Preface

A discussion of feminist composition pedagogy would not be complete without  an examination of the midwife metaphor and feminist essentialism.  It soon becomes apparent that maternal teaching paradigms  contribute to a feminized perception of the scholarly field of composition.  Many scholars have defended the midwife metaphor and maternal  methodologies, claiming that  students learn when the power dynamic in the classroom is shifted in favor of  the students. They also claim that this approach works to help students develop  their ideas. Those who oppose the maternal model claim that this approach limits  the authority of the female writing instructor, thus placing her in a devalued  position. Opponents of this teaching practice also claim that students learn  better in an environment where they are forced to defend their  ideas.

The feminization of composition may also be attributed to the current debate  over the "essential" nature of women's writing. Much scholarship has  been done both advocating and criticizing this classroom practice. Those who  believe that we need to encourage both masculine and feminine writing claim that  students need to feel comfortable with language, and thus should be allowed to  write in ways that are familiar to them to facilitate the making of  knowledge. Those who oppose this essential approach to teaching writing claim  that the practice reinforces gender differences. They also claim that teaching  our students writing that is not readily accepted in the academy does not give  them skills they will be able to use to ensure their academic success.

The feminization of composition is an umbrella issue that encompasses many  more debates and concerns. There  are so many factors to consider and so many positions to examine, that after  reading the essays I've annotated below, I know that I need continually to rework and reexamine my teaching  philosophies in light of new ideas that find their way into professional  journals. I guess what I have learned is that we should, in order to be informed  educators, always stay current with the literature. We may find that we need to  reconsider the very philosophies on which we base our teaching methods.
 

Annotated Bibliography

Bridwell-Bowles, Lillian. "Discourse and Diversity: Experimental Writing  Within the Academy." Feminine Principles and Women's Experience in  American Composition and Rhetoric. Eds. Louise Wetherbee Phelps and Janet  Emig. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1995.  43-66.

Lillian Bridwell-Bowles makes a case for the integration of experimental  writing practices into the composition curriculum. She first details kinds of  reading that can stimulate experimentation with language. Bridwell-Bowles claims  that works by Helen Cixous, Julia Kristeva, and Toril Moi can often encourage  students to play with language and writing styles. She, then, outlines other  types of writing that can serve as models for students wishing to attempt  experimental writing practices. She points to samples of personal and emotive  writing, writing that plays with graphic space, writing that deals with the  notion of Other, writing that attempts to break linguistic boundaries, writing  that transcends class barriers, writing that focuses on sexual orientation, and  writing that attempts to find alternate ways of composing. She concludes her  essay with samples of experimental writing done by her students. Her final  argument cites that this kind of diverse discourse benefits both she and her  students because experimental writing forces the balance of power to shift to  where she can learn as much from her students as they do from her.

This article is valuable to my discussion of feminist issues and the teaching  of writing in that it assumes that there are different kinds of writing that  represent different groups of people. This is akin to the debate over  essentialism and women's writing. Her position is reminiscent of the Rosenthal  article that claims that we need to consider both feminine and masculine modes  of writing when devising our composition courses. Bridwell-Bowles' notions of  experimental writing stem from French feminists' beliefs in feminine writing;  women are often are unable to use masculine ways of writing to communicate the  full meaning of their ideas. Bridwell-Bowles, however, expands this notion of  experimental writing techniques to include a variety of different kinds of  writing; therefore, she does not rely on a dichotomy of only male and female  modes of writing. This blurring of the lines, so to speak, is valuable in that  it does not encourage a gendered approach to writing instruction.  Bridwell-Bowles, then, in her call for experimental writing, is pushing for  looser constraints on writers. She feels that in allowing students to find their  own voice, they will be able to make meaning in more effective ways.

She does acknowledge that she, as a tenured, respected faculty member, is in  a better position to use experimental writing practices. Her admission, I think,  is very telling. In admitting that she too had to conform to the standard,  linear, logical type of writing accepted by the academy, she essentially blows  holes in her own argument. In effect, she says it is fun to experiment, but when  we get down to business we better be doing it in an academic writing style. Why,  then, such a focus on this experimental writing? Sure, it might be useful to do  one assignment with our classes that emphasizes the point that there are many  discourses out there. But what good is it to spend a lot of time teaching them a  kind of writing that is ultimately not going to be important to their success?  In an already cramped semester where our goal should be to teach useful writing  practices it might not be wise to devote too much time to experimental  writing.

DeRuiter, Carol. "Gender Issues in College Composition."  Teaching English in the Two Year College (February 1996):  48-56.

