (6, emphasis retained from original)
Dismissing for the time being key terms such as exigence and constraints, I will focus
here on audience’s key role in the formation of rhetorical discourse. If, according to Bitzer, the
rhetorical situation involves a “complex of persons, events, objects, and relations” through the
constraint of an captive audience, it would follow then that not only are syllabi highly
rhetorical—to be discussed in the next chapter—but audience members play a pivotal role in
both the creation and distribution of syllabi and are therefore based on this argument, to be
considered “users.”
However, as is evident from the data, student audience members are not the only users of
syllabi. While much of the document was addressed to students, there were several moments
within the collective sample where, the creator of the document, instructors and hereafter
referred to as “speaker” for ease of clarification, addressed themselves. When such addresses did
occur, they were usually denoted by the use of pronouns such as “me” and “I”.
Recall that earlier in this chapter, I pointed out the relative frequency between usages of
alienating pronouns such as “you” and “your” outweighed usages of “me” and “I.” This disparate
33
rate of usage is again reflected in the number of times the speaker was addressed, or at the very
least referred to, within the sampled syllabi.
Another interesting similarity found elsewhere within the data that can be addressed is
the negative tone associated with these relatively few instances the speaker was addressed.
Examples of this kind of language include:
“Think of me as your boss, of sorts. If your boss gives you an assignment to complete, and
you’re not sure you can do it on time, wouldn’t you let your boss know?”
“Tardiness shows a lack of respect me and your classmates.”
“I abhor reading quizzes (both creating them and the puerility of students such quizzing implies.”
“I believe that writing is a process of revision.”
“Part of my job is to answer your questions.”
In each of these examples, the speaker is called on to describe how they wish to be
communicated with as well as offering a description for who their job works. Such descriptions
are necessary, especially considering that the syllabi sampled were created for a freshman level
writing class and therefore the student participant of such courses may not fully understand how
the genre works. This language also speaks to how the speakers are defining themselves as
participant users of the document. If speakers felt the need to define the relationship standards of
the participation process the course would forth, speakers can clearly be classified as users.
Virginia Tech publishes a set of guidelines and requirements for all course syllabi being used
throughout the University. These requirements include a complete transcript describing the
undergraduate honor code as well as what each infraction means and possible repercussions for
failing to abide by the code’s standards, as well as a statement for students with disabilities. The
Department of English also has a set of guidelines for what needs to be included in course
syllabi, in addition to the requirements of the University. These requirements include: the
privacy statement described earlier in this chapter, as well as information regarding the Writing
Center (although the language for this last requirement is usually less regulated).
34
In order to establish the frequency of the occurrences of boilerplate language described
above, and elsewhere in this chapter, I counted the times instructors copied boilerplate language
verbatim, when they elaborated or changed the tone of required statements, and finally when
pure creativity was used within the document as a whole. Figure 3 below shows the rate of
frequency of different language styles at work within the text of syllabi.
Figure 4: Rate of frequency in language style occurrence
“Boilerplate” language was defined as language that was an exact duplicate from an
original university sponsored syllabus statement. I define “Boilerplate-Creative” language as
language that elaborated on university syllabus statements by incorporating an instructor’s own
language along with the university language. “Pure-Creative” language was defined as language
that was entirely different from the original university sponsored syllabus statement. In many
cases, language that fell into this category was sectioned as something else entirely (“Community
Expectations” rather than “Principles of Community”) and used completely different language to
describe the expectations for course and student.
Organization as a Genre Convention
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Other than informational sources such as those described in an earlier chapter, rules for
the genre of syllabi can be found within the document itself purely based on the organizational
structure of each of the documents. All of the syllabi I sampled were organized similarly,
exceptions being the addition of instructor made policies or more creative additions such as
visuals or inspiring epigraphs.
Each syllabus began by providing what I call “identifying information.” Information such
as the course name, number, meeting place, and time; instructor name and office information,
usually the office number and telephone although in a few syllabi instructors also included
personal cell phone numbers; and email addresses.
All of the syllabi sampled also followed a similar progression for outlining the first few
pages. Information regarding course description and course goals were always found on first
page, sometimes carrying over onto the second page. Information regarding the procurement of
the course textbook(s) was also always found on the first page. Subsequent pages all contained
the university standard boilerplate language described earlier, however there was creative license
taken in how the succeeding sections were organized. One syllabus in particular waited until the
sixth page of a nine page document to begin discussing University requirements while other
syllabi appeared to be direct duplicates of each other both in word choice and organization.
