I’ve never written a rhetorical analysis. Over the last decade of teaching composition at the community college level, a semester hasn’t passed without me assigning it to some poor group of souls, telling them, like they’re taking medicine, “You won’t like it, but it’s for your own good.”
I lie.
I’ll admit there is value in recognizing rhetorical contexts and the effectiveness of a given appeal within those contexts. A superior understanding of audience and purpose is key to becoming a fully developed writer. The rhetorical analysis is a valuable exercise towards that end; however, its value does not outweigh the detriment it might have for the emerging voices we encounter at two-year institutions.
Many of our students enter first-year composition believing the course involves writing essays for the sake of writing essays. Frequently, the skill of writing has been presented to them as a series of worksheets and rules about documentation. Lost in this is the most essential tool a writer has, a unique voice. Finding that voice within oneself should be the objective of an introductory course in composition. For students who will primarily communicate outside of an academic setting, discovering that voice will lead to job opportunities and promotions.
The rhetorical analysis can improve a writer’s ability to persuade, but as a composition, it requires the submission of voice and style. Just as my class begins to believe they possess the ability to be a wholly unique writer, I assign another essay for the sake of it. Were all of this to benefit the student, it would be worth it. But this emphasis on rhetorical skills is not for the student. It is for a model of academic rigor dictated to community colleges. It is for the colleges to prove their worth as a farm system for state universities and directional schools. But that is not the primary mission of a community college, and a return to that mission will improve how we teach and assess composition at this level.
The junior colleges that popped up in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s were funky. The professors were funky. The students were funky. The buildings were . . . interesting. I’ve taught at two community colleges, Pikes Peak and Oklahoma City. Pikes Peak’s Centennial Campus features watchtowers, breezeways to nowhere, and multiple official main entrances. Oklahoma City Community College is a series of appendages shooting out from a central hub that is so confusing even long-time faculty opt to walk the lost to their destination because they know giving directions is futile.
Two-year colleges sought to be different. They had no interest in being state universities, but they certainly had an economic interest. They recognized an untapped market. Even that came from a funky educational philosophy. There were a lot of people who could benefit from some higher education who had no interest in a four-year university and whom, frankly, the four-year universities dismissed. If they could be convinced to give a different kind of school a chance, they could have better lives. So the junior colleges did. They welcomed everyone with open admissions policies. They prioritized the application of knowledge over conceptual theory in course development. They offered courses and tutoring at all hours of the day to accommodate working adults.
It worked. Open admissions means community colleges will always have a high fail rate; however, those who complete an associate’s degree or earn a trade certification go on to make more money during their lifetime than they would have without the opportunity. Many discover scholarly abilities they never knew existed and go on to earn higher degrees.
This began to change around the late ‘90s and into the new millennium. It’s difficult to say which came first, but as student loans became more accessible, college tuition rose. This happened across the board, but the greatest tuition hikes occurred at the state universities. After the Great Recession in 2008, the community college approach completely shifted. They no longer presented themselves as higher education alternatives with a unique approach. They now became a value brand, a cost-saving alternative for students who eventually planned on transferring.
The approach makes sense economically, but it undercuts the mission of those schools. Viewed as a stepping-stone, community colleges have given up their autonomy to legislatures and university administrations that set the standards and the curriculum. From that perspective, it makes sense to assign a rhetorical analysis to someone who hasn’t been in a classroom for twenty years. From any rational one, it does not.
This is not an argument against high standards or expectations. I have both in all of my writing classes. Rather, this is about the best way for us to teach students at two-year colleges. We must remember our mission has never been to seek approval from institutions that will never give it. Our focus must return to instilling the fundamental skills that will apply in the lives of our students.
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Jeff Cleek lives in Colorado Springs with his two kids, a Chihuahua, and a comic book collection. He has spent over ten years teaching composition at the college level and may be finally starting to figure it out.