Carol DeRuiter argues that it is essential that we blend both the masculine  and feminine modes of writing when teaching our composition courses. She first  discusses the need for writing teachers to "understand and be sensitive to  the unique styles and needs of male and female students and to the part our own  gender plays in teaching both" (48). Calling on the work of Donnalee Rubin  and Susan Jarratt, she points to disagreement within the profession about the  role of "the nurturing 'midwife' instructor who fosters growth and  encourages fragile emerging voices to the detriment of students who would  benefit from conflict in order to learn how to argue and negotiate" (49).  She points out that this maternal role can also be fulfilled by male teachers  (50). She therefore, calls for a blending of "gender opposites" as an  approach to teaching composition. She ultimately claims that once we help our  students develop the skills required to write in both personal, emotional and  factual, distanced ways, "it is our further responsibility to help them  choose the appropriate model for the situation" (51).

DeRuiter's essay fits into the context of my research on feminist pedagogy  for two significant reasons. First, and most important, is her use of the term  "midwife" to describe the writing teacher. I found this metaphor  problematic when I read Hairston's essay; now I have discovered that this is a  recurrent theme in the discussion of pedagogical issues. I find articles that  discuss this metaphor particularly engaging because I have not yet decided how I  feel about using it to describe my own teaching practices. I find that to some  degree it is important to nurture students and to help them develop their ideas.  But I also feel that in using the nurturing, midwife metaphor we are somehow  facilitating the feminized composition instructor role that we are striving so  hard to eliminate. So I find it significant, if not, enlightening, when authors  call on this metaphor to describe their teaching methods or to chastise the  teaching of others. DeRuiter seems to be advocating this nurturing approach in  her attempt to bring together gender opposites.

This bringing together of gender opposites is also pertinent to my research  on feminist teaching practices. Again, like Rosenthal, DeRuiter is calling for  acceptance of feminine modes of writing in the academy. She claims that in  teaching both kinds of writing, we will be providing our students with a choice  of writing styles. However, she does not explain when or where the feminine mode  (personal, emotional) of writing will be useful to our students. Like  Bridwell-Bowles, DeRuiter is unable to make a case for the utility of the kind  of writing she advocates. It is nice to think that we should allow students to  write in ways that they find comfortable, but in the real world comfortable  writing will not ensure their success.

Flynn, Elizabeth A. "Feminism and Scientism." College  Composition and Communication 46.3 (1995): 353-368.

Elizabeth A. Flynn discusses how composition studies, in an effort to  separate itself from literary studies and to be considered a "real"  discipline, has attempted to align itself with scientific research. She claims  that this move toward scientific methodology has been detrimental to the study  of composition and rhetoric. She calls for a return to alternative research  techniques in order to establish composition as a serious field of inquiry.  Flynn cites the feminization of composition studies as a motivator for scholars  to look for ways of legitimizing the field. She outlines two limitations of the  feminization metaphor: it suggests an oversimplified conception of gender and it  suggests that composition is a unified field (354). She claims that this  feminization metaphor has caused composition scholars to look for masculine ways  of scholarship in an effort to increase the status of the field. She calls this  implementing of techniques normally associated with the more masculine fields of  science scientism (355). She says that using scientific methodology  (empirical studies) to study composition can lead "to the development of  reductive conceptions of reading and writing as well as to limited conceptions  of the role of the research in the research process" (365). She ultimately  argues for a cautionary approach to borrowing research techniques from other  disciplines. She warns that in displacing the current ideology for another we  may only be replacing a dangerous system with one more dangerous (367).

The part of this article that I find most useful to the discussion of  feminist pedagogy is that which details the problems with the feminization  metaphor. I find that the feminization metaphor is problematic for composition  scholars not only for the reasons she suggests, but also because it causes  composition scholars to feel they need to prove themselves to other departments,  and even to other members of their own English departments. This is the kind of  situation that leads to hasty decisions to adopt "more serious"  scholarly approaches to the study of writing. Flynn does a sufficient job in  pointing out the problems with adopting techniques that do not fully lend  themselves to composition study. My main concern with the feminization metaphor  is that our teaching practices often encourage this label. In priding ourselves  on our nurturing, maternal teaching approaches, we foster this metaphor.  Therefore, it appears that we are in a Catch-22 situation. In doing what works  for our students, we hinder our own advancement in the profession. Maybe the  problem is not in the feminization metaphor itself, but in the negative  connotations that surround that metaphor.