Another way creative license was used in the organization of these documents was
through the use of different fonts and font styles. In a majority of the syllabi sampled,
information deemed important was set in a bold or italicized style, while seemingly less
important “filler” words and phrases were left unchanged. This use of bold and italics also
carried over into the consistent use throughout the corpus of section headings to help
differentiate between ideas and topics.
36
The use of headings and section headers also seems to suggest an almost “guidebook”
quality to syllabi as a whole. All 25 samples used headings in some way, some more than others.
The suggestion of a guidebook mentality towards this genre is certainly not new, as is discussed
in the preceding chapter, however this trend does seem to suggest that while creativity is
allowed, there are certain rules and conventions that must be fulfilled before the document can be
considered a “syllabus.”
Among these criteria that surfaced while coding the samples, was the rigid adherence to
the use of section headings as well as the obvious preferment for identifying information to be
placed above all else seems to suggest that, while there may not be a set, clear-cut standard for
what the rules of syllabus construction are, there are conventions that arise from the careful
analysis of these documents that suggests a partiality towards standardization, thereby making
the document more accessible to a wider range of individuals not just students.
Networks and Contact Zones
Building off of the points I have outlined above, based on the consistent organizational
structure it was very easy to determine the rules and conventions that provide the framework for
First-Year Writing syllabi. Determining networks and contact zones however, was somewhat
more difficult to ascertain without first knowing what kinds of thought processes were at work
during the construction of these documents. One element that I coded for in my initial analysis
however, may be able to shed some light on this difficult component of the rhetorical nature at
work within syllabi.
While working through my samples, I highlighted instances of metadiscourse, or,
discourse that talks about the discourse. In this case, the cases of metadiscourse that I marked,
spoke of syllabi specifically as an object that seemed to exist independent of its users. Notably,
37
these instances were few and far in-between; out of the entire corpus, I only counted six
instances where the syllabus was referred to or spoken about:
“Please note that the course calendar is only a rough outline of the semester’s plans, and dates
are subject to change.”
“It’s your job to refer to the syllabus.”
“*Incontestably Important Disclaimer*: Information in this syllabus and calendar is tentative and
subject to change.”
“On, Canvas, I will post out class syllabus and calendar…”
“The information on this syllabus is tentative and may be changed.”
“Note that this syllabus is a general guide to the course. This instructor reserves the right to alter
any contents of this syllabus for any reason.”
It should be noted that I included statements regarding course calendars even though
there could be some debate over whether a course calendar is truly part of a syllabus because a
large portion of the syllabi I sampled included calendars with their finished documents.
An interesting trend that arises almost instantly is that nearly all of the above statements
discussed syllabi as a document that will most likely change as the semester progresses. This
seems to suggest that the networks of power existing through the creation of these documents
extends outside of the document itself. As will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter,
Mary Louise Pratt’s pivotal work, “Arts of the Contact Zone” introduces the idea of a contact
zone not only in terms of cultural appropriation and colonial power schema: “I refer to this term
to refer to social spaces where cultures meet, clash, and grapple with each other, often in
contexts of highly asymmetrical relations of power, such as colonialism”, but also in terms of
pedagogical process: contact zones in pedagogy act as “ways to move in and out of rhetorics of
authenticity; ground rules for communication across lines of difference and hierarchy that go
beyond politeness but, maintain mutual respect” (34 and 40 respectively, emphasis retained from
original).
38
When thinking about the above syllabi statements as indicative of networks of power that
exist both within and outside these documents, we can see then how these networks might be
called “contact zones” based on Pratt’s definition. Elsewhere in this chapter I have highlighted
the very structured power dynamics at work within these documents, mostly through the use of
dichotomous pronouns such as “you” and “I.” This language structure has already established
power dynamic that extends, I believe, outside the artifact of syllabi. Much scholarship has been
written on the subject of breaking down this fabricated relationship (I think of Paulo Freire’s
Pedagogy of the Oppressed). The metadiscourse statements I have outlined above seem to
simultaneously reinforce this power relationship, while also inviting an atmosphere for
conversation and a mutual understanding of and appreciation for change. Acknowledging that
the syllabus might change over the course of semester, points to Pratt’s idea that a pedagogical
contact zone acts as a way to provide rules, while also providing a means for navigating and
altering those rules as needed. Therefore, while not immediately clear, metadiscourse on the
genre of syllabi found within the syllabi samples, seems to point us to a deeper understanding
and conversation for how these documents create rhetorical zones where contact between
different power structures that naturally occur within classrooms might have a space to navigate
those lines of power, while also creating new ones.
