By Rachel Riederer
Recently I was teaching the workshop “Controlling an Argument with Topic Sentences” to a group of 5 or 6 students. The lesson plan gets students to see topic sentences as having some additional functions beyond “say what the paragraph is about,” namely to:
- relate the paragraph to the preceding paragraph, the next paragraph, and the overall argument of the essay
- identify the main claim of the paragraph
- propel the argument with a question
- pivot the argument
- prepare the reader for change
In the workshop, we look at model texts, and students have a chance to identify topic sentences and notice which function/s each one is accomplishing. At the end of the workshop, students are supposed work on revising topic sentences in a piece of their own writing. In this workshop, none of the students had brought in a piece of their own writing, so we had to ad lib. We decided to write thesis statements for an imaginary essay, one that the students would envision together. It was an unplanned move, but it had some great results, and I think it helped the group to think about how “controlling an argument” can be part of the essay planning process, rather than something that’s imposed on a complete piece of writing.
Here’s what we did:
My co-presenter read the title and opening paragraph of his own essay about technology anxiety. This was enough material for the students to identify and agree on the essay’s thesis statement. Then we made an outline as a group, imagining the kinds of paragraphs that could follow the introduction. (This was also a good lesson in thinking about how many options we have as writers—how many different shapes an essay can take and still be “right.”) The students planned a really rigorous essay, with plenty of pivots and counterarguments, spaces to introduce claims and then support them. They did this really readily, I think in large part because we were so obviously making things up and there was no pressure on them to know the material. They would, for example, propose paragraphs like “Introduce Freud — he would say ________ about technology anxiety” and then “Argue against Freud — he is wrong because_______.” Then, individually, they each wrote a topic sentence for one of the imaginary paragraphs. Some had placeholders, and some had nonsense information instead of blanks, but even without any “real” content, the topic sentences performed the functions that we’d been talking about.
The activity was really successful, and at the end of the session I was wondering what made it work. At first I’d been worried about the use of these placeholders, but actually I think they were useful—they allowed the students to focus fully on the rhetorical moves they wanted to make. The silliness and collaborative nature of the project kept students engaged: it felt a little bit like the essay-writing version of a game of Telephone. And the “imaginary” essay kept the stakes low: there were none of the emotional issues of working with a piece of their own graded writing, and also none of the authority issues of working with a piece of published/professional writing.
Published February 23, 2015