Jarratt, Susan C. "Feminism and Composition: The Case for  Conflict." Contending With Words: Composition and Rhetoric in a  Postmodern Age. Eds. Patricia Harkin and John Schlib. New York: MLA, 1991.  105-123.

I chose to include this article even though it is older than five years  because Jarratt is so often cited in the research on feminist pedagogy. I also  found her argument compelling precisely because she refuses to buy into the  nurturing paradigm so often described by feminist pedagogues. Susan Jarratt  criticizes the notion that the classroom should be a conflict-free, nurturing  environment. She claims that students learn only when thinking through their  positions. She believes that only when students are confronted with opposition  will they learn to think and write critically. Jarratt details the  "feminist case against argument," citing the "womblike  matrix" as a classroom model (107). She explains that many feminist  instructors align argument with violence as a "expression of the  conquest/conversion mindset" (107). Therefore, these feminists find the  non-confrontational "womblike" classroom more suitable for writing  instruction. Jarratt refutes this approach to writing; she claims that the  value-free classroom environments encouraged by Donald Murray and Peter Elbow  create inequalities that "make the attempt to create a harmonious nurturing  community of readers an illusory fiction" (110). She also claims that this  maternal teaching model puts female teachers at a disadvantage in the college  composition classroom: "because most high school teachers are women and may  be seen as maternal figures, the role of the supportive, nurturing composition  teacher repeats that childish pattern" (111) Therefore, the nurturing  composition instructor may have difficulty establishing authority in her  classroom; Jarratt claims this approach is "doubly disempowering" for  women instructors who already struggle to overcome patriarchal power (117).  Jarratt ultimately claims that teaching the conflicts will help students to  recognize that "the inevitability of conflict is not grounds for despair  but the starting point for creating a consciousness in students and teachers  through which the inequalities generating those conflicts can be acknowledged  and transformed" (119). In encouraging students to discuss their  differences, Jarratt argues, they will learn that they have the power to change  things.

Jarratt's discussion points to the problems surrounding the nurturing model  of writing instruction. She claims that this model does not work for our  students and it certainly does not work for us. In elaborating how our students  would be better off in a more confrontational classroom, Jarratt allows us to  think that there is a way out of the Catch-22 I mentioned earlier. In adopting  Jarratt's approach to writing instruction we, as teachers, can demand the  respect and authority we need to be taken seriously as professionals. However,  we can do this without harming our students. In fact, in forcing them to expand  their views, we empower them. They learn how to consider the opposition when  developing an argument. In taking on a confrontational teaching style, we are  both able to assert our own authority in the classroom and ensure that our  students leave our courses with skills that will empower them. However, what do  we do with the students who are unwilling or unable to stretch their views? How  do we deal with resistant students who are uncomfortable in these  confrontational classroom situations? Do we allow them to be frustrated in an  effort to help them eventually accomplish the goals we have set for them (i.e.,  to become critical thinkers)? Or do we help them adapt to the new environment  that may be offensive to them (i.e., take on a mothering role)? The problem here  is that not all students will do well in a confrontational class. They may get  frustrated and feel that they are unable to think in the ways we are expecting  them to. In this case, how do we approach these students?

Lauer, Janice M. "The Feminization of Rhetoric and Composition  Studies?" Rhetoric Review 13.2 (1995): 276-286.

Janet Lauer discusses the feminization of composition studies by first  problemetizing the metaphor citing the predominance of males who publish in the  field; she likens this publishing craze to the quest for "virgin  territory" on which to develop publishing credits (277). Lauer speculates  on reasons why composition studies has been feminized. She first points to the  fact that many of the teaching techniques of those involved in composition  instruction are feminine in nature: "collaborative, student centered, and  nurturing" (276). She then "foregrounds 'feminine' traits" and  "women's work" that have been central to the inception of composition  as a field of study (280). She points to the organizing of seminars and doctoral  programs as characteristically feminine activities: "helping to release in  others unexplored resources and transformative power" (282). She also sites  acts of service such as creating bibliographies and editing journals as  "crucial to disciplinary formation but engender[ing] little enthusiasm in  departmental promotion and tenure committees" (283). She claims that these  "feminine acts . . .have played a significant part in shaping the  field" but have also led to the acceptance of the feminization metaphor  that characterized the field of composition studies (283).