39
CHAPTER 5: DISCUSSION
Theoretical Frameworks: Building a Foundation through Rhetorical Genre Theories
Richard Coe et al. in their chapter “Genre as Action, Strategy, and Differance: An
Introduction” argue that when thinking within the discourse community of writing studies and
Composition as a whole, “New genre theories have emerged as one of the stronger and most
promising developments for comprehending the sociality of discourse while allowing discursive
freedom and agency to individuals” (1-2). Results from data collection and analysis clearly show
that the genre of syllabi possess a certain level of social capability.
Recall that in Chapter 4, I discussed the importance audience plays in the formation and
circulation of syllabi. I drew distinctions between how audience is invoked, or called forth, as
well as how the question of audience is engaged within and outside the genre. To do this I relied
on the usage of pronouns such as “you” and “I” to draw attention to how audience is defined.
Expanding the definition I offered at this junction, I find that we must also draw attention to
university administration, including but not limited to: Pathways Assessment (or some other
general education assessment), Departmental requirements (such as information regarding the
Writing Center and other promotional products), and various student services offices (Services
for Students with Disabilities, Honor Court, etc.).
Based on these findings, along with the description of “new genre theories” described by
Coe et al. clearly imply that when considering a study of how syllabi function rhetorically,
beginning with rhetorical genre theories seems to be the perfect fit. Scholarship in composition
studies focusing on genre studies may be a viable option for thinking about syllabi as rhetorical
as well as helps to situate my research in a particular field. Fortunately, much of the scholarship
in composition studies involving genres discusses how genres can be seen, not only as sites for
40
invention, but as sites whose strict guidelines and structure, stifle creativity. However, most of
this scholarship focuses on the relationship between genres and students, very little has been
published addressing how educators are learning to navigate genres and create sites for invention
and creativity.
Genres in Composition Studies
Anis Bawarshi in Genre and the Invention of the Writer: Reconsidering the Place of
Invention in Composition asks writing instructors to consider how invention might be included in
the teaching of genres. Rather than arguing for an either implicit or explicit approach to genre
instruction, Bawarshi argues that genres should be taught as “habits and habitats” that invite
students to both create and inhabit (113). Amy Devitt’s book, Writing Genres, continues with the
call for genres as sites for invention, but relates her argument to Carolyn Miller’s “Genre as
Social Action.” Within this text Miller highlighted the need for genres to be studied for their
social rhetorical power. Miller argued that within the categorical and symbolic nature of genres,
spaces for social interaction and intervention would open up. If we follow Miller’s thoughts on
genres as sites for rhetorical social action, then it should follow that all genres possess instances
(or at the very least opportunities) for non-conformity to the genre convention.
We saw the phenomenon of non-conformity in the syllabi data through the manipulation
of boilerplate language. While many syllabi copied university required language directly from
the sponsored statements found on the university’s website, other syllabi chose to play around
with the language by adding their own twist or in some case completely changing the language
so that it no longer resembled the original. This act of grappling with boilerplate language may
seem simple, but as will be evident in a few sections of this chapter, pushing back against the
41
“norm” can be seen as an act of performance as well as a means for inserting an instructor’s own
voice into their documents they create.
While Miller’s “Genre as Social Action” can be considered a seminal work in rhetorical
genre studies, hers is not the only source of information on how genres can studied rhetorically.
Anis Bawarshi and Amy Jo Reiff published a book titled Genre: An Introduction to History,
Theory, Research, and Pedagogy which describes how genre theory came to be, in addition to
how it functions today. Aviva Freedman and Peter Medway’s edited collection, Genre and the
New Rhetoric also describes how genres can function rhetorically both inside and outside the
classroom.
