On page 12 of the COMPbiblio text, the synopsis of a David Bartholomae article addresses an issue that plagues me when I think about theory in regard to writing--or maybe the issue simply plagues in me about writing in general. Bartholomae is responding to an article written by Peter Elbow in which he feels Elbow is perpetuating the myth of "an independent, self-creative, self-expressive subjectivity." Bartholomae suggests that this sort of attitude creates the false impression that the self precedes the forces which act on it, that it devalues the political forces and psychological mechanisms which operate to shape the self. He asks if the university has a right to perpetuate these myths which relate to ego and power by asking students to "participate in a first person, narrative or expressive genre whose goal is to reproduce the ideology of sentimental realism . . . a narrative that celebrates a world of private life and whose hero is sincere." Not just studying particular texts or authors would seem debated here, but whether holding students individually responsible for papers and grades might not be unconsciously teaching them beogeouise values. I was relieved to read that he answered tenatively "yes."

I'm a WASP male in my fifties. I grew up in a small town in Iowa, the son of Lutheran parents. My idea of a self is still tinged by connonations of a soul, some essential element that isn't subject to time or worldly forces. My parents did have the grace to posit this soul beyond race or gender, but it is still a concept that gives me problems when I study theories that posit almost any notion of self as illusory. Identity at its most definitive is a composite thing shaped by everything from global to peer group pressures, from economic to sexual forces. It's not hard to believe all these things are at work at once, but how to unify them in a soul-like self is hard. I'd like to posit some mechanism not unlike Freud's superego, some free floating demiurgic entity which runs around in my psyche creating little pathways of connection between the various identitys until the web is so thick that it becomes one thing. But since a mechanistic view of psychology doesn't seem valid anymore either, that concept doesn't hold much more promise than soul.

I think I am going to take some refuge in the ideas of people like Wendy Bishop and Peter Elbow. Bishop promotes a connection between composition and creative writing, which I transcribe as a way to connect theory with my personal life. She also discusses the "process and art of revision--and its importance to the classroom--through personal narrative" (25). It sounds like how I regard the process of writing, a way of distilling the facts of my life for the essential connections it shares with others.

But Peter Elbow might be my hero. He was told by "numerous professors that he could not write well" (77) so became a writer. He's apparently developed methodologies to overcome the "writing axiety phenomenon" (78)--I'm definitely going to look those up. "He even questions his own early desire to be the perfect student" (78). Sounds to me like he's grappling with his self as if his soul depended on it, too.