I find this article useful in that it offers some background for the  feminization metaphor. It claims that there is more involved here than just our  teaching practices. What occurs to me most strikingly is that these  service-oriented feminine activities are tasks that exist in all other areas of  scholarship. Why, then, then are they only considered feminized in composition  research? Is Lauer merely making excuses for this metaphor or is she really  pointing to reasons for this feminization? In other areas of scholarship those  who edit journals and who take on bibliographic projects, as well as those  credited with starting departments are heralded as leaders in their field. I  would argue that Lauer's examination of the feminization of composition is  problematic in that it really offers no hard evidence, other than personal  opinion, to support her claims. It is important to my research, however, in that  it offers an alternative opinion as to why composition is feminized (as opposed  to citing our nurturing teaching practices as the main reason).

Looser, Devoney. "Composing as an 'Essentialist'?: New Directions for  Feminist Composition Theories." Rhetoric Review 12.1 (1993):  54-69.

Devony Looser aims to examine essentialist dilemmas in composition  scholarship and to suggest ways they might be reconfigured (57). Looser first  calls attention to the disparate definitions of "essential."  Biological or natural essentialism attributes feminine qualities to biological  or natural causes. Nonbiological essentialism can be defines as getting to the  "essence" of women's writing through a "conceptualized general  form" (57). It is this definition that pervades current discussions of  feminine writing; therefore, it is this nonbiological essentialism that Looser  addresses in her discussion. She takes issues with "attempts to make  so-called women's ways part of the 'universal' ways of composing," claiming  that this approach does nothing to solve the problems of essentialism (58). She  asks the question: "what is the use of identifying. . .a woman's way of  composing?" (58). She claims that attention to feminine ways of writing can  be limiting in that extreme attention to how we are writing may limit our  ability to say what we intend; it may even cause us to feel guilt when we cite  men scholars in our work (59). She calls for the denaturalization of personal  writing as feminine writing, encouraging us to think about the  "implications of cementing personal writing as a more feminist way of  writing" (61). Pointing to the dangers of essentializing women's writing,  she also critiques the idea that feminist composition must be "cooperative  and collaborative" (62). She ultimately calls for us to continue the  ongoing project of confronting essentialisms (65). Looser concludes her  discussion by offering a way of using essentialism in productive ways. Instead  of arguing that we eliminate essentialisms from our work as composition  scholars, Looser suggests we become self-reflexive when invoking them. Citing  Diana Fuss, Looser concludes that "asking where, how, and why essentialism  is invoked and what constitutes its political and textual effects provides more  interesting and difficult questions" (65).

This article is particularly important because it touches on issues that are  central to feminist pedagogy. Namely the question of whether it is productive to  essentialize women's writing. Looser, in demonstrating the dangers of blindly  accepting essential definitions of women's writing, is able to make a case for  examining closely when and how we invoke these descriptions. This fits into the  debate surrounding teaching masculine and feminine (for lack of better terms)  modes of writing in composition classes. Looser suggests that it might be  dangerous to perpetuate these restrictive (and dichotomous) categories without a  clear examination/explanation of the reasons behind doing so. Therefore, the  question becomes: are our students sophisticated enough to understand that we  are not advocating a split between masculine and feminine writing, but that we  are merely attempting to articulate a need for a more accepting academy? In  other words, should we bring this debate into our classrooms, where we may be  reinforcing the dichotomy instead of working to eliminate essentialisms?

Luke, Carmen. "Feminist Pedagogy Theory in Higher Education: Reflections  on Power and Authority." Feminist Critical Policy Analysis II: A  Perspective From Post-secondary Education. Ed. Catherine Marshall.  Washington, D.C.: Falmer, 1997. 189-210.

Carmen Luke discusses the problems feminist pedagogues have with power and  authority. She cites Jane Gallop's "good girl and bad girl feminism"  in an effort to explain how feminists are often uncomfortable in positions of  authority and therefore, seek ways to displace that authority (i.e,  student-centered, nurturing classrooms) (190). She argues that this  "disavowal of authority, power, and desire coupled with feminism's first  principle of difference(s) has several potentially disabling consequences for  the transformative politics claimed by feminist pedagogy discourse" (190).  She argues that "good-girl feminists . . .may have unwittingly replicated  all the classical school-marm virtues of selfless dedication to nurturing and  caring for our students" (193). She, like Jarratt advocates a  "confrontational' pedagogy [that] can dislodge students' monochromatic  worldviews" (196). She claims that failure to challenge students' beliefs  "is to abandon the political and moral responsibility and authority we have  as teachers to work on student's consciousness through critique and  analysis" (196). She identifies a nurture-authority dualism and claims that  feminist pedagogy has tended be located on the nurture side of the continuum  (196). She ultimately claims that this avoidance of authority places the teacher  in subject position of nurturer and the student as the object of nurturance  (202). In displacing classroom authority, the teacher risks deceiving the  student into believing that they have equal representation in the classroom  (202). This, ultimately, is untrue because the teacher does establish power in  the doling out of grades. Citing the dangers of "reinstat[ing] and  legitimat[ing] the. . .disempowering image of the self-effacing, benevolent  school-marm, or the midwife," Luke ultimately argues against instructors  placing themselves on the nurturing side of the dualism.