Anis Bawarshi in his chapter, “Accounting for Genre Performances: Why Uptake
Matters” cites Charles Bazerman, further complicating a rhetorical definition of genres:
Genres are not just forms. Genres are forms of life, ways of being. They are frames for
social action. They are environments for learning. They are locations where meaning is
constructed. Genres shape the thoughts we form and the communications by which we
interact. Genres are the familiar places we go to create intelligible communicative action
with each other and the guideposts we use to explore the unfamiliar. (qtd. in Bawarshi
188)
If we follow Miller’s idea of genres as recurring, typified rhetorical action, Bazerman’s ideas on
the subject of genres seems to complicate matters.
To further complicate how we define genres, Mikhail Bakhtin in his famous essay, “The
Problem of Speech Genres” defines genre as a form of language:
42
Language is realized in the form of individual concrete utterances (oral and written) by
participants in the various areas of human activity […] These utterances reflect the
specific conditions and goals of each such area not only through their context (thematic)
and linguistic style, that is, the selection of the lexical, phraseological, and grammatical
resources of the language, but above all through their compositional structure […] Each
separate utterance is individual, of course, but each sphere in which language is used
develops its own relatively stable types of these utterances. These we may call speech
genres. (60, emphasis retained from original)
Already we can see a trend beginning to emerge. Bakhtin’s use of words such as “form,”
“concrete,” and “types” are highly reminiscent of the kinds discourse on genre that still surface
today. Defining genre in this way is a clean, no-strings-attached, method that still allows for
analysis of how genres function on a foundational level. Bakhtin seems to realize this when he
further breaks down his idea of the form of speech genres into two categories, primary and
secondary, “It might seem that speech genres are so heterogeneous that they do not have and
cannot have a single common level at which they can be studied [… there is a] difference
between primary (simple) and secondary (complex) speech genres” (Bakhtin 61).
Bakhtin’s attention to the heterogeneity of genres, again speaks to the idea the genres are
comprised of several different pieces, or to borrow Bakhtin’s language “utterances.” Again, this
idea is seen throughout genre scholarship and speaks to the need to categorize. How then, does
syllabi fall in Bakhtin’s discussion of primary and secondary speech genres? According to
Bakhtin, because speech genres possess a heterogeneous nature, they should be studied in such a
way that all aspects of the genre can be appreciated and evaluated. To do this, Bakhtin coined the
ideas of primary and secondary genres. “Secondary (complex) speech genres--novels, dramas, all
43
kinds of scientific research, major genres of commentary, and so forth--arise in more complex
and comparatively highly developed and organized cultural communication” (62). By contrast
then, primary genres can serve as the primary text of analysis that secondary genres seek to
study, “During the process of their [secondary] formation, they absorb and digest various
primary (simple) genres that have taken form in unmediated speech communication” (Bakhtin
62).
Much can be said then of the genre syllabi in terms of Bakhtin’s ideas of primary and
secondary speech genres. Thinking of the system of classification described by Bakhtin, it
becomes obvious that syllabi would be classified as a primary speech genre. Based on the
definition of a primary text in literary terms, a syllabus most assuredly falls within these
parameters; the genre is an immediate, first-hand account of how a course should go. However,
an argument could be made that syllabi, if understanding them through the lens of rhetorical
appreciation argued for in this paper, could in fact be classified as a secondary, and therefore
complex speech genre.
If we are to understand syllabi as a complex genre, then we must first acknowledge
Bakhtin’s further claim that secondary genres are ideological (62). Based on previous
discussions on the nature of syllabi in preceding chapters of this paper, I have already laid the
foundation for the premise that syllabi are highly ideological; sources that argue for contract-like
language in a document meant to lay the foundation for further discussions on the genre of
syllabi. This argument is ideological because it argues for a power structure that alienates student
input and prioritizes the instructor as the sole dispensary of knowledge. Not only such an idea in
direct contradiction of Mary Louise Pratt’s ideas of the pedagogical contact zone, but also this
alienation of students leads to a system of communication that is ultimately fatal to learning. This
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system of power-ridden communication is also reminiscent of Bakhtin’s other qualification for
secondary speech genres: a “highly developed, and organized cultural communication.” (62). If
we are to classify syllabi as “contracts”—a completely different genre distinction, separate I
believe from what we truly consider syllabi to be—then we are organizing and developing a
system of communication that inherently rests in the cultural concerns of the immediate speaker,
in this case, the instructor. It sets up a hierarchy where, as described earlier, the speaker of the
genre possesses all possible knowledge, both future and present, and suggests that the knowledge
of the conventions of the course can be taught explicitly.
Anne Freedman in “Anyone for Tennis?” argues along these same lines when considering
genre instruction, “However, ‘the game’—or rather a game—may be a misleading metaphor for
genre. It may require some adjustment. It suggests that once you have learnt the rules—implicit
and explicit […]—the playing of a correct game follows automatically, like the output from a
simple algorithmic programme [sic] in a computer” (46).
Returning an idea raised by Norman Fairclough in “Genres and Generic Structure,”
particularly the idea of a genre being the “interaction of social events,” as evidenced by the
sources in my literature review (learning-centered approaches to syllabi) we have seen that
syllabi are indeed an “interaction of social events” (65). Syllabi are collaborative in that they are
created with a multitude of voices already at work within the creation and dissemination of the
document. Using this information then we can better appreciate Freedman’s arguments for the
implicit and explicit learning of the rules of syllabi construction. What she will later call
“uptake,” the phenomenon of using past experiences to influence our understanding of new
experiences, we can see that learning to navigate the tricky web of university required syllabus
statements, instructor policies, and student expectations is a game—to borrow Freedman’s
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language—that doesn’t necessarily need to be taught. Rather, it is informed by past experience,
performances, of the genre as both a primary and secondary system of communicative utterances
that help shape the expectations for semester-long course. What is interesting about the
phenomenon of syllabi is that regardless of the course being taught, the foundation for the entire
course rests on the stability of a multi-voiced document.
Utilizing Frameworks: Contact Zones and Actor-Network Theory
Contact Zone Theory is not a new mode of inquiry in Composition Studies, however if
we are to understand occluded genres such as syllabi as Collin would have us in his article
“Genre as Discourse, Discourse as Genre”, a brief discussion of Contact Zone Theory is worth
mentioning here.
In 1991, Mary Louise Pratt published her piece on Contact Zone Theory entitled, “Arts of
the Contact Zone.” Within this relatively short document, Pratt highlights the main points of her
idea of the contact zone:
I use this term to refer to social spaces where cultures meet, clash, and grapple with each
other, often in contexts of highly asymmetrical relations of power, such as colonialism,
slavery, or their aftermaths as they are lived out in many parts of the world today […] I
will use the term to reconsider the models of community that many of us rely on in
teaching and theorizing and that are under challenge today. (34)
Pratt begins her discussion of contact zones by referencing the historical accounts of colonial
power during King Phillip II of Spain’s conquest of Incan Peru in 1613. Through this discussion
Pratt points to how native Peruvians pushed against their Spanish captors by issuing several
letters to King Phillip in the Spaniard’s native language (Pratt 34-37). Pratt argues that the
46
Peruvian use of a genre and language familiar to the Spanish king is an excellent example of a
contact zone at work within colonial cultural conquest. Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala’s letter to
King Phillip balanced native Quechua and Spanish titled, The First New Chronicle and Good
Government, and served as a means for the zones of Spanish conquest and Peruvian culture to
“clash” and come to grips with how the other’s presence was influencing culture.
Following Pratt’s logic of Contact Zone Theory, the letter itself became the contact zone;
a tangible artifact where the cultures the Spanish and Peruvian met, as evidenced by the blending
of languages, and allowed for further discussion of Spanish colonialism in other Central
American countries. It should follow then, with relative ease, that we can treat syllabi as tangible
artifacts, contact zones, where cultures meet and clash. Pratt does part of the work of translating
her ideas of the contact zone into something we can use, more broadly, not only in syllabi, but
also in academe in general, “The idea of the contact zone is intended in part to contrast with
ideas of community that underlie much of the thinking about language, communication, and
culture that gets done in the academy” (37). While the focus of this paper is not on the cultural
implications of syllabi research and study, to completely omit a discussion of culture in syllabi
construction and distribution would be remiss.
Defining culture in terms of syllabi construction and distribution might help us delineate
how the question of performance, an undiscussed topic in this paper just as yet, plays a role in
the genre of syllabi. There is no question that the results from my analysis of audience in syllabi
suggests that there are the very least two key actors (I use the name “actors” with intention here
as will be clear shortly) working within and without syllabi: students and instructors.