This article is important to my discussion of feminist pedagogy in that it  locates the reasons for the nurturing approach to writing instruction in the  female teacher's insecurities with her own authority. Instead of pointing to how  this teaching method works for students, Luke explains why it does not work for  feminist teachers. In advocating a confrontational teaching method, Luke, like  Jarratt, suggests that feminist teachers take charge of their classrooms and  establish their authority over their students. In doing so, Luke posits that  feminist teachers will avoid deceiving their students into believing that  teacher and student occupy equal power positions. Instead, teachers will begin  feel comfortable with their authority, students will understand the power  structure of the classroom, and feminists will make strides toward eliminating  the maternal stereotype that nurturing teaching methods perpetuate.

Mullin, Joan A. "Feminist Theory, Feminist Pedagogy: The Gap Between  What We Say and What We Do." Composition Studies 22.1 (1994):  14-24.

Joan Mullin likens being a women to being left-handed. This analogy helps her  to demonstrate that being a woman in a patriarchal society is much like being a  left-handed person in a world created for right-handed people. She claims that  she has had to learn to become (figuratively) ambidextrous. She claims that  women have had to "learn a language that doesn't fully express their  feelings, a language in which they are not comfortable" (15). She calls for  students to be encouraged to write without conventions in an effort to draw out  their thoughts. She uses the French feminists Helene Cixous, Julia Kristeva, and  Luce Irigary to explain how women are excluded from discourse because they  cannot adequately write in patriarchal language. She claims that the parameters  placed on language often stifle students who are unable to adapt to accepted  writing standards. She claims that in allowing students to stray from writing  conventions we will find that they will have more to say, that their ideas will  surface (21). In encouraging students to speak and write in their own voice,  Mullin argues, they will learn that there are differences in how people see and  write about the world. They will also learn that knowledge is made in comparing  and discussing these differences. She ultimately advocates a power shift in the  classroom in an effort to connect with our students and so they can connect with  us. In allowing students' voices to be heard, she argues, we can challenge the  status quo and create new, less restrictive ways of writing.

Again the issue of essentialism finds voice in feminist pedagogical writing;  and again another feminist argues for an expansion of patriarchal modes of  writing to include more feminine uses of language. Again, I have to point to the  central critique of this approach to teaching writing: how does this benefit our  students? Can we give them the skills they will use in the future when we force  them to think in ways not traditionally accepted by the academy? I think these  essentialist arguments are detrimental to both students and feminist pedagogues.  Students do not benefit from learning techniques that will not be of use to them  in the future. In advocating this dichotomy, feminists stress the difference  between male and female academics. I would argue that this is counterproductive.  In a world where women are striving to be accepted in serious, intellectual  positions, pointing to "natural" modes of writing that fall short of  the mandates of these positions is problematic. Secondly, in indoctrinating our  students into locating and recognizing "women's writing" aren't we  creating a new generation of patriarchs who will then judge us as inferior  because of our "natural" writing deficiencies?

In a chapter entitled "Gender and Writing Teachers: The Maternal  Paradigm," Donnalee Rubin examines writing teachers' approaches to their  students' writing. She specifically examines teachers who adopt a process-based  method of teaching. Rubin opens her discussion by defining "process"  and "maternal", terms she will rely on throughout her chapter.  "Process", for her purposes, is defined as a teaching method that  focuses on helping students to "become aware of the process they undergo as  they compose" (58). "Maternal", for Rubin, is a  "non-exclusive way to describe any teacher who exhibits those nurturing,  caring, supportive qualities traditionally associated with mothering" (59).  Therefore, for Rubin, maternal teaching can refer to male instructors well as  women instructors. Citing Belencky et al, Rubin includes a discussion of midwife  teachers: "midwife teachers 'assist students in giving birth to their own  ideas, in making their own tacit knowledge explicit and elaborating it"  (61). She further explains that midwife-teachers must concern themselves with  preserving the egos of their students and to foster their growth (61-2). She  claims that we must be aware that our teaching stems from a maternal metaphor.  In making her point, Rubin cites case studies as evidence. In interviewing a  male and a female teacher (both of whom used maternal teaching models and who  taught through individual student conferences) over the coarse of a semester,  Rubin was able to see how the gender of the teacher impacted his/her reaction to  student writing. She found that when asked to discuss student papers, the  instructors talked about the student instead. She also found that the gender of  the teacher could at times, inhibit his/her ability to comment on student work  (when the topic of the paper contained unfamiliar, gendered subject matter).  Ultimately she concludes that process-based pedagogy encourages maternal  behaviors from both male and female instructors and that "process,  conferencing, and maternal patterns help writing teachers to overcome innate  gender biases and merge gender-based differences that may be present when they  read their own students' texts" (85). She argues that one of our central  concerns as writing teachers should be to cultivate our maternal instincts  claiming that these instincts will help us to respond to our students in more  productive ways.