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Contact Zones and Performance
In its most basic sense, we can call this interaction between students as recipients and
instructors as creators an act of performance. Instructors create syllabi with the intention of
eliciting a response from recipient students. Perhaps not an explicit act of performance, the same
that would be carried out by direct request: “Close the door,” acts of performance in syllabi may
be more implicit and therefore harder to catch. Analysis in an environment where tangibility and
definitiveness are so valued, however, my primary analysis shows that conversations are taking
place within the text of the document.
Recall that my analysis of conversations within the text focused on statements directly
addressed to students as well as statements directly addressed to the speaker (creator) of the
document. For example, university boilerplate language was nearly always addressed to students
in a series of commands: “Students will be expected to abide by the Honor Code” and “You
attendance is your responsibility and at your discretion, so plan your life accordingly.” Without
explicitly stating as much, the speaker is calling for students to abide by the rules and
requirements of the genre described here and elsewhere in the syllabi documents sampled.
Students of course have the additional implicit knowledge that the option of not abiding by the
rules is always available, however situational awareness gained from previous uptakes of
interacting with teachers, college or otherwise, has taught them that choosing to not abide by the
rules has negative repercussions and therefore submitting to the power structure set forward by
the syllabus is seemingly the only safe option available.
However, the performance scenario I have outlined above is only a two-sided situation.
Let me complicate this idea further by referring back to my previous discussions of the
complexity of audience members. Recall that I also include university administrators (including
48
general education requirements) as active participants in the construction of syllabi. Adding this
parameter suddenly changes the role of instructors from solely an issuer of issuers of rules to an
amalgamation consisting of several roles; a proclaimer of rules, but also a conduit for university
voices and requirements as well as a compliant recipient of this language.
At once, instructors become performers of university guidelines that no single instructor
has any say in the fabrication and implementation of said rules. I place emphasis on the word
“single” because I know faculty senates do indeed agree on such language, however such
agreement is made as a whole with singular voices silenced by the majority vote. Furthermore,
faculty senates are typically comprised by full-faculty members, graduate teaching assistants and
adjunct instructors typically do not receive representation on such university governing boards. I
draw attention to this fact due to the fact that the majority of First-Year Writing courses are
usually taught by GTAs and adjunct instructors. This point only draws more attention to the idea
I began this section: clearly defining the role of audience members acting within the genre of
syllabi is an extremely messy business.
Again, performance at the level of university administration and instructors is often times
implicit, however this level performance can also be rather explicit. For example, out of the
syllabi sampled for this analysis, numerous examples simply copy and pasted university dictated
language from university sponsored templates. Other sampled syllabi maneuvered the required
language by not only including the required verbiage, but also including the instructor’s own
explanations for how the language works within their own courses. Still others completely
omitted the university required language, choosing to use their own voices to convey the
required sections (Honor Code, Disability and Privacy Acts, etc.). However, in this final example
of instructors grappling with university requirements, performance is still being enacted.
49
Instructors are still actively choosing to devote sections of their syllabi to discussing
topics dictated by the University. Performance becomes less noticeable because the language
used within these more purely creative sections becomes more and more varied and less like the
original sponsored by the University. Yet, instructors are still performing the requirements of the
University by devoting coveted space within their syllabi to discussing these services and
requirements. Instructors have the ability to push back against the contact zone of university
administration by manipulating the language within these syllabi sections; sometimes changing
the language completely to mirror their own preferred language style.
Navigation and Actor-Network Theory
Pratt concludes her article “Arts of the Contact Zone” by issuing a call for further
research into the application of contact zones within pedagogy:
We are looking for the pedagogical arts of the contact zone. These will include […]
experiments in transculturation and collaborative work; […] ways to move into and out
of rhetorics of authenticity; ground rules for communication across lines of difference and
hierarchy that go beyond politeness but maintain mutual respect; a systematic approach to
the all-important concept of cultural mediation. (40 emphasis retained from original)
It should be clear at this point that Pratt’s discussion of contact zones, whether cultural or
pedagogical, fit perfectly with my discussion of contact zones within and without syllabi. Pratt’s
attention to “rhetorics of authenticity” is reminiscent of my analysis of performance described in
the preceding section of this chapter, as well as her awareness of the hierarchical nature of
communication suggests a structure that has navigable qualities. However, her work also helps
situate this research in Actor-Network Theory as prescribed by Bruno Latour.
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Latour begins, in the introduction to his book, Reassembling the Social: An Introduction
to Actor-Network-Theory “Introduction: How to Resume the Task of Tracing Associations,” with
a critique of the use of the word “social” in certain phenomena. Latour argues that, “There is
nothing wrong with this use of the word as long as it designates what is already assembled
together, without making any superfluous assumption about the nature of what is assembled” (1,
emphasis retained from original). Latour’s trouble with the use of the word “social” might help
us in understanding the hierarchical nature of contact zones that Pratt describes above. Latour
further argues that to understand the social, one must first ask: “What is society? What does the
word ‘social’ mean? Why are some activities said to have a ‘social dimension’? How can one
demonstrate the presence of ‘social factors’ at work? How can the path of society be altered?”
(3).
Asking questions regarding society is not only important to the focus of this paper, but it
also helps harkens back to the foundational work of genre theory: genres as social action, or
actors. Carolyn R. Miller, in “Genre as Social Action,” defines genre rhetorically when she states
that: “A rhetorically sound definition of genre must be centered not on the substance of the form
of discourse but on the action it is used to accomplish […] genre can be said to represent typified
rhetorical action” (151). Bringing these two ideas of the social we must first ask, according to
Latour, what is the nature of the “social” being described by Miller? Latour argues that the use of
the word “social” is acceptable, so long as it is applied to something that already exists, or
assembled to borrow Latour’s language. Miller argues that genres are constructed, that is made
and created, in a social environment where audience members and authors alike participate in the
manufacturing, distribution, and meaning-making processes of genres. It would seem that
Miller’s occupation with the social nature of genres would fall into the category Latour calls the
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“nature of what is assembled.” However Latour’s problem lies with the use of the word “social”
to describe the materiality of an object. Miller’s use of “social” here does not suggest materiality,
but rather argues for a step away from understanding genres for their material nature—a concrete
system of classification—and focus instead on a genre’s position within a social setting to better
understand how genres work. She argues that the best way to understand this phenomenon is
through rhetoric.
We can see then that combining a discussion on “the social” as Miller would define it as
well as Latour’s preoccupation with the social as “a very particular movement of re-association
and reassembling” is fitting when discussing the complex nature of communication and
performance within syllabi (7). Latour’s discussion of actors also helps us understand this
complex network between actors:
Your task is no longer to impose some order, […] you have to ‘follow the actors
themselves’, that is try to catch up with their often wild innovations in order to learn from
them what the collective existence has become in their hands, which methods they have
elaborated to make it fit together, which accounts could best define the new associations
that they have been forced to establish. (12).
Granted, there is much to unpack from this quote, however, I wish to focus on the phrase
“’follow the actors themselves’.” We first need to define who the actors are within the genre of
syllabi. Latour does not spend much time in his introduction defining his use of the word actor,
yet he does provide a clear test for determining whether Actor-Network Theory (ANT) is
applicable in a circumstance. First the object to be studied must give agency to non-human
actors. A second test involves looking at the direction of the object to be studied; does the
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element of the social change throughout or remain constant? If change occurs, ANT might be
useful in understanding the object. A third test, more applicable to my research, seeks to evaluate
how the object influenced the social. In other words, what “new institutions, procedures, and
concepts [are] able to collect and to reconnect with the social” (Latour 10-11).
We may not be able to see any “new” connections to the social in syllabi explicitly,
however, if we understand the rhetorical nature of syllabi as contact zones where actors are
invited to converse and grapple of voice-space, Latour’s third ANT test seems to justify looking
at syllabi through this lens. Pratt never argues that something new and fantastic will arise through
the use of contact zones, she simply argues that such spaces should be present in educational
environments. If we are to understand the various components of syllabi as actors within several
contact zones, we must look for the instances where something “new” is created. Again this idea
of the “new” may be more implicit rather than explicit, but is most easily found in the
manipulation of boilerplate language discussed at length in several other chapters of this thesis.