It is my contention that process-based writing does, in fact, encourage  maternal teaching methods. However, I would argue that we must resist this  pattern as much as possible. I find Rubin's case studies illuminating in that  she found that the male instructor was just as capable of calling on maternal  instincts as was the female instructor. This was encouraging. But it does not  change the fact that perpetuating this maternal paradigm will only facilitate  the feminization of composition and it will teach our students to become  accustomed to nurturing classrooms. I would argue that they will be shocked when  the leave our cozy corner of the academy for the colder, more confrontational  and competitive departments. I do find that my gender does, at times, prevent me  from constructively responding to student writing. Often the masculine texts  that Lad Tobin describes give me problems as well. This may be that I have  trouble identifying with the actual paper or that I have trouble seeing the  student as making a serious attempt at good writing. In any case, I do find that  gender can get in the way of writing instruction. Therefore, I find Rubin's  findings helpful. I cannot, however, advocate a maternal paradigm because I feel  that it poses a serious threat not only to feminism, but also to composition  studies as a whole.

Schell, Eileen E. "The Feminization of Composition: Questioning the  Metaphors that Bind Women Teachers." Composition Studies 20.1  (1992): 55-61.

I chose to include this article even though it was written more than five  years ago because it deals specifically with the feminization metaphor and  therefore, acts as a companion to Janet Lauer's essay. I find this discussion  useful in that it clearly details the problems with the metaphor as it impacts  women in the field of composition studies. Eileen Schell cites three  "considerations that keep the 'feminization' metaphor alive for composition  teachers:" composition as a "service" course intended to teach  "skills," composition as "drudge" work (labor intensive and  low paying), and the predominance of women who teach composition (55). She  clearly states that feminization does not correspond with feminist intentions,  rather "feminization' denotes marginalized status" (55). Schell also  points to maternal teaching practices as a means of inscribing composition as a  feminized profession (56). She cites that men are more often published in  composition journals and speculates that the undervalued, over-worked female  writing teachers (that make up the majority of the field) are unable to find  time for their own research (57). She invokes an interesting metaphor to  describe the job of the female writing instructor: that of housewife (58).  Women, she charges, "tidy up' student essays with painstaking, careful  commentary and hours devoted to students in one-on-one conferencing" (58).  Therefore, "part-time composition teachers have much in common with the  proverbial housewife who contributes greatly to the running of the household (or  the university) but gets no actual recognition for it (e.g., tenure salary  increases, office space, resources)" (58). She concludes by calling for  women in the field to write about their experiences in an effort to "chip  away at the grand master narrative that has kept women in composition in a  'feminized' position" (60).

This article is useful in that it points to specific reasons why composition  has remained a feminized field of inquiry. These reasons are rooted in practical  evidence, unlike the personal narrative of Janet Lauer. Some of the reasoning is  the same (such as the dominance of males in publishing) but Schell makes her  case by locating her argument in widely-accepted perceptions of the profession.  In citing the three main reasons why composition remains feminized Schell is  able to demonstrate for her audience where to start in changing this  characterization. In suggesting that more women share their stories, she asks  that women begin to reshape their roles as instructors. In calling on them to  write (and eventually publish) she aims for women to take control of this  "feminized" field and demand for academia to take it seriously.  However, I wonder if by asking only women to write their stories, Schell might  not merely be perpetuating the feminization of composition studies? How else can  we work to eliminate this problem? As I have suggested before the problem might  not be in the feminization metaphor but in the connotations of that metaphor.  Instead of carrying with it a marginalized connotation, might it be more  productive to work toward empowering the feminine, thus making feminization a  word that signifies authority, power, competence, and strength?