In several instances, creators of syllabi sought to find new connections to the social through the
negotiation of university required statements and instructors’ own unique writing styles. Using
the space of a contact zone between university administration and a desire for personal creativity,
new connections to the social were made through this intricate interaction. Actors working
within the contact zone provided new ways of interacting with the social—audience members or
otherwise.
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CHAPTER 6: IMPLICATIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH
Making an Argument for Syllabi
Current scholarship on the genre of syllabi seems to be focused on practical applications
for the creation and manufacturing of syllabi, as described in other chapters of this work. Other
sources mentioned attempt to provide definitions for syllabi, resting on the idea that syllabi act as
a “contract” between students and instructors. Still other sources describe ways to make syllabi
more “learner-centered,” focusing on the necessity of making syllabi accessible to a wide range
of students; in other words, keeping the syllabi student-focused with an interest in student
involvement in the creation of the document as well.
All of this scholarship appears to be based on a rhetorical understanding of the genre that
does not necessarily exist. Of course, rhetorical implications for how the genre of syllabi
function is implied in all of the background sources I highlighted in my review of the literature,
however when dealing with such a pivotal document such as a course syllabus, implied
grounding frameworks are simply not enough. An argument has been made for the need of such
analysis. I point the reader to sources that argue for the genre of syllabi to be considered as a
contract between students and instructors. Based on the strong language contained in these
sources, it should become apparent that there is a great need for a rhetorical framework for the
genre of syllabi.
What I hope to have provided to the reader is a brief glimpse of the intricacies of this
highly complex genre. Considering the impact syllabi have on a myriad of audience members—
students, instructors, and university administrators alike—more attention should be placed on
how this pivotal document functions rhetorically. I have provided an argument for the use of
Contact Zone Theory (accompanied by other theories) as a means for understanding this
54
phenomenon. But this is only one explanation and is by no means comprehensive in gaging the
rhetorical implications for this genre.
Contact Zone Theory does not help in explaining the frequency of syllabi that appeared to
be exact duplicates of each other. While coding my syllabi samples, I encountered many syllabi
that appeared to have copy-and-paste replicas and while material sharing is a common
occurrence in academic departments, Contact Zone Theory, at least in the way that I have used it
here, cannot help in deciphering exactly why this trend seem to be happening. Of course, a
simple answer could be that copy-and-pasting is a quick and easy way to create a document that
“Most students hardly look at anyway.” My analysis of syllabi scholarship in chapter three of
this thesis clearly refutes this claim as much of the modern scholarship seeks to include students
in the creative process of these documents.
Another possible argument for the copy-and-paste phenomenon is that again, in an effort
to save time, instructors simply choose to copy-and-past because they do not feel that their
creative voice could be heard in such a regulated environment. At the risk of sounding repetitive,
I direct the reader back to my extensive discussion of boilerplate language. Recall that roughly
16% of “standard syllabus statements” were purely creative in that instructors chose to
completely disregard the syllabus statements sponsored by the university and create something
that was more representative of their own unique writing styles. In addition to this number,
45.5% the standard syllabus statements blended boilerplate language and instructor language,
while 38.6% chose to copy the statements directly from university websites and templates. I
discuss these figures yet again, not to call attention to the variation between strict adherence to
university language, but rather to show that at least in some respect, instructors do value
creativity and it can be seen through their integration (or lack thereof) of boilerplate language.
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More research needs to be done on syllabi outside the “purely” rhetorical as well. The
scope of this thesis did not allow for a thorough discussion for how syllabi can function as
technology. I first eluded to this idea in my introduction and thinking about the idea of syllabi
acting as a form of technology was my first goal for this project when it started in Rhetoric of
Science and Technology class last year, however I quickly realized that I was trying to form an
argument based on research that did not exist. This thesis has, hopefully, provided a foundation
for this kind of research, yet so much remains to be studied and said.
Understanding syllabi as not only rhetorical but also as contact zones, as Mary Louise
Pratt and further developed Ross Collin would have us do, grants us the opportunity to evaluate
syllabi contents as well as construction. By looking for instances were audience is
invoked/engaged, rules and conventions are called forth by the genre itself as well as how
organization can be considered a genre convention, and finally how networks and contact zones
are defined within the genre will help us understand how the genre function both on the
rhetorical level, but also as a communicative document that commands a certain level of
performance from all those involved in its creation, distribution, and surveillance.